Hymen's præludia, or Loves master-peice being that so much admired romance, intituled Cleopatra : in twelve parts / written originally in the French, and now elegantly rendred into English by Robert Loveday. — Cléopatre. English

Hymen's præludia, or Loves master-peice being that so much admired romance, intituled Cleopatra : in twelve parts / written originally in the French, and now elegantly rendred into English by Robert Loveday. — Cléopatre. English

Table of contents

Title page

TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE His ever HONOURED LADY, THE LADY CLINTON

TO THE READER.

To his deſerving Friend Mr. Loveday, upon his Tranſlation of CLEOPATRA.

Upon this choice Work, Love's Maſter-Piece expoſed to light by Mr. Loveday.

Thoughts on this Tranſlation of Loves Maſter-Piece.

Upon his Teaching CLEOPATRA Engliſh.

To my very honoured Friend, Mr. Robert Loveday, upon his matchleſs Verſion Entituled Loves Master-peice.

To my worthy and moſt dear Friend, Mr. R. LOVEDAY.

To his Dear Brother Mr. Robert Loveday, upon his Tranſlation of CLEOPATRA.

To my much eſteemed Friend, and Dear Brother Mr. Robert Loveday, upon his happy labours of Tranſlating CLEOPATRA.

To my very much Honoured Friend Mr. Robert Loveday, upon his matchleſs Verſion, Entituled Loves Maſter-piece.

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA, OR Love's Maſter-Piece.

The Firſt BOOK.

The Hiſtory of TYRIDATES.

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA, OR Love's Maſter-Piece. PART I. LIB. II.

The HISTORY of Julius Caeſar, and Queen CLEOPATRA.

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA, OR Love's Maſter-Piece. PART I. LIB. III.

The Hiſtory of Caeſario, and the Queen CANDACE.

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA, OR Loves Maſter-Piece. PART I. LIB. IV.

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA, OR Love's Maſter-Piece. PART II.

LIB. I.

The Hiſtory of Prince Coriolanus, and the Princeſs Cleopatra.

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA, OR Love's Maſter-Piece. PART II. LIB. II.

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA: OR, Love's Maſter-Piece. PART II. LIB. III.

The Continuation of the Hiſtory of Coriolanus and Cleopatra.

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA: OR, Love's Maſter-Piece. PART II. LIB. IV.

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA: OR, Love's Maſter-Piece. PART III.

LIB. I.

The continuation of the Hiſtory of Caeſario and Candace.

HYMENS PRAELUDIA: OR, Love's Maſter-Piece. PART III. LIB. II.

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA: OR, Love's Maſter-Piece. PART III. LIB. III.

The History of the Princeſs Eliſa.

HYMENS PRAELUDIA: OR Love's Maſter-Piece. PART III. LIB. IV.

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA: OR, Love's Maſter-Piece. PART IV.

LIB. I.

The Hiſtory of Alexander and the Princeſs Artemiſa.

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA: OR, Love's Maſter-Piece. PART IV. LIB. II.

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA: OR, Love's Maſter-Piece. PART IV. LIB. III.

The HISTORY of PHILADELPH.

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA: OR, Love's Maſter-Piece. PART IV. LIB. IV.

HYMENS PRAELUDIA: OR, Love's Maſter-Piece. PART V.

LIB. I.

The Hiſtory of the Unknown.

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA: OR, Love's Maſter-Piece. PART V. LIB. II.

The Hiſtory of ARTAXUS King of ARMENIA.

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA: OR, Love's Maſter-Piece. PART V. LIB. III.

The History of MARCELLUS and JULIA.

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA: OR, Love's Maſter-Piece. PART V. LIB. IV.

The Hiſtory of Mariamne.

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA: OR, Love's Maſter-Piece. PART VI.

LIB. I.

The Hiſtory of Olympia.

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA: OR, Love's Maſter-Piece. PART VI. LIB. II.

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA: OR, Love's Maſter-Piece. PART VI. LIB. III.

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA: OR, Love's Maſter-Piece. PART VI.

LIB. IV.

The Hiſtory of the Princeſ ARSINOE.

HYMEN'S PRAELVDIA: OR, Loves Maſter-piece. PART. VII.

LIB. I.

The Continuation of the Hiſtory of Olympia

HYMEN'S PRAELVDIA; OR, Loves Maſter-piece. PART. VII. LIB. II.

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA; OR, Loves Maſter-piece. PART. VII. LIB. III.

The Hiſtory of Ovid, Cipaſſis and Julia.

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA; OR, Loves Maſter-piece. PART. VII. LIB. IV.

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA; OR, Loves Maſter-piece. Being the Eigth Part of that ſo much admir'd ROMANCE, intituled, CLEOPATRA.

BOOK. I.

The Continuation of the Hiſtory of the Princeſs Cleopatra.

The Eighth Part of CLEOPATRA. BOOK, II.

THE HISTORY OF ALCAMENES and MENALIPPA. BOOK. I.

The Eighth Part of CLEOPATRA. BOOK, III.

THE HISTORY OF ALCAMENES and MENALIPPA. BOOK. IIII.

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA; OR, Loves Maſter-piece. Part. IX.

LIB. I.

THE HISTORY OF JULIUS ANTONIUS, ANTONIA and PTOLOMEY.

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA; OR, Loves Maſter-piece. Part. IX. Lib. II.

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA; OR, Loves Maſter-piece. Part. IX. Lib. III.

THE HISTORY Of the Pirate ZENODORUS.

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA; OR, Loves Maſter-piece. Part. IX. Lib. IV.

HYMENS PRAELUDIA; OR Loves Maſter-peice. Part. X.

LIB. I.

The continuation of the HISTORY Of CAESARIO.

HYMENS PRAELUDIA; OR Loves Maſter-peice. Part. X. LIB. II.

HYMENS PRAELUDIA; OR Loves Maſter-peice. Part. X. LIB. III.

HYMENS PRAELUDIA; OR Loves Maſter-peice. Part. X. LIB. IV.

The Hiſtory of VOLUSIUS.

HYMENS PRAELUDIA; OR Loves Maſter-peice. Part. XI.

LIB. I.

The Hiſtory of LENTULUS and TULLIA.

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA; OR Loves Maſter-peice. Part. XI. LIB. II.

HYMENS PRAELUDIA; OR Loves Maſter-peice. Part. XI. LIB. III.

The Hiſtory of ARMINIUS

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA; OR Loves Maſter-peice. Part. XI. LIB. IV.

HYMEN'S PRAELVDIA; OR Loves Maſter-peice. Part. XII.

LIB. I.

HYMENS PRAELUDIA; OR Loves Maſter-peice. Part. XII. LIB. II.

The Hiſtory of PHRAATES.

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA; OR Loves Maſter-peice. Part. XII. LIB. III.

The Hiſtory of BRITON and BRITO MARUS.

HYMENS PRAELUDIA; OR Loves Maſter-peice. Part. XII. LIB. IV.

§

[Page] [Page] HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA OR Loves Maſter-peice.

BEING That ſo much admired ROMANCE. INTITULED CLEOPATRA, In Twelve Parts.

Written Originally in the French, and now Elegantly rendred into Engliſh.

By ROBERT LOVEDAY.

Evand.

Qui magis optaret Cleopatra Parentibus orta Conſpicuis, Comiti quam placuiſſe Thori?

LONDON, Printed, by W. R. and J. R. and are to be ſold by Peter Parker, at his Sop at the Leg and Star over againſt the Royal Exchange, and Thomas Guy, at the Corner-ſhop of Little Lumbard-ſtreet and Cornhill, 1674.

[Page]

TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE His ever HONOURED LADY, THE LADY CLINTON

[Page]

MADAM,

AT ſuch times as your ſilent Authority gave me leave to want better employment, this trifle (that now begs to live a Shrub under the ſecure ſhade of Your Patronage) was ſinn'd into Engliſh; and though, not to confeſſe the preſumption, be to add to it, yet its being born in your Honours ſervice, bids me hope it leſſe rudeneſs, thus to throw it ſelf at your feet, than to diſclaim the priviledg of being Yours. Madam, I am not ignorant (if You deſcend to the peruſal of this humble Toy) that You must force Your Sublime thoughts (which uſuallie flie at fair Quarries) to a stooping: but as the Sun (who is the clearest Emblem of Your Vertues) when mounted to his Meridian, does not diſdain to look downwards; ſo if You vouchſafe to let fall the beams of a Smile upon this Piece, and bid it live, how unkindlie others may uſe it ſhall never be placed among the fears of.

MADAM,

Your Honors moſt humble and ever obedient Servant, LOVEDAY.

TO THE READER.

[Page]

REader, thou haſt here my Recreations; if they have the luck to be thine, I have my end, and we are both pleaſed: Thou wilt here find Hiſtory enameled with Fiction, and Truth dreſt like a May-Lady, who through the gay diſguiſe of her Flowry Ornaments, does often ſhew her own ſimplicity. If thou beeſt an Hiſtorian, thou wilt trace his ingenius Pen through Tacitus. Florus, Suetonius, and others that wrote Auguſtus life, and find with what skilful method he hath culled ſuch Flowers from each of their Gardens, as were fitteſt to beautifie his Garland. It was the ſame hand that wrote the much cryed up Caſſandra, and the beſt judgements agree, now that this is perfected as happily as begun, it need not yield that any other precedency but of time (in all things elſe it claims advantage;) but I keep thee too long at the Door.

Farewel.

R. L.

To his deſerving Friend Mr. Loveday, upon his Tranſlation of CLEOPATRA.

[Page]

SOme uſe to praiſe before they do peruſe,

And make a Common Hackney of their Muſe.

I love my Friend, yet do I love to look,

Before I paſs my verdict on his Book.

'Tis merit win's Encomiaſtick Strains,

While Sycophants, who proſtitute their Brains,

Profeſs a ſervile practick Art of praiſe,

And Crown weak Artists with Apollo's Bayes.

I would be loth my Genius ſhould be ſuch,

"This pure Elixir'd Grain will bide the touch.

I dare maintain't; where Language, Method, Wit,

Approve his Judgment that commendeth it.

Nor is it greater glory to a State,

To invent a piece, than aptly to Tranſlate,

Wherein my Friend has ſuch exactneſs ſhown,

His Native-dreſs has made the Work his own;

I am no Partialist; it is a crime

That ſuits with Tim-ists, it is none of mine;

It was a Maxim from a Sybill's mouth;

Who thwarts it, is Apoſtata to truth.

"Where Nature grounds, and Art improves encreaſe,

"That only hand compleats Loves Master-Piece.

Nomen amoris babens, & amare Charactere cogens,

Ingenui vatis nomen omenque tenes.

Nomen amans, & amantis opus ſint pignora palmis

Digna peregrinis, ut rediere tuis.

Arbores multi renovant Coloni,

Quo magis cultu redeant opimi;

Hoc agit Loveday renovans libelli

Ora faceti—

Coetus ut ſancti pariunt modestos,

Et novae vestes faciunt venustos,

Mille te dignum tenuere testes

Meſſe laboris.—

R. Braithwait.

Upon this choice Work, Love's Maſter-Piece expoſed to light by Mr. Loveday.

AS Pearl 'mong Gemms, ſo 'mong the paſſions Love

Excells, and in a higher Orb doth move.

Her Siſters Faith and Hope attend us here,

While through the Elements our courſe we ſteer;

[Page] But Love ſoars with the Soul beyond the Sky,

As imp'd in Her to all Eternity;

But what was here frail fancie that did burn

Sometimes, and freez ſoon after, there ſhall turn

To an Angelick Nature, ever free

From all ſuch fits of Mutability.

This Author doth this Paſſion ſo diſplay,

And in ſuch high Idaeas, that he may

Stand to be Chair-man, and ſo ſit above

The choiceſt Maſters in the School of Love.

James Howel.

Thoughts on this Tranſlation of Loves Maſter-Piece.

GReek Heliodorus with Millifluous Stile,

In th' Ethiopick ſtory did compile

Ideas, which might regularly move

To conjugal affections, and pure Love.

Loveday, thy Gallik Author doth advance

Such with new Art and ſplendors to his France;

And thou (whoſe vertuous knowledge did compile

Them in beſt Language of thy Native Iſle)

As He to modern France, Thou to Old Greece,

For us framed of ſtyle the Master-Piece.

John Chapperline.

Upon his Teaching CLEOPATRA Engliſh.

I've read ſome Books on this ſide, ſome beyond

The Alps, where greatest rarities are found;

But, to ſpeak truth, 'mongst all did never find

A Verſion that ſo richly cloath'd the mind

Of th' Author, nor more gallantly advance

Our Engliſh Language above that of France.

All Tongues must have their height, and fall in Rome:

Tully made Latin perfect, but its Doom

Soon followed his, Loveday has done the ſame

For Engliſh, whoſe Beauty will renown his Name.

The greateſt fear is, none can tread his Path,

So that his Lines will be its Epitaph.

R. W.

To my very honoured Friend, Mr. Robert Loveday, upon his matchleſs Verſion Entituled Loves Master-peice.

THE rarest Plants, and Flowers ſometimes improve,

Their Growth and Beauty, by a kind remove.

Sidney's the Phoſper, thou the ſplendent Sun,

Deſerves the Laurel of our Engliſh Tongue.

The Garland's thine, O give me leave to ſay,

I like thy Dawn, but better LOVE thy DAY.

Ma. Brown, Doc. Med.

To my worthy and moſt dear Friend, Mr. R. LOVEDAY.

[Page]

FRiend to Sir Philip Sidney, was of all

Saints Albans boaſts, the moſt magnificall.

Nor is mine leſs of thee, who alwaies wert

My peerleſs Friend, and ever hadſt my heart;

Others thy Verſion praiſe, but I praiſe thee,

A perfect mirrour of Integrity.

Can'st love thy friend, though abſent? no deſign

Can raviſh friendſhip from that breſt of thine;

Where all the noble vertues that are found

In this whole Book, do ſignally abound.

Expoſe thy Vertues then, that men may call

This Book their Copy, thee th' Original.

To his Dear Brother Mr. Robert Loveday, upon his Tranſlation of CLEOPATRA.

COULD I with Penſil copy ſo,

As thou with Pen haſt drawn this piece,

The famed Maſters I ſhould out-do

Of both the Empires, Rome and Greece:

And what the old Samian ſaid, prove true in this,

As Souls, ſo Arts, their tranſmigration is.

This grain adds nothing to thy Store,

And want of ſkill bad me not write;

Yet Love ſaid, do, though it be poor,

'Twill borrow luſtre form his light:

A piece of Gum that from a free heart comes.

May ſhew true Love, as well as Hecatombs.

A. LOVEDAY.

To my much eſteemed Friend, and Dear Brother Mr. Robert Loveday, upon his happy labours of Tranſlating CLEOPATRA.

WERE yet alive the Cleopatra fair,

Candace, Eliſa, or Grand Caeſar's Heir,

With th' Heroes of thoſe times, they'd all allow

They ne're ſuch Luſtre did receive as now:

What ever other Authors written have

Had buried layn in dark Oblivion's Grave,

[Page] Or been deprived of the greateſt Glory

That all acknowledge due to ſuch a Story;

But that thy Pen renew'd and imp't the Wings.

To their Illuſtrious Fame, repeating things

In quainter and conciſer Terms than they.

Spurn then at Envie's Plots, contemn all them

That ſtrove to rob the World of ſuch a Gem;

Or pay th' Oppoſers thanks, ſince th' Others pain

Serves as a foil to that Politer ſtrain.

J. Wright.

To my very much Honoured Friend Mr. Robert Loveday, upon his matchleſs Verſion, Entituled Loves Maſter-piece.

SIR, there is nothing that offends me ſo

(Next to my ſins) as theſe Your Lines muſt go

For a Tranſlation; which no leſs exceed

The French, than Fertile-Nile, the Barren Tweed:

Which (when the Delphick Sword of Him that Reigns

Hath Conquer'd France, made the steep Mountains, Plains,

And laid both Dialects in common,) ſhall

Be thought no Copy, but th' Original.

For where the Author onlie doth abound

With Graceful words, here th' are with Fancy Crown'd:

What he wrapt up in Clouds of groſſer Air,

Your LOVE distills in Phraſe polite and fair.

Where he Confounds us with an irkſom Night,

Your DAY Reviveth by his Gladſom Light:

Chawcer and Gowr our Language but refin'd,

You (SIR) true Chymiſt like, have it calcin'd:

Hew'd out the Barbarous knots, and made it run

As ſmooth as doth the Chariot of the Sun;

Whilst French is but the Foil, to let us ſee

The Luſtre of our Tongues Proſperity.

And this choice Work more fitly stiled is,

(Not onlie LOVE'S, but) LOVED AYES Maſter-piece.

G. Wharton.

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA, OR Love's Maſter-Piece.

[Page]

The Firſt BOOK.

ARGUMENT.

Prince Tyridates reſcues Queen Candace from the Jaws of Neptune, invites her to his Solitary Reſidence, and there gives the relation of his Life. His Extraction, Education, and ſtrange eſcape from the inhumane Cruelty of his Brother Phraates; the after Murther of his Father and all his Brethren. The ſecret and open practices of his Brother's malice purſue him through the Courts of Armenia, Media, and Bithynia, where he runs the hazard of his Life by the Treachery of King Pharnaces, He flies into Judea, is received and treated honourably by Herod: Relates his cruelties: Falls in love with Queen Mariamne, and Salome Herod's Siſter with him. He commands in the War againſt Malichus the Arabian, gives him many brave defeats, and at last, by a total overthrow drives him out of Judea; returning finds Hircanus murdered. He gains Sohemus to let him viſit her, diſcovers his affection, which ſhe vertuouſly rejects. Herod's proſperous return from his Rhodian Voyage to Auguſtus. He inlarges Mariamne. Salome artificially inſinuates her love to Tyridates, but is civilly refus'd, which half converts it into ſpight. Tyridates often renews his reſearch of Mariamne, and is often confuted and repulſed by her wiſdom and vertue, which refines his affection.

THE Shades of night had not yet given place to the firſt bluſhes of the day, when the ſad Tyridates waken'd by his cruel inquietudes, and not able to wait the approaching light, left his ſolitary Manſion, to breath his languiſhing body and amorous thoughts upon the Shore of Alexandria. The Eſtate of his Mind, with that of his Fortune, furniſh'd him with matter ample enough to entertain the hours, and upon this employment he ſtill beſtowed the better part of his day; his griefs were the moſt lively, and his misfortunes the moſt violent that ever Soul was capable of repreſenting: And yet, he fancy'd ſo much glory in thoſe ſufferings, that (cruelly as they us'd him) he could neither hate nor deſire the end of a miſery, to which he had conſecrated the reſt of his deplorable life. He had given ſome moments to theſe ſad conſiderations, when lifting his eyes from the Earth, where they had long been fix'd, and ſending a look toward the Sea, they were encountred with an object capable to arreſt them.

It was a great Fire, which raiſing it ſelf from the waves, ſeem'd to climb Heaven, with no other deſign, than to ſeek a Refuge in its proper Centre, from the Enemies it fled; the [Page] flames in ſome places (mix'd with thick ſmoak) rowl'd themſelves in great flaſhes towards the Stars, and ſhot their ſparks upwards ſo fiercely, that they ſeem'd to conteſt for ſplendour with thoſe lights, wherewith the Firmament was then imbroider'd. Tyridates judg'd with much likelihood, that the flames could not riſe from the Ocean's boſom, unleſs ſuſtain'd in ſome burning veſſel, which made his generous and compaſſionate inclination deplore their miſ-hap that were involv'd in that combuſtion, and (wanting power to give other ſuccours) he ſent the aſſiſtance of ſome Vows to Heaven for their deliverance.

‘Ah! devouring flames! cry'd he, You yet act your part with leſs power and cruelty than mine:’ if you be not ſuddenly quench'd the materials will ſoon fail that feed your fury: but my fire finds in my Soul an eternal puniſhment, no hope of relief from a contrary Element, nor end of ſuch a ſubſtance as may ever burn without conſuming. With theſe were mingled many ſighs, that roſe in throngs from his breſt; and in the mean time beholding the Fire with a ſerious eye, he ſpy'd it grow pale at the dayes arrival which ſoon after diſrob'd the Sea and Earth of all their Sables; and thus his ſight was no ſooner ſet at liberty, but ſurpriz'd again by a ſecond ſpectacle, which touch'd him more feelingly than the firſt. Heſpy'd ſome perſons that had indeed eſcap'd the Fire, and were now diſputing for life with the liquid Element, and ſtriving with all their ſtrength to gain the ſhoar, which they ſaw already near them. This little number was compos'd of two Women who ty'd themſelves with faſt embraces to a Plank that ſuſtain'd them, and a Man that ſwam behind, and with all his power puſh'd it towards the Shoar, as if he had only tender'd his own life to imploy it in the preſervation of theirs: yet he was grown ſo weary, as the hope of making good his aſſiſtance began to languiſh; for, though the diſtance between the Ship and Shoar was not ſo great, but a man might ſwim it in a calm, yet the pains he had taken in thruſting forward the Ladies Plank, added to what themſelves had ſuffered by waters coldneſs, the toſſing of the billows, (a toil too rude to agree with their delicacy) had render'd them ſo feeble, as all their force was left, was not able to reach the Shoar. Oh! What Beauties were there expos'd to Thetis mercy, how proud the Waves were grown of the priviledge they had gotten to court and kiſs one of the faireſt Bodies that ever Nature fram'd! and (to render their Courtſhip leſs dangerous) they ſeem'd to lay by a part of their ordinary fury, yet retain'd enough to make their imbraces fatal, if the Gods had not ſent relief.

Tyridates well diſcerning what kind of pity the object crav'd ſtaid not to weigh his reſolution, but (ſpurr'd by that generous diſpoſition, that taught him freely to expoſe his life for the ſafety of the miſerable,) (clad as he was) he threw himſelf into the Sea, being only cover'd with a thin light habit, that could not hinder his deſign, and ſwimming with a mighty force, he had ſoon reached them, juſt as they were reduc'd to the extreameſt need of ſuccour, and bidding the Man imploy what ſtrength was left him for his proper ſafety, he tender'd the ſame ſervice to the Women (which till then they had receiv'd of him) with ſuch ſucceſs, and drave their Plank ſo ſtrongly forward, as in a ſhort time they approach'd near enough the Shoar to find a bottom, and ſtay themſelves upon their feet; then, leiſurely removing their bodies, and propping each with an Arm, he led them gently to the Shoar, whither preſently after came their Man, juſt as Tyridates was preparing to repeat the danger in his behalf.

The Principal of theſe Ladies reſembled Venus newly ſprung from Thetis womb, or ſomething more fair, if poſſible; and though Tyridates was prepoſſeſſed by one of the World's rareſt Beauties, yet he could not behold hers without aſtoniſhment, and ſome inclination to Idolatry; he had doubtleſs taken her for ſome Sea-Goddeſs, if he had not ſeen the Waves uſe her too rudely to be her Subjects: and he would have believ'd her a Celeſtial Deity, if the extremity wherein he beheld her ſome moments before had not perſwaded him that he lent his ſuccours to a mortal Beauty: Indeed her Complexion had not ſo pure and delicate a white as the World could ſhew, though it much ſurpaſs'd common Beauties but in revenge of this, her eyes (to whoſe blackneſs, nothing but her Hair was comparable) ſhot ſuch penetrating rayes, all the Features of her Face form'd to ſo rare a proportion, her Neck (then half uncover'd) ſo well ſeconded the charms of her Viſage, and her ſhape (much over-topping the Common Stature of Women) accompanied with a Geſture ſo graceful and Majeſtick, every part helping to make the compoſure admirable; that no eye could view it, and not carry War to the Heart, and give the Soul a hot Alarm of extraordinary motion.

Tyridates had not then the leiſure ſingly to conſider all theſe marvels, and ſhe that poſſeſs'd them had no ſooner gain'd the Shoar, but ſhe let her ſelf fall upon the Sand, too much oppreſt with wearineſs to ſuſtain it, or command force enough to pay her thanks, or almoſt one ſingle regard to her Deliverer; her Woman had the ſame Title to repoſe, and was likewiſe fallen at her Ladies feet, but the Man (though he had undergone exceſſive toil) [Page] had too ſtout a Conſtitution to ſink under what he had ſuffer'd or loſe the memory and power to render a fit acknowledgement to his Preſerver; at whoſe Feet he threw himſelf, and imbracing his Knees with much affection, Whatever you are, ſaid he, I will ſpeak the reſentments I ought to have for the life I owe you, if they were fit to be mentioned with what you have for another: But Sir, the whole World is my fellow Debtor to your Generoſity, for the ſafety of one of its moſt conſiderable Perſons.

Tyridates (helping him up, and inviting him to ſit a while, and endeavour to diſmiſs the wearineſs his Travel had contracted) told him. That he would hold that for the happieſt day the angry Gods had ever ſent him, if he had done any thing in relation to his or that Perſons preſervation, upon whoſe precious life he had ſet ſo rich a value. To theſe they both added ſome other expreſſions of Civility, when the beauteous Lady (time having reſtored part of her ſpirits) roſe from the ſeat her feebleneſs had choſen, and caſting her eyes round, ſtaid them upon Tyridates, whom ſhe knew had preſerv'd her. His Face was none of thoſe that might be ſeen without ſurprizal, for the world had very few that could ſhew more ſigns of an illuſtrious birth: ſuch a pleaſing manly ſweetneſs was ſtamp'd in al his Features, that the fair unknown found enough in his noble looks to claim reſpect, and judging him worthy of her Civility, ſhe accoſted him with a geſture repleat with Grace and Majeſty.

I owe you my life, ſaid ſhe, but am not troubled to be redenable to a man that carries in his face ſo many marks of a Birth and vertue ſublime and illuſtrious. Tyridates who by the Beams of that admirable Beauty, and the Stranger's advantagious Character, had already underſtood what was due to her, roſe from his Seat, and returned her theſe words with much ſubmiſſion. Madam, You honour me with a high opinion borrowed from erroneous conjectures; yet 'tis true my extraction is none of the meaneſt; but, with much regret, I confeſs, I owe that to the glory of my Anceſtors, which I deſpair to make good by my proper vertue. The fair unknown had certainly endeavoured to confute Tyridates modeſty, if he had not oppos'd it by repreſenting the inconvenience ſhe ſuffer'd in her wet habits, and the hazard her health might run if ſhe continued in that Condition; to remedy which; Madam, ſaid he, I am a Stranger as well as you, and the rather ſo, becauſe the miſeries of my life have enjoined me to fly all ſorts of Society; they are thoſe which will not ſuffer me to offer a retreat worthy of you, which at ſome other time, and in another Country I might poſſibly Command; I have only here a little Houſe ſome five or ſix hundred Paces hence, ſeated in the moſt Savage and Solitary place that I could chuſe, there are ſome Chambers Commodious enough, and Beds in them, where you may repoſe your ſelves till your Cloaths be dry. Your entertainment will not be ſo ſplendid as the City may afford, but you ſhall have leſs noiſe and trouble, where you ſhall ſee no Perſon that will not be diſpos'd to ſerve you. ‘Your offers are full of Nobleneſs, repli'd the fair Stranger, but before I accept them, if you pleaſe, I would gladly learn what City this is, and in what Country, we now are.’ ‘You do now behold, ſaid Tyridates,’ the Walls of proud Alexandria, the Metropolis of the great Kingdom of Aegypt made illuſtrious both by her Founder, and the ſucceſſive Reſidence of ſo many mighty Kings, but it ſeems at preſent ſhe ſadly ſuffers the change of her Condition; for, having been the Royal Seat of the Ptolome's, Anthony's, and Cleopatra's, ſhe is now reduc'd (not without the reluctance of ſome diſdain) to be the Manſion and [...]ow to the Command of a Governour. While Tyridates utter'd this, the Man, which was ſav'd from the wrack, began to renew his acquaintance with the Shoar and Walls of Alexandria, and beheld them with aſtoniſhment; from thence turning his Eyes upon the Stranger's Face, he perceiv'd her change colour, and underſtanding ſome Sighs, which the words of Tyridates had forc'd from her Breaſt, but ſtriving to recover her temper ſhe intreated Tyridates to inſtruct her further. ‘It is Cornelius Gallus, ſaid he, that now commands Alexandria, together with all Aegypt, for the Emperour Auguſtus, who gave him this Government after the deplorable death of the unfortunate Anthony, and the great Queen Cleopatra, who, in this unhappy City, (about nine years ſince) loſt both life and Empire, but ſure you muſt know this Story, for it is not likely the Earth hath any part, which the fame of that fatal quarrel (that decided the World's command) has not viſited.’ ‘I have heard of it, replyed the Stranger with a faint voice, but by the Diſcourſe you have made me, I ſee my ſelf reduc'd to make uſe of your bounty, and accept of the retreat which you proffer. Let us go then, ſaid ſhe, (offering him her hand) when you pleaſe, and the dangers I have newly ſcap'd among Treacherous men, cannot hurt the Confidence my opinion hath of your Vertue.’ At theſe words ſhe began to ſet forward, and on either ſide ſtaying her Arm on him, and the Man that was preſerv'd with her, ſhe overcame that ſhort way, not without much trouble, caus'd by her former wearineſs, together with the coldneſs and weight of her wet Apparel.

[Page] The Houſe whither Tyridates conducted her, and where he then made his own abode was ſeated amongſt divers points of a Rock, which over-look'd one ſide of it; on that quarter where the High-way lay, it was conceal'd from the Eye, by a Wood mingled with Rocks: but on that ſide which regarded the Sea, they might have a full free view from the Windows, as far as the ſight would reach. The fair Lady, with her Retinue, was no ſooner arriv'd there, but Tyridates (having given Command to ſome Servants, ſpeedily to make a well furniſh'd Chamber fit to receive them) led them thither, and there reſpectively took his leave, that they might freely enjoy the privacy of laying off their Robes: They went to bed, the Miſtreſs commanding her Servant to lie with her, being a priviledge ſhe had often granted her in their former Travels: Tyridates chang'd Cloaths, and ſent a Servant with a dry Sute to the Stranger, whoſe countenance gave him a good Character, and ſpake his Age about Fifty years.

After they had all beſtow'd ſome hours upon repoſe, Dinner was ſerv'd up to the Ladies in their Bed, and Tyridates having din'd in another Chamber with his unknown Gueſt, deſired him to ask the Ladies at what hours he might viſit them, and not be importunate: the fair Stranger having ſent her anſwer that ſhe was ready to receive him, he entred the Chamber, where ſhe treated him with much civility; ſhe was then ſo well recovered, that all the Beauty which pain and fear had put to flight was come back again to its uſual luſtre: which Tyridates took ſome time to admire; for, though his heart was captive to another, yet it could not hinder him from giving her the Palm, from all that ever his Eye acknowledged fair: The Lady had no leſs ſatisfaction from his brave looks; and this mutual eſteem gave to each an almoſt equal deſire of a further diſcovery: The Reſpect which the Lady's Face had imprinted in Tyridates, would not ſuffer him to own his Curioſity; but ſhe was ſo hardy to profeſs hers, and after ſhe had invited him to a Seat near her bed, and beheld him with a more pleaſing Aſpect than ſhe had yet expreſt; I ſhould be very ungrateful, ſaid ſhe, if I had any deſign to hide my condition from a Perſon to whom I am indebted for my life; and though there be many Reaſons weighty enough to diſſwade the diſcovery of my Name, Birth, and Fortunes, in a Country that has deſerv'd to be ſuſpected; yet I ſhould eaſily conſent to truſt the ſecret of my life to the Remembrance of what I owe you, and the opinion I have of your Vertue, if my deſire to know you better did not want ſome ſatisfaction: Pardon this Curioſity to my Sex and apprehenſion, and think it not ſtrange that I am willing to underſtand his Name and Condition, whoſe Face and Behaviour have already ſpoke ſo much to his advantage: If you do not find cauſe to ſuſpect me, deny not my deſire, and in exchange I ſhall give you the Relation of divers paſſages, which, with the confidence I repoſe in you, may be judged important.

Tyridates took ſome moments to reply to theſe words; but a while after (lifting his eyes from the Earth, and fixing them upon the Face of his fair Gueſt) You deſire that of me, ſaid he, which can never be paid for with a leſs price than what you offer, and I ſhould be very hardly drawn to reveal the the ſecret of my life to any that could challenge leſs reſpect and obedience than your ſelf; it were frivolous to conceal, that to the confeſſion of my Name is faſten'd the manifeſt danger of my life; for, that is faln to ſo low a value in my conſideration, that it cannot oblige me to hide it from you; but if I give this relation faithfully, I muſt diſcloſe things which were never yet declared to any, and which I was reſolved to continue ſecret, ſo long as my breſt could hold them; yet I ſhall forget all theſe conſiderations, and (arm'd with the hope of your promis'd exchange) trie to ſubdue all the difficulties that withſtand my obedience.

Inſtead of rebating, theſe words enflamed the Lady's deſire, yet ſhe reſerved ſo much diſcretion to tell him, that ſhe ſhould be ſorry to importune the recital of ſo weighty a ſecret: But Tyridates reply'd, he had already clear'd all the obſtacles that reſiſted his inclination to obey her, and (having kept ſilence ſome moments to prepare attention) he began his Story in this manner.

The Hiſtory of TYRIDATES.

THE Diſcourſe I am now begin, is nought elſe but a Web of Miſeries, interwoven with a few memorable Events; it would afflict your Patience if I did not reſolve to abridge it, and (ſlightly touching the reſt) only enlarge my ſelf upon thoſe Adventures that are moſt important.

My name is Tyridates, I am of the illuſtrious bloud of the Arſacides, Son of Orodes King of the Parthians, (under whom the Roman Power receiv'd ſo great a ſhock by the loſe of Craſſus and his Army) and Brother to the cruel Phraates, who now poſſeſſeth that great [Page] Empire, which our Anceſtors have commanded, ſince the grand Arſaces founded that proud Monarchy of whom we are deſcended from Father to Son in a direct maſculine line.

At the knowledge of Tyridates his quality, his fair Gueſt regarded him with a graceful eie, and (interrupting the beginning of his Diſcourſe) ‘I took my conjecture,’ ſaid ſhe, from many ſigns I obſerv'd, that your birth was not common, and am well pleas'd to find my opinion not erroneous; and leſt you ſhould believe her a mean Perſon that hath engaged ſo great a Prince to this long Narration, I ſhall let you know (before I give a more ample Relation of my life) that I was born a Princeſs, and am lawful Queen to one of the moſt puiſſant and Rich Empires of the world. At theſe words Tyridates roſe from his Chair, and making an obeiſance as low as the verge of her Robe, demanded pardon for the faults his Ignorance had committed; the fair Queen, made him the ſame excuſes, and when they had allow'd ſome time for this Diſcourſe, Tyridates being return'd (by the Queens intreaty) to his Seat, thus purſu'd his Story.

I was born under an unfortunate Planet, and thoſe which conſulted the Stars at my Nativity, did all find me menaced by moſt malicious influences, eſpecially the Mathematician Thraſillus, who (before his Youth had done blooming) had acquir'd a great reputation in that Science, and does at this day paſs, for one of the Worlds living Wonders; he ſaw me in Armenia, which I viſited in one of my unfortunate Voyages; after he had peruſed ſome lines in my Hand and Face, and been inform'd of the day and hour of my Birth, he foretold my Miſeries ſhould not end but with my Life, that neither ſhould long continue, that I was threatned with a Death, which ſhould be neither Violent nor Natural, but participating ſomething of both. In my firſt Childhood I was nouriſhed in the King my Fathers Court, with a great number of Brothers, of which I was the youngeſt, Pacorus and Phraates being 16 or 18 years elder than I. I was not 8 years old when my Brothers the Princes Pacorus and Labienus broke into the Territories of Aſia that obeyed the Roman People, defeated Saxa, and (ſwel'd with their lucky ſucceſs) ravaged Cilicia with a part of Syria; it may be you have heard of the progreſs they have made in ſo ſhort a time: But the end was much different, for the following year they were defeated and unluckily ſlain by the Roman Army, commanded by Ventidius, Lievtenant to Antonius.

After the death of Pacorus, the Prince Phraates my Brother, not much ſhort of his Age, being already married, ſucceeded to the Helm of the Parthian affairs; for the King our Father, beginning to ſtoop under his years, deſired the Comforts of a Calm Age, and to be releas'd of the Troubles which his Youth had ſuſtain'd. At my tenth year, the King ſent me to a little City upon our Frontier, where uſually the Parthian Royal Infants were educated, and there the Prince Pacorus had learn'd part of his Exerciſes: I took ſome pains at mine, with a ſucceſs fruitful enough to content my Tutors; and after I had there imployed about four years time, and began to think of being called home to my Fathers Court I underſtood it had been lately dyed with bloud, and that bloud Royal, newly drawn from my poor murthered Brothers: this Act hath been too well known to all the world for the honour of Arſacides, whoſe name to all ages will ſtand blotted with eternal Obloquy; the cruel and ambitious Phraates (unworthy of the Race and Memory of Arſaces) deſirous to make ſure of that Authority, which he feared his Brothers might one day find means to diſturb, cauſed them to be barbarouſly ſlain; and the aged King our Father, for making his grief appear in his juſt complaints, and declaiming againſt his deteſtable Inhumanity, in ſome terms that diſpleas'd, provoked him to compleat the Horror of this Age, and the Infamy of Royal Dignity, by the addition of Parricide, thus puniſhing no other Crime in his murder'd Father, than the giving life to that Cut-throat of him and all his Offſpring.

I had ſhar'd the ſame Fate with my Brethren, if he that was diſpatch'd with the bloudy Commiſſion to the City where I was, had not been touched with the ſenſe of vertue, and a reſpect due to the Extraction of Kings. In ſtead of executing Phraates command, he ſav'd me from his Cruelty; and having inform'd me in few words of my Brother's deplorable Murther, (for that of the King my Father was not yet perpetrated) with the charge he had given him; But Arſanes, ſaid he, will ſooner chooſe a thouſand ways to periſh, than conſent to dip his hands in his Maſters Bloud; let us ſave our ſelves, Young Prince, and evade the dire deſign of that ſavage Monſter that would deſtroy us. I intirely reſigned my ſelf up to his conduct, and (being followed by my Governour, with five or ſix Servants that were willing to run my Fortune) I got to Horſe; and, though I had ſcarce attained to 14 years, I expoſed my ſelf to the hardſhip of a painful Journey, uncertain to ſave a life, which I never yet could own with comfort.

Thus I firſt grew miſerable, and began at an early age to inure my ſelf to Baniſhment, [Page] and thus I have learn'd to hope no better than to finiſh my diſgrace and my dayes together.

Arſanes firſt conducted me to the Court of Armenia, where the King (keeping no very friendly correſpondence with Phraates, and not willing in his behalf, to violate the right of Nations) received me into his protection. In that Court I enjoyed ſome Tranquility. Beſides what the King allowed me, Arſanes had brought a quantity of Jewels, valued at about a thouſand Talents, which the King my Father (to whom he disclos'd the deſign he had to ſave me had given him at his departure: but Fortune ſoon ſhew'd how much my repoſe diſpleaſed her, by the Calamities that befell the good King that had given me ſhelter, who moſt unfortunately fell with all his Family into the hands of Antony, her Enemy, and was led bound to Queen Cleopatra, who ſome time after with moſt barbarous Inhumanity caus'd his head to be ſtruck off. This Diſaſter, which doubtleſs you have heard, (being important enough to ſpread over the whole Earth) ſent me to ſeek another Sanctuary; which Arſanes would needs have to be the Court of Media, betwixt whoſe King, and the King Orodes there was ſome alliance; there I found the retreat I deſired, and ſtaid two or three years. In that time there happened the ruine of Antony and Cleopatra, the eſtabliſhment of Auguſtus Caeſar in the Roman Empire, and many other Revolutions, in which the whole World was concerned.

The cruel Phraates often ſent to demand me of the Median King, but could never diſpoſe him to put me into his hands; yet after he had made many Incurſions upon his Territories, he at laſt obtain'd his promiſe to protect me no longer. At Praaſpa, the Capital City of Media, I receiv'd his Orders to retire, colour'd with divers excuſive reaſons, which laid the blame upon Neceſſity. From whence I went into Bithynia, where I was received by the old King Pharnaces, who for two years time treated me with Humanity enough: but at laſt the baſeneſs of his nature ſhew'd it ſelf: And indeed, what faith could I hope for from a diſloyal wretch, that, in favour of the Romans, had betray'd his own Father, the great Mithridates, and inhumanely conſtrain'd him rather to give himſelf Death by his own hands, than fall into his. This perfidious man, ſuffering himſelf to be gained by Phraates promiſes, who ſpightfully purſu'd my unhappy wandring life with an inflexible cruelty) at laſt promis'd either to poyſon me, or deliver me up. Theſe practices were not carried ſo ſecretly, but Arſanes begun to ſcent them; and deteſting ſuch barbarous infidelity, after he had given me notice, we made uſe of the night to ſave our ſelves, and got out of the Confines of his Kingdom, with our beſt diligence.

After this we long wandred from place to place, till at laſt we arrived in Judaea, which then groan'd under the Scepter of Herod, who was formerly ſupported by Antony, and is now favoured by Auguſtus. And thus I have paſſed my diſaſtrous Youth, wandring from Province to Province, and begging ſhelter from Court to Court, for this wretched life, which was never worth the pains I took to preſerve it.

I have hitherto Epitomiz'd the recital of my Voyages, which had I drawn at large, muſt needs have tir'd your Attention; but now my diſcourſe muſt take a larger ſcope to relate the Accidents befel me in Judaea, ſince they are the Authors which compos'd my preſent condition. I had plenty of reaſons to ſeek a Sanctury with Herod; for, he was the greateſt Enemy Phraates had, and had indeed receiv'd ſuch ſenſible Affronts from that Parricide, which were all freſh in his memory, that he ſought all wayes to breath his Revenge. A little before my arrival at his Court, Phraates had not only ſupported his Enemie Antigonus and lent him force to make War upon him, but had invaded his Dominions, ſpoil'd his Provinces that were contiguous to Parthia, and took Hircanus and Phaſolus Priſoners, the later of which (rather than remain in that Tyrants power, choſe to beat out his own brains againſt a Rock. Beſides theſe he had done him other injuries, which though Herod (being then perplext with other affairs) had little power to repay, yet he laid them up in his memory with a reſontment ſo violent, as he would willingly have given a large part of his Dominion for an occaſion to requite his miſchiefs. Of this he gave a clear proof in the reception he made me, which was imputed by one that underſtood his humors, rather to the Reaſons I have given, than any natural inclination to goodneſs.

Indeed, he did heap extraordinary favours upon me, allow'd me large penſions for ſubſiſtance; and not only promis'd me protection from my Brother, but Forces to make War upon him, and take vengeance for his cruel perſecutions. I received thoſe offers with a becoming acknowledgment: the whole Court (by his command) treating me with much Reſpect: and thus I began to live with tranquility enough; I ſay I began: But alas! the Repoſe was not long-liv'd; for if my body enjoy'd a peaceable Retreat, my Soul was encountred with a cruel War, or rather fell into the hardeſt Captivity that ever Soul reſented. Ah! how much better had it been, that I had abandon'd my ſelf a willing prey to Phraates greedy Cruelty, than expos'd my ſelf to ſuch rending torments as have ſince coſt [Page] it ſo many Groans! How juſtly might I ſay, to avoid the leaſt of evils, at leaſt the ſhorteſt liv'd, I have thrown my ſelf headlong upon the greateſt of all Calamities; and I would ſay the bittereſt, if the glory to ſuffer ſo did not poiſe the miſery. In fine, Tyridates was doom'd to die by a brighter Weapon than any Phraates had, and receiving the Wound that conducts him to his Tomb, he took it with a reſpect ſo profound, as judged it a Sin to murmur.

Herod had eſpouſed the Princeſs Mariamne, ſprung from the glorious bloud of the Aſmoneans and Macchabees, Grandchild to the two Kings, Hircanus and Ariſtobulus; indeed a Cien truly worthy of ſo illuſtrious a Stock, from which Herod following Antipater's ſteps, by the help of the Romans, had uſurped the Judaean Crown: 'Tis poſſible you have heard what waies he took to arrive at that height, how his father Antipater (after he had divided the two Brothers, Hircanus and Ariſtobulus) at laſt made uſe of the Roman power to ruine both; and whilſt Ariſtobulus ſighed in his Chains at Rome, after he had ſerved for an Ornament to Pompey's Triumph, he took advantage of Hircanus weakneſs to invade the Soveraign Authority, and make way for his Son Herod, after the deſtruction of all the lawful Heirs, to mount the Throne. He had then newly made an end of the miſerable Reliques of the Family, Alexander the eldeſt Son of Ariſtobulus, being eſcaped out of Priſon at Rome, and having got ſome Forces together, was unluckily ſurpriz'd and ſlain by his Enemies, and the unfortunate Antigonus, his Brother (the ſame that fled for refuge to Phraates, and the laſt King of the Aſmonean race) being faln into their hands, had his head cut off by the barbarous command of Antony, who (being Herods Friend) believed he could not otherwiſe aſſure him the Crown.

Though Mariamne had a juſt reſentment againſt this Cut-throat of her Family, yet ſhe was forced to marry him in obedience to the Princeſs Alexandra her Mother, and old Hircanus her Grandfather, who being eſcap'd out of Parthia where he was Priſoner with Phaſelus, liv'd at Jeruſalem in the condition of a private man, and in that womaniſh ſoftneſs, that made him tamely ſit down with the loſs of a Crown both from him and his: and thus the old mans weakneſs, and the womans ambition ſacrific'd her to their intereſts: But they could never bow her ſoul to love that Husband, whoſe diſproportion of manners, and inequality of birth, with the bloudy outrages he had committed in butchering her Kindred, and the uſurpation of a Crown, which in right belong'd to young Ariſtobulus her Brother, induc'd her to regard with a verſion and diſdain: Yet ſhe had liv'd in a moſt admirable moderation with him, and with an exceſs of vertue done violence upon her inclinations, by enduring him, whom Heaven and her Parents had given her for a Husband, till by one horrid act of cruelty, ſhe defac'd all that a forc'd obedience had Character'd; it was the death of the Prince Ariſtobulus, Brother to this fair Queen, whoſe vertue and excellent qualities contriv'd his deſtruction; for Herod (the ſubtileſt of men) growing Jealous of the peoples inclination to this amiable Youth, that was now 18 years of age, caus'd him to be cruelly ſtrangled in a Bath. There was never beheld a more goodly and accompliſh'd thing than this young Prince. No wonder then if his Siſter expreſt her reſentments in a ſharper tone for ſo dear a loſs, yet Herod clear'd himſelf of it before Antony, but in ſuch a manner, as all the World ſtill thought him guilty, and Alexandra and her Daughter beheld him as the poor Princes Hangman.

The Court and Family of Herod were in this condition when I came thither, and I ſoon knew all the reaſons why the fair Queen deteſted her ſavage Husband; it was then my eyes loſt me all my repoſe, by lifting themſelves to that divine Princeſs.

The beauty of Mariamne was not (like common ones) to be ſeen without a dangerous wonder; the eye of Man never ſaw any thing more perfect, and till this day I believ'd none but young Cleopatra capable of compariſon; he that was ſent by Antony to make diſcovery of the Worlds choiceſt Beauties, publiſh'd her a piece that ſurpaſs'd humanity, and (to ſpeak my opinion freely) Madam, your ſelf excepted and that young Princeſs (Daughter to the great and unfortunate Cleopatra) I think the World cannot ſhew another that may equal her.

Theſe words charg'd the Queens modeſty with a bluſh, and (interrupting Tyridates) I have not vanity enough, ſaid ſhe, to believe that what you call my beauty can challenge an equality with the Queen Mariamne's; I am better aequainted with her face than you imagine, for we have often view'd at our Court the Pourtrait both of her and her Brother, the Prince Ariſtobulus, and indeed acknowledged them for the exacteſt Pieces that ever the hand of Nature drew. It is true, reply'd Tyridates, the Princeſs Alexandra, raviſh'd as well as others with the beauties of her children, had caus'd their Pictures to be drawn, and ſent to divers parts of the World: but, Madam, had it been in the power of Art to repreſent her ſoul as well as her body, your eyes had yet been entertain'd with better wonders: all that report ever ſpake of the moſt ſublime and refined vertue, [Page] will but ſerve to expreſs but an imperfect Ray of Mariamne's worth, and in thoſe great and frequent occaſions that call'd her to the tryal, ſhe gave proofs of it, that could not be ſeen and not admir'd, Her Conſtancy ſhin'd in her afflictions, her patience in the perſecution which ſhe ſuffer'd without the leaſt repining, and that prodigious force of ſpirit taught her to endure a Husband, whom ſhe had ſo much reaſon to hate, and one ſo contrary to all her inclinations, fix'd her like an unſhaken Rock, beat off all the batteries of her Malignant fortune, and took all thoſe outrages (in which another ſpirit would have found out reaſon for revenge) with a temper, that never ſo much as bow'd it ſelf to the leaſt thought that might unbeſeem the Grandeur of her Courage.

And ſince Mariamne was thus, was it poſſible for Tyridates not to love her, having a heart ſuſceptible of Love's Impreſſion, and a ſoul capable to comprehend the Divine Qualities of Mariamne? was it poſſible to defend it ſelf by the conſideration of Vertue from ſuch a puiſſance, when vertue her ſelf came and help'd to give the paſſion Birth? Nor did it ever inſpire me with a thought that might juſtly offend her; I lov'd Mariamne with no intent to improve my hopes by the abuſe of her vertue, but becauſe Love had no ſtronger Arms than what that lent him, to make himſelf Maſter of my Soul; and I lov'd Mariamne, becauſe it was impoſſible to ſee, to know, and not to love her: Yet I endeavour'd to put my heart in a poſture of Reſiſtance, and to the birth of my affection often oppos'd all the difficulties I could encounter in my intentions, the danger I threw my ſelf into, and the remembrance of that which I ow'd to my Protector: but all theſe conſiderations were too feeble to defend me; one Look, one Word from Mariamne, would in a moment deſtroy all the Fortifications againſt her, that had been three months a rearing: Then I began to arm the Glory againſt the difficulties I had to vanquiſh, the peril I ſlighted by undervaluing my Life, and excus'd my ſelf to Herod with the violence Mariamne did me, my affection not being an effect of my Will; and further, Madam, I confeſs I ſuffered a hope to flatter me of being let into the Queens Boſom, by that juſt averſion which the King had given her; for, as I underſtood it, the love of a Wife to her Husband, founded either upon Inclination, merit, or obligation, is the beſt weapon ſhe can take up to oppoſe the purſuits of a Lover; and the Queen having ſuch ſtrong reaſons to diſpence with all thoſe ties, had now no other defence than for her ſelf, ſingly conſidered, no fear of remorſe left for a Husband, who had but too much merited all the revenge ſhe was capable of taking: and from that time I began to call in theſe apprehenſions, my Paſſion grew able to corrupt the moſt vertuous inclination, to render me ingrateful to my Benefactor, and to induce me now no more to regard him as my Protector from Phraates, but as he that murder'd the Brother, the Father, and Grandfather of Mariamne: Then Jealouſie began to joyn with my affection, and I could not reflect upon the advantages he poſſeſſed, without deeply ſighing, and a thouſand times crying out, that the Favours of that fair Queen were more lawfully due to him, who was willing to buy them with his beſt ſervices and deareſt bloud, than to the man who had paid nothing for them but Indignities and injuries; When Love firſt entred my heart it us'd me gently, hiding thoſe cruel Idea's of torment he hath ſince inflicted: but now it hath taken an entire poſſeſſion, and doth exerciſe an authority, which leaves no liberty to act by any other motion than his own; all my thoughts, all my diſcourſe, all my actions had no other ſubject but Mariamne, nay my very ſleep (whoſe proper office it is by benumming the Senſes to charm all our Cares) would not quiet mine, ſtill repreſenting to the eies of my Soul, when the other were clos'd, the Divine Perfections of Mariamne.

This continual fixing my Spirits rob'd me of all repoſe, and produced effects that were ſoon obſerv'd both in my face and behaviour; and, though the care I took to hide it, kept the true cauſe undiſcover'd, yet it could not hinder the whole Court from taking notice of my deep melancholly, accompany'd with an unnatural Paleneſs, a change of my Humour, and an alteration of my Health.

Arſanes and my Governour, (from whom I never before kept any thing conceal'd) in this were Strangers to my thoughts; and I preſerv'd the diſguiſe with my beſt Care, rather out of reſpect to my Paſſion and the cauſe of it, than any doubt of their Affection or Fidelity.

In the mean time my acceſs was ſo eaſie, that I daily ſaw the Queen: For the hopes which Herod cheriſhed (by my means to revenge himſelf of the King of Parthia) had made him ſweeten his ſavage humour on purpoſe to indear me with a kind entertainment. A thouſand times was my tongue ready before that adorable Princeſs, not openly to declare my Paſſion, for I had not the daring to take ſuch a liberty before a Vertue that made me tremble; but at leaſt to let her know that no man had a more paſſionate Intereſt in her fortune, or could pay down his life with greater joy than my ſelf, to purchaſe Solace for her affections: But ſtill fear arreſted my intentions, and I have ſhak'd at the thought of my deſign [Page] like a timerous Souldier at the ſight of an Enemy, or his approaches to an Aſſault; yet I expreſt part of that in looks, which my tongue would fain have ſaid at large, and then if ſhe chanced to caſt her eyes upon mine, and take them in the fact, they loſt all their aſſurance, and were either too feeble to receive the beams ſhe ſhot, without aſtoniſhment, or (confounded with the ſurpriſal) threw themſelves at the feet of this Divine Princeſs, and ſeemed by that ſubmiſs action to ask pardon for the fault.

The Queen had ſoon diſcovered the truth, if ſhe had not been prevented by ſo many cruel Cares, that would not permit her to faſten an obſerving thought upon any of my particular actions. I was one day with the Princeſs Alexandra her Mother, and as I kept a complacence full of reſpect in my behaviour to them, by the help of an opinion which they had conceived to my advantage, they began to repoſe much confidence in me: Alexandra being of a boiling ſpirit, and a temper which wanted much of the ſweetneſs and patience the Queen her Daughter was indued with, abandon'd her ſelf to the reſentment, which was yet freſh for the death of Ariſtobulus, exclaimed againſt the cruelty of Herod, in moſt violent terms, and deplor'd her own and her Daughters condition in words full of paſſion and tranſport; from the injuries ſhe received in her Son's death, and the ruine of her Kindred; her bitter complaints paſſed to the deadly jealouſie of Herod, and the fatal effects it had like to have wrought, by the Order he had given to his Unkle Joſeph, which (at the brink of his going to appear before Anthony at Laodicea) commanded him to kill Mariamne, in caſe that voyage proved fatal to him; Alexandra went on with vehemence in recounting divers other effects of her Son-in-law's cruelty, and during all the diſcourſe, the Queen never ſo much as open'd her mouth, but only to let go ſome redoubled ſighs, and made her tears keep company with her Mothers words, which gave freſh luſtre to her beauty: Oh Gods! what new deep wounds did the ſight of that lovely ſorrow give me! how poſſible it was to behold my Divine Queen in that eſtate, without ſuffering all her ſorrows! I had now no longer power to diſſemble; and loſing all remembrance of my preſent condition, and the danger whereinto I threw my ſelf headlong, by provoking Herod againſt me, I blindly abandoned my ſelf to the motions of my paſſion, and caſting my eyes (moiſt as the Queens) upon hers, that were letting fall their dejected looks to the Earth, Good Gods! cried I, ſighing, is it poſſible you ſhould ſubmit the moſt accompliſh'd piece that ere you made to ſo much affliction, and muſt I owe ſafety to a man whoſe actions have given me ſo much horrour? I preſently repented that I had ſuffered theſe words to eſcape me, fearing I had declared my ſelf too far; but after I perceived I was underſtood by none but the Princeſſes, and that they appeared unmoved, I recovered my aſſurance; and a little after the Princeſs Alexandra being retir'd to the other end of the Chamber to confer with ſome Perſons, and ſeeing my ſelf alone with the Queen by her bed's ſide, I made a ſtrong aſſault upon my fear to recover my Diſcourſe, and beholding the Tears that ſtill crept upon her fair Cheeks, Would to Heaven, Madam, ſaid I, that all the bloud I have could ſtay the recourſe of thoſe precious tears you ſpill. Ah! with what joy ſhould I reſign it, how gladly ſacrifice my Life for the repoſe of yours!

Theſe words (wholly compaſſionate as they were) were aſcribed by the Queen to nought but the Compaſſion I took of her Misfortunes; yet they called her from the Contemplation of her miſeries which had ſeized her thoughts, and raiſing up her eyes to mine, with a look full of a ſweet acknowledgment; I ſhould be ſorry, ſaid ſhe, to buy the quiet of my life with the danger of yours; and I have yet more right to my own miſeries, than to your afflictions, we are both perſecuted, you by a Brother, and I by a Husband: your reſentments I cannot diſapprove, but I can admit none that are unlawful againſt my Husband; and if his actions do frame our calamities, 'tis fit I ſhould believe that Heaven makes uſe of them to chaſtiſe our Crimes. By them it hath let fall its wrath upon the head of our deplorable Family, and therefore if any complaint breaks from me, it makes its way through the weakneſs of my Nature, and muſt be owned for the Child of Juſtice. ‘O miraculous Virtue, cry'd I, interrupting her, It is requiſite I ſhould redouble my griefs to ſee you plunged in ſuch deep Calamity:’ ‘My Misfortunes are not inſupportable, replied the Queen,’ if you would find the way to underſtand them right, and if you knew the God which I adore, you would likewiſe know the conſolation I taſt in my ſufferings, which now you cannot apprehend: If he hath given me Herod for a Puniſhment as well as a Husband, I ought to receive him from his hands as both: and if he ordains me to pardon the injuries done by the moſt cruel and remote Enemies, ſure he would have me forget thoſe with an entire reſignation I received from him, to whom he hath pleaſed to tie me in a knot ſo ſacred. It is that, Madam, anſwered I, that makes me hold my condition unfortunate, that Heaven hath raiſed you up an Enemy and a Perſecutor, againſt whom I cannot offer you my Sword and Life, without offending your Virtue; that your high raiſed Reflections cannot be combated by a man that reveres you; [Page] nor can I cenſure the conſideration you keep for the King your Husband, ſince in his Arms I found my refuge, nor do him any ill office without ingratitude: but if the intereſt which I take in your wrongs, the admiration I have of your virtue, and reſentments much more preſſing and particular, make me find in your afflictions a Subject,—at theſe words I ſtopped, and conſidering how the inſenſible tranſport of my paſſion had carried me into terms of diſcovery, I ſtaid in an abrupt ſilence, without conducting my words to any period.

The Queen obſerving my ſtrange breaking off, looked upon me, and doubtleſs either expected what was behind to cloſe my Diſcourſe, or would have asked the cauſe of my ſudden ſilence; when the Princeſs her Mother came back again to my reſcue from the perplexity wherein my imprudence had engaged me: yet I think we had ſpent more time in this entertainment, if the arrival of ſome Ladies had not interrupted us; the principal of which was Salome the Siſter of Herod. It was not amity that brought her to viſit the Princeſſes, for ſhe hated them mortally; but having a dexterous and artificial ſpirit, ſhe made it bow to her Intereſts, and knowing the power Mariamne had (as unfortunate as ſhe was) in the Kings affections, ſhe forced her ſelf to appear officious, and cover'd her malicious thoughts with a black diſſimulation. The ill-will ſhe already bore to the Queen, was augmented by a miſchance, which I muſt now recount; for (ſince you have ordain'd me to give you the truth of my Fortune, ſtript of all diſguiſe) I am forc'd to tell you, Madam, (though the relation may offend Modeſty) that my miſhap, and no other cauſe, made me be lov'd of Salome. I had already obſerv'd her affection by divers ſigns, but was eaſily perſwaded to ſlight my diſcovery, either by a juſt anticipation which chain'd me to another, the meaneſt part of whom was infinitely above all that Salome could boaſt lovely, or by an imperfect knowledge I had already got of her dangerous humour; however I was content to anſwer her extraordinary Careſſes, with ſuch a civility as I believed was due to the Siſter of Herod; and if I received them at firſt with any ſatisfactions from that time wherein my life grew conſiderable, becauſe I had given it to the Qu. & had begun to ſeek all that ſweetneſs I could fancy in her only. I had ſcarcely allow'd one ſingle regard either to the face or actions of Salome.

For that day ſhe cut off my further diſcourſe with the Queen, but I had liberty enough to renew it in thoſe that ſucceeded; the Court was not then very large, every man fearing to provoke Herod's jealous and ſuſpitious ſpirit; but in all the Converſe I had with her, fear ſtill fetter'd my tongue, and I had not the confidence to diſcloſe my thoughts further than what my eyes, or ſometimes a ſudden change of colour could expreſs. In the mean time Herod (either through generoſity, or thoſe reaſons I render'd) ſtill permitted me thoſe liberties, when Fortune preſented an occaſion to improve my credit with him.

Malichus, who commanded the Arabians, an ancient enemy to Herod, with a powerful Army invaded the Frontiers of Judea, committing a thouſand Acts of Hoſtility; it was ſince believ'd he kept intelligence with old Hircanus, who, (as I told you) liv'd at Hieruſalem in the condition of a private man, without any craft or cognizance of affairs, and with the Princeſs Alexandra: however it was, Herod uniting his diſperſed forces with exceeding diligence, had ſoon gather'd a conſiderable Army; and not being able to go in perſon, becauſe of ſome troubles he ſuſpected at home, beſides his intended voyage to go viſit Auguſtus Caeſar (then at Rhodes) he put his Brother Pheroras in the head of it. I was aſham'd that I had employ'd all my youth in running away from death, and deſiring leave of the King that I might accompany his Brother in that expedition; he not only conſented, but gave me the command of all the Cavalry; I parted very well pleas'd with the employment, and endeavoured to ſweeten the grief I took to leave Mariamne, with a hope to merit her eſteem by ſome action of Valour. I will not trouble you with the particulars of this War, and ſhall only content my ſelf to tell you, that by an exceſs of good fortune I acquired a reputation large enough; in the Ingagements made with my Troops, I defeated the Enemy in divers Encounters, which I had ſtill the hap to Signalize by ſome perſonal action. In one Combat, which was obſtinately diſputed with a Squadron of our Troops, I kill'd the Brother of Malichus with my own hand, and a few dayes after, having ſurpriz'd half the Enemies Army at a paſs upon a River, I charged it with 4000 Horſe I had then with me, with ſo ſtrange a ſucceſs, that we kill'd above 8000 Arabians upon the place, and routed the reſt with ſuch a grand confuſion, that they left all their Baggage to our ſouldiers.

By this and the precedent encounters, I had acquired as much credit in the Army as I could well deſire, and Herod receiving the news, conceiv'd an opinion of me ſo advantagious, as within a ſhort time after, having call'd home his Brother Pheroras to the Government of the State, during his voyage to Auguſtus, he deſired me to accept the Command of the Army in Chief, rather chuſing to repoſe ſo weighty a truſt in me (though young, and a Stranger) than in any of his old and more experimented Captains. After the departure of Pheroras I had the ſole Command; and Fortune that had favour'd my beginnings, did ſo [Page] well ſecond her kindneſs in what follow'd, that at laſt I entirely chaſed the Arabians out of Judea, after they had loſt above 1000 lives in divers encounters. Thus, when all was pacified upon the frontiers, and we had no more enemies to combat, after the Garriſons were fortified, I returned towards Jeruſalem, leſs ſatisfied with the applauſe was prepar'd me for my good ſucceſs, than with the hope of being ſuddenly reſtor'd the ſight of Mariamne, and to ſee her at ſuch a time, when I believ'd the ſervice I had done her Countrey, had purchaſed ſome eſteem in her thoughts.

But oh Gods! how ſurpriz'd was I at a ſad report I met with upon the way, which told me that Herod was departed from Rhodes, with deſign to gain the ſame credit with Auguſtus, that he had with Antony; but before his departure, had cauſed old Hircanus to be ſtrangled, out of ſuſpition that he kept intelligence with Malichus, and that great Princeſs his Grand-child with her Mother to be ſhut up in a Caſtle, or rather a cloſe Priſon near the City, under the Guard of Sohemus and Joſeph, with expreſs order to reſtrain their liberty, and forbid them all converſe till he came back again. This News not only moderated the contentment I took in my return, and the ſucceſsful event of my expedition, but poſſeſt my ſpirit with aſtoniſhment, horror & compaſſion. I was amaz'd at the cruelty of Herod, who holding his Life and Scepter of Hircanus goodneſs, though he was then fourſcore, had not the patience to ſtay till Nature would relinquiſh him to his Tomb; the horrour of this act, and the ſad pity I had for the affliction and captivity of Mariamne, bruis'd my Soul with a grief ſo weighty, as I was ready to give over all reſiſtance.

Arſaues, and my Governour Polites, ſeeing my ſorrows ſwell to ſuch a proportion, as they thought too big for my intereſts in Herod's houſe, earneſtly entreated me to undiſguiſe the cauſe of it. At firſt I reſiſted; but in fine, conſidering the little reaſon I had to diſtruſt them, after they had given ſuch clear proofs of their affection, I abandon'd my ſecret to their diſcretion, and avowed my violent paſſion for Mariamne. This confeſſion ſurpriz'd them, (though well knowing what charms the Queen poſſeſſed) and after they had in vain repreſented all the reaſon they could make to extinguiſh my flame, they diſpoſed themſelves to ſerve me at the peril of their lives. I was a little comforted with the proteſtations they made me, and began to judge their advice not unſerviceable for the conduct of my deſires. I finiſhed the reſt of my journey, with ſuch a ſetled Melancholy, that the reception I had from Pheroras and the reſt of the Jews, was incapable to moderate it; What, ſaid I (when I was alone, or had only my two confidents about me) is Mariamne (to whom all ſhould reſign their liberties) become a Captive? and can the Gods permit the moſt perfect piece that ever they put their hands to, to be given up to the cruelties of ſuch an Inhumane? Mariamne now weeps the loſs of a Grandfather with that of her liberty; and the feeble Tyridates weeps too like her, without offering other ſuccours than a few womaniſh tears; he keeps his arms acroſs, while the Monſters tear his heart in the perſon of Mariamne; add then how weak the reaſons are that will not let him arm himſelf againſt the Hangman! A Tyger! a thouſand times more cruel than Phraates, no longer my Protector. but my Perſecutor, my Enemy. Savage Monſter, too too unworthy of thoſe dear advantages thou poſſeſſeſt, truſt no further to that obligation which till now hath tied me to thy intereſts, and believe it, I am more injur'd by thee in Mariamne's wrongs, than oblig'd for my ſhelter; for her I will draw my ſword againſt thee and all the world, nor can it be ingratitude to defend Virtue from the oppreſſion of Tyranny.

Theſe were the thoughts I convers'd with, for this laſt effect of Herod's inhumanity had ſo gall'd my ſpirit, that it forſook all the conſiderations I had for him; and now I made no ſcruple (for the ſervice or revenge of Mariamne) to do him the worſt of miſchiefs; Arſanes (to whom I ſhew'd theſe thoughts naked) begg'd of me to cover them, ſince their publiſhing might procure my ruine without the leaſt advantage to Mariamne; in the mean time I told him it was impoſſible for me to live and not ſee her, that I was reſolv'd to try all the wayes (though never ſo dangerous) to compaſs it. Arſanes long oppoſed this intention: but, ſeeing no poſſibility of diſwaſion, reſolv'd to ſeek ſome means to ſerve me in it.

He was very well known to Sohemus; beſides I call'd to mind that I had done him a curteſie with Herod, in a buſineſs wherein he ſtood in great need of my favour; this gave Arſanes a belief, it might make way for the obtaining part of my deſires, and indeed we found a greater facility than we durſt hope: For Mariamne (againſt the power of whoſe charms there was no reſiſtance) had ſo perfectly gain'd Sohemus heart, as he had no paſſion more powerful than a deſire to pleaſe her, and would not have ſcrupled to hazard fortune & life it ſelf to ſerve her; he was very willing to have ſet her at liberty, and have follow'd her fortune, if his companion in the charge had not been ſuſpitious it would betray him to the rage of Herod. At the firſt propoſition Arſanes made him let me ſee the Queen, he ſhewed much willingneſs to oblige me, only ſcrupled the difficulties of gaining his companions conſent [Page] to my ſatisfaction, and therefore thought it unſafe to hazard the Propoſition. Arſanes gave the deſire I had to ſee the Queen, no other Title than pity of her miſeries, and ſo made my Paſſion paſs for an effect of Generoſity.

Sohemus demanded the reſt of that day to ſeek expedients to content me, and on the morrow came and told him he was reſolved to ſatisfie me, though he foreſaw ſome danger threatned the enterprize. Arſanes intreated him not to impart our deſign to the Queen, for fear (ſaid he) ſhe ſhould oppoſe it with ſome timerous conſideration; but he found it more difficult to make that Requeſt prevail with Sohemus, than any he had yet mentioned, (ſo entirely was that honeſt ſpirit at the Queens devotion) but at laſt clearing his doubts with a belief that I would bring no other intention, than to ſerve her, and that I would not have ſought an occaſion ſo perilous to make my Viſit, if I were not aſſured my ſight would not be unwelcome, they reſolv'd then, that the following Evening I ſhould be ready at a certain place near the Caſtle, where Sohemus had appointed, and there he promis'd him about two hours within Evening to come and conduct me to the Queens preſence: He made choice of that hour, becauſe the Queen had then her Chamber free, and was not importun'd with Joſephs Viſits, who, at that time, was uſually retir'd to his own. Beſides, my face was ſo well known to all the Court, that no diſguiſe without the aid of darkneſs could have conceal'd it.

There was much hazard in this Enterprize, as well for what might then have befallen me, as for the fatal conſequences, if Herod ſhould ever light upon the diſcovery: Yet I not only ſlighted all that fear could alledge, but waited the wiſhed hour with an impatience that took all thoſe that preceded it for redious years. At laſt it came, and when the Night had ſpred all her Sables, I left Hieruſalem, only followed by Arſanes and my Governour, and having not above a hundred furlongs to ride, I ſoon arrived at the place deſired.

Sohemus kept his word, it being that day his turn to command the Caſtle, and therefore free for him to go in and out when he pleas'd; he came to find me, only attended by one of his Guard, which was a young man, in whom he repos'd an entire confidence. Beſides, he choſe him from all the reſt, becauſe his Age and Shape did not much diſagree with mine. The plot was, I ſhould put on his Cloaths, and he ſtay with Arſanes in mine, that thoſe that ſaw me enter with Sohemus, might take me for the ſame man that went out with him, my face being hidden from thoſe in the nights black Maſque. When I had got on the Guard Caſaque, he led me to a Gate of the Caſtle, flanked with high towers, and ſurrounded with a deep Ditch, and commanding the Bridge (by a ſignal given) to be let down, he conducted me into the Court without a Torch, having left an expreſs order with thoſe that guarded the Gate, not to light any thing; who ſeeing me enter with him, never examin'd my face, or regarded whether I was their Companion or not; yet he would not lead me by the great ſtairs, nor carry me through the Guard Hall, but conducting me up a little pair of ſtairs, and ſo through a Gallery, where there ſtood a Sentinel (which he made a ſhew to come on purpoſe to relieve, and put me in his place) he led me to the Door of the Anti-chamber.

By this time I confeſs all my Courage had almoſt forſook me; for though no danger could ever inſtruct me what was meant by the fear of Death, yet I trembled to think I might diſpleaſe the Queen by this bold intruſion; and then unſeaſonably reflecting on what was paſt, I almoſt repented the Enterprize, and was divers times about to ſtay Sohemus, and ſo return back without ſeeing the Queen.

At the name of Sohemus, the Door of the Anti-Chamber was preſently open'd; and becauſe of the inclination he had alwaies expreſt to the Queens intereſts, he had a free acceſs to her at all hours. When we entred her Chamber, ſhe was upon her knees by the Beds ſide, praying with an ardent Devotion to the God ſhe ador'd, and the Princeſs her Mother was newly retir'd to her Cabinet. The noiſe we made coming in, made her turn her Head that way; and having ſpi'd us, ſhe asked Sohemus if he had any thing to ſay. I did not give Sohemus time to anſwer, but approaching with a troubled poſture, I fell upon my knees before her, and taking one of her fair hands, joined it to my Lips with an ardour ſo vehement, as bereaved me of the uſe of ſpeech. The Queen (finding this Action too familiar, and too paſſionate for a Guard) at firſt repulſt me with ſome diſdain; but afterwards ſuſpecting a part of the truth, and beholding my Face with a ſerious Eye, by the help of thoſe Lights which were ſet by her beds-ſide, ſhe knew me. It was no mean aſtoniſhment wherewith this ſight ſurpriz'd her, and recoyling ſome paces back, after ſhe had withdrawn her hand from mine: Ah! Tyridates, ſaid ſhe, what mean you? to what a Danger have you expos'd your ſelf? Danger, Madam, replyed I, Ah! that the Gods would confront me with a thouſand times more, that I might find occaſion to ſhew [Page] you how mean a thing I think my life in relation to your ſervice. My calamities (reply'd the Queen, engaging me to riſe) are too much in debt to your compaſſion: but I cannot yet quit the fear you have given me, and the knowledge I have of Herod's humour, makes me wiſh from my ſoul, you had not tempted this peril to ſee me. I beſeech you, Madam, ſaid I, do not keep thoſe fears for me; for believe it, while this condition laſts, to which your misfortunes have reduc'd me, I ſhall neither fear Herod's hatred, nor deſire his Amity. I have a long time conſidered him as a King of whom I hold my life, but muſt now know him for a man, that hath uſed that life a thouſand times more cruelly than death it ſelf would have done from which the retreat he gave me hath poſſibly defended me. Till now the obligation diſputed with the outrage, and in the perſon of Mariamne's Perſecuter I found my Protector; but at laſt, Madam, the reſentments of what I owe him, have quitted what they held within me to ſuch as have a juſter Tttle; and theſe laſt injuries which he Printed in your Grandfathers Murder, and your own cruel Captivity, have ſtrangled all thoſe conſiderations, which till now my heart ſuffered to ſpeak in his behalf, and have brought me to ask Orders at your feet, which I vow to execute without condition or reſervation. Be not loath then, Madam, to ordain me all that may be done in your Quarrel, and if you pleaſe, believe that I will not only ſhut my eyes upon all ſorts of conſiderations; but trample upon all difficulties that ſhall offer to withſtand me, when once fortified with the honour of your Commands.

While I ſpake in this manner, the Queen regarded me attentively, and though ſhe knew the malicious heart of her Husband, and remembred how often ſhe had been deceived by ſuch as acted the part of officious perſons, and made uſe of ſome ſuch terms as mine to ſound her intentions, with deſign to carry the Report to the King, I was ſo happy as not to be ſuſpected of ſo baſe an ambuſh; and of this ſhe aſſur'd me by theſe words: ‘I have too good an opinion of you, ſaid ſhe, and can too well diſtinguiſh the Princes of Arſaces bloud from cheap and baſe perſons, to ſuſpect the diſſimulation wherewith divers others have betray'd me.’

‘I know your words parted from a true compaſſion, and ſuch generous motions as are familiar with perſons of your extraction: beſides, you have given proofs of too great a virtue to leave me the ſhadow of ſuch a thought; and (to witneſs the confidence I have in you) I will open my heart to you with a moſt entire freedom. It is true, though Heaven hath given me Herod for a Husband, I cannot love him, and indeed I ſhould be rather inſenſible than conſtant or loyal, if the Death of my Grandfather Ariſtobulus, of my Father Alexander, of my Uncle Antigonus, of my Brother Ariſtobulus, and this laſt of my Grandfather Hircanus, ſhould be remembred without ſtirring my ſoul againſt him that murdered them, and deſtroyed the Royal Houſe of the Aſmoneans; beſides theſe known injuries, I have received ſome more particular, but not leſs ſenſible. There comes not a day wherein I do not look for a Knife at my Throat, and this bloudy man, at his departure for Rhodes, hath given the ſame command to Sohemus, that he did before to his Uncle Joſeph, to kill me if the Voyage proved unfortunate. I have now freely repreſented my deplorable condition with Herod, but I muſt tell you (with the ſame truth) that (as much monſter as he is) he is yet my Husband, that my apprehenſions of his injuries are not more prevalent than the rules of my Duty, and that I am not permitted to deſire a revenge againſt him, which Heaven hath reſerved for its own appointment. If my miſeries come once to be pitied by our Soveraign Maſter, he will find power to releaſe me of them, and if it be his pleaſure they ſhould ſtill continue, I ſhall endeavour ſo to ſuffer for the love of him, as I may be rendred more worthy of his Love. Behold Tyridates, the eſtate of my condition, with the temper of my thoughts, I am deeply in your ſcore for the propriety you claim in my Misfortunes: but let me now beg you will give it over, leſt the dangerous pity ſhould at laſt prove fatal to its owner.’ ‘Ah! might it pleaſe the Gods, (cried I, wholly tranſported) that your evils might be brought off, with the cruelleſt death that Herod is capable of inventing, with what glad heart ſhould I run to embrace thoſe glorious torments, which poſſibly might procure me ſome ſmall acknowledgment in yours! how fair would be my Deſtiny to pay down my life for this adorable Princeſs, to whom all Lives, all Hearts ought to be ſacrificed!’ Theſe words, with the Paſſion that helped to pronounce them, opened the Queens eyes, and ſhewed her (by a prompt reflection on what was paſt) that tranſports ſo violent could not ſpring from a naked pity: this Diſcovery called up a bluſh into her face, and having ſilently beheld me with an action that betrayed ſome trouble: ‘Tyridates, ſaid ſhe, do you well conſider what you ſay?’ She let fall theſe words in ſo ſevere an accent, that it ſtruck ſuch terrour into me, as I loſt all my aſſurance; and (in ſtead of anſwering) fell to conſider how imprudently I had opened my breaſt; but I had kept too much paſſion [Page] to keep the reſt ſtill diſguiſed; and in this uproar of thoughts, (toſs'd with love, grief and deſpair) I let my ſelf fall at the Queens feet, embracing and kiſſing them a thouſand times over, without ſo much power as could utter one word; by this action clearly confirming the ſuſpition my words had given her. Oh Gods! how ſenſibly ſhe was touched! how violent were her firſt apprehenſions to proceed from ſo ſweet a Soul! She took a long time to weigh the reſolution was fitteſt to be taken, and I (in the mean time) the advantage of her ſilence and immobility, to rally my ſcatter'd Spirits. Madam, ſaid I, (keeping my hold at her feet, without daring to lift my eyes to her Viſage) if my Tongue have betrayed my Soul, and contrary to my intent) diſplayed a Paſſion which my whole Life ſhould have preſerved a Secret, ordain me all the pains that are due to it; and I vow by all the Gods to ſuffer them without a murmur; to you I will not juſtifie a Paſſion, which otherwiſe might call to its own purity to defend it. I will not tell you 'tis impoſſible to look upon you, and not incur the fault I have committed, nor that the ſilence of divers years, have given ſome proofs of my reſpect. No, I am Criminal if I have contracted your Anger, and am worthy of the moſt cruel Puniſhments, if I have been capable to diſpleaſe you. I had gone further, if the now reſolved Queen had not ſtayed my Progreſs, and repulſing me with one hand, while ſhe carried the other to her Face to hide ſome changes there: Tyridates, ſaid ſhe, you are yet more culpable than you believe, and if you had known me well, you would never have granted your ſelf the Licenſe to give me the Diſpleaſure I have now received. I will not noiſe your Folly, becauſe I know Herod's Humour, which doubtleſs would deſtroy you for it; and I pardon him the bloudy injuries he hath ſo often done me, ſo I forgive the Offence you have ſo lately committed.

At theſe words ſhe roſe from her Chair, and calling Sohemus (who was diſcourſing with her Maids in the Anti-chamber) commanded him to conduct me preſently back, and ſo reſolving to hear me no more, ſhe retir'd into her Mothers Cabinet. Oh Gods! in what an eſtate was I, when I ſaw my ſelf thus deſerted, in what a ſtrange faſhion I followed Sohemus, when he led me out of the Caſtle the ſame way we enter'd it? I had ſcarce the power to embrace him at our parting, or to give him thanks for the Courteſie he had done me. I found my men got to horſe, and return'd to Hieruſalem with a melancholy darker than the nights blackeſt ſhades, and with a countenance which I think little differ'd from that of a Condemned man.

I would ſcarce hear the comforts Arſanes offer'd me (to whom I had recounted my diſaſter) but paſſed the reſt of the night in the moſt cruel inquietudes that ever tore a Soul; I could not remember the incenſed looks of my Divine Princeſs, without calling in the ſame fear that ſeiz'd me at the firſt effects of her anger; nor think of the diſpleaſure I had given her, without letting my ſelf ſink almoſt under the ſorrow I reſented; all the words ſhe ſpake came flocking to my memory; but it galled me to think ſhe ſhould put my offence in the ſame ballance with Herod's villanies. Ah unjuſt Mariamne! ſaid I, how unskilful you are in diſcerning Injuries! Could you have judged aright, you would have found little cauſe to aſſociate the cruelties of Herod with the overſights of Tyridates. Herod hath wreſted the Crown from your Family, Herod ſtill bluſhes with the blood of your neareſt Kindred; Herod gives daily orders for your own Death, and Tyridates gives you his Heart, his Soul, and himſelf entire. Sure this Offence is not of a Nature ſo hainous, as thoſe you have receiv'd of that Miſcreant, and methinks you need not the ſame patience to endure them; but why ſaid I (repenting my words) why do I juſtifie my Crime? Is it not true that I am faulty, ſince my raſhneſs hath merited Mariamnes anger? I ought to conſider her as a Divinity ſublim'd above the reach of humane thoughts; I ſhould tremble before her virtue, and if it were impoſſible to ſee her without falling in love with ſo much beauty both of Soul and Body, yet I ſhould have ſuffer'd thoſe glorious pains without publiſhing, and not have improved my Misfortune by my indiſcreet and raſh diſcovery.

In ſuch thoughts as theſe I paſſed the Night, and divers other dayes that followed it, in which ſpace I often ſaw Salome, Pheroras, with the chief of the Judean Court, who ſtrove among themſelves, who ſhould treat me with moſt Careſſes for the ſervice I had done their Countrey; but neither their company nor their kindneſs could eaſe the evils which my love inflicted, nor ſweeten the ſorrow I took for the choler and captivity of Mariamne: But about that time there came News to Jeruſalem, that Herod was triumphantly return'd from Auguſtus, that by an artificial Oration full of an affected generoſity, he had ſo gain'd upon the ſpirit of that great Emperour, as it procur'd him a ſpecious entertainment, and got him little leſs in his amity, than he had before in the affections of Antony. Thoſe that had an intereſt in his good ſucceſs, were more overjoy'd at the news, in which (a few dayes after) [Page] they were confirm'd, when they ſaw him arrive with a proud train at his heels, and read in his erected looks the ſatisfaction he receiv'd in that Voyage.

There was made him a magnificent reception, and (I mingling my ſelf with thoſe that went to meet him) he received me with extraordinary careſſes, called me the valiant Defender of Judea, and promiſed a grateful remembrance of the ſervices I had rendred to his Crown. But alas! how little was I ſenſible of his Offers and Civilities? And though indeed I could not but confeſs he had put me in his debt, yet the love of Mariamne, and the reſentment of her wrongs ſtifled all his obligations. The ſame day he arrived, he reſtor [...] her liberty, and burning with Love, could not forbear to viſit her in the ſame place which had been her Priſon, where he ſpent the night with her, and the next day brought her back with him to the City, with many open profeſſions of a moſt ardent affection.

I underſtood by Sohemus, that at that interview, he had made her a moſt paſſionate Diſcourſe, and after he had excus'd the death of Hircanus with a neceſſity that conſtrain'd him ſo to prevent the deſign he had to ruine him, he deeply proteſted, that the abridgment of her freedom, was only meant to ſecure her perſon from the attempts of ſuch, whoſe diſaffection in his abſence might hazard her ſafety, and to diſarm the deſignes of ſome perſons that were likely to make uſe of hers and her Mothers preſence (whoſe turbulent ſpirit he was well acquainted with) to authorize ſeditiòn, and ſtir up troubles in the State.

The wiſe Queen receiv'd this diſcourſe with a becoming temper; and, if ſhe could not entirely hide her diſtaſtes, ſhe diſſembled part of them, leſt they ſhould prove as fatal to Sohemus, as they had been to Joſeph. The Court was then more glorious than ever; the King highly pleas'd with the ſucceſs of his Affairs: and (having nothing elſe to ſubdue that might keep him from getting above the reach of Fortune but the ſpirit of Mariamne) he ſought all ſorts of occaſions to divertize her; but if the Queen (whoſe griefs were gone too deep to be ſweetned with the vain ſhadow of pleaſure) took little notice of it, I was not leſs incapable than ſhe, of taſting any jollity; and my remembrance kept the deep graven Characters of my Love and her Anger ſo freſh in my Soul, as all the ſplendor and pomp of Herod's Court wanted power to charm them. I ſtill ſaw her every day, becauſe ſhe forbad it not; but I ſcarce durſt open my mouth in her preſence, ſcarce lift up my eyes to her Face, inſtructing all my actions to inform how deeply the fear to diſpleaſe her was engraven in my heart; yet neither her looks, nor her actions expreſt any ſign of averſion: indeed ſhe had a Soul too beautiful, too ſweet an inclination to loath a man, who had only offended with Affection, ſince ſhe had much ado to return hatred where it was deſerv'd by ſuch bloody Injuries: but believing ſhe could not hear my Love plead farther, without offending Virtue, ſhe avoided all occaſions of Diſcourſe as much as poſſible; and though ſhe ſtill ſpake to me with much affability, yet ſhe never did ſo but in Company, and ſo contriv'd it, that we never exchang'd words without a witneſs: though this behaviour of hers could not give me an entire ſatisfaction, yet it left me no cauſe of complaint; and the knowledge I had of her admirable Virtue, having extinguiſht with my hopes, a part of thoſe flames her Beauty had kindled, I learn'd to think my Paſſion ſufficiently rewarded by the eſteem ſhe had of me: Indeed there was never any perſon loved with leſs intereſt; and with Truth I may ſay, I loved Mariamne for her ſelf alone; nor in all the proceſs of my Paſſion did I ever conſider Tyridates.

In this manner I liv'd a whole year; and though my eyes did all the Meſſages of my Love, yet ſhe might eaſily read in all my Actions, that it had loſt no ardour; and that my ſufferings were therefore more cruel, becauſe they ſtood in awe of Reſpect.

At laſt my perſeverance, link'd with diſcretion (which ſhe knew by a thouſand marks) touched her with compaſſion; I ſay compaſſion, for Love could never be admitted: And what ſhe did ſince in my favour, did all proceed from a motion ſo purely generous, as the moſt perfect Virtue was engaged to commend it; nor could it be cenſured by any without Injuſtice. Her heart which was neither Stone nor Braſs, ſuffer'd it ſelf to be ſoftned with pity; but it was never capable of an impreſſion not conform'd to the ſevere Rules of her Duty: ſhe could not ſee a Prince languiſhing ſo many years, a Prince dying for her, but dying in a faſhion ſo reſpectful and obliging, and dying without complaining of the cauſe of his death, or of death it ſelf, and not give ſome proofs that Nature made her ſenſible: but ſhe would rather have ſuffer'd him to die; nay, died her ſelf, than let in the leaſt thought to her Soul of pitying him, to the prejudice of her virtue: I was ſo happy in the conduct of my Paſſion, and had carried ſo much caution in all my Actions, that Herod (the moſt jealous and diſtruſtful of all men) had not yet the leaſt ſuſpition of me; and this diſcretion was not undervalued by the Queen.

[Page] I was one day in her Company with the King Pheroras, Salome, and ſome other of the chief Courtiers in the Palace-garden, where we had walked a long time, and where I had done my beſt to evade the purſuits of Salome, who had then been trying (having too much courage to give me her naked Paſſion) to make me ſpy it in her Actions, and underſtand it by a thouſand ambiguous Diſcourſes; when the King, who had walked all this time with the Queen alone, being oblig'd by ſome important Affairs to retire, he call'd me to him, and giving me the Queens hand, which till then himſelf had held: ‘I leave you to Prince Tyridates, ſaith he, and I cannot put that which I tender more dearthan my ſelf into better hands than his: Try, if you pleaſe, to divert her from her deep Melancholy.’ To theſe words I returned no other Anſwer, but an action [...]ll of reverence and reſpect; and, conſidering how my condition ſtood with the Queen. I durſt not adventure to take her hand, till ſhe tender'd it her ſelf, with a countenance that did put on a world of ſweetneſs: And thus I helped her to walk, without daring either to open my mouth, or to look upon her. Her behaviour was a long time like mine; but at laſt ſhe broke ſilence, and took this opportunity to declare what her heart had for me. ‘Tyridates, ſaid ſhe, if the King knew your intentions, he would not put me into your hands with ſo much confidence, and ſince they were known to me, I ought to have hindred it; I could eaſily have done ſo, if my will had conſented; and probably I had too, if I had not believ'd I might permit your converſe, and acquaint you with my thoughts, without intereſſing what I owe to him or my ſelf. Know then Tyridates, that the firſt notice I had of your malidy gave me ſome reſentment againſt you, but the progreſs of it compaſſion; I have truly pitied the eſtate you are in, and cannot, without grief, ſee a Prince (to whom Heaven hath given ſuch excellent qualities) paſs his life in a condition ſo miſerable. But in fine, Tyridates, what are your pretences? and if you have judged me worthy of your eſteem, what can you hope for of me? Think you I can licenſe in your favour the leaſt Act that may ſatisfie your Paſſion? I ſay the leaſt: for, I did believe you could harbour a thought to my Diſhonour, I would look upon you as a Monſter, as a mortal Enemy: Do you think the little content I have with Herod, and the remembrance of the wrongs he hath done me, can turn my affections upon another, becauſe leſs worthy of my averſion? Is it upon this thought you build your hopes? if ſo, Tyridates, diſabuſe your ſelf; and believe, that if Heaven hath made me miſerable, by ſubmitting me to this cruel man, I will never conſent to merit my misfortunes by my actions; though my forlorn hap hath married me to him, it ſhall never match me to his Crimes: I would not be ſo ungrateful to the goodneſs of Heaven, that is ever ſending Comfort to my Miſeries; nor ſo unworthy of your eſtimation. For my ſake, Tyridates, conſider theſe Truths, ſince they are repreſented with as much mildneſs, as much affection as I can keep for you with Reaſons leave: call up the greatneſs of your courage, to give a brave aſſault upon your ſelf, and propoſe this ruinous paſſion to your thoughts as an Enemy you ought to fear, as an Enemy that would deſtroy you, and probably me too, unleſs you vanquiſh it.’ The Queen ended with theſe words, which I heard with admiration; and during the Diſcourſe, having ralli'd part of the confidence fear had ſcatter'd, I made it ſerve me to anſwer theſe terms.

‘I am unworthy, Madam, of this favour you have given me; and ſince I have merited your Diſpleaſure, 'tis fit I ſhould periſh for the expiation, rather than reſerve my ſelf for ſuch a pity as you lately mentioned; nor ſhould my tongue ever hazard a ſecond purchaſe of your indignation, if that generous bounty, which keeps company with the reſt of your admirable Virtues, did not allow me liberty to juſtifie my thoughts before you, I will adventure then to tell you, That Love (as I apprehend it) can neither be odious nor conſiderable to the perſon beloved, but by the effects it produceth. ſince of it ſelf it is obliging and advantageous, even to the Creatures leaſt capable of apprehenſion; if my paſſion had hatched any deſire within me contrary to your virtue, you might deteſt it as a Criminal, as an Enemy that would poiſon the purity of your Soul. But if it ſhall never inſpire any other than ſuch as ſhall inſtruct me to revere thoſe admirable qualities the Gods have given you, to intereſt my ſelf in your fortune, and ſacrifice my ſelf for your intereſts where will you find a juſt occaſion to condemn it? Is it a Crime for Tyridates to do the homage of a pure veneration, to the divine Beauties and Perfections of Mariamne? Is it a Crime for Tyridates, to give up all his thoughts, and dedicate his whole time to this employment? And is it a Crime for Tyridates, to long for an occaſion, with the price of his Bloud and Life, to buy repoſe for Mariamne? Madam, if I have other Thoughts, other Deſires than theſe, puniſh me with all the rigour your firſt Reſentments inſpir'd you with; and let the Divine [Page] Powers joyn with yours to compleat me the moſt miſerable of all men. But if you find in my Affection all the Innocence you require, in the Gods name, Madam, give me leave to carry it to my Tomb; it is a neceſſity which will never endure to be diſpenc'd with, a Favour which I conjure you by the remembrance of all that you hold moſt dear, to grant me: And if the place were clear'd of witneſſes, that I might be permitted to ask it at your feet; I would never riſe from thence till I had obtain'd it.’

Theſe words, and the vehemence wherewith I pronounced them, wrought upon the generous and tender Spirit of the Queen, and ſtirred up ſuch Thoughts as took her ſome time before ſhe could get them out into Anſwer; at length ſhe diſpos'd her ſelf to it; and as ſhe was beginning, we found our ſelves at the end of an Alley, where turning to continue our Walk, we ſpied Salome and the reſt of the Company ſo near us, as the Queen ſaw ſhe ſhould not have time to diſcharge her heart, and ſeeing her Company ſtaid to let us paſs, before we quitted the place, ſhe thus reply'd: Tyridates, If your Thoughts be ſuch as you ſay, I can find no juſt cauſe of Offence: but were they yet more innocent, I muſt counſel you, and do with all my Soul crave of you (if it be poſſible) to diſcard them from your Heart, ſince they cannot be but ruinous to your Repoſe and mine.

She ſaid no more, and whether it were that ſhe was willing to purſue this Diſcourſe no further, or that ſhe ſuſpected the malicious ſpirit of Salome might ptobably raiſe a bad comment upon our privacy ſhe joyn'd with the reſt of the Company, and would ſeparate no more.

From this day I dated a happy change in my condition, and believed my eſtate much more advantagious than formerly. The Queen (though ſhe diſapproved my reſearch, and ſaw the continuance of it with diſpleaſure) yet ſhe endured it with a moſt noble patience, that would neither ſuffer her to baniſh, nor hate a Prince who ador'd her with a Devotion ſo pure and unbyaſſed, as nothing in it could be found fit to cenſure; and never hoping to advance farther in her favour, I learn'd to ſtay my content upon what I had. This began to reſtore my ſpirits, and recal my colour, and if my Face ſtill ſhew'd ſome diſcontent, it had a root in the Queens miſeries, and not mine.

The condition of this great Princeſs was deplorable, and though the King loved her with an almoſt enraged paſſion, ſuch was her averſion to all the endearing paſſages of his love, as She took them for ſo many effects of Heavens indignation; and though her virtuous reſolution held her to the ſevere rules of her Duty, her great courage could not be pliable to ſuch careſſes as ſhe believ'd not due to the deſtroyer of her Family, and a man yet crimſon'd with the blood of her neareſt Kindred: theſe diſdains ſometimes raiſed ſuch tempeſts in the King, as he was often ready to poure them upon her as the laſt effects of his fury; but then would Love ſtep in to check Anger, and, taking the reins from thoſe raging Tranſports, which he had ſuffer'd to get uppermoſt, render'd him more ſoft and ſubmiſs than ever; and ſent him to ſeek that with Prayers and Tears, which he could not obtain with all his menaces.

We were one day in the Kings Chamber, whither he had invited the Queen: and they ſtanding together at a Window: after ſome diſcourſe which we heard not, he proffer'd to kiſs her: but the Queen (whether ſhe thought ſuch condeſcention injurious to Modeſty in ſo great a Company, or in effect, follow'd the motions of a juſt Hatred) recoil'd ſome ſteps back, and turn'd away her head with diſdain enough. The King was ſo gall'd with this Action, eſpecially appearing before ſo many witneſſes, as all the power he could make was not capable to hide his Paſſion; and beholding the Queen with eyes ſparkling with rage, and a Countenance on which Fury had ſpread it ſelf: ‘You are unworthy, ſaid he, both of the Honour was offer'd you, and all thoſe that went before it: Go, get you out of my Chamber, and if you do not remember the deſtiny of your Fathers, remember that I promiſe to make you know him for your King, whom you now ſcorn to acknowledge for your Husband.’ The Queen return'd no other anſwer to theſe cruel words than a diſdainfull look, which more provok'd him; and ſaluting the Company, without change of countenance, quitted the Chamber to retire to her own. The Kings Choler (which had often produced horrid effects) made the whole Company tremble, only in me it miſſed that influence; for, all the prudence and diſcretion I could make, had much ado to hinder my diſcontent from breaking looſe, and it was the conſideration I had for the Queen, and not my ſelf that bridled it: Yet not in ſuch a manner, but when I ſaw the Queen retire, I haſted after, and offer'd my hand to lead her to her Lodging: But, as her ſpirit was leſs diſtemper'd than mine, and had therefore more judgment at the Stern, to apprehend how much the Civility I proffer'd might diſpleaſe Herod, and deeply endanger me ſhe refus'd it; and having no time to explain her thoughts, ſhe only made me a ſign with [Page] hor Eye to retire. I came back again to the King with much regret, whom I had indeed diſpleaſed with this action, but it was otherwiſe taken from me than it would have been from any one of his own Subjects; he thundred ſtill againſt the Queen in moſt bitter terms, but ſeeing that (without unmasking my inclinations) it was in vain to ſpeak in her defence, with much conſtraint, I ſilently heard all his injurious. Language: a few dayes after he was appeaſed by the powerful Aſcendant the Queen had upon his ſpirit; but he quickly relapſed again; and their whole life was nought elſe but that continual Diſorder which uſually reſults from the incompatibility of Vice and Virtue.

In the mean time Salome had given ſo many clear proofs of her Affection, as I could ſcarce any longer perſonate an ignorance; and though ſhe had ſtill the power to fo [...]id her ſelf an open Declaration, yet ſhe had ſaid enough, and her actions had too well ſeconded her Diſcourſe, to permit me to doubt it; I had ſought all wayes to eſcape this diſcovery, and when I was perfectly aſſured of the Truth, yet I diſſembled it as much as was poſſible. Salome well judged by her actions and mine, that I knew well enough what pinched her; and this coldneſs kindled in her ſuch a deſpight, as in any Spirit but hers, would have been capable to have quenched Affection.

We met one day at the Houſe of Pheroras, whom I often viſited, and who at that time was indiſpos'd; after we had ſpent ſome time by the beds ſide, Salome that longed to exchange ſome particular Diſcourſe, invited me to walk with her into an adjoyning Gallery, pretending to ſhew me ſome Pictures; I could not civilly avoid the ſnare, and lending her my hand, I led her thither, where we entertain'd ſome time in peruſing the Pictures; wherein were repreſented the moſt memorable Events of the Judaick Hiſtory; there ſhe ſhewed me ſo many admirable things as might poſe the belief of all but thoſe of their own Religion. She pointed at ſome Captains, which in the midſt of their Battels, with their Prayers, ſtaid the courſe of the Sun, and gave a prodigious day to the Univerſe: of others that opened the flanks of the Red-Sea for their Troops to paſs through; but ſhe chiefly inſiſted upon the actions of David (the greateſt of their Kings) and upon thoſe of his Son Solomon, which among them paſſed for a Miracle of Wiſdom; and relating in order the Life of that latter, ſhe particularly ſtaid upon one Picture that repreſented a Beautiful Queen that fell ſo in love with the ſame of Solomon's Virtues, as ſhe abandon'd her Realm, and travell'd a vaſt tract of Land to viſit him.

Salome took occaſion to aſſault me with this Hiſtory, having compriz'd it in a few words: This Prince, continued ſhe, was the wiſeſt of all men, and yet diſdain'd not the affictions of a Prince that loved him, but requited her with his, to the ſatisfaction of all her Deſires. At theſe words Salome (though in a little confuſion) beheld me with a fixed eye; and by that action oblig'd me to anſwer her. It was but juſt, ſaid I, that a King ſo virtuous as you have ſpoken him, ſhould be flexible to ſo fair a Queen, that had forſaken her Eſtate, to e [...]poſe her ſelf to the hazard and inconvenience of a long Voyage to ſee him; this enterprize was ſo conſiderable in the perſon of a great Princeſs, as Solomon could not have been juſt (as you have repreſented him) [...] he uſed her ingratefully. You have ſaid enough to convince your ſelf, ſaid Salome, and if theſe be your own thoughts, you ſhould conſider what you owe to Princeſſes, who ('tis true have neither abandoned Realms, nor traverſed Provinces to ſee you; but abandoned for your ſake a Liberty more dear than Empires, and trampled upon Obſtacles more difficult to ſurmount, than the incommodities of a Voyage.

This Diſcourſe, which I had alvayes feared, put me to trouble paſt all diſſembling; and ſeeing my ſelf oblig'd to reply: ‘I am too unfortunate, ſaid I, to believe that ought can appear in the miſeries of my Life, but Subjects of Compaſſion; the Affections of Princeſſes will doubtleſs find Objects more worthy of themſelves; and I am too far from imagining that a Wretch exiled from his Country, perſecuted by his King, that hath no retreat upon Earth, but what he owes for to the King your Brothers Bounty, ſhould triumph over thoſe precious Liberties which are doubtleſs reſerv'd for Perſons more happy, and for ſuch as by the loſs of their own, with a long ſucceſſion of faithful Service, have deſerv'd them.’ ‘Thoſe that have bought them at a lower rate, ſaid Salome, are more obliged than ſuch as paid for them with Pains, Blood, and years of Service; and without extream ingratitude, they cannot prefer thoſe things that have been dearly ſold, to ſuch as have been liberally given them. You are of this number, Tyridates; You evade the notice of Obligations, that you may fly Occaſions of Requital; you are better eſteem'd in Herod's Court than you deſire to be, and the Misfortunes of your Life are there leſs conſidered than the qualities of your Perſon: You know this for truth, though you force a cunning ignorance [Page] to diſguiſe it: You are too clear-ſighted, not to perceive it by a thouſand actions; and as many Diſcourſes, which have but too plainly declar'd it. But diſdain cloſes your eyes and ears; and none but ſuch a Soul as that you play the Tyrant with, but would turn edge at your neglect, yet ſhe hath perſevered many years in the ſame ardour, and with much ſatisfaction would ſo continue her whole life time, if you would let her hope that ſuch a conſtancy ſhould not go unrewarded.’

While Salome pronounced theſe words, her eyes let fall their looks upon the earth, with all the ſigns of ſhame, which ſhe was not able to diſſemble: and indeed how ſhould ſhe, when my ſelf was ſo aſhamed in her behalf, as I had a harder task to hide it from her, than to find words to anſwer her: ‘Madam, ſaid I (after I had a while kept ſilence) till now my Soul hath been ſo chain'd to the conſideration of my Miſeries, as it hath not been capable of other thoughts; and I have found ſo little appearance, nay, ſo little reaſon in what you have done me the honour to let me know, as, it could never have enter'd my imaginations: 'Tis this that muſt anſwer for the faults I committed, and not a diſdain, which never grew in my Nature; and which I ſhould practiſe but unhandſomely. The Gods have not given me thoſe advantageous qualities to look up at a Fortune ſo little thought of; and though it ſhould offer it ſelf indeed into my Arms, in this wretched condition, whereto my Miſeries have reduced me, I think I ſhould not have power to taſte it.’ Salome (who could no longer doubt, but that her Love was perfectly diſcover'd) found my words, and the action wherewith I pronounc'd them, ſo diſobliging, that (if it had been poſſible) that very moment ſhe would have thrown it off: however ſhe would no further advance a Parlie, the beginning of which taught her to hope for little ſatisfaction in the ſequel; and turning back to Pheroras his Chamber, in a faſhion that ſhew'd the marks of Spight: ‘Oh! Well Tyridates, ſaid ſhe, your perplexities ſhall no more be redoubled by a Diſcourſe ſo diſobliging; and ſince you are oppreſt with Affection, there ſhall be care taken to free you of that importunity.’

As we finiſhed theſe words, we enter'd the Chamber of Pheroras, which ſtopp'd my Anſwer; and ſhe was ſo overcome with anger, as all the time we ſtaid together, ſhe would neither vouchſafe to ſpeak or look upon me. Since that day I began to underſtand her diſpoſition, of which I had already a very evil opinion; and at my next conference with the Queen, I had not power to conceal Salome's folly, willing to prepoſſeſs her Spirit by a true relation, leſt the malicious Creature ſhould render me ſome evil Office with her. This relation provoked the Queens virtue to expreſs more contempt and averſion for Salome than ever: which, after ſhe had witneſſed by ſome words ſhe let fall againſt her: ‘Tyridates, ſaid ſhe ſmiling, are you ſo cruel then to Ladies that love you? and a little after, (putting on a more ſerious look) if you open theſe eyes to reaſon, which paſſion hath ſhut up, you will ſoon perceive, that God doth puniſh your unjuſt Affection with another, which your ſelf diſapproves; and if Salome (being married) cannot hatch ſuch Deſires and not be wicked, ſure I that am in the ſame eſtate, and having a King to my Husband, cannot countenance yours without incurring the ſame ſin you condemn in Salome. Ah! Madam, ſaid I, what a vaſt difference is there betwixt ſuffering an Affection pure and innocent, as mine, and perſecuting with a vicious paſſion, a perſon that loaths it! and if ever my adoration ſhall oblige you to let fall any particular favour upon me, how well may Salome ſerve to excuſe it? and then how little reaſon have you to conſider a man which hath more right to the Title of Cruel Enemy than that of Husband?’ ‘I have often told you, roply'd the Queen, that you ought not to ground any hope upon that conſideration, nay though I were releas'd of all which is due to Herod, yet I ſhall never forget what I owe to my ſelf. With ſuch anſwers as theſe, the Queen ſtill gently confuted me;’ and in theſe pleaſing liberties of Diſcourſe were ſtor'd my beſt advantages: While this life laſted, I was but too happy; for my hopes had ſuch weak encouragement to aſpire at better Fortune from ſuch a Virtue as Mariamne's, as I did my beſt to bound my content in what I had.

The neceſſity I had of the aid of Sohemus, made me open my heart unto him: Beſides, by ſome Preſents I had gain'd Philo the Queens Eunuch, and Cleophe, whom of all her maids ſhe moſt truſted: theſe perſons (though the Queen knew it not) befriended me with their beſt induſtry, and I had no hard task to get ſome confidence among them, becauſe I knew the whole Family deteſted the King; Yet the Queen was ignorant of my influence upon her People; which had ſhe known, ſhe would never have ſuffer'd. She avoided all occaſions (as much as poſſible) of being alone with me; and when ſhe could not ſhun it, ſhe kept me in ſuch awe to diſpleaſe, as I had ſcarce the daring to open my mouth; yet ſometimes I broke theſe chains, and calling that commiſeration to my ſuccour, which ſhe ever had ready for my Miſeries, methought I taſted moſt delicious comforts in that very Liberty [Page] of ſpeaking; but when I preſumed, upon a large priviledge, to take a Kiſs from her Hand, ſhe would take ſuch an anger into her looks, as carried me to the extremities of grief and repentance.

In the mean time, if the circumſpection which I carried in all my actions, deceived the eyes of Herod and his Court, Salome (as the moſt intereſſed, and therefore the moſt clearſighted of all others) finding little cauſe to attribute this contempt of mine to any thing but anticipation, ſet ſo much care and cunning awork, to obſerve my looks, and ſpy out all my actions, as at laſt ſhe began to gather part of the Truth; but ſhe had not then time to enlarge her Diſcovery, becauſe I ſoon after parted from Jeruſalem, and was oblig'd for a time to leave the Queen, upon an occaſion which I ſhall let you underſtand.

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA, OR Love's Maſter-Piece. PART I.
LIB. II.

[Page]

ARGUMENT.

Phraates upon the old quarrel, invadeth Judea with 30000 Parthians, under the Command of his Lieutenant Barſapharnes; they ravage and devaſt the Countrey about Samaria. Tyridates is ſent General by Herod with an Army to oppoſe them: He ſends a brave defiance to Barſapharnes, which he ſtoutly accepts. Barſapharnes is ſlain in the Fight, and his Army totally routed. Tyridates returns to Jeruſalem, and is welcomm'd by a general applauſe. Salome plots his and Mariamne's ruine, by kindling Jealouſie in Herod's Breaſt, which enrages him to a reſolution of deſtroying Tyridates. Mariamne gives him notice of it by a Letter. Arſanes ſpills the Poyſon as he was lifting it up to his mouth. Tyridates, with his Servants, attempting an eſcape by flight, finds the Streets all blocked up with Souldiers; they endeavour to cut a paſſage with their Swords, but oppreſſed with a Multitude, are forced to take Sanctuary in the Temple. The Conteſtation between Herod and the Prieſts about him. Socius, a Roman Senator, interpoſes, and threatens Herod to a Conſent that Tyridates might go ſafely out of his Territories; He conducts him out of Jeruſalem. Tyridates returns the ſame night in Diſguiſe; by Sohemus aid is admitted to the Queen, takes a paſſionate leave of her, and quits Judea; goes to Rome, and is Honourably treated by Auguſtus: His Melancholy drives him from thence: He is caſt upon the Shore of Alexandria, and ſo finiſhes his Story. Eteocles (commanded by Candace, to acquaint her with his Fortunes) begins with thoſe of Cleopatra; her Deſcent, Beauty, and rare qualities; her Brother Ptolomie's vicious inclinations, by the wicked advice of his Counſellers, he deſignes her Ruine; ſhe takes up Arms in her own Defence, is overpow'red, and beſieg'd by him in Peluſium. Pompey flies to him for Refuge after his Pharſalian Overthrow, and is baſely murder'd by his Command. Caeſar brings his victorious Army into Aegypt. Cleopatra petitions his Protection againſt her Brother; her Condition kindles Pity, and her Perſon Affection in Caeſars Heart: He reconciles them. Ptolomie's treacherous intentions to murder Caeſar, being diſcovered, he flies to open Arms. The Bloudy Sea-fight betwixt them, wherein he is ſlain, Caeſar Crowns Cleopatra Queen of Aegypt, and privately marries her.

THe Barbarous Phraates ſeeing he could neither prevail with Herod, to give me up into his hands, nor put me to death, which he had often ſolicited, and being otherwiſe his mortal Enemy, ſent thirty thouſand Parthians upon his Frontiers, under the Command of Barſapharnes, one of his Lieutenants, and the very ſame that ſome years before had taken Hircanus and Phaſelus Priſoners. Barſapharnes did all the miſchiefs in Judea that Hoſtility could exerciſe, and made all that ſtood in his way, without diſtinction, feel his impartial Sword. Yet his March was not kept ſo ſecret, but (before he entred Judea) Herod (that like a moſt prudent and vigilant Prince, alwaies kept ſtore of Spies in pay) had a timely notice of it, which made him rally his Forces with ſuch diligence, that before the Parthians had made any conſiderable progreſs, he was grown ſtrong enough to oppoſe them: He would gladly have marched in Perſon, but Miſtruſt (the ordinary companion of Tyranny) made him fear ſome palpitations in the heart of his Eſtate, if he abſented himſelf; and therefore reſolv'd to ſend one of his Lieutenants. I had too [Page] much intereſt in this War, not to ſeek the employment; and all the regret I ſuffer'd to leave Mariamne, was ſwallow'd with the greedy deſire of glory and vengeance, which drew me at the feet of Herod, to ask the conduct of his Army: He was very well ſatisfied with what I had already done in his Service, and weighing the propriety I had both in the Motive and Succeſs of that War, he concluded he could not put his Forces into better hands than mine; and therefore freely beſtow'd the Command upon me.

So ſoon as my Equipage was ready, I diſpoſed my ſelf to part from that place, where I left the better part of my Soul. The Queen (who could not hate me, though my Paſſion ſtill perplext her) was well pleas'd to hear the King had given me this Employment, and told me in moſt obliging terms, She had an opinion that I would bring home a fair encreaſe of Honour: But when at the Even of my departure, I deſir'd ſhe would give me a particular Audience, and permit me to take leave of her in her Chamber, without any further witneſſes but thoſe we ſuſpected not, ſhe was deaf to my Prayer; and after ſhe had begun with ſome ſharp words, to ſhew me how much the Requeſt diſpleaſed her: No, Tyridates (purſu'd ſhe, with a milder look) this Conference is not neceſſary; I know already all you would ſay: nor are you ignorant of what I have to anſwer you; caſhier theſe unjuſt deſires, if it be poſſible, and believe it, If a high eſteem of your Virtues, and a thouſand wiſhes for your Happineſs, may requite your affections, you ſhall never have cauſe to call me ungrateful.

Though theſe words were perfectly innocent, yet the Queen fear'd they betray'd too much Favour, and could not let them go without a bluſh, wherein I read ſo much raviſhing ſweetneſs, and fancied ſuch advantages for my ſelf, that I found nothing in my condition that might patronize complaint. I did all that was poſſible to obtain leave to write to her: At firſt ſhe return'd me a mild refuſal; but in fine, ſhe abſolutely forbad me any further importunity: I ſubmitted to her without repining; and being conſtrain'd to take leave of her in the preſence of the King and the chief Courtiers, I render'd the ſame reſpects to Salome, who was then in the preſence, by this means avoiding a troubleſome Diſcourſe, in which a particular farewel might probably have engaged me. She well underſtood my intention, and adding this to her former quarrel, ſhe could not keep her ſpight from breaking into her looks; but when I bow'd to ſalute her, after the Jewiſh mode, ſhe lifted up her head, and thus whiſper'd as low as was poſſible: Signior Tyridates, your Carriage is fair, but ſomewhat dangerous. I had no time to reply to this, and indeed it had put me into ſo much diſorder, that I ſhould hardly have found out fit words for an anſwer; and this ſhe underſtood ſo plainly by my looks, as it powerfully ſerved to confirm her ſuſpition.

Thus I parted from Hieruſalem, and putting my ſelf in the Head of the Army, which attended my coming, we marched towards Samaria, where Barſapharnes had made ſome progreſs, and already burnt ſome Villages, with ſome little Cities, that were not able to make reſiſtance. Madam, I ſuppoſe you willing to learn the events of this War in a few words; I ſhall endeavour therefore to contract a Narration that may ſound too harſh to your tender Ears, and only tell you that I advanced by great Marches towards Barſapharnes, and being arriv'd within two dayes March of the place where his Army was encamped, I ſent to offer him Battel, and to let him know that Tyridates himſelf had brought his Head into the Field; and if he could get the good will of Victory, he ſhould reap that deſired fruit of his Enterprize, with the entire ſatisfaction of his Maſter.

Barſapharnes (who was eſpouſed to the cruel diſpoſition of his King) gladly accepted the Battel, and (truſting in the Parthian Valour) quitted his Quarters, to advance towards ours. Upon the ſecond day, the Armies came in view, and both being ranged with as much care as we were capable to carry, there began a moſt cruel and bloudy Battel: The Parthians were doubtleſs much better Souldiers than the Jews, and their numbers full as great as ours; but the Gods favour'd the Juſtice of my Cauſe, and we ſo happily made good our choice of ſome local advantages, as after an obſtinate diſpute, which coſt us five or ſix thouſand lives, Victory came and lighted upon our Banners. The hatred which the Jews bare to the Parthians, made it more bloody than I deſired; and though the unnatural Phraates had deeply provoked me, yet in the purſuit I us'd all the power I had to ſpare the Parthian Bloud, and to draw thoſe out of the Victors hands that had not yet felt their fury. A Jew preſented me with the Head of Barſapharnes, and though the view at the ſame time gave me horrour and compaſſion, yet I thought it fit to ſend it to the King of Parthia, in ſtead of that which he demanded, and to let him know by that preſent in what manner I was able to defend mine againſt his inhumane purſuits: The Priſoners I ſent freely home again, by this gentle uſage, obliging them to deteſt the cruelty of their King; and after we had repair'd the damages the Parthians had made upon the Frontier, and put [Page] the Fortreſſes there in a better condition of reſiſtance, I triumphantly return'd to Hieruſalem where I was receiv'd by the people with great Acclamation, by Herod with extraordinary Careſſes, and my fair Queen bad me welcome, with an aſpect that aſſur'd me, the importunity ſhe receiv'd from my Paſſion, could not wipe out her intereſt in my ſucceſs.

But Oh! the pride of my Content! when I learn'd from her fair mouth, that ſhe had admitted fear for the hazard of my Life, what could I do, nay, what acknowledgment might my thoughts be capable to fathom, that might ſuit with the effects of ſuch a bounty? This put me in poſſeſſion of the moſt glorious eſtate that my reaſon would let me wiſh for; and though the Divine Mariamne was neither able nor willing to bow her ſoul to any ſentiments which ſhe judged unjuſt and criminal, yet ſhe let me have as much eſtimation and affection as innocence could part with. All thoſe (to whom either good fortune, or a long perſeverance had given an entire poſſeſſion of what they lov'd) could not boaſt ſo dear a ſatisfaction as mine; nor could I fancy ſo much glory and happineſs in having the rereſt beauties of the World at my feet, as I found in kiſſing the Robe of Mariamne; I ſay her Robe; for I never kiſſed her hand, but by ſurprizal; and when I took that Licence, it coſt me the pains of many days to expiate the boldneſs.

The different effects of my paſſion produced as many varieties in her; ſometimes ſhe laughed at the extravagancies which the violence of it forced from me, but the cruelty of my ſufferings ſtill made her conclude with Pity. Indeed ſhe would take up an earneſt anger, when any word chanced to ſeape my Mouth, that ſhe thought favoured of impiety; for the ſeverity of her Religion, which acknowledged but one Deity, would not permit me to attribute any thing Divine unto her; but when I did, ſhe would uſe all the authority ſhe had to command me ſilence.

I received her words as I would do Oracles; for ſhe never ſpake any thing but what deſerv'd an entire attention, and an eternal memory. ‘Tyridates, ſaid ſhe one day to me, how commendable it would be in you, and how much you might oblige me for my ſake and your own, to recover your ſelf of this diſtemper, which muſt be fatal to one of us, and poſſibly may betray us both to deſtruction; I ſuffer'd the beginning of it with an indulgence that cannot be excus'd, and 'tis that hath render'd me guilty both of your misfortunes and your faults; Employ the ſame courage wherewith you vanquiſh'd Judea's enemies, to combat this Domeſtick Foe. I know you have virtue enough for the Deſign, if you would uſe it; try but to oppoſe it with all the Forces of your reaſon, and you will carry an undoubted victory, in which both you and I ſhall find our perfect repoſe and ſatisfaction. I have yet by the Grace of my God led my life in innocence, and taken no licence from the provocations of Herod to commit any act unworthy of my Birth; do not deſire, Tyridates, to blemiſh that in me which you prize higheſt, becauſe 'tis undefiled; to drop a blot upon my Fame, which can never be waſhed off again; if you have yet blinded the eyes of Herod, do not dim you own with a hope of the ſame ſucceſs for the future. Salome hath an intereſt that will ſet Spies upon all your actions, and ſoon diſcover enough to ruine you; and if that cruel woman doth neither ſpare the cleareſt innocence, nor the neareſt alliance, 'tis but juſt you ſhould fear her as a Stranger, and a man who in her opinion is already culpable.’

The fair Queen utter'd theſe words with a Grace wholly Divine: but alas! they found little inclination in me to be ſo wrought upon; for what influence could ſhe hope upon a ſpirit that had reſerv'd no power to diſpoſe of it ſelf, that could reſent nothing in thoſe ſweet words, but what redoubled the paſſion they diſſwaded, and render'd it incapable of that rigorous complacence ſhe demanded. I ſhewed her this weakneſs of mine in as paſſionate and ſubmiſſive expreſſions as my love could utter, proteſted how impoſſible it was to obey her, and forgot nothing that I thought might ſtir her goodneſs: I ſay her goodneſs; for upon that only I built all my Fortune.

But I had roved too much in a Calm, too long belied my unfortunate Birth, and the Science of thoſe Aſtrologers that condemned me to ſo many misfortunes; Till then I had ſo warily kept my paſſion under hatches, as the King (though of a moſt diffident nature) had not perceived it; but Salome that ſurveyed my actions, with more deſign than all the reſt, who of her ſelf was one of the ſubtileſt Women in the World, at firſt ſuſpected, and in the end by divers marks diſcovered the truth of it. Of this ſhe gave me ſome intelligence by the words ſhe let fall at my departure for the Army; and though they ſenſibly touched and taught me to carry more care in my behaviour for the future, to leſſen her ſuſpition, yet all thoſe endeavours proved unfruitful, and the Artifice I employ'd to diſguiſe my Affection, (which in all likelihood would have gotten credit in any Soul but Salome's) in her produced an affection quite contrary, and confirm'd her in that miſchievous belief ſhe had already entertain'd; when this was once eſtabliſhed in her head, Spight came, [Page] and joyned ſo violently with it, that in a ſhort time I think Hatred flam'd higher in her heart than ever Love had done: the Queen ſhe alwayes mortally hated, as well out of envy of her admirable qualities, which had inſpir'd all others with Love and Veneration, as ſome diſdain ſhe apprehended in that great Princeſs, who indeed could not ſo debaſe her ſpirit to ſmile on ſuch as ſhe deem'd unworthy of affability: Beſides, her power was too great with the King, and Salome that aim'd to be uppermoſt in his favour, was ſtung with diſcontent at the Queens authority.

With theſe conſiderations ſhe mingled her Jealouſie, which ſtirr'd up ſuch impetuous ſtorms in her Breaſt, as made it capable of the fouleſt Treaſons and blackeſt Crimes; and if ſhe hardly endured her diſreſpect and authority, ſhe could not look upon her as a Rival, without reſolving her ruine, and with her to deſtroy that, which a few dayes before her Affection had ſet at ſo high a value.

This change may appear ſtrange unto you; but it was ſo true, that ſhe no ſooner believed me amorous of Mariamne, but that Love, with which ſhe had before perplexed me, was converted into ſuch a Hatred, as render'd her apt to entertain moſt violent reſolutions, and ſet her preſently a hatching a deſign to involve me in the miſchiefs ſhe prepar'd for that innocent Princeſs; ſhe was ſo well acquainted with the King her Brothers ſpirit, as ſhe knew it to be of the ſame temper with her own, and therefore doubted not but to make the leaſt impreſſions ſhe could give him, powerful enough to deſtroy us. By this way, as the moſt aſſured, and the leaſt dangerous, ſhe reſolved our ruine, and began to labour it with all the ſubtilty that her Malice could invent: ſhe firſt began to obſerve the long ſtay I made in Judea, notwithſtanding that I might elſewhere find Sanctuaries of more aſſurance, and that the Emperour Auguſtus (an enemy to the King of Parthia) had invited me to Rome, and offer'd me a peaceable retreat there, with all ſorts of ſuccours againſt Phraates: ſhe ſhew'd him how it diſagreed with Reaſon, that I ſhould diſdain ſuch advantagious offers, to be ſupported by the Maſters of the Earth, if I had not ſome powerful tie in Judea. Then without unmasking her Deſign, ſhe made him curiouſly to mark my Actions, deſired him often to obſerve my Face when I entred the Queens Chamber, to take notice of my Sighs, my paſſionate Looks, with divers paſſages, in which a violent Love cannot belie it ſelf to the eyes of intereſſed perſons that will carefully ſurvey them. Theſe things in a ſhort time wrought upon Herod's ſpirit, and (as none was more tenderly ſenſible and impatient in that reſpect than he) I ſhould ſoon have felt his fury if he had not been reſtrain'd by divers conſiderations.

Beſides the hatred which he bare to Phraates, and the ſervices I had render'd to his Crown, he conſider'd me as one protected by Auguſtus, who had oft writ to him in my favour, and expreſs'd a particular care of me: This dexterous and Politick King diſſembled his firſt reſentments, only he made known to Salome a part of his Suſpition; and when that malicious waſp perceiv'd ſhe had made way for her intention, and half train'd the King to her deſign, ſhe neglected no time to ſtrike the blow as ſhe had premeditated.

Sir, ſaid ſhe one day to him, I am conſtrain'd to declare that which (till now) the care I cheriſhed for the quiet of your Family, made me conceal; but the peace of your mind being yet more dear to me, hath overcome all thoſe conſiderations, that made me diſſemble my thoughts. Seek no more for the cauſe of Mariamne's diſdain, her averſion doth not ſpring from a reſentment for the death of her Kindred; for were ſhe not prevented by another paſſion, the proofs of your love muſt needs have ſoftned her: That Rock ſo inſenſible to your Careſſes, is not ſo unrelenting to others, for that Parthian that holds his ſafety of your Charity, does doubtleſs love her with better luck than you; I have diſcover'd their intelligence by divers marks, and whatever care they took to diſguiſe it, their paſſion hath ſo blinded them, that they have loſt all power to diſſemble it, and I fear at laſt the whole Court will perceive it with ſeandal; I ſtrugled hard before I could reſolve with my ſelf to reveal this to you, and I ſhould have been willing at the price of my bloud to have ſhunn'd the occaſion of it without betraying you; but at laſt, Sir, my Zeal for your intereſts, and my indignation at the Queen's Ingratitude, have vanquiſhed thoſe Reaſons that would enjoyn me ſilence.

While Salome ſpake, the King accompanied her Diſcourſe with many ſighs, and ſwallow'd at deep draughts the poiſon ſhe had prepar'd him; this firſt information wanted little of tranſporting him to ſome fatal action: but, as he had ſhewn much power upon himſelf in divers encounters, he then maſtered theſe firſt motions, and grew deſirous to diſcover further, before he enterpriz'd things that might bring him ſuch diſpleaſing conſequences. For this reaſon, ſuppreſſing his apprehenſions as much as poſſible: ‘Siſter, ſaid he to Salome, I am oblig'd to you for the advice you have given me, and doubt not but it parts from the affection you bare me; I have already had ſuſpitions conform'd to your belief, but they were not ſo ſtrongly grounded to ſeize wholly upon my judgment; beſides, I have underſtood the Queen's virtues by ſo many proofs, as I found it hard to believe [Page] that her averſion to me could urge her to the violation of her duty: Yet now I begin to lean to your opinion, and with you to judge it almoſt impoſſible that a thouſand ardent proofs of my affection ſhould not efface the Queens reſentments, nor ſo much as ſoften her rocky heart, if ſhe had not given it to another. I love her but too well, continu'd he with a ſigh, too too well I love that ingrateful Woman, and though ſhe unworthily abuſes my love, yet I cannot chooſe but love her.’ He ſtop'd at theſe words, walked up and down the Chamber with an action that expreſt his tranſport and irreſolution, wherein Salome might read, that her plot had not ill ſucceeded.

Ah! Tyridates cry'd he, after ſome ſilence, doſt thou thus requite the protection and refuge I have given thee? doſt thou not fear to find that in my juſt anger which thou haſt avoided by my aſſiſtance? had I deſerv'd to have felt thy indignation, couldſt thou not have galled me in a part leſs ſenſible? And canſt thou believe that a cruel Brother is more formidable than a jealous Husband, than a paſſionate lover? He mingled theſe words with freſh Sighs, and again took ſome turns in the Room; then turning to Salome, ‘Siſter, ſaid he, before we enterprize any thing upon the advice you have given, 'tis fit we inſtruct our ſelves farther; for the quality of Tyridates, back'd with the care that Auguſtus takes of his ſafety, preſcribes me much caution; if you pleaſe, continue to improve your diſcovery of the truth, and on my ſide I ſhall take ſuch care, as it ſhall prove a very hard task for them ſtill to abuſe me.’

This was the diſcourſe between the King and Salome, all which a while after I learn'd from Sohemus, who had been told it by an Officer of the Kings, his intimate Friend, that over-heard it in the Anti-Chamber.

From that day theſe two malicious ſpirits employed all their care to obſerve my behaviour, and indeed I confeſs, that (whatever circumſpection I endeavour'd to carry,) many paſſages ſlip'd from me, capable to undiſguiſe my paſſion to perſons ſo powerfully concern'd; my Looks, Sighs, and change of Countenance often betrayed me, for before I underſtood the Kings ſuſpition, I behav'd my ſelf with leſs prudence than I ſhould have uſed, had I diſtruſted it; the Queen was yet more narrowly ſifted, and as that great Princeſs obſerv'd ſomething in me (if I may ſpeak it with modeſty) that gave me a better title to her eſteem than any of the Jews, and poſſibly feeling her ſelf obliged to my perſevering reſpectuous paſſion, ſhe compell'd herſelf to ſhew ſuch apprehenſions of it, as reaſon told her were full of innocence, and treated me in publick with a countenance capable to confirm the King in thoſe cruel impreſſions Salome had given him.

This Jealous Prince that ſaw not but with the troubled Eyes of his ſuſpition, beheld all our actions, as if every one had the Countenance of a Criminal; the effects of the Queens goodneſs and civility were interpreted for ſo many marks of her affection, and thus he was ready every moment to abandon himſelf to ſuch a rage, as almoſt poſed all the prudence he could make to tame it. I often marked theſe changes both in his looks and his humour: and, though in the whole courſe of his life he had appear'd the moſt dexterous diſſembler of all men, yet his raging jealouſie had ſo weakned the power, which uſually held the reins of his paſſions, as he could not ſo well contain himſelf, but I diſcover'd much coldneſs and change in the diſcourſe and entertainment he made me; indeed I ſhould have apprehended all theſe things with ſuch a ſpirit as his, and doubtleſs had ſo, if the powerful love of Mariamne had not ſtifled that in my Soul, which nature places there for our proper ſafety, and forc'd a neglect of all that care I ſhould have carried about me for the preſervation of my life: The Queen perceiv'd this (which ſhe always ſuſpected) as ſoon as I, and though her conſcience witneſſed to her ſelf the innocence of her carriage, yet ſhe was deſirous to avoid the danger ſhe apprehended, by treating me with a more reſerv'd behaviour, if poſſible, than ſhe had done formerly. I ſtudied a more ſpecious diſſimulation, but it was too late, the tempeſt was already riſen, and at laſt made it ſelf known by moſt dangerous flaſhes.

One day, the remembrance of which I muſt preſerve as the moſt remarkable of my life, the very ſame whereon the Jems celebrate that which they call the Feaſt of Tabernacles, being deſirous through curioſity (though of different Religion) to aſſiſt at their Ceremonies, I accompany'd the King to that famous Temple, which from the Name of its Founder, they call the Temple of Solomon, and which for Riches and admirable ſtructure may paſs with more juſtice than that of Diana at Epheſus, or that of Jupiter the Olympian, for one of the Worlds wonders; at firſt the Ceremonies borrowed my attention, for methought they were very ſpecious: but in fine, no longer able to keep them off, I tranſported all my thoughts to Mariamne, and with thoſe tyed my eyes to her face, with ſo attentive a regard, as though Arſanes, who ſtood behind me, often endeavour'd to call me to my ſelf, and made me mark in what manner the King obſerv'd me, I had much ado to retire [Page] them for a few moments, while the Sacrifice laſted, nor was I ignorant of the fault I committed, but I believe the Gods ſtruck my Reaſon blind to puniſh my offence of aſſiſting at the Sacrifices of a Religion which was enemy to theirs: whatever the cauſe was, that was the day wherein the King abandon'd himſelf to his Jealouſie, though poſſibly he had not yet determin'd upon the reſolution he was to take. Coming back from the Temple, he went to viſit the Queens Lodging, full of furious thoughts, his Face carried the Copy of his troubled Soul, and his eyes ſparkled Meſſages of Death: Yet they were no ſooner encountred by the Queens, but all their ſtorms clear'd up, and thoſe tempeſts which rage had rais'd againſt her, by that marvellous aſcendent ſhe had upon his Spirit, did homage to the charms of her beauty, and grew calm in a moment; of one terrible as a Lion, in a few minutes he became mild and tractable; and in ſtead of uttering the threats he had prepar'd, his diſarmed Anger gave place to Kindneſs, which rendred his Spirit pliable to Careſſes and Flatteries.

He made the Queen a diſcourſe full of Affection, which ſhe receiv'd with her uſual modeſty: but then offering to take ſome liberties with her, which he might have lawfully believ'd his due, if (by ſo many cruelties inflicted upon her and hers) he had not violated the Rights, and loſt all thoſe advantages of which Marriage had poſſeſt him, that couragious Princeſs, who could never tamely hide her reſentment in a diſguiſe, diſdainfully repulſt him.

Herod, that was not ignorant of the true cauſe of this, though he ſuſpected others, would not take a denyal from her firſt coldneſs; but perceiving ſhe reſiſted with an invincible reſolution, and being no way able to obtain theſe favours from her, which his deſires were greedy of, he recall'd that Choler that had ſo lately ſhook him, and beholding her with Eyes that ſparkled fury; Ingrateful Woman, ſaid he, do not longer think to abuſe me by thy ſpecious pretences; but know I am not ignorant that it is the love of Tyridates, and not the memory of Hircanus, or Ariſtobulus that renders thee inflexible to thy Husband's Kindneſs.

Though the Queen had ever fear'd theſe things from Herod's humour, yet ſhe could not be leſs than ſurpriz'd at this language, and appear'd as if ſhe had been ſtruck with a Thunderbolt; her Tongue remain'd mute, her Viſage chang'd colour, and from the profound aſtoniſhment which Herod there obſerved, he received cruel confirmations of his Jealous thoughts. This apprehenſion redoubled his fury, and now not doubting but the Queens powerfull ſurpriſal roſe from the reproaches of her Conſcience, and the ſhame or fear ſhe might have to ſee her Paſſion diſcovered, he gave himſelf up to the moſt furious tranſports that rage could inſpire, and had much ado to keep it from committing outrage upon her Perſon; but he upbraided her with the moſt injurious words that Choler could invent; ‘How now Traitreſs, ſaid he, muſt I then be rob'd by a Barbarian's witchcraft, of what is only due to my ſelf? And thou, that wouldſt fain paſs for a demure Zealot, does it ſuit with the Law of thy God, or the repute of the World, that thou findeſt more ſweetneſs in the ſhameful embraces of an Infidel, than the Legitimate affections of a Husband? Ah! diſloyal Woman, unworthy of a Love, which has preſerved thee in a rank from whence thou haſt deſerved to fall with thy Family, a Love that hath expoſed me too, to the Contempt of my People; is it by theſe infamous paſſions thou makeſt good thy claim to the Macchabean blood, of which thou haſt ſo often boaſted? Thinkeſt thou thoſe illuſtrious Aſmoneans, with whoſe glory thou haſt ſtill reproached me, (ſhould they return to the World) could approve of the ignominious preference thou makeſt of an exiled Parthian, to a King, whom the lateſt of thy Anceſtors gave thee for a Husband, or rather who honoured thee with the Title of his Spouſe, when he might have uſed thee as his ſubject?’

He accompanied theſe words with a torrent of others more cruel and injurious; during which the fair Queen, having had time to reſtore her ſelf from her firſt aſtoniſhment, began to regard with all the aſſurance that innocence could give her; and, neither able to make her ſpirit flexible to his Flatteries, nor her own juſtification, of which ſhe believ'd him unworthy, after that he had given ſome truce to his invectives. ‘Finiſh, ſaid ſhe, thou cruel Man, finiſh thy rage, and believe that after the exerciſe of ſo much brutiſh cruelty upon mine, thou may'ſt give it leave to let fall its laſt effects upon my ſelf; there only remains the laſt part of it to be acted upon me; for having had (by the murther of my deareſt friends, by a miſerable Captivity, and the bloudy orders thou gaveſt for my own) my repoſe ſo often tortured, there reſts no more but to aſſault my Honour, which by the favour of Heaven I have till now defended from thy horrid perſecutions: do, tear my Reputation, which hath maintained it ſelf pure and ſpotleſs in my misfortunes, and ſtill perſecute the Aſmonean memory by the ſhame [Page] thou prepareſt for the laſt of its Illuſtrious bloud, which thou haſt ſpilt ſo brutiſhly; Hope not I will aſſert my innocence; no, that account muſt only be rendred to him that knows it, and by his goodneſs will defend it againſt the calumny of my Enemies: believe all of the unfortunate Mariamne, wherewith her envious detractors have inſpir'd thee: Thy cruelties have given me but too much cauſe to diſpence with the juſtification which I owe to him, whom Heaven in its anger gave me for a Husband: but do not involve ſuch perſons in my miſery, as have no part in the crime thou impoſeſt; and if thy rage demands a victim to appeaſe it, ſeek no other than her whom thou haſt taught to deſire Death, by rendring her Life calamitous.’

The laſt words of the Queen tranſported Herod to the fartheſt degrees of fury: and now, more than believing the care ſhe took of my juſtification, while ſhe diſdained her own, could ſpring from no other root but that of Love, he concluded the proof clear enough to convince her; and not able ſo far to over-rule this belief, to diſſemble his intention; ‘Yes perfidious Creature, cryed he, I will credit all that my eyes and ears, and not the envious detractors, have told me; I will credit all that will convince thee of the moſt ſhamefull and blackeſt of all Treaſons; and in fine, believe that of thee, which thou wouldeſt I ſhould do, and diſdainſt to diſavow: The care thou takeſt of that ingratefull wretch, which has ſo baſely betrayed me, to the prejudice of thy own ſafety, ſhall ſuffice for his and thy Condemnation: the ruin of that thou holdeſt ſo dear, ſhall begin the puniſhment ofthy diſloyalty, and the choice of victims due to my juſt anger ſhall not be at thy diſpoſal; for before thou learneſt what to reſolve upon thy ſelf, prepare to know what I ſhall execute upon the perſon of thy Adulterer.’

At theſe words he flung out of the Chamber, with a Countenance ſo furious, as thoſe that met him in the paſſage could not behold him without trembling; Alas, how erroneous was the opinion he had of my fortune? how remote was I from that Soveraign degree of happineſs, and how worthy my condition had been of envie, had his ſuſpitions been true.

In the mean time I was at my Lodging, wholly ignorant of what had paſſed at the Palace, and employed the reſt of that day upon my ordinary diverſions. The hour of Supper being come, I was ſerv'd after the uſual manner, and ſitting at the Table with ſome friends of the Court, which were come to viſit me, we had done part of our repaſt; when, calling for drink, one of the Kings Cup-bearers that was accuſtomed to ſerve me, preſented the Cup with a troubled look, and diſcompos'd countenance: I obſerved this change in his Viſage, but made no reflection upon it, only contented my ſelf to ask him if he was not well; and in the mean time taking the Cup from his hands, I was carrying it to my mouth, when Arſanes enter'd the Chamber, and haſtily running up to me, juſt as I touched the Cup with my lips, he ruſhed againſt my arm ſo rudely, as he made me let fall the Cup, and ſpill the Liquor, part on the Table, and part upon my Cloths: this action of Arſanes was ſo little reſpectful, that (knowing his diſpoſition) I concluded he had not done it without ſome powerful motive: but he ſtayed not till I ſhould ask the reaſon, and (deſirous to hide his intent from thoſe were with me) ‘Sir, ſaid he, I beſeech you to pardon the offence which my raſh haſte made me commit, and be pleaſed to vouchſafe me the liberty of your ear for one moment.’ This ſaid, he drew me by the Arm, with an action ſo earneſt, as I perceived he had ſome advice of importance to communicate: I roſe from the Table, making a bad excuſe to thoſe that ſupp'd with me, and followed Arſanes into my Cabinet, which he firſt entred. We were no ſooner there, but, ‘Sir, ſaid he,’ nothing but a ſpeedy flight can ſave your life, the Gods in good time conducted me hither to ſpill the Poyſon was prepar'd you; but if we ſtay longer here, it will not be poſſible, with the ſame facility, to put by thoſe other dangers that menace you; Read this Note, which juſt now I received of the Queens chief Eunuch; it is written with her own hand; and if the Gods conſent that we eſcape, tis to her alone you owe your ſafety: I was amazed at the words and actions of Arſanes, and without reply to his Diſcourſe, I took the Letter, where I found theſe words written with the hand of my Divine Queen.

Mariamne to Prince Tyridates.

THE peril to which I expoſe my ſelf in writing to you, cannot hinder an advice which I owe to your vertue, and the proofs of your affection. Tyridates, if it be poſſible ſave your ſelf, and ſtay no longer in a place, where Poyſon and Sword are employed to give you Death.

[Page] I read over the Billet twice or thrice, kiſs'd thoſe amiable Characters which that adorable hand had traced, and after the peruſal, I was much to ſeek, whether the cruelty of Herod, that ſought to deſtroy me, after he had given me ſhelter, or the goodneſs of Mariamne, who took ſuch noble pains to preſerve my life with the peril of her own, touch'd me deepeſt; I knew not to which of theſe reſentments my ſoul was to give preheminence, but I know well the death that was threatned could not put on ſo rude a ſhape as that departure to which I ſaw my ſelf condemn'd by the hand of Mariamne.

The grief I felt was too prodigious to be wrap'd in words, I ſtood a long time ſilent and immoveable, which Arſanes (who had ballanced the eſtate of my Affairs) diſapproving, after he had often urged me to reſolve; What would you I ſhould do ſaid I? what Reſolution can you wiſh me to take in ſo cruel a propoſition? think you this life, which through your care I have miſerably drag'd from Court to Court, is ſo dear to divorce me from Mariamne? do you believe this ſeparation more eaſie than that of my Soul from my Body? Shall I abandon her for ever, whom I can ſcarce leave for a moment without dying? And to avoid one ſingle death, ſhall I carry a thouſand in my Breſt through all thoſe places where my pitileſs Fortune ſhall lead me? Ah! Let us die firſt, continued I, walking a great pace, without liſtening to the Reaſons Arſanes preſſed for departure, let us die a ready death, ſince a ſlow one is much more ſenſible, leave the Body cold and pale in that place which the Soul cannot abandon; and ſince we muſt die one way, let us ſeek to die in the eyes of Mariamne; and if that glory be refuſed, at leaſt give up that Spirit which neither was, nor ever ſhall be, but to her, as near her as is poſſible.

I pronounc'd theſe words with an action full of tranſport; and while thus my irreſolution ſhook me with ſuch terrible inquietudes, Arſanes loſt all his loyal pains about me; but after he had alledged divers perſwaſive reaſons, to which I could not ſo much as lend attention: ‘Sir, ſaid he, I doubt not but you diſpoſe your ſelf to this parting with much regret;’ but if the care of your own life cannot oblige you, conſider the command you receiv'd from the Queen, you will find it ſo expreſs, that if you have any reſpect left for her, it is impoſſible to diſobey it. ‘The Queens command, replied I, proceeds from nought but a compaſſionate care ſhe takes of my life: did ſhe know that to die were a thouſand times more pleaſing then to quit her for ever, ſhe would doubtleſs permit me to ſtay here ſtill.’ Arſanes was about to reply, though he could never have perſwaded me, when my Governour entred the Cloſet, and told me in a few words, that Sohemus deſir'd to ſpeak with me, that favour'd by the nights darkneſs, he had ſlipt into the Garden where he attended me, not daring to approach farther without running a danger too manifeſt, and giving the King ſuch ſuſpitions as might bereave him of the means to ſerve me.

I ran without replying to the place where Sohemus waited, without a Torch, or any company but Arſanes and my Governour, and ſo ſoon as I came at him, Well my dear friend, ſaid I, embracing him, then we muſt either die or ſeparate, and by the Cruelty of Herod and Fate, either Life or Mariamne muſt be quitted. ‘Yes Sir, replied Sohemus, and if you uſe not diligence,’ 'tis poſſible you will have both ſnatched from you. ‘That may eaſily be done, ſaid I, and I ſhall feel leſs pain and repugnance that way, than violently to chain my Body where my Soul refuſes to keep it company.’ Then I repeated almoſt the ſame things I talked to Arſanes, to which when he had lent an attention as ſerious as the troubles that involv'd us had left him; Sir, ſaid he, if you love the Queen, you ought not to conſult farther, nor enlarge your explications upon her commands, which cannot be but fatal to one or other; if you neglect your own life, you ought to conſider hers, and to believe, that while you are in Judea, ſhe can never be in ſafety; 'tis not only againſt you that the Kings anger does lighten, 'tis rather her that this riſing ſtorm doth threaten, and you have no other way to keep it off her head, than by removing the cauſe of the Kings cruel Jealouſie.

Then in order he briefly recounted what he had learn'd of the Conference between the King and Queen from the chief Eunuch, who had over-heard it, and thus by urging the Queens ſafety and repoſe, he rang'd all that was repugnant in me under his obedience. Yet I could not diſpoſe my ſelf to forſake the Queen for ever, but I reſolved for ſome time to fly the rage of Herod, and in the mean time to go in ſearch of ſome occaſions that might either reſtore my condition by the knowledge he might gain of the Queens innocence, or if it were poſſible, procure to ſee her without her knowledge: this was my hope that got my conſent to part, but I would rather have taken a thouſand deaths, than given it to take eternal leave of Mariamne.

While I diſcours'd with Sohemus, thanked him for his good Offices, and promis'd a perpetual Amity, with ſuch a ſhare in my Fortunes, as his own deſires ſhould crave (if ever the Gods thought fit to change them) and drew promiſes from him to perſevere in his faithful aſſiſtance, Arſanes and my Governour got ready our Arms and Horſes, and having [Page] caus'd them to be led without noiſe by three or four Parthian Servitors to the Garden Gate (that had ſerv'd me from my Infancy, and follow'd me in all my Voyages) and having carefully pack'd up my Jewels and Money, with what elſe was neceſſary, I rewarded Sohemus with ſome Gems of great value, and leaving others in his hand to give to Cleophe and the Eunuch that had been my Conſidents, I bid him adien with tears in my Eyes, and arming my ſelf, in a ſhort time I got to Horſe with Arſanes, my Governour, and my faithful Parthians, without taking any Jew along with me, or ſo much as letting them know of my departure.

I went out at the ſame Gate Sohemus enter'd, which open'd into an unfrequented ſtreet; while I iſſued out at the back-ſide of my Lodging, the Front of it was aſſaulted by thoſe that Herod had ſent either to take or kill me; and, as they had order to environ my Lodging, I had not trod many ſteps in the ſtreets before I ſaw both ends of it ſeiz'd upon by a great number of Souldiers, that ſhut up the paſſage on all ſides. I perceiv'd I ſhould find it a hard task to ſave my ſelf, yet I reſolv'd to ſell either my life or liberty as dear as poſſible, and turning to thoſe that follow'd me: Are you reſolv'd, ſaid I, to defend your ſelves like valiant men, and either to owe your ſafety to your own bravery, or periſh with your Prince, if the Gods have ſo ordain'd it? they proteſted with one voice, ‘That they would die at my feet;’ and, being aſſured of their reſolution, I ſpur'd in upon thoſe with my Sword in my hand, that defended the paſſage; and was follow'd ſo Couragiouſly by mine, that my Enemies began to judge it not ſo eaſie a task to take me as they imagin'd.

I paſſed upon the Necks of thoſe that firſt oppoſed me; and, cutting out our way with our Swords, we beſtir'd our ſelves ſo vigorouſly at the firſt encounter, as (after we had thrown many of our Enemies dead at our feet, and ſcattered the fierceſt of the reſt) the paſſage through the Street remained free, and we advanc'd into another more large, through which we gallop'd towards the Gate that was neareſt. And now we had begun to entertain ſome hope of eſcape, when paſſing through a place adjoyning to the Temple, we ſpy'd ſo many Troops of armed men from all corners approaching to us, as we judg'd it very difficult to force them.

The light which the Torches caſt, ſhewed me Alexas the Husband of Salome in the head of the foremoſt, and, hearing him loudly animate his men either to take or kill me, I ran up unto him with my advanced Sword in my hand, which I let fall upon his head ſo forcibly, that had not the blow been warded by a Souldier, that put his Sword before it, his life had payed for his Wives malice; nevertheleſs the blow was not ſo ſlight, but it threw him with a deep wound at the feet of his Souldiers; the Jews raiſed a loud clamour at the fall of Alexas, and in the mean time we charged in ſo ſucceſsfully as we tumbled many of them dead at our Horſes feet: Indeed we did perform actions there worthy of ſome remembrance, and 'tis probable the Jews had never ſeen ſuch a handfull of men in their City diſpute their lives ſo couragiouſly; but in fine, our Enemies ſtrength increaſed to ſuch a meaſure, and ours grew ſo feeble, as we ſoon perceived, without ſome miraculous aſſiſtance, the wayes to ſafety were all block'd up. My Governour Politis, who till then had accompanied and ſerved me in all my diſgraces with a marvellous affection (bravely fighting by my ſide) was forced by a multitude of wounds to breath his laſt; his death was ſucceeded by one of my faithfull Parthians, and ſure I had not long ſtaid behind him, if Arſanes, who is endowed with a dexterous Wit, and that temper'd with a marvellous Prudence, bethought himſelf in the very midſt of danger, of a way to ſave us; and approaching to me, as near as poſſible, Sir, ſaid he, I beſeech you follow me, I have diſcovered a ſecure Retreat: And at theſe words in ſtead of ſpurring towards the Gate, as we did before, where the thickeſt throng of Enemies and difficulty withſtood us, he cauſed me to face about towards the Temple Gate, which was behind us, and on that ſide (having but few enemies to combat) we ſoon clear'd the paſſage, and were no ſooner arrived there, but we readily quitted our Horſes, and threw our ſelves into the Temple, which was then open, becauſe of the Feaſt of Tabernacles, the Celebration of which laſted three whole days.

That Temple had always been a Sanctuary for Criminals: but at that Feaſt (the moſt conſiderable of any the Jews Religion celebrates) it was ſo aſſured a refuge, as the Jews would rather have ſuffered the entire ruine of their Nation, than permitted any to be forced from the Temple, that had there taken Sanctuary, whatever Crime they were convicted of; this cool'd the heat of their purſuits, and when they ſaw us entred, they ſtop'd at the Gate, and ſtood with Arms a-croſs, without the leaſt offer to follow us: Indeed ſome there were of the moſt mutinous among them, and the moſt intereſſed in the hurt of Alexas, and the death of their Companions, that cryed out to the Prieſts to put us out; That I was the Kings Enemy; That it was by his Order and expreſs Command they purſued [Page] us: But the Prieſts, in ſtead of liſtening to their clamour, received us with much humanity, and proteſted they would rather periſh than ſuffer the Temples Priviledges to be violated. The dignity of Prieſthood among the JEWS was very eminent: That of High-Prieſt, had heretofore been only exerciſed by Kings themſelves; after the Kings Hircanus and Ariſtobulus the Grandfather and Brother of Mariamne had diſcharged it, and then it was in the hands of one, the neareſt allyed to the Crown. And thus we ſaw our ſelves in that ſacred Fortreſs, and our Enemies only content to environ it, without daring to advance one ſtep to force an entrance; but as ſoon as day ſhewed it ſelf, the King having learn'd the truth, after he had ſent divers Meſſages to the Prieſts in vain, he came himſelf, wholly tranſported with ſury, in ſuch a Tempeſt, as gave belief to thoſe that were next him, it would hurry him to the moſt violent extremities.

The Prieſts, inform'd of his Arrival, came to the Gate to meet him, but ſo ſoon as they ſaw him, in the name of their GOD they forbad him to put a Foot into the Temple, if he brought any other intention than to render that reſpect which was as due from him, as from the meaneſt Iew, to that Holy Place, and the DIVINITY within it.

Herod, though deeply in rage, and poſſibly not over-zealous in the ſervice of his God, as he was very politick, fear'd, that being already hated, and but weakly aſſur'd of the Jews fidelity (ſhould he venture to violate their Cuſtoms, and infringe their Priviledges) it might provoke ſome revolt; beſides news was brought him, that in divers parts of the City, the Phariſees, that were the greateſt Zelots in their Religion, and the moſt conſiderable among the People, began to murmur. He conſidered that there was then cauſe to fear every thing, the Feaſt having filled the City not only with its own Inhabitants, but with the greateſt part of all Judaea, which the Solemnity had ſummoned thither. Theſe conſiderations ſtaid Herod at the Gate, but the trouble of his Soul expreſt it ſelf at the Eyes, and in the disjoynted words his Rage let fall: yet time having reconciled him to ſome Reaſon, he repreſented to ſome Prieſts, that the Aſylum of the Temple was not to protect us; that we were Infidels, and of a contrary Religion; that they ought the rather to put us out, leſt our preſence ſhould prophane the places Holineſs; but the Prieſts replyed, That Gods Aſylum was equally for all men; That if our Opinions did not tread the right path, we might there find it through the conduct of his Grace; That probably having made us incur the Kings diſpleaſure, he had therefore called us thither.

Herod anſwered, that I had violated the chief rights of Hoſpitality, that were as ancient as Temples themſelves; That no Nation ought to contain a refuge of the Man that had directly abus'd the proper Perſon of the King, and mortally wounded his Brother in Law; but all the Arguments he could urge, were not ſtrong enough to batter the Prieſts reſolution; neither his Menaces nor Promiſes could diſpoſe them, either to remit me into his hands, or ſuffer him to enter into the Temple, without thundering againſt him with all their Authority wherewith their Office had inveſted them, which enjoyn'd the conſervation of their Priviledges.

The Gods can witneſs, that I did not love my life ſo well, to beſtow all the care they made me take upon its preſervation: but I condeſcended much to to the entreaties of Arſanes and my Servants, and indeed to the Prieſts themſelves, who would not permit me to leave the Temple, though I had deſired it.

Whatever reſentment I had entertain'd againſt Herod, as the perſecutor of my life, and Mariamne's repoſe: yet I could not quit the thought of his firſt Reception, and the ſhelter that he had ſo many years given me againſt my Brothers Barbariſm: this remembrance made me deſire to ſee and ſpeak to him, to teſtifie that I was neither ingrateful to his former kindneſs, nor had ever injur'd him in the leaſt particular he could imagine: upon this ſcore forcing this reſiſtance of Arſanes diſſwaſion, I approached within eight or ten paces of the Gate where he conteſted with the Prieſts; and, ſo ſoon as I could be ſeen or heard; King of the Jews, cryed I, I am neither thy Subject nor inferior: and the Gods, who have given me birth from the nobleſt Family in the World, have not left me to acknowledge any Superior Power but theirs; for this reaſon I have little cauſe to juſtifie my ſelf to thee that wouldſt have taken my life both by Sword and Poyſon, and haſt purſued me againſt all Divine and Humane right, even to the Temple of thy God: but the ſatisfaction I owe to my Conſcience, and to the memory of that Entertainment wherewith thou haſt formerly treated me, doth oblige me to declare my Innocence. I proteſt unto thee, Herod, both before thy God and mine, that I have no way deſerved to offend thee: in thoſe employments thou gaveſt me for thy Service, thou haſt found it (and poſſibly to thy own advantage) that I neither ſpar'd my Blood nor my Life for the intereſt of thy State; and for that which concerns thy Perſon: I repeat my proteſtation, that I never did thee any injury. If that which ſeems amiable in they Eye, hath appeared worthy of veneration and reſpect, thoſe ſentiments, to which thou canſt only attribute my Crime, cannot make thy complaint againſt [Page] me legitimate; and I wiſh this very Temple, which now ſerves to ſhrowd me from thy Malice, may cruſh me with its own ruines, if in the moſt culpable of all my thoughts, there was any mixture of what might be capable to wrong thee. Nor do I aſſert this truth with deſign to diſarm thy fury, or avoid the death thou threatneſt: I cannot fear baſely; nay, could I now be ſhown any occaſion to periſh nobly, thou ſhouldſt quickly ſee how low I prize my life; but I perceive, that either thy own blind tranſport, or the rage of mine and thy Enemies, have made thee involve in my impoſed crimes the pureſt and the moſt entire innocence that ever yet was injur'd. Deſtroy him if thou wilt whoſe thoughts may have diſpleas'd thee, though they were alwayes innocent enough to endure ſtripping: but do not let fall thy rage upon Her that never underſtood them. What I have repreſented may plant quiet as well in thy Family as thy breaſt: and if thou wilt promiſe me at the foot of thy Altars, and before the Miniſters of thy God, to make me the only mark of thy fury, I will abandon this Aſylum that defends my Head from thy rape, and without further delay render it up into thy hands.

I had further enlarg'd my ſelf, if the enraged Herod would have given me a longer hearing without interruption: He had endur'd the beginning of my Diſcourſe with ſome patience, or at leaſt had ſuffered me to ſpeak, becauſe the exceſs of choler, that poſſeſs'd him, had ty'd up his own Tongue. But when he ſaw with what paſſion I endeavour'd to juſtifie Mariamne, and then remembred that her goodneſs had taken the ſame care for me, he let himſelf fall into a cruel re-doublement of his Jealouſie, and not able to diſſemble the rage that remembrance inſpir'd: ‘Barbarous Traytor, cry'd he, unworthy of the Protection I have given thee againſt thoſe that knew thee better than my ſelf, and would juſtly have cut thee from the world, through the experience of thy diſloyal inclination: doſt thou hope to find that at the foot of our Altars, againſt my juſt reſentments, which none but my Arm could have given thee againſt the purſuits of thy own Brother? thinkeſt thou, Heaven that abhors thy ingratitude, can arm it ſelf in thy defence againſt a King, that hath but too well defended and received thee, not onely into his Dominions, but with a hoſpitable liberality into his Houſe; a favour thou haſt unworthily abuſed? Ah! no, falſe Man, do not hope Divine preſervation for ſuch Crimes as can neither be excus'd before God or Man; nor think thy artificial words can pacifie an Anger armed but with too much Juſtice. Thou ſhalt periſh for the expiation of thy own ingratitude; nor ſhall thy Counſel direct me what puniſhment to inflict on the complices of thy Treachery.’

He would have ſaid more, and poſſibly in the end violated all right of priviledge to get me into his power, if Soſius (followed with a great Guard of Romans and Jews) had not arrived at the Temple Gate: This man was a Roman Senator, that ſome dayes ſince came to Jeruſalem to treat with Herod about certain Affairs concerning the Emperor Auguſtus: And the ſame Soſius that with a Roman Army had formerly aided him in his War againſt Antigonus, and contributed more than himſelf to the defeat and taking of that poor Prince.

Herod highly reſpected this man, as well for his perſonal, as his repreſentative condition, being the Emperors Ambaſſador. Soſius had formerly known, and fancying ſomething in me worthy of his amity, gladly conſented to be my friend; and at that time underſtanding the danger I was in, he came to find Herod, with intent to imploy all the Imperial Authority for my preſervation: and ſo ſucceſsfully he laboured it, that Herod, as hot as his rage had made him, was conſtrained to tame it at the name of Auguſtus, of whoſe power and greatneſs he was a timerous Idolater.

Soſius urged that he ought to permit me to retire to the Emperor, who had oft invited me to Rome, and profeſſed an intereſt in my preſervation; that his proceedings were but too violent againſt a Prince of my extraction; that it was fit to conſider what might follow, his quarrel being grounded upon nought but weak ſuſpition; beſides that he had learnt, the wound of Alexas was not dangerous, which I had given him in ſuch a reſiſtance as was allowed to all men: Beſides theſe, he repreſented divers other conſiderations, to which in the end he joyn'd the Emperors Authority, proteſting he ſhould render an exact account of that Action, and to this menace, Herod (that was a ſlave to the Roman fortune and greatneſs, and without that prop, knew it impoſſible to ſupport his own) rather rendred than to any other conſideration. At laſt therefore he conſented I ſhould go ſafely out of the Temple, with all that was mine; on condition I ſhould make no ſtay in the City, but quit it the ſame day, and in ſix more depart the limits of his Realm; pawning his word to Soſius (who received it in the Emperors name) that neither in the City, nor upon the way there ſhould be any trap laid for me.

[Page] This was our Capitulation, and having paid my thanks to Soſius and the Prieſts for their kindneſs, as well as my grief to abandon Mariamne would ſuffer me, I quitted the Temple, and ſoon after the City, under the Conduct of Soſius and his Romans, and they accompanied me without the Gates; it was likewiſe permitted to the reſt of my Train, to repair to the place of my firſt nights lodging, which was at a Town diſtant about a hundred furlongs from Hieruſalem. Thus I eſcaped Herod's fury, but not the perſecutions of my unfortunate Love; the ills I had avoided were found ſcarce worth conſidering, when compared with thoſe this cruel parting procured me; and though my reſolution was thus imperfect, thus far I had gone, rather to ſuffer a thouſand deaths, than renounce Mariamne for ever, for fear of one.

We were no ſooner arriv'd at the place where we were to lodge, but taking Arſanes aſide; ‘My dear Arſanes ſaid I, You ſee that I have condeſcended to your reaſons that urg'd my parting from the Temple, and the City, to avoid Herod; and poſſibly the conſideration of you, was none of the feebleſt arguments to win my conſent to preſerve a life which I can never love, in this condition it is now reduced to; but if you believed there was any of thoſe reaſons ſo puiſſant to make me welcome a deſpair of ever ſeeing Mariamne more, diſabuſe your ſelf; 'tis as impoſſible to liv ewithout her, as without reſpiring; and ſpare your diſſenting reaſons, for they are all incapable to reverſe the reſolution I have taken to ſee her this very Night if poſſible; when the Night has ſpread her ſhades upon Earth, I intend to return diſguiſed to Hieruſalem, and to go to the Houſe of my Friend and confident Sohemus; I have ſome hopes, that by his and Phylon the Eunuchs aſſiſtance, I may gain a ſight of the Queen; the deſign is now more eaſie to effect than ever; for beſides the ſervice that the Night and my diſguiſe are like to do me, in ſuch an infinite number of Strangers that are now in the City, becauſe of the Feaſt, I ſhall run no hazard of diſcovery: Beſides, Herod will never imagine, that after ſo late an eſcape from ſuch a peril, I would venture afreſh to repeat the Precipice. The Queen I will ſee, if Heaven prove ſo kind that ſhe permits me the opportunity, and if her intentions prove oppoſite, I ſhall receive the command from her own mouth, which her Letter did not clearly explain. You will find it in vain to oppoſe this Deſign, therefore ſpare the fruitleſs pains to divert it, and if my life be dear to you (as you have often proteſted) remember you ought to aſſiſt me in all ſuch things as are ordained to make it ſuffer.’

Arſanes ſtood aſtoniſht at my reſolution, but found it impoſſible to faſten any reaſon upon it; and the night had no ſooner made its dark approach, but clad in one of my ſervants habits, with one attendant I return'd to the City, deſiring Arſanes to ſtay with the reſt, the better to hide my departure, and expect the Orders I ſhould ſend him as the event advis'd.

I re-entred the City, and found no difficulty to conceal my ſelf in ſuch a confluence of People, that fill'd it in all parts, and getting within twenty paces of Sohemus his Houſe, I ſent my man thither; who happily encountred him entring his own Gate, being newly returned from the Palace. Sohemus was amaz'd to ſee me, not thinking it poſſible that I ſhould re-attempt the danger I lately eſcap'd with ſo much ado. ‘Ah! my Lord, ſaid he, is it poſſible I ſee you again in a place where to day you ran ſo great a hazard of your life?’ ‘Be not aſtoniſhed, dear Sohemus, ſaid I, I have a paſſion can produce ſtranger effects, they that have courage enough to liſt an Eye to Mariamne, cannot want it to deſpiſe danger. I am returned, Sohemus, to challenge that of your friendſhip which you promis'd, and that which I ever expected from you; I come to the Queen, by your means, if it be poſſible, and if your aſſiſtance can create me ſo happy, that benefit ſhall compleat your purchaſe of the Heart of a Prince, that you have powerfully gained.’

Sohemus heard my entreaty, with much deſire to oblige me, but found ſo little facility in the attempt, as he ſtaid a long time before he could ſhape an Anſwer; at laſt, when he had thought enough, ‘My Lord, ſaid he, You deſire effects of my obedience ſo difficult and dangerous, as I know not in what faſhion I ſhall find it poſſible to ſerve you; ſince yeſterday the Queen hath been more ſtrictly watched than formerly; and though the King has not yet diſcharged the thunderbolts, which we fear'd would fall from his violent choler, yet he ſtill keeps her in terms of diſtruſting his fury: nevertheleſs, ſhe is not ſo rigorouſly obſerved, but (if her conſent be not wanting) you may ſee her; but, as I believe, ſhe will not approve your attention, ſo I fear ſhe will not contribute thoſe things to the interview, as are in her power to effect; however, for your ſake, I will run the hazard, and it ſhall be no fault of mine if you be not ſatisfied.’

[Page] At theſe words I often embraced Sohemus, and weighing the truth of what he had ſaid, I long conſulted with him upon the order we were to obſerve; all the wayes were block'd up with difficulty and peril; at laſt we fix'd upon one that we judged the leaſt dangerous; and Sohemus, not willing to ſtay me longer in the ſtreet, led me through a private door and up a little pair of Stairs, not unknown unto me, to the Eunuch Phylon's Chamber, the Eunuch was then with the Queen; but his Chamber door was opened to Sohemus: by a Servitor that waited there; Sohemus went that way to the Queens Lodgings, while I expected his return in the Gallery, without a Light.

My fear to afflict your Patience, makes me forbear the repetition of Sohemus and Phylon's Diſpute with the Queen to diſpoſe her to ſee me; the anger ſhe expreſt againſt them and me, and the pains they took to obtain the grace I demanded, I refer to your apprehenſion; for your reaſon cannot be a ſtranger to what might be alledged on both ſides; and ſhall content my ſelf to tell you, that after a long conteſtation, at laſt the Queen conſented to ſee me in Cleophee's Chamber, where by her ſhe was only attended, while Sohemus and Phylon were ſet Sentinels at both advenues to prevent a ſudden ſurpriſal. You will poſſibly find, Madam, ſomething worthy of cenſure in this condeſcent of Mariamne, and judge with rigour, that ſhe ought not to have bow'd to my Paſſion with ſo much indulgence, after ſhe had given in the whole courſe of her Life ſuch haughty proofs of a marvellous Virtue; but when you ſhall know what ſhe intended, you will doubtleſs conclude this action did not ſpot her whiteneſs. Sohemus returned to the place where he left me, to conduct me to Cleophe's Chamber, where I entred trembling, and the Queen immediately after me; I had ſcarce the aſſurance to lift my eyes to her Viſage; ſo weak I grew at the apprehenſion of an angry look, which my fears told me I had provoked by importuning a favour that my merits could no way challenge; indeed methought I ſaw ſome Choler ſit upon her brow, but while I threw my ſelf at her feet, and embraced her knees, without the utterance of a ſingle word: ‘Is it poſſible, ſaid ſhe, that you could have ſo little conſideration of the repoſe of my Life and Reputation, to hazard both ſo viſibly; and after having led my life, till now, with ſuch caution, you ſhould force me to ſee you by night in a diſguiſe, without any other neceſſity then to ſooth your unjuſt Paſſion? have you done well to exact this from Mariamne, when you had ſo lately reduced her to the greateſt extremities that ever Princeſs of her condition and propenſion did encounter with? nay, can your ſelf approve that (which in your favour I now do) againſt all the Rules of Prudence and Reaſon? But do not Tyridates, purſu'd ſhe (ſitting her down, and forcing me to riſe) do not haſtily condemn this Action; ſee the end, before you paſs a diſadvantagious Judgment: if I had not condeſcended to ſee you, as I had many reaſons to diſſwade it, I had miſſed the occaſion of preventing ſuch attempts for the future; which I will now do, by putting an Order in force for my own repoſe, and yours too if it be poſſible.’

At theſe words ſhe ſtopp'd; and, while her Diſcourſe laſted, having recover'd a little aſſurance, I took the advantage of her ſilence, and lifting up my eyes to her face, which till then I had not dared to behold, but by ſtollen glances: ‘Madam, I confeſs ſaid I, that I am yet more culpable than your words have made me; and though my intents have been innocent, the ills you have ſuffered through my occaſion, do render me the moſt criminal amongſt all men: I am therefore come, Madam, to proteſt at your feet, that all my Blood, that a thouſand ſuch Lives as mine, can never requite the leaſt of your diſpleaſures; and to conjure you by all that is capable to perſwade, that I may have leave to ſpend this poor Life to purchaſe the repoſe of yours; employ the courage of Tyridates to break the Chains of your Calamities. I know I have committed a freſh offence in ſeeking means to petition your Goodneſs for this laſt favour, which I never have, nor ſhall ever merit; but it is not juſt, nor can my Paſſion excuſe it, that after having been the cauſe of ſo many of your misfortunes, I ſhould ſecurely retire from the purſuits of Herod, and abandoning you to his Cruelties, leave you, by ſhameful flight, in his ſavage hands, to ſeek a Refuge at Rome, while you ſtay here expos'd to his fury: This only conſideration, Madam, hath had power to ſhut my eyes upon that danger, againſt which you have expoſed ſuch a miracle of goodneſs: and in fine, I have learned to believe, that if any man may unfetter you from your Miſeries, you ought to hope it from none but Tyridates, as a Glory only due to him. I am now no longer retain'd by Hoſpitality, nor aw'd with the memory of my firſt Obligation; Herod's Sword and Poyſon have cancell'd thoſe; either of which would have infallibly deſtroy'd me, had not your adventurous pity prevented the Blow. To you only, my Divine Queen, this Life, ſuch as it is, is indebted for its Being, and you would have me have carried it away without offering the Sacrifice where it was due; it was yours by Gifts, [Page] yours by preſervation, and can you think it reaſonable, that I ſhould wander with it among the Romans, inſtead of coming to ſubmit it to my Sovereign? Ah! no, continued I, caſting my ſelf at her feet, do not reject that which would reject its own being but for you, and that which you cannot juſtly diſavow, do not grudge it the hazard of Herod's rigour, by dooming my ſoul to thoſe gloomy Woes, a thouſand times more black than the night, in which he would have clos'd my eyes for ever; or if the preſence of this wretch does importune or diſcompoſe your quiet, give leave that death may free you of him, from which you have but in vain preſerv'd him in Judea, ſince he muſt infallibly receive it elſewhere from the rigour of this ſeparation.’

I had ſaid more in the tranſport to which I had abandon'd my ſelf, if the Queen, who ſuffer'd with repugnance full of deadly fear, had not ſet bounds to the ſpacious Diſcourſe I meditated; and after ſhe had interrupted me with a command to riſe, ‘Ceaſe Tyridates, ſaid ſhe, to make theſe offers which I cannot ſo much as hear without offending Virtue, and remember I have told you a thouſand times, that the Crime of Herod cannot authorize mine; if I owe nothing to him, as to the quality of a Husband, yet the debt to my God and my ſelf, can never be ſatisfied. I will quit the World when it pleaſes Heaven to releaſe me, without the Crimes of theſe Miſeries: or if it have decreed them a longer date, I muſt ſtill have patience to endure them; 'tis this I oppoſe, in few words, to the deſires you expreſs to wipe away my diſpleaſure; I am neither permitted by Law Divine or Humane to ſerve my ſelf of your aſſiſtance: for that which regards your departure, know Tyridates, it is an indiſpenſable neceſſity, that you ſuddenly reſolve it, that I am now half conſtrain'd to an action unbecoming my quality and duty; and can no more conſent to ſee you with ſo much danger of life and reputation; and in fine, muſt intreat you never to ſee me more. Be not aſtoniſhed at theſe words, you have courage enough to be prepared for them, and poſſibly affection enough too for me to weigh all the reaſons that oblige me to this Entreaty. I will not ſpeak of my Life, which can never be ſafe while you are in Judea; for it was never happy to be worth the prizing; if my honour be dear to you, if you can ballance the prejudice of your own repoſe, and remember the ſuſpitions of Herod, the malice of Salome, and the knowledge my ſelf hath of the fault you have committed, you muſt conclude that the ſtay of Tyridates muſt be incompatible with the reputation of Mariamne.’

She ſtopp'd at theſe words, while I ſtood ſtiffe and motionleſs to hear the rigorous ſentence of my Death; ‘and after I had ſometime beheld her with an action that would have let in pity, if too ſtrong a reſolution had not deny'd it entrance:’ ‘Then Madam, ſaid I, you condemn the unfortunate Tyridates to a perpetual baniſhment, and you believe you are more gentle than Herod, in commanding him never to ſee you more: Ah! if you have that thought, for the Gods ſake loſe it, and do not believe that any Duty can with reaſon oblige you to that, which you would not do but for want of affection.’

‘The affection I have born you, reply'd the Queen, with an unmov'd aſpect, is not probably ſuch as you have pretended to, nor could it juſtly oblige me to that I have already done to pleaſe you: content your ſelf that I have not been ſparing in the acknowledgment of your deſerts, nor the eſteem of your reaſon, that therein I have paſs'd the preciſe limits my eſtate preſcrib'd me, and (ſince a perpetual ſeparation permits me to avouch it) I have not been ſo inſenſible, but if Heaven and my Parents had left me in a condition to my own choice, and Tyridates embraced the true Religion, I had preferr'd him above the reſt of Mankind.’

The Queen us'd ſome violence to bring forth theſe words, though they all wore the Badge of Innocence, when my Soul drew all the conſolation it had then capacity to hope for. ‘Ah! Madam, ſaid I, how glorious is my Deſtiny, and how little cauſe of complaint hath this Declaration left me? But Gods! yet glorious as I am, I muſt be baniſhed for ever: Oh hard Sentence, that alone can ballance the glory you have given me! rigorous doom of my Death, which I cannot, and yet I ought to undergo without a murmur, ſince my Queen pronounced it! No Madam, it is not juſt, you ſhould diſturb your quiet, not juſt I ſhould put your life in danger, not juſt to ſpot your candid reputation; but it is leſs juſt to abandon you to Herod's Mercy, that I ſhould fly to a Haven, while you ride it out in the Tempeſt; why ſhould I carry this unfortunate and vagabond life among the Romans, while you remain ſubmitted to the frantick fits of that ſavage Man? Muſt I for ever ſhut my eyes upon thoſe Lights, my Soul can only acknowledge glorious, while thoſe of Herod and his Jews are chear'd with the Divine Beams, to which I muſt bid an eternal Farewel? at leaſt ſet ſome limits to my Exile, or give me time to prepare for it, and while that laſts, let Sohemus be once more [Page] permitted to bring me to your preſence; I ſhould do what is poſſible to bow my Soul to an unrepining obedience; but to bid you now adiew, now to rend my ſelf from you for ever, is more than my heart can reſolve, without leaping a moſt deſperate precipice.’

I utter'd ſome other expreſſions full of tranſport, which the Queen heard with an admirable patience, but not with ſo much aſſurance; for whether it was the remembrance of her condition, (which I had awaken'd) or the pity ſhe took of my Misfortunes, her fair eyes let fall ſome tears: But I ſaw ſhe was troubled that I perceiv'd it; and now, deſirous to put an end to this dangerous Diſcourſe, ſhe roſe from the Chair ſhe ſate on, and approaching to me with an Action that ſpoke her reſolute: Tyridates, ſaid ſhe, though you appear ſenſible of the diſpleaſure you take to quit me, I think your courage capable to ſurmount greater difficulties: If I have any power upon your ſpirit, I deſire to put it all in my intreaty, that for my ſake you will ſupport it patiently; 'tis the laſt proof I beg of your Affection, but deſir'd with ſo much ardour, as you cannot refuſe it, without deſtroying all that you have gained within me: releaſe your fears for me: Though you leave me in Herod's Hands, all ſuccour hath not forſaken me, as you imagine; I have ſtill a Defender in Heaven, who is not too weak to protect me from the Cruelty of a Husband: In him I ſhall ever find my Refuge and my Comfort; and doubtleſs ſo ſhould you too, were you enlightned with his Beams: Adiew Tyridates, take my laſt Adiew; if ſometimes you remember me, at leaſt forget my Weakneſs, and the Faults you have made me commit.

At theſe words (ſeeing me fallen at her feet in a condition that left me no reaſon to reply) ſhe bow'd down, and taking my Head between her Hands, kiſſed me on the forehead: and this was the greateſt and moſt ſignal favour I ever received of Mariamne; which, ſo ſoon as ſhe had beſtow'd upon me, ſhe retir'd to her Chamber, and ſhutting the door after her, diſappear'd from my eyes for ever.

The heart of Tyridates was ſo overcharg'd when he came at this ſad piece of Story, that he found it impoſſible to go on before he had given paſſage to ſome ſighs, that ſtopt the purſuit of his Diſcourſe. The fair Queen was ſo ſenſibly touch'd at this Story, as ſhe ſuffer'd compaſſion to ſteal ſome liquid Pearls from her eyes; but when he was return'd to himſelf; I know not, Madaw, ſaid he, what to ſay more, for the reſt of my life is as unworthy of your attention, as my pains to recount it: you may imagine, if you pleaſe, the Woes that rent my heart when I ſaw my ſelf forced to endure my Life, and ſupport my Miſeries by the Command of Mariamne; I vow by all the Gods, that neither Fear nor Cowardiſe had a hand in the Religious obſervance of my Queens Injunctions: but ſuch an obedience as muſt ever be twiſted in my Thred of Life, diſpos'd me (by the aſſiſtance of Sohemus) to depart the Palace and City, whence I return'd to my Followers, took my way to Rome, and preſented my ſelf to Auguſtus.

I know, Madam, you will eaſily remit the Relations of that tedious Voyage, and the weariſome reſidence I made with the Emperour, for it contains nothing capable to divert you. And indeed the remembrance has ſo freſhly ſet my griefs a bleeding, as I find my ſelf unable to be more particular; be pleaſed then only to know, that I have ever ſince lived in darkneſs; that neither the Careſſes of the Emperour (who alwayes nobly treated me) the pomp of Rome, nor all the pleaſures that were daily proffered in that great Miſtreſs of the Univerſe, could ever give my griefs a moments eaſe; when after I had there worn out a year without an hour of repoſe, the fear my Melancholy might render me inſupportable to the Emperour and his Court, made me abandon it, without deſigning any other retreat or intention, but to breath the anxieties that denied me quiet; When after I had long wandred upon Earth and Water, I was caſt upon this Coaſt, where I have ſince made my miſerable reſidence: a condition, though mean, yet better ſuiting with my humour than that I enjoy'd in the Courts of Kings.

It only now remains to tell you, that about a Moneth ſince I remembred Mariamne's Command extended no farther than my baniſhment, that ſhe had not forbad me to inform my ſelf of her Condition, which made me ſend my faithful Arſanes into Judea to learn it.

This Voyage he undertook out of hope to live there unknown, till poſſibly he might find the Queen in ſo relenting a condition to repeal my Exile. I attended his return in this ſolitary Manſion, which for ſome Preſents I obtain'd of an Alexandrian for the time I ſhall ſtay upon this Coaſt, and I confeſs I taſted more ſweetneſs in this ſolitude, than I could have hop'd from the continual perplexities of my Soul; beſides, I cannot call it leſs than a comfort to my grief, that I have had the happineſs to render ſome ſervice, and to give this poor retreat to ſo great a Princeſs.

[Page] Thus Tyridates clos'd his ſtory, and the Queen, who had lent him a ſerious attention, made both her Action and Diſcourſe expreſs how much ſhe was intereſſed in his Fortune.

Your Relation, ſaid ſhe, after ſome other words, hath ſenſibly touched me, as the misfortune of a great and virtuous Prince, whom Heaven hath perſecuted; but if I commend your reſpectful affections, I muſt not forget to praiſe Mariamne's Virtue, that in ſo juſt and great occaſions to hate her Husband, ſo couragiouſly reſiſted the Batteries of your Affection, and the motions of that inclination, which, if I judge aright, ſhe had toward you: Indeed ſhe was obliged to the Rules of her Duty; but it is not eaſie to acquit the debt that often exacts ſuch weighty payments, and defend her ſelf from the excellent qualities of ſuch a Prince as Tyridates.

Tyridates retorted this obliging Diſcourſe in very ſubmiſſive Language; and the Complement would have laſted longer, if the Queens Supper had not interrupted it, which made Tyridates reſpectively withdraw, becauſe ſhe ſupp'd in her Bed, and (deeming her wearineſs requir'd what was left unſpent of the night for repoſe) he bad her good night: but before he left the Chamber; It is not juſt, ſaid ſhe, you ſhould longer be ignorant of her Name and Fortune, whoſe Life was ſo lately your Gift; and that ſince ſeconded by a noble entertainment. Eteocles (continued ſhe, pointing at the man that was preſerved with her) ſhall begin the Relation, and when you have learned thoſe Adventures that have preceded mine, whereof no man is better inſtructed than himſelf, you ſhall know the particular accidents of my Life from my own mouth. Tyridates civilly return'd his thanks for this promis'd favour; and quitting the Chamber, return'd with Eteocles to his own, whom he compell'd to ſup with him, though upon knowledge of his quality, he would modeſtly have refus'd the honour. After Supper, he caus'd him to be conducted to his Chamber, and himſelf went to Bed, where he paſſed that night in his ordinary inquietudes.

So ſoon as he waked the next Morn, he ſaw Eteocles in his Chamber, that came to give him good morrow, whom the Prince courteouſly received, made him come nearer, and remembring that from his mouth he was to expect the beginning of thoſe Adventures he long'd to underſtand, invired him to a Seat by his Beds-ſide; and having forced him to ſit down: You ſee, ſaid he, a very inquiſitive Man, loath to diſpence with the Charge the Queen hath given you, and I can neither find time nor place more commodiouſly favourable than this, to require ſatisfaction; for it will not be a civil hour to viſit the Queen, till two or three be expir'd. Sir, ſaid Eteocles, I believe what ſhe ſuffer'd yeſterday will ask this mornings repoſe to unweary her; the time I cannot better employ than in rendring proofs of my obedience to both your Commands. And after a preparation of a ſhort ſilence, he thus began his Diſcourſe.

The HISTORY of Julius Caeſar, and Queen CLEOPATRA.

BEfore I can enter the Relation of that great Queens Adventures, whom I have now the honour to ſerve, I muſt of neceſſity go back to the Life of another Queen, Illuſtrious for Greatneſs, Beauty, and the Accidents of her Life above all others that ever preceded her: You may eaſily judge, it is the Queen Cleopatra I intend to ſpeak of, whoſe Name is not only known in this Countrey, that was under her Dominion, but has ſtretched it ſelf to the remote corners of the World, and will doubtleſs be a task for the Memory of Fame till the laſt Age.

Of the Accidents that befel her with Anthony, none are ignorant; I ſhall only therefore lightly touch them; but becauſe her Enemies have endeavoured to black her Reputation with what happen'd in her greener years with the great Julius Caeſar, I am oblig'd in Conſcience (as he of all men with whom the Truth is beſt acquainted) to defend her memory from that Calumny, and give you a faithful account of thoſe paſſages compriz'd in as few words as poſſible.

The Queen Cleopatra was Daughter (as ſure you have heard) to King Ptolomee, ſirnamed Auletes, and deſcended with King Ptolomee her Brother, from that glorious ſtock of Kings, that ſince the great Ptolomee, friend and ſucceſſor of Alexander, hath continually ſway'd the Aegyptian Scepter. This Princeſs was born with all the graces that the Gods could beſtow upon a mortal perſon; the Beauty of her Body could not be match'd upon Earth nor had that of her Spirit leſs advantages: and the greatneſs of her Courage infinitely rais'd it ſelf above her Sex; I would ſay more, if Renown had not ſav'd me a Labour, and thoſe Gifts of Heaven been too fatal to let me dwell delightfully upon the Story.

But the Prince Ptolomee her Brother, was not ſo by inclination; but being naturally [Page] prone and propenſe to Vice, he ſuffered his flatterers by pernicious Counſels, to corrupt and deface all that impreſſion of good that his high Birth had left upon his Spirit; which, in fine, tumbled him headlong in his laſt misfortune. He receiv'd the Crown very young, by the death of the King his Father; and the unbridled liberty which he found in that abſolute power, ſunk him in all his vices. The Aegyptian people diſcontentedly conſidering theſe ſad beginnings of his Reign, and ſighing to ſee themſelves ſubjected to a Prince ſo unworthy to Command, began to turn their eyes upon the Princeſs Cleopatra; and perceiving how much ſhe differ'd from her Brother, in Spirit, Majeſty, and all things elſe that might render a perſon worthy of a Scepter, they repin'd that her Sex was an obſtacle to their wiſhes; and every meeting would freely confeſs to one another, how much more they thought ſhe deſerv'd their allegiance than Ptolomee, or rather Pothinus, Theodorus, Ganimed, with the reſt of the Rabble of vile flatterers, which he took up from the duſt, to lift them to the higheſt Dignities; or rather to give them the Sovereign Authority.

This unworthy Crew having once perceiv'd that Cleopatra's Credit was like to extinguiſh theirs in every Aegyptian Breaſt, began to render her ſuſpected to her Brother, and eaſily perſwaded that poor ſpirit, that it was fit ſhe ſhould periſh; The ungracious Prince ſuddenly reſolv'd to give the blow; but (having notice of his evil intention) ſhe retir'd from the Court, and ſought a refuge among thoſe Aegyptians which ſhe believed did beſt affect her: nor did they abuſe her confidence; for a great part of the Realm arm'd it ſelf in the quarrel, divers Cities declar'd for her, and if her party was not the moſt puiſſant, at leaſt it was compos'd of the honeſter ſort of Aegyptians, that a long time kept her ſafe behind their Bucklers, againſt all the Forces the King could make.

At laſt, after the inequality of number had given Ptolomee ſome advantage, he beſieg'd the Princeſs his Siſter in the City of Peluſium, whither ſhe was retir'd.

At that Siege he was buſied, when the infortunate Pompey (a dreadful example of Fortunes inconſtancy) that great man that had triumphed over three parts of the World, and by an infinite number of Victories had juſtled for precedency with the renown of Alexander; flying from the Battel of Pharſalia, came to throw himſelf into his Arms, there to ſeek an Aſylum againſt the purſuit of his victorious Enemy. Indeed all ſorts of honovr and aſſiſtance were due from Ptolomee to the dignity of that Grand Captain; and doubtleſs any Soul but his would have receiv'd him (that a few dayes before was the greateſt of all men,) with a ſubmiſs reſpect to his precedent condition: but that diſloyal man (only prizing his preſent Fortune, and not his Virtue) hearkning to the pernicious counſels of Pothinus, Theodorus and Ganimed, that repreſented how advantagious an amity the death of Pompey might gain him with his Enemy, butchered that unfortunate Prince upon the ſhore of Peluſium, in the ſight of his Wife Cornelia, who hardly eſcaped (by the Succours of her own men) from the ſame deſtiny,

The belief I have that Fame has made you acquainted with this pitiful Hiſtory, the importance of which ſpread it over the Earth, makes me contract it in a ſmall Volume. A few dayes after, Ptolomee underſtanding that Caeſar was come into Aegypt, and hearing he diſapprov'd the cruel War he made againſt his Siſter, rais'd his Siege from Peluſium, and bent his courſe towards Alexandria, where he ſtaid his coming up.

Cleopatra no ſooner ſaw her City ungirt, and her ſelf at liberty, but by the counſel of her faithfulleſt Servants, and eſpecially of my Father Apollodorus, who had ever much credit with her, ſhe reſolv'd to throw her ſelf at the feet of Caeſar, and demand his protection before he arriv'd at Alexandria. This deſign was preſently executed, and ſhe and her Train wafted over with a winged diligence to the Iſle of Farion, where Caeſar had made ſome ſmall abode. I was of that number that attended her, and becauſe of the faithful ſervice which my Father ever render'd her, none had freer acceſs nor greater credit than my ſelf. The great Caeſar being advertiz'd of her arrival, came to meet her with much Civility; and becauſe I was preſent at that interview, 'tis fit I ſhould recount ſome of the particulars.

Cleopatra, the better to advance her deſign, had that day call'd both Art and Glory to wait upon her Natural Beauty, that it might ſparkle at the beſt advantage; and though in her habit ſhe had affected a Modeſty, conform'd to her preſent eſtate, and therefore concluded Mourning more becoming than Pomp, in an action wherein ſhe was to appear a Suppliant; yet both her Mourning and her Modeſty were ſet off with what was more great and pompous than the dazling Luxury of Gold & Jewels could boaſt: Her Eyes darted Beams more Glorious than the richeſt Diamond could ſparkle, and the Majeſty of her Port and Viſage did more loftily expreſs her quality, than could be done by a magnifick and a numerous train of Seruitors.

If her view put Caeſar and his Followers to their wonder, I confeſs too the viſage of [Page] that brave man, the greateſt not only of his own, but of all the Ages that preceded it, ſtampt a reſpect in all our Souls, that made us regard him, as if he had been a God. That prodigious reputation he had gained in a hundred Battels, againſt the moſt valiant people of the World, and his laſt Victory upon the Romans themſelves, which he came from ſubduing with a far leſs number than theirs, gave us an aſtoniſhment full of veneration. Indeed his face did not belie the dignity and grandeur of his actions: And though there was ſomething miſſing there that muſt needs go away with his vigorous youth; yet there appear'd all the marks of a perfect Greatneſs: his Looks ſo imperious, and yet ſo full of ſweetneſs, that it was not eaſie to take him for leſs than the Maſter of the Univerſe. Caeſar and Cleopatra before they ſpake, ſpent ſome time in gazing at one another, making their looks and ſilence expreſs their mutual admiration; but at laſt Cleopatra (conſidering ſhe was in his preſence that had her repoſe and fortunes in his hands, or rather was the Maſter of her Deſtiny) bowed her haughty Diſpoſition, and forcing a more than ordinary humility, from the dexterity of her ſpirit, threw her ſelf at the feet of Caeſar, and reſiſting his earneſt and vehement entreaties to riſe: You ſee Great Emperonr, ſaid ſhe, you ſee at your feet, the Daughter of the Ptolomees, that is here to demand that of you againſt a cruel Brother, which from his Arm ſhe might expect againſt other Enemies. Oppreſſed Innocence and Imbecillity implore your aſſiſtance, and do proffer a brave employment to your Generous Bounty, that cannot ſhew it ſelf in a more becoming garb, than in protecting a Princeſs, perſecuted by unnatural Cruelty, in her Fortune, Repoſe and Life, in the ſame eſtate my Anceſtors commanded, part of which is my Legitimate Inheritance; I have now no other Retreat but your Favour, and if that be denied me, I muſt render up my ſelf to a Brothers Cruelty, in whom neither my Bloud, Sex, nor Youth can ever ingender pity. Let me not embrace your victorious Knees in vain, before which, all that is great on Earth, muſt learn Obedience, and confeſs thee as great and as much Caeſar in generoſity, as in that triumphant bravery, that has made thee Maſter of Rome, and with her, of all the World beſide.

The fair Princeſs had doubtleſs ſaid more, if Caeſar (no longer able to hear, or ſuffer her upon her Knees, though accuſtom'd to ſee Kings whole dayes in the ſame poſture) had not employ'd (after the trial of entreaty), the force of Arms to raiſe her; and having placed her in an eſtate better conform'd to what her Beauty might claim: Fear not, Cleopatra, ſaid he, the Roman Arms ſhall defend thee from thy Brothers threatnings; and if he contemns our Prayer, we will not leave Aegypt till we have provided for thy Repoſe and Fortune.

He pronounc'd theſe words with a Roman gravity, and a Majeſty that equall'd his condition; but a while after, ſeconding his parlie with the Princeſs, his temper was ſo ſoftned with the charms he there encountred, as he loſt all his Gravity; and in his following diſcourſes put a ſubmiſſive behaviour in the place.

After he had re-aſſur'd her fears by repeating his promiſe not to abandon her, he told her he would conduct her to Alexandria, preſent her to her Brother, and put her in poſſeſſion of her partage in the Realm. Cleopatra's experience of her Brothers ill Nature, gave her ſome difficulty to reſolve it; but at laſt ſhe was conſtrain'd to obey the abſolute will of Caeſar, who preſently diſpatched one of his chief Commanders to let Ptolomee know, that he could not ſee him as a Friend, nor as an Allie to the People of Rome, if he refus'd to receive Cleopatra, whom he intended to preſent him, with all aſſurance of Reconciliation. Ptolomee entertain'd this imperious Order with a moſt ſenſible deſpight, and had much ado to hinder the eſcape of ſome paſſionate folly; but he ſtood in too much awe of the Roman puiſſance to profeſs his indignation, which made him reſolve to diſſemble, till time ſhould offer him an occaſion to ſhew it at the beſt advantage. He therefore unwillingly forc'd himſelf to ſubmit to the impos'd Command, and in the mean time to render Caeſar more favourable, he ſent him by the wicked Theodorus the head of mighty Pompey; but his expectation prov'd ſo erroneous, as that Generous Conquerour, inſtead of bidding the Preſent welcome, refus'd to ſee it, and commanded the wretch that brought it, to be chaſed from his Preſence, after he had expreſs'd how much he deteſted his Maſters Treachery, in terms full of contempt and Choler; nevertheleſs he enter'd Alexandria, where Ptolomee receiv'd him with great reſpect, and many feigned demonſtrations of good will. Cleopatra upon this ſcore, was likewiſe entertain'd with kind embraces, Ptolomee proteſting before Caeſar, that he was ready to reſign up her partage, and for the future reſolv'd to treat her like a Brother. Cleopatra forgot all the cauſe ſhe had to complain; and thus accorded, divers dayes were conſumed in triumphant and magnificent Feſtivals.

But the Soul of mighty Caeſar (wholly invincible as it was) could not defend it ſelf from the Charms of Cleopatra; That glorious Conquerour, that made the World his Trophy, was now become Captive to a Womans Eyes, and took more wounds in his [Page] Treaties, with her Looks and Diſcourſe, than he got in all the dangers of ſo many Combates.

This cannot ſeem ſtrange to thoſe that knew this great Queen; for when ſhe was pleas'd to ſet her enticements at liberty, it was hard for a man to try his ſtrength, and come off untaken; before he diſcovered his paſſion to the Princeſs. he endeavour'd to give intelligence by his looks and geſtures; and when he thought he had prepar'd them audience, he truſted his Tongue to tell her what ſhe had made him feel.

Cleopatra was one of the moſt ambitious Perſons on Earth, and that Paſſion then beginning to gain an Aſcendent upon her ſpirit, made her regard the ſubmiſſions of that Heroe not unwillingly: ſhe had conceived an opinion of her ſelf, high enough to believe that few hearts were ſo well fortified to hold out againſt her Batteries; and, obſerving Caeſars Behaviour, ſhe doubted not but he was ſtruck before his Diſcourſe aſſur'd her; the firſt time he ſtripp'd his thoughts to her, was in the Palace-Gallery, where he walked along time diſcourſing of her Affairs, and the order his intention had contriv'd to put them in.

The Princeſs return'd her acknowledgment for his Courteſies, in expreſſions full of Civility, and upon theſe terms they were, when finding that no unfit Occaſion to unveil his thoughts, after the preparative of ſome amorous looks that fore-ran the diſcovery: I ſhould never have believed, ſaid he, you would thus have requited the Service I render you; were you juſt, you would not ruine my repoſe, while I endeavour to reſtore yours; be not amazed at this Diſcourſe, purſued he, in a more ſerious accent, in procuring your Liberty, I have let my own fall at your feet, and humbled my ſelf from the principal Authority in the Empire, that I might give it to you in Egypt; I had rouz'd the ſame Courage to defend my ſelf from you, that preſerv'd me from the Foes that were of Fortunes ſtirring up, had I not foreſeen it would prove too weak to withſtand your Aſſault, and found more Glory in the Defeat, than diſputing the Victory. Fair Cleopatra, I am your Priſoner, but with this ſatisfaction, that I yield my ſelf to the faireſt Victor upon Earth, to ſuch a one from whom I may implore mercy, without ſhame or baſeneſs; uſe your Victory as Virtue ſhall adviſe you, and remember that you cannot ſtill be Generous, and abuſe it.

Theſe were Caeſars firſt expreſſions, and to this Declaration the Princeſs liſtened without diſpleaſure; for ſhe could not deſire more glorious proofs of her own merit, than in the Conqueſt of ſo great a man; and after ſhe had ſtudied a while for a becoming anſwer, ſhe reply'd in theſe terms.

‘My Lord, I never cheriſhed ſo good an opinion of that little beauty the Gods have lent me, or thoſe other qualities, that may make me a pretence to the eſteem of common perſons, to believe them able to ſubdue him who has taught the whole World Obedience; 'tis not eaſie to imagine that the Vanquiſher of Mankind ſhould hook himſelf upon ſo weak a Bait, at leaſt too feeble to hold ſuch a Soul as his: the Gods have formed him of a Nature ſo approaching to theirs, that vain were the Ambition of mortal Beauties to aim at ſuch a Conqueſt; nor were it juſt, that (after having ty'd your victorious Chains upon the Univerſe) you ſhould loſe your own liberty to a Princeſs, that owes you for hers, with all that repoſe you have ſo nobly reſtored her. Nevertheleſs, my Lord, I receive this Diſcourſe (full of nobleneſs) with a reſpect due to great Caeſar, and my particular Benefactor: and if his Spirit has made choice of this kind of divertiſement, to unweary if ſelf from his grand employments, I am contented to afford him matter for it; on condition he takes notice, that I ſuffer all from him as my Protector and my Maſter.’

Cleopatra finiſhed theſe words, turning her Eyes upon the Face of Caeſar, with a ſmile capable to perſwade him, that her words and thoughts were not of the ſame piece; and with an action ſo ſweet, and yet ſo Majeſtick, as if the Graces themſelves had compos'd it; her Eyes brandiſhing ſuch an extraordinary brightneſs, as they ſhot new flames into great Caeſars ſoul, who by his freſh wound, became ſo tranſported, as he had much ado to hinder his amorous Feaver from breaking out into the hotteſt proofs. However, though with much conſtraint, he retained it; and regarding the Princeſs, with Eyes in which Paſſion was not ill repreſented.

‘I ſhould be angry with you, ſaid he, if I did not know that your Tongue wronged your heart, when it miſpiz'd thoſe bright powers that conquered me, for they are able to perform greater feats; the Advantages which my Arms, with the aid of Fortune, have given me over men, are all too weak to guard me from you: I will give my Life (if you diſdain it not) for the confirmation of this Truth, and with it ſubmit at your feet all the Vows and thoughts, not of your Protector, and your Maſter, but of him that conſecrates the reſt of his days to the Divine Cleopatra, with an entire obedience and ſubmiſſion’

[Page] 'Tis like he had ſaid more, if he had ſpy'd King Ptolomee, whoſe approach to ſalute him, hinder'd the purſuit of that Diſcourſe. But the next day he again renew'd it, and as well by words as actions, gave Cleopatra ſuch clear proofs of his paſſion, as ſhe found not the leaſt ſcruple to frame a doubt of; This knowledge ſhe manag'd with much prudence and reſervation, not willing to give cauſe of complaint to a Man, from whom ſhe expected all, and on whom her fortune and tranquility abſolutely depended, yet ſhe govern'd her ſelf in ſuch ſort as he could never take the leaſt advantage upon her, nor find cauſe to blame her for too much rigour or facility. But ſhe would pleaſingly flatter her ſelf with the glory of overcoming him, whom the world had not power enough to reſiſt. The knowledge ſhe took of her own high birth, and admirable qualities, gave her belief ſhe might pretend to all things; and ſhe foſtered no meaner thoughts than ſuch as aim'd at the Empire of the Earth.

Beſides the glory that ſhined in the greatneſs of his actions, Caeſars Perſon was very capable of inviting affection; and though he was not young enough to keep all thoſe charms upon his face undiminiſhed, that are Lovers Torches, yet he was not ſo ſhort of thoſe graces, to want much of his primitive vigour; for his Countenance diſplayed ſuch brave and erected looks, as it imprinted reſpect in every ſoul that ſaw it: Cleopatra, who had eyes as well as others to regard it, finding her ſelf deeply oblig'd to his noble offices and affection, inſenſibly fell to tie on her own Chains, and had already begun to engage her ſelf, when the Affairs of Aegypt received that memorable revolution, of which you have doubtleſs heard, and from that belief, I ſhall abridge the recital as much as poſſible.

While Caeſar entirely gave himſelf to his Love, and endeavoured with all the proofs of it to gain Cleopatra's, the wicked Ptolomee, and his perfidious Counſellors, nurſed deſigns very different. They had found in Caeſar, as they apprehended, little acknowledgment for the ſervice they had rendered him in the death of great Pompey; and indeed that high rais'd Spirit (that could neither approve villany, nor eſteem thoſe that committed it) had contemptuouſly treated all thoſe that had dipp'd a hand in that black Treaſon; beſides Ptolomee ſaw with deſpite, the Love he bare to his Siſter, and not without cauſe, feared that he would favour and ſupport her againſt againſt him, in the Partage they were to make: theſe conſiderations joined with the counſels which Pothinus, Achillas, Theodorus, and the reſt of their perfidious Companions were ever fomenting, made him at laſt reſolve to uſe Caeſar as he had done Pompey, and find a way to his ends by the death of him and Cleopatra. Caeſar had lodg'd none but his moſt conſiderable Perſons in Alexandria, and to ſatisfie the Citizens, had left the Body of his Forces at the Iſle of Farion, which was ſo near the City that it might eaſily be ſeen from his Chamber window. Ptolomee believed this occaſion might favour the execution of his Plot, and ſecretly cauſing his Army (which was yet undisbanded) to advance, he made it approach to Alexandria, and aſſur'd himſelf of all thoſe in the City, whom he knew at his Devotion: his Deſign was ill contriv'd, worſe conducted, and worſt of all executed. And it is to be thought, the Gods that abhor Crimes, forbad ſucceſs to ſo loathed a Treachery, and ſo blinded the Contrivers of his miſchievous intention.

Caeſar was in Cleopatra's Chamber, when one came to advertiſe him that the whole City was in Arms; that Pothinus and Achillas, one of Pompey's Murderers, were marching towards the Palace in the Head of a Troop, with a deſign to kill him at a Feaſt he had made that day. Caeſar did not deſpiſe this advice, but having rallied ſuch of his with an admirable diligence, as had time to range themſelves about him, he quitted the Palace, and marched againſt his Conſpirators, with an aſſurance worthy of himſelf. But before he left Cleopatra's Chamber, Madam, ſaid he, It is not I that ſeek the ruine of your Brother, but Heaven, who (unwilling ſo wicked a man ſhould longer Reign) does this day preſent you the Crown of Egypt. I go now to fight for you and my ſelf, and I promiſe with the Victory our common Vengeance.

Cleopatra had no time to reply, becauſe he inſtantly departed; but her Eyes kept him company as far as poſſible: and knowing he went to Combat for their common Intereſt, ſhe aided him with Vows to Heaven for his Succeſs.

The Traytors perceiving they were diſcover'd, reſolv'd to fight it out couragiouſly, and in effect diſputed it very hotly; yet the juſtice of his cauſe with his own admirable Valour, gave Caeſar the Victory; Pothinus was killed upon the place with the greateſt part of his Forces, and Achillas with ſuch as could follow him, fled out of the City to Ptolomee, whom the report of that ill ſucceſs had made retire with his Army.

Caeſar might ſafely have ſtaid in Alexandria, and enforc'd himſelf by Cleopatra's Faction, which was none of the weakeſt; but he rather choſe to retire with his Troops to give Ptolomee [Page] Battel, and (hearing the Alexandrians of the contrary part, endeavoured to cut off his Retreat, by ſurprizing his Veſſels) he ran thither with that handful of men that followed him, doing ſuch deeds againſt them, as in any other but Caeſar would have been accounted Miracles. Yet he there ran a greater danger, than he had done before in all his former Battels; For, no longer able to make Head againſt the great number of his Enemies, which grew every moment ſtronger, by the coming up of freſh Reſerves, he threw himſelf from the Cliff into one of the Boats to gain the Iſle, but being diſcovered, he was environ'd by his Enemies, and preſſed upon with ſuch deſperate fury, as after he had received divers blows and Arrows upon his Arms, he was conſtrain'd to throw himſelf into the water, and ſwim that ſpace between him and the Iſland, not without exceſſive pain and peril. At laſt he recover'd his Forces, gave order for the Battel, Shipped them, and rowed towards Ptolomee's Army, who conducted by his evil deſtiny, advanced with full Sails to meet him. The Battel prov'd very dubious and bloody, but I ſhall forbear the particulars, becauſe I believe I have already repeated things, of which no perſon can be ignorant: It ſhall ſuffice to tell you that Caeſar was always Caeſar; that the Egyptians were defeated with a mighty loſs, and their King by a juſt chaſtiſement of Heaven, being fallen into the Sea, was drown'd by the weight of his Arms, and not taken up till the next day, where he was found Arm'd in a guilded Curaſs, half buried in the Sand. After this Victory, Caeſar advanc'd toward the City, and at the Gates found the fair Cleopatra with a part of the Citizens, that begg'd Pardon for the others, who (through obedience to their Princes Authority) had taken up Arms againſt him; the Princeſs obtain'd all her deſires, and he entered the City and Pallace with her, in a faſhion wholly Pompous and triumphant.

Never was there ſeen ſo ſudden an Execution, nor ſo many troubles appeas'd in ſo ſhort a time. Ptolomee's evil Counſellors were all either periſhed with him, or had ſought their ſafety by flight. The reſt of the Egyptians willingly ſubmitted to Caeſar, who told Cleopatra, that for her ſake he was ſorry for her Brothers death; but he knew ſo well how to repreſent the ſmall cauſe ſhe had to afflict her ſelf for his loſs, as (after ſhe had given ſome tears to his memory, which ſuch an excellent nature as hers could not refuſe him) ſhe accepted the comforts he profered. The Funeral Honours ſhe Celebrated with much Solemnity, and the following day Caeſar having conven'd the Egyptian Nobility, in their preſence put her in poſſeſſion of the Realm, and with an Univerſal Applauſe, Crowned her with his own hands; all the Egyptians by whom Cleopatra's Government was much more deſir'd than Ptolomee's receiv'd her for their Queen, with exceſſive contentment, and render'd publick thanks to Caeſar for his magnanimity and munificence.

But the the troubles that agitated the ſoul of Caeſar, were not quieted with thoſe of Aegypt: and in giving peace to that People, he had not done ſo to his own ſpirit; the eyes of the fair Queen ſtill made war upon him, and prevailed, as if the gift of the Crown of Aegypt had augmented her dominion in his heart. Of this he daily gave her freſh aſſurances; and Cleopatra, who by this laſt obligation, felt her ſelf engag'd to receive them with a deeper acknowledgment than formerly, liv'd with him in a faſhion, as much obliging as ſhe could without offending vertue.

One day he was with her by her Beds ſide, when after divers other Diſcourſes, the length of which would weary your attention, taking her fair hands and joyning lips unto them, ‘I die, fair Queen (ſaid he, with an action wholly paſſionate) I die if your pity does not draw me from my Tomb; and I vow by thoſe fair Eyes, which I adore with reſpective Veneration, that 'tis impoſſible my life ſhould longer continue, if your mercy does not ſtrengthen the thred of it.’ I ſhould be much afflicted, ſaid the Queen, to ſee it in any danger; the gratitude I owe to great Caeſar, and the particular eſteem I have of his Perſon, will never ſuffer me to refuſe means within the bounds of poſſibility, to comfort him.

‘'Tis in your power, replyed he, not only to comfort, but create me the happieſt of all men, in making your ſelf the reward for what I have given you; no other price can gratifie the preſent I have made you, I mean not of a Crown (upon which I never ſet an eſteem) but of a heart and a ſoul which can never be but to you, and of a heart and a ſoul which I have made yours with a reſignation ſo entire, as I have reſerv'd no power to my ſelf of a further diſpoſal.’

‘This glorious Preſent, replyed the Queen; can never be requited with the price you demand, a thouſand ſuch Lives as Cleopatra's can never weigh with the heart and ſoul of Caeſar: yet Sir, I would beſtow my ſelf upon you, as you demand, (purſued ſhe, letting fall her eyes with a kind of ſhame) if honour could ſhew me the way to do [Page] it; I am born a Princeſs, Daughter to a long ſucceſſion of Kings, by your bounty I am now a Queen, and which is yet more glorious, by his proper confeſſion, I have triumphed over the Soul of mighty Caeſar: Sir, theſe advantages having plac'd me in one of the foremoſt ranks of Women, do oblige me to preſerve my ſelf there in a reputation pure and ſpotleſs; and ſhould I render my ſelf unworthy of my Birth, my preſent Dignity, and the affection of great Caeſar? ſhould I yield up my ſelf unto him in any other way, than what his vertue can approve of?’

She ſtop'd at theſe words, ſuppoſing ſhe had ſaid enough to be underſtood, and that Coeſar could well enough conſtrue her intentions; yet being by the maximes of State, and the tyes he had to the common-wealth, forbidden to make a more ample Declaration, he ſtood, as if ſurpriz'd at Cleopatra's words: nor was he yet reſolv'd to eſpouſe her, fearing that Rome would diſapprove the alliance, and it might prove prejudicial to his deſign, to make himſelf Maſter of it, as he did in a ſhort time after: but perceiving himſelf oblig'd by Cleopatra's words to declare his intention, he remain'd ſilent a while, not knowing in what manner to evade the proteſtations he had made her; but at laſt he recover'd his ſpeech, and lifting his eyes from the Earth, where they had been fix'd. ‘You do merit, ſaid he, a condition yet more glorious, than what would render the favours I demand, lawful; the world cannot afford a Spouſe to Caeſar, more worthy of that quality than the Queen Cleopatra, and I do vow by truth it ſelf, that were I free in that Election, I ſhould ſoon make it known, with what paſſion I deſire that advantage: but I am now ſo tyed by Intereſt to the Republique, that I cannot apprehend it expedient, to make my conjugall choice without its approbation: nevertheleſs, I ſhall endeavour to expreſs, how much I deſire to be entirely yours; and paſſing by theſe conſiderations, in few days, (if it be poſſible) make known the truth of my Affection.’

At theſe words Caeſar retir'd, without giving the Queen leave to reply; but after that, ſhe liv'd with him in a faſhion more reſerv'd than ſhe had done formerly, and would no longer licenſe thoſe petty liberties which before ſhe had permitted him. He obſerv'd this change with much diſpleaſure; but ſo ſoon as he complained of it to Her, ‘My Lord; ſaid ſhe, you are too juſt to deſire thoſe things of me which I cannot conſent to, without my own ruine? and ſince I muſt pretend to a quality that may authorize them, give me rather leave to return the Crown you have given me, and reſign the repoſe and the life it ſelf which I hold of you, than licenſe ſuch Crimes, as neither your greatneſs, nor all the obligations I have to it, can ever excuſe: This Diſcourſe again ſtruck Caeſar dumb, but after ſhe had oft repeated her reſolution, it wrought ſuch an effect upon his ſpirit, as made him reſolve what he executed a few days after.’

One day, after he had ſent to deſire a particular audience of the Queen, he entered her Chamber, only followed by Lucius Metellus, and Caius Albinus, two of his friends, in whom he repos'd the greateſt confidence; he found the Queen prepared to receive him in the manner he demanded, only, accompanied with her two dear Maids, Charmione and Iras, my Father and my ſelf: Caeſar that knew us, and in what manner we were ty'd to the Queens Intereſts, was well pleas'd to have no other witneſs of his intended action; and after he had pay'd his ordinary Civilities to the Queen. ‘Madam, ſaid he, I have been too long reſtrained by ſuch reaſons, as forbad me to render what was due to my own Love, and your Vertue; I am now reſolved to tread upon thoſe inhumane Maxims, that play the Tyrants with me, and to preſent my ſelf to you, in that Honourable and Lawful way, that my ardent Paſſion did ever truly intend: But becauſe this Marriage which I deſire to conſummate with you, cannot be promulg'd, without deſtroying my deſign to ſet the Crown of the Univerſe upon your Head, let me intreat your conſent, that it may now be known to no other perſons, than thoſe I ſee about you, and theſe two friends, whom I have brought to witneſs this action: In the Gods and their preſence (if you conſent) I will preſently eſpouſe you, and if it may but remain a ſecret amongſt us, till I enter Rome, and there eſtabliſh my power, as my deſigns have framed it, it ſhall then be publiſhed with all the Pomp and Magnificence your wiſhes can invent.’

To theſe words Caeſar added many other affectionate expreſſions, to render the Queens ſpirit flexible to his intreaties, and help her over all the difficulties ſhe found in that propoſition. She took a long time to ballance the reſolution ſhe was to take, and in fine, betook her ſelf to the Counſel of her Maids, my Father, (and if I may dare to ſay ſo) my ſelf, but above all other perſwaſions, the belief prevail'd ſhe had of Caeſar, as a man that could not conſent to violate his Promiſe given to a Princeſs of her condition, in the preſence of ſix Witneſſes, enough to convince him of Infidelity before Men and Gods, [Page] which he ſolemnly invok'd in that action: at laſt, whether vanquiſh'd with Reaſon, or undermin'd by her own weakneſs, ſhe yielded her ſelf: When Caeſar putting his Hand in hers, after he had call'd all the Gods to the Myſtery, he proteſted that he receiv'd her as his Spouſe, and ſolemnly ſwore, that he would never own nor acknowledge any other. Theſe Proteſtations She ſeal'd with a Kiſs in our preſence, and to contract the Relation, the Company judging their preſence no longer neceſſary, retired, and left Caeſar alone with the Queen, to take poſſeſſion of thoſe admirable Beauties (envied of all the Princes of Aſia) which were then with an unbridled liberty abandoned to his deſires.

Oh Gods! cry'd Tyridates with a profound Sigh, Gods Soveraign, Arbiters of our deſtinies, and what has the unfortunate Tyridates done to you, that you ſhould force him thus to trail on his Life, without either happineſs or hope, when you diſpenſed ſo much felicity to the reſt of Mankind? Theſe few words he paſſionately uttered, with his Eyes lifted up to Heaven, when Eteoeles thus purſu'd Her Story.

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA, OR Love's Maſter-Piece. PART I.
LIB. III.

[Page]

ARGUMENT.

The Rebellion of King Pharnaces calls Caeſar out of Aegypt, and invites him to an eaſie Victory. He leaves Cleopatra with Child. The Birth of Caeſario. The early dawning of his rare qualities, both of Mind and Body. Caeſar's Victory in Syria againſt Cato, Scipio, &c. He wins the Battel of Munda againſt Pompey's Sons, which compleats his Conqueſts. Comes to Rome, and is made perpetual Dictator. His ingratitude to Cleopatra. He adopts Octavius, and is killed in the Senate-Houſe. The Triumvirs revenge his murder, by the Death of all the Conſpirators. Cleopatra's care in Caeſario's Education. Anthony in his Parthian Expedition ſummons her to appear before him. He is taken in the Snare of her Beauty: Repudiates Octavia, and Marries her. This rais'd a Quarrel betwixt him and Auguſtus, which is decided in the Battel of Actium. Anthony is overthrown, and flies with Cleopatra into Aegypt. The Conquerour purſues, and beſieges them in Alexandria. Caeſario is ſent for ſafety to Hydaſpes King of Aethiopia. Is betrayed in the way by Rhodon, and preſerved by the Loyal Policy of Eteocles. Hydaſpes receives and treats him as his own Son. Caeſario falls in Love with Candace the Kings Daughter. Anthony through a Miſtake kills himſelf. Cleopatra dies by the Bite of an Aſpick. The Character of Britomarus, and his Haughty Pretences. The gallant Combat between him and Caeſario. They are parted. Caeſario protects him. Moderates the Kings Anger to a Baniſhment. The brave Speech of Britomarus to Caeſario at their parting.

SInce that Fatal Day, which I know not whether I may call happy, or unfortunate, the great Caeſar and the Queen Cleopatra entirely dedicated themſelves to their unreſtrained Delights; and though the Marriage continued ſtill a ſecret among us, and while the day laſted, they obſerved the ſame Ceremonies before Company they had formeryl us'd, yet the nights by the means of Iras, Charmione, and my Father (in whom the Queen repos'd a clear confidence) ſtill reviv'd their Contentments: never did Love appear more amiable than in theſe two Perſons. Cleopatra liv'd not but in Caeſar; Caeſar was Cleopatra's Idolater; and they forgot nothing that might prove their Paſſion the ſtrongeſt, and yet the moſt ſincere that ever invaded Lovers; the whole Court, nay, all Aegypt took part in their Contentments, though they knew them not; and I think Rome her ſelf ſcarce ever ſhewed ſo much Pomp, as then our Alexandria was daily dreſt in.

[Page] The whole World knows Cleopatra was the moſt magnificent Queen that ever lived, not only in the pride of entertainment, in the ſplendor of her Feſtivals, and the Gifts ſhe beſtowed on Anthony; but in the whole courſe of her Life kept up her Royal Grandeur at that lofty pitch of Glory, where ſhe ſhould ſtill have flown; and then perceiving her ſelf the Soveraign of his will, that was like to be the Soveraign of all men, ſhe forgot nothing that might help her to hold thoſe advantages; and Caeſar, not leſs ſatisfied with his Fortune, judging her moſt worthy of his Affection, was never weary of admiring the rare qualities of her Body and Mind, which daily ſerved to make his Love flame higher.

But at laſt Fortune interrupted the courſe of their mutual Felicities, and Caeſar (that was not born to waſte his life upon a Womans Lip, for whom all great actions were reſerv'd, and to whom the Worlds Empire was deſtin'd) was conſtrain'd to quit Aegypt, and with his Army to paſs into Syria, where he had learn'd that Pharnaces King of Pontus, Son of Mythridates, and inheritor of the hatred which he bore to the Roman Name, though not of his Virtues, was up in Arms, and had ſpoiled a part of Armenia. I ſhall forbear to repeat the Adieus of theſe two Lovers, for I do but touch upon their life as I paſs by it, and only take it in my way to another Story, to which it ſerves me for a conduct. Should I enlarge my ſelf upon the Loves of Caeſar and Cleopatra, truth would engage me to defend the memory of that great Queen, who doubtleſs hath been foully blotted by the ignorance of thoſe that knew not of her Marriage; but in that which befel her ſince, with the deplorable Anthony, I ſhall make but a ſhort ſtay; their unfortunate Loves and lamentable end being known to all perſons in the World that are capable of underſtanding.

Cleopatra's tears were too weak to retain Caeſar in Alexandria; but he comforted her with the ſolemn repetition of his promiſe, before us, to call her to Rome, ſo ſoon as he ſhould be eſtabliſhed in the dignity (which his Ambition aim'd at) of perpetual Dictator, and then to declare their Marriage to all the World: At that time the Princeſs began to perceive her ſelf with Child, and gladly believed that the aſſurance ſhe gave to Caeſar of it, before his departure, would yet more deeply engage him to remember his vows, and the dear pawn he left behind him.

Thus Caeſar marched into Syria, leaving Cleopatra in Alexandria, where ſhe governed her People with ſuch Moderation and Prudence, as ſhe taught all men to admire thoſe Politick and Moral Virtues in her Sex, that were rarely found even in men of uncommon parts; ſhe ſupported the abſence of her dear Caeſar with much anguiſh, but ſhe received frequent comforts with the News of his continued Victories: not long after his Departure ſhe learn'd that Pharnaces was defeated by him in a ſignal Battel, and the War, which in all appearance was like to laſt many years, thus terminated in half a day; a little after ſhe received intelligence that in Affrica he had vanquiſh'd Cato Scipio, and the King of Juba, with a prodigy of Fortune and Diligence; and, having gained that Victory with the ſlaughter of 50000 of his Enemies, and the loſs of but fifty of his own Souldiers, he was return'd to Rome, where he had made three Triumphal Entries: the fame of theſe great deeds pleaſingly flatter'd the Soul of Cleopatra, and ſhe diſmiſſed all her anxieties, with a confidence that ſuch a man could not be capable of infidelity.

In the mean time no longer able to hide the ſwelling fruit of her Womb, and unwilling to contract the ill opinion of her Subjects, ſhe was conſtrain'd openly to declare the truth of her Marriage, and inſtead of the ſhame and confuſion her Fear ſuſpected from that Diſcovery, ſhe found her Aegyptians poſſeſſed with new joy in the expectation of ſuch a King from her Loins, as might prove a perfect Copy of Caeſar and Cleopatra.

The Queen was brought to Bed in Alexandria (almoſt at the ſame that Caeſar made his Entry into Rome) of a Son not only worthy of his Father and Mother, but of all that the moſt fruitful hope ſhould conceive; never did the light ſalute a thing ſo beautiful; the Aſtrologers never knew a Birth ſo advantagious; for this Royal Infant immediately became the admiration and delight of all that ſaw it; but becauſe his Childhood was but the ſpring to that luſtre, which hath ſince appeared in him with riper advantages, I will not ſtay upon the beginnings of his Life, becauſe they are of leſs importance. By a general conſent he was call'd Caeſario, and we all hop'd, that though there was little difference between his and his Fathers Name, there would be yet leſs in their qualities and the greatneſs of their actions: the Queen took a marvellous care of his Education, and made the whole world to be ſearched, for the moſt expert and knowing perſons in all Sciences and Exerciſes, wherein he was to be inſtructed, when his Age permitted him, and (though I did [Page] but weakly merit that Honour, and a better choice might have been made among the Aegyptians) ſhe was pleaſed to make me his Governour; for my Father was too old for that employment, and only deſired it for my ſelf.

In the mean time the Queen, whatever conſolation ſhe taſted in the enjoyment of her Son was galled with bitter grief, ſeeing there appear'd no proof of Caeſars promiſe. Not long after ſhe underſtood he had given the laſt blow to that War, by the defeat of Pompey's Sons: that in Rome he had uſurped the Soveraign Authority, and forced a Maſter upon that proud City, the imperious Miſtris of ſo many Kings, and ſo large a part of the Univerſe.

Then her hopes began to ſwell with the expectation of his Promiſe, and Caeſar by frequent Letters endeavour'd to confirm them, excuſing his abſence from her delights with very ſpecious Reaſons, which for a time appeaſed her; but when ſhe ſaw a whole year waſted, and yet no haſte made to accompliſh his Vow, ſhe began to loſe her patience, and complain of his infidelity; yet, before ſhe thought fit to make her reſentments ſpeak lowder, ſhe ſent my Father Apollodorus to Caeſar, as well becauſe he was the faithfulleſt of her Servants, as that in his preſence Caeſar eſpouſed her, and might therefore better than any other reproach the violation of his word: This Voyage of my Fathers proved ineffectual; yet when Caeſar ſaw him, he hugg'd him in his Arms, entertain'd him nobly, gave him rich Preſents, and often mentioned the Queen with dear reſentments of affection; but could afford him no other reaſons for his delay, than what he had written to Cleopatra; He proteſted that ſo ſoon as he had felt himſelf ſit ſure upon his Imperial Throne, he would accompliſh his promiſe; but in that condition, while his Monarchy was yet infant, feeble and ſtaggering, he found it not ſafe to enterprize any thing againſt the conſent of the People and Senate, whom he had already exaſperated with impoſing his Yoke.

Cleopatra was contented for a time to flatter her ſelf with the likelihood of theſe excuſes; but in fine, after her patience had learned another Leſſon as tedious as the firſt, ſhe broke into reproaches againſt him, gave her ſelf up to the ſway of a juſt paſſion, and probably was hatching thoughts to make it known in ſome deadly blow, when news came that Heaven had revenged her, and that her faithleſs Caeſar was murdered in the Senate-houſe, with twenty three wounds, by thoſe that he thought his deareſt friends.

This report fell like a Clap of Thunder upon her ſpirit, and all her Choler could not diſſwade her from receiving it at firſt, as the greateſt blow that Heaven and Fortune could contribute to her overthrow. She ſolemniz'd this loſs with a deluge of tears, and ſuch actions as could beſt expreſs moſt paſſion, and would poſſibly have abandoned her ſelf to grief, if the laſt marks of Coeſar's ingratitude, had not brought her comfort; for ſhe learn'd that a little before his death, he had adopted his Nephew Octavius (who is now the great Auguſtus Caeſar) for his Son, declar'd him his Heir, and oblig'd him to take his Name and Dignity, without making the leaſt mention of his Son Caeſario or Cleopatra. This laſt aſſurance the Queen received of her Husbands ingrateful diſeſteem, kindled a deſpite that dry'd up all her tears, and ſhewed her cauſe to rejoyce in the ſame death ſhe ſo lately bewailed; however ſhe ceas'd to bemoan his loſs in publick, though ſhe rendered to Caeſar's memory the Funeral Honours, which ſhe believed due as to her lawful Husband; but her reſentments againſt the Father, deſcended not to the Son; for, ſhe nouriſhed the little Caeſario with as dear indulgence as if his Father had been ſtill faithful; and remembring that (perjur'd as he was) he had been the greateſt of all men; in his face ſhe beheld the Image of his mighty Sire, as another dawning of her Comfort. To him her reſolutions intended the Crown of Aegypt; and (though the Aegyptians perceiving the Ptolomean Race was almoſt extinct) did oft petition her to make choice of another Husband, ſhe alwaies denied their entreaties, and at laſt ſo won upon them by her mild and prudent Government, as they were content to approve her Deſign of paſſing the reſt of her Life in Widowhood.

Alas! how happy had the poor Queen been, had ſhe held her reſolution; ſhe had avoided thoſe famous misfortunes that made ſo much noiſe in the World; and her miſeries, with the lamentable Cataſtrophe of her Life, had not forc'd tears from her rudeſt Enemies.

Sir, I ſuppoſe you know that a few years after Julius Caeſar's death, the unfortunate Antony, having ſhar'd the Empire of the world with young Caeſar, ſince called Auguſtus, and with him reveng'd the murder of their Predeceſſor, by the defeat of the Conſpirators, and by that bloody Triumvirat which produc'd ſuch fatal effects in Rome; paſſing through Cilicia to make war upon the Partbians, he ſummon'd Cleopatra to appear before him; and becauſe the Queen was too weak to reſiſt the puiſſance of that great Maſter of half [Page] the World, by the advice of her Counſel, ſhe went to find him in that ſtately Galley, whereof the Stern was all of pure Gold, the Sails of Purple, the Oars of Silver, and all the reſt dreſt in that proud Equipage that has ſince found the World ſo much Diſcourſe: you have heard of her meeting with Anthony, and the Feaſts they made ſo full of Pomp and Profuſions: but as Anthony was firſt vanquiſhed with Cleopatra's magnificence, ſo he gaz'd not long before he was ſubdu'd with her beauty, to which he became a ſlave, not with a ſervitude parallel to his Predeceſſor, but ſuch an one as only expired with his life; and would have endured a thouſand Ages, had the Gods lengthened their days to ſo remote a period.

Anthony was ſomething inferiour to Caeſar, and therefore Cleopatra in beſtowing her ſelf upon him, might ſeem to deſcend a little from the height of her pretences: But, ſince ſhe was reſolved to give Caeſar a Succeſſor, ſhe could not chooſe a greater than Anthony amongſt men, whoſe glory was not yet blaſted by the fortune of Auguſtus; his birth was of the moſt Illuſtrious, his Perſon recommended by a number of fair qualities, and brave actions, and his rank no leſs conſiderable than the chief upon earth. Cleopatra rendered her ſelf to theſe conſiderations, and to the loyal affection of Anthony, who, for her ſake deſerting the amity of young Caeſar, and his Siſter Octavia, whom he had Married at Rome, gave up all his intereſt in the Common-wealth, and his own fortunes that were faſtned to it, to give himſelf intirely to her, and confining his Ambition within her Embraces, eſpouſed her in Alexandria.

I know the Romans, irreconcileable enemies to Cleopatra's memory, have endeavour'd to diſprove that Marriage as they did the former, and perſecuted that deplorable Queen in her reputation, after they had ſent her to her Tomb by their cruelty: but my eyes were witneſſes of what might ſerve to upbraid their inhumanity, and juſtifie her memory againſt thoſe cruel ones that would ſtill diſturb her repoſe in her very Sepulchre.

Anthony ty'd the Conjugal knot in publick, but with an inauſpicious augury, which their misfortunes did ſince prove too prophetick. They are ſo well known, that I believe you are not ignorant of the leaſt particular; I ſhall therefore incloſe them in a few words, and ſwiftly follow the thread of my diſcourſe, till I arrive at what chiefly engages this relation. Within the firſt year of their Marriage, the Queen diſcloſed a double birth, a Son and a Daughter; the Son was called Alexander, the Daughter Cleopatra, and if I had not named Caeſario, I would have ſaid that humane eye never ſaw any thing ſo fair as theſe Twins: Indeed I think their beauty was fatal to their Houſe, and a cauſe of calling down the Divine Veugeance upon Anthony, for ſo oft provoking the Gods, by ſhewing theſe Children at publick ſpectacles, with the uſurped names of Apollo and Diana, cauſing them to be dreſſed in the ſame faſhion thoſe Deities were uſually repreſented in, and commanding the ſame honours ſhould be rendered them as were ordinarily paid to thoſe Divinities.

I ſaw them not ſince they were eight or nine years of age; but at that time they were the wonder of all that beheld them, and it was thought the beauty of young Cleopatra would not only equal the Queen her Mother, but out-ſhine all that ever were accounted fair.

‘Thoſe that conceived ſuch hopes of the Princeſs Cleopatra, (ſaid Tyridates, interupting Eteocles) had much reaſon on their ſide; my ſelf ſaw her at Rome, while I made my reſidence in the Emperors Court, and agreed with the general opinion, that Nature never ſhap'd a face ſo triumphantly beautiful: She now lives at Court with the Empreſs Livia, who tenders her with as dear an eſteem, as if ſhe were her proper Daughter; the fame of her perfections have already nois'd them in a large part of the World; and were I not loath to interrupt your narration, I would ſpeake more amply of them. Young Ptolomee, her Brother, was then at Rome, in an high eſteem for handſomneſs; but the Elder, Alexander, whom you mention'd, was a while ſince loſt at Sea, without any news of his eſcape.’

‘Sir, ſaid Eteocles, your relation doth ſenſibly touch me, for while I have life I muſt own ſo paſſionate an intereſt in all that pertains, either in blood or alliance to our dead Queen, as I cannot hear them ſpoken of without extraordinary motion; may the Gods frame them a fortune different from their Parents, and do me the grace to let me ſee thoſe dear Reliques of that Illuſtrious Family, recover their ſplendour.’ But to continue my Story, a year after Alexander and Cleopatra, was born that Ptolomee you ſaw at Rome, little inferiour to the other two, carrying in his Viſage the fair marks of a glorius Birth. Never was there ſeen a Court ſo Pompous as Anthony's and Cleopatra's; moſt of the Kings upon Earth came thither to pay their Homage, and many of them ſent their Children, [Page] that they might have the honour to be educated with our young princes; indeed they were brought up with ſuch care, as was due to them only; and though Caeſario was not Son to Anthony, yet his reſpect to him was proportion'd to that great veneration he preſerv'd for his Fathers memory: he caus'd the the Marriage of Julius Caeſar with Cleopatra to be publickly proclaimed in all his Dominions, declared Caeſario the Legitimate Son, and indubitable heir to his Father, rendered him honours ſutable to that dignity; and whether it were to endear his Mother, or to appear kind to Caeſars memory, he caus'd him to be ſtyled the King of Kings, as he had already Cleopatra the Queen of Kings, and diſdaining ſhe ſhould bear a barren Title, he gave her the Realms of Aegypt, Cyprus, Soria, and the lower Syria. To young Alexander, Armenia, all Media and Parthia when it ſhall be conquered. To young Cleopatra, Lybia and Cilicia; and to little Ptolomee, Syria, and Phoenicia. Of theſe ſeveral preſents he ſent the Decree to be confirmed at Rome, which nevertheleſs was ſuppreſſed by the Conſuls, Domitius and Soſius, the very ſame you mentioned in your diſcourſe.

In the mean time, you know what Wars were waged while they lived together both in your own Country, and in Syria againſt Antiochus; The good ſucceſs he had againſt Parthia by his Lievtenants, and the ill luck that befel him when he carried the War thither in Perſon; his reſentments againſt Artabaſus King of Armenia, whom with his Children he led Captive to Alexandria, where a while after he loſt his Head by Cleopatra's Command, as your recital expreſt it. You are not ignorant of the many voyages he made to Rome, where he always reſiſted the Senate that would oblige him to forſake Cleopatra, and at laſt fell ſoul with Auguſtus by that ſcornful repudiation that he made of his Siſter Octavia.

In fine, the War being openly declared between theſe two Maſters of the World, their grand factions almoſt intirely divided it, according to the ſway of ſeveral affections; two greater powers than theſe never met in oppoſition, and the World never regarded an event with ſo much intereſt as that, which was to decide its Empire.

My Lord, you have underſtood the beginnings of this War; with the divers encounters, wherein Fortune ſometimes liſted her ſelf in one, ſometimes in the other party, till the Battel of Actium, where, after ſhe had long ballanc'd her good will, ſhe declar'd for Caeſar. The miſerable Antony was betray'd both by Love and Fortune, and whatever courage the Queen diſclos'd in the ſpring-tide of her Life, was all reſign'd to the horror of that one Battel, where ſhe aſſiſted in Perſon; whence flying with ſixty Sayls in her company, ſhe drew along the amorous Antony, who rather choſe to abandon with the Victory, the Empire of the World, then to loſe his Cleopatra. You muſt needs have heard how after that ſignal deleat they were forſaken by all their Troops; and ſure ſame has told you of the pitiſul effects that errour produced among them; how upon a falſe report of Cleopatra's death, ſpread by her ſelf with deſign to cure Antony of an unjuſt ſuſpition he had conceived of her; that deſperate Prince ſlew himſelf with his own hand, and breathed his laſt between the arms of his dear Cleopatra in the Tomb wherein ſhe had ſhut up her ſelf; you have heard it related how Caeſar (having rendred himſelf Maſter of Alexandria) came to viſit her, brought her comfort, and intreated her to hope for all the civil uſage his power could afford; all which the great-hearted Princeſs couragiouſly diſdained, and not induring to ſurvive her dear Antony, nor to ſee her ſelf, in danger to be led to Rome in triumph, ſhe called Death to her Reſcue, which ſhe gave her ſelf by an Aſpick's tooth, for want of other weapons: and how Caeſar, after he had pacifi'd Egypt, and left Cornelins Gallus Governour at Alexandria; returned to Rome, whither he led Alexander, Ptolomee, and Cleopatra, the Children of Antony and our Queen. Thus compris'd in a few words, I have given you the lamentabie deſtiny of this infortunate Prince: but you are yet to underſtand that of Caeſario, and I aſſure my ſelf you believed, with the greateſt part of the World, that Auguſtus had caus'd him to be put to Death, as ſame did openly divulge it.

‘'Tis true, ſaid Tyridates, and I had my belief from the general confidence at Rome that it was ſo, where I have often heard that Caeſar having taken Alexandria, and adviſing with his friends what he ſhould do with Caeſario, the Philoſopher Arrius, who was in great credit with him, whiſper'd ſome words in his ear, that alluding to a verſe in Homer, might thus be interpreted.’

Plurality of Caeſars is not ſafe.

‘And from that hint Auguſtns (fearing that he might one day diſpute the ſucceſſion of his Fathers Empire) put him death. Such replyed Eteocles, was the general opinion, and we are happy that it got ſo much credit among the Princes Enemies; who poſſibly without that prevention, would have made their purſuit and perſecution reach to the [Page] place that protected him: But to you I ſhall unmask the truth, what ever danger the diſcovery may threaten, knowing well, I do not hazard my Prince in declaring the truth of his Life to another Prince, that equals his vertues; and it was but to come the right way to his adventures, that with a few words I touch'd a part of the Queen his Mother.’

The Hiſtory of Caeſario, and the Queen CANDACE.

AFter the loſs of the Battel of Actium, and the diſloyal falling away of the greateſt part of the Forces, the unfortunate Antony and his Queen ſhut themſelves up in Alexandria, and there attended the approaches of their victorious Foe, with the reſt of their Forces, reſolving to defend it to the laſt Man, and the lateſt moment of their lives; their courage was not revolted with their fortune; for they might yet have protected their Fate, and again debated the Worlds Command, if the prevention of that diſaſtrous miſtake had not contrived their ruine: Nevertheleſs the Queen, not able to refute her juſt fears of a ſudden wrack, began to caſt an eye upon her deplorable Family, that in ſo ſhort a time were tumbled from the ſublimeſt pitch of Fortune, to the foot of Calamity. Oh Gods! what words (that were fitteſt to ſhew the marks of a ſignal grief) did ſhe not give to thoſe ſad conſiderations? There was much reaſon in her fears that the Victor would make his hatred reach to the Children of his Enemy, and ſo choak all the ſeeds of War, that might grow up to give another ſhock to the tranquillity of his dominion, by rooting out the whole Antonian race; and theſe ſuſpitions made her oft ſolicit that the Children might be put in ſome place of ſafety; and either ſent to the King of Aethiopia, a great and puiſſant Prince, their friend and allye, who had neither felt nor fear'd the Roman Arms; or to Herod, a faithful friend to Antony; or at leaſt to ſome others, whom the change of fortune had not perſwaded to diſavow their Amity.

But Antony, who tenderly indulged his Children, could not reſolve to ſee them ſo pluck'd from him, or ſend them to ſeek their ſafety from the hands of a ſtranger: he repreſented to the Queen, that the Gods that were yet able to ſend them ſuccours (contrary to the opinion of men) might miraculouſly repair the ruines they had made; and, ſhould ſuch a change arrive in their favour, they ſhould repent the expoſing them to a flight, whoſe ſucceſs was uncertain: that if Heaven had reſolved to compleat their deſtruction, they might expect a better fate for their Infants from the clemency of their Enemy, than the loyalty of any barbarous Prince, whoſe friendſhip, the Child of their Fortune, no doubt would follow it to the Conquerours party.

Cleopatra perceiving his reſolution not to be mov'd, and her ſelf not able to wreſt the diſpoſal of the Children from him, fell to conſider of his preſervation, whom he had no part in, and judging with much prudence, that though Auguſtus might pardon the Progeny of Antony, yet he would not do ſo to the Son of Julius Caeſar, who (profeſſing himſelf the off-ſpring of a lawful Marriage) while he lived, would at leaſt be armed with Juſtice, to bid fair for his Fathers ſucceſſion, which the other poſſeſſed by no other right than that of adoption; the lawful power of his diſpoſal ſfolely remaining in her ſelf, (for Antony pretended not to it) ſhe concluded that it was not ſafe to truſt him to the mercy of that enemy, and could find no other way but ſuch a flight to ſecure him.

Caeſario was five or ſix years elder than the reſt, and then newly arrived at the fifteenth year, but at that age was become the moſt accompliſhed of Princes; his beauty never found an equal among thoſe of his own Sex: in the vivacity of his eyes, and all the features of his viſage, was ſeen an ayr ſo Majeſtick as could belong to none but Caeſar and Cleopatra: his ſtature was extraordinary for his age, his force prodigious, his agility and nimbleneſs in all his exerciſes attracted the admiration of all beholders, his ſprightly dexterous wit expreſt ſuch an inchaunting ſweetneſs, and his inclinations were alwayes ſo level'd at great actions, that in his tendereſt years, I never knew him nurſe a thought that was not wing'd for an uncommon flight: he was inflamed with an emulation at his Fathers glory, and it kindled the ſame deſires in him that it had done in the Soul of young Alexander: but in the relation of his life, which was made him, and which I oft repreſented to his eyes, as a Model for his imitation, he never ſet a lower eſteem upon his Clemency, Liberality, and Moderation, than his and Valour prudent Conduct; and all the gloſſes he made upon it, were ſo many delightful demonſtrations to me of his ardent love to Vertue. In an age ſo tender and feeble to ſupport a Curaſs, a hundred times has he offered to precipitate himſelf into Military dangers; and had not an abſolute authority retain'd him, [Page] he would have followed Antony to his Battels with an ardour which he found very difficult to moderate: Such a one, or rather a thouſand times better than what my expreſſion has made him, was Caeſario, when the Queen his Mother (preferring his ſecurity to her own delight in injoying his lovely preſence) reſolved to loſe it for ever, and being confirm'd in that purpoſe, and prepared to execute it, I was commanded to attend him from his Chamber to her preſence.

She could not behold him with a deſign never to ſee him more, (at leaſt if the Gods reſtor'd not their Fortunes) without reſigning that conſtancy, wherewith ſhe tempered all her actions, to abundance of tender tears; which ſo ſoftned the young Princes Soul and mine, as it ſet our eyes for a while to the ſame task.

At laſt ſhe made an aſſault upon her grief, and ſtrugling to recover an aſſured look, after ſhe had wiped away her tears: ‘My Son, ſaid ſhe, though your years be few, your apprehenſions do much ore-top thoſe of an equal age; and I know you are already capable to make reflection upon our preſent and paſt Fortunes; you are derived from a Father that was the greateſt of men, and a Mother that may boaſt to have held ſome rank among women, and will leave a report of her life behind her, that is not ordinary in her Sex. I ſee nothing in you, (the Gods be thanked) that belies your Birth, or forbids me to hope that you will not make the Soul of mighty Caeſar (now plac'd among the Gods) to bluſh at your begetting; If Fortune frowns upon your budding Age, and bereaves you (with thoſe from whom you had your being) of the advantages, which in part you ſhould hold of her, learn in time to ſlight her, and ſtrain your vertue to captive her ſmiles, and force her back again. You wear a Sword, after your Fathers example, that may one day recover the Crowns you have loſt; and if the Gods decree (as there is much appearance) that we fall in this War, and period our Empire with our dayes, you ſhall ſtay behind us to win that back again by the glory of your actions, which we loſt by the laſt of ours, revive the memory of Caeſar and Cleopatra, and perhaps revenge the fate of Antony and Cleopatra, upon thoſe enemies that deſtroy'd us. Theſe are the hopes, my Son, that move me to ſtudy thy ſafety, when I neglect my own; my affection to thee makes me commit a cruel violence upon my tendereſt inclination; 'tis fit we part, young Caeſar, that thou mayeſt go beyond the reach of thy enemies Arms, and go in queſt of a better deſtiny, than that thou muſt expect at the knees of a pitileſs Conquerour; and indeed it is unfit that the Legitimate Son of great Caeſar ſhould tamely beg a life of his adoptive, which he cannot take of him without a bluſh, and which he muſt never look to obtain from him, who, in bearing the name and power of Caeſar, does neither inherit his Clemency, nor any one of his other Vertues. To preſerve thee, I diſpoyl my heart of its deareſt Sentiments, but (whatever violence I ſuffer) I ſhall alwayes think it a more gentle calamity, to part with thee for ever, than to ſee thee cold in thy urn before I enter mine, to behold thee a Suppliant at the feet of our cruel Enemy, or dragged in triumph behind his Chariot, to that City, which thy Father firſt ranged under his obedience.’

The Queen ſtop'd at theſe words, to dry ſome diſobedient tears, which rebelled againſt her reſolution; and, removing her eyes from the face of her Son to faſten them upon mine; Eteoeles, ſaid ſhe, ‘This is the laſt time that I remit into your hands, the things which I count moſt precious: I truſted you with his Education, as I do now with the conſervation of his life, and with it all my own hopes; let your fidelity expreſs you, by the proofs I ask, to be the worthy Son of Apollodorus, who died as he lived in my ſervice, after he had got the repute of the moſt loyal ſervant that ever breathed; Take the Prince my Son and your Pupil, whom I releaſe to your care and conduct, and with your moſt winged diligence conduct him out of Alexandria, and the unfortunate Egypt, into Ethiopia: The King of that puiſſant Realm is our friend and allye, and the only neigbour we have that dares think himſelf ſtrong enough to defend his own againſt their invaſions, and therefore ſtands not in awe of the Roman Arms; Of him in my name demand a refuge for this young Prince, whom I not only truſt him with, but beſtow upon him; Tell him our alliance does not only oblige him, nor the Laws of Generoſity, that preach the protection of the miſerable and oppreſſed, but the intereſt that is common to all that wield Scepters, to oppoſe himſelf againſt the violence of the Romans, thoſe cruel enemies of mandkind that would ſtretch their Tyranny over all the Kings on Earth. I know he will receive you, and allow my Son all the Shelter you can ask. This night you ſhall ſet forwards, for I deſire your voyage may be ſecretly carried, leaſt our enemies take notice of it, and ſo endeavour to ſtrike at the life of this poor Prince: You ſhall have Rhodon and Alexander for companions in your flight, with a few Officers moſt neceſſary for ſo ſmall a number; leſt a greater train might diſcover the [Page] deſign, and betray my Son to ſuch dangers, as my timorous apprehenſion is apt to [...]rame [...] I ſhall furniſh you with Money and Jewels enough to keep off neceſſity, while you ſlay from us in ſo remote a reſidence. If we make peace with Octavius, or by the favour of Divine aide recover ſtrength to rear our drooping fortunes, I will call you back again, and with all the haſte that affection can make, draw you from an exile, which I cannot ſupport without a bleeding grief.’

The Queen expreſt her ſelf in theſe terms, when the young Prince, throwing himſelf at her feet, proteſted he would rather die than abandon her, that in ſtead of leaving her expoſed to the menaces of ſo much peril, he had courage enough to run her Fortune and Antony's.

The Queen drawing new arguments from the diſcourſe and action of this brave Spirit, and excellent Nature, felt a painfull increaſe of her affection: and turning her eyes from his face, where they did but gather freſh cauſes of grief: Great Caeſar, ſaid ſhe, if thou beeſt rank'd among the Gods, ſince he carries ſo many worthy marks of thy life, protect the Son that thou haſt left me. And then turning to her Son, at firſt ſhe gently ſtrugled with his reſolution, but perceiving that would not do, ſhe ſternly imployed all her authority, and after ſhe had abſolutely forbidden his further oppoſition of her will, ſhe commanded me carry him away by force, if he refus'd to follow.

Young Caeſario bearing ſuch a reſpect to the Queen, as knew not how to diſpence with obedience, ſubmitted to this laſt command: and only in tears expreſt his grief to forſake her. I ſhall not further inlarge upon the Queens and our regrets, to which, and to our preparations for departure, we dedicated the reſt of that day: the Queen ſent by Iras, and Charmione (her two faithful Maids that died with her with ſuch conſtant fidelity, as will be the wonder of all ages) a Cabinet full of Gold, and ſome rich Jewels, which ſhe truſted to my hands; and ſo ſoon as the Night approach'd, after ſhe had uttered her laſt adieu to us, bath'd in a River of Tears, ſhe bruis'd the Prince in her arms; and and when ſhe had left her laſt kiſs upon his cheek, ‘Go, ſaid ſhe, young Prince, where thy deſtiny calls thee, the Gods will undertake thy protection, in the mean time forget not thy Fathers greatneſs, and let none of Fortunes rude blows over-tame thee to actions unworthy of thy Birth.’

After theſe words, the laſt I heard from her, untying her ſelf from her Sons embraces, ſhe caus'd us to mount on Horſe-back in her preſence, and without further delay to quit the melancholy Alexandria.

My Lord, the beginning of Caeſario's adventures, carrying much reſemblance to yours; like your ſelf, he was forc'd to fly his Country, in an age little differing from that wherein you quitted Parthia. He went out of Alexandria with not above a dozen Horſes in his train; and he that a while before with ſo much pomp had been proclaim'd the King of Kings in divers Nations, was forced to abandon his native Country, and in that petty equipage to ſeek a Covert for his life in a foreign Land.

This ſudden and ſtrange revolution of Fortune, may ſerve for a memorable example to thoſe that truſt to her favours, and ſuffer themſelves to be blinded with treacherous Proſperity. The magnificence of Antony and Cleopatra had been excuſable, if they had not ſtain'd that Grandeur that placed them in the chiefeſt rank of Mankind, with actions that pull'd the Divine Anger upon their Heads; and thoſe that a little before ſaw ſo many Kings at their feet, bereaving one of his Crown, another of his Head, (as the unfortunate Antigonus King of Judea, and the wretched Artabaſus of Armenia,) beheld themſelves reduced to attend his deſtiny in the laſt City that was left them, and, a few dayes after, conſtrained to take the ſuccours of death from their own hands, which Cleopatra (to compleat her calamities) had much ado to obtain, and did at laſt by an Artifice.

We parted from Alexandria almoſt at the ſame time that Octavius Caeſar encamped on the other ſide, in view of the Walls; and had we longer delay'd the Voyage, we had found no paſſage free. Young Caeſario had ſo long practis'd Horſe-manſhip, under thoſe Maſters that taught him his exerciſe, as it rendred him the leſs unfit to undertake the toil of ſuch a Journey; beſides, he had inured himſelf to travel by his cuſtome to follow the chaſe, which he would do with much eagerneſs, being of a conſtitution ſtrong beyond his age; and this proved very ſerviceable to our deſign. The firſt Night we ſtrive to reach ſo far, as any perſon, leſs hardy than himſelf, would have been weakned with wearineſs; and about the break of day we ſtaid at a Village three or four hundred furlongs from Alexandria; where we found it fit to let the young Prince repoſe himſelf, while we refreſhed our Horſes. In that place we ſtaid three or four hours; which expired, we again got to Horſe, but had not marched many furlongs before I ſpyed the Princes Horſe, with my own, Rodons, and three or four others in the company, to halt, and not ſo much as dreaming [Page] of the treachery was intended us, I only imputed it to the wearineſs they had contracted with hard riding and extraordinary haſt: We might have taken thoſe that continued ſound; but, loath to part with ſo many neceſſary officers, and beſides, ignorant of the miſchief that purſued us, we were conſtrained to march ſo ſoftly, that we had much ado in that whole day, to reach another Town, that was not diſtant above one hundred fifty furlongs from that where we reſted in the morning, and there arrived (our Horſes ſcarce able to ſuſtain themſelves) we were compell'd to ſtay that night; but ſending for ſome Smiths that lived there, to ſearch them, we found that they were all pricked, and the nails that hurt them no ſooner drawn out, but they were much mended, yet not ſo recovered as to endure that nights travel. I then began to entertain ſome ſuſpicion, and to believe this an intended Treachery to retard our Voyage; but yet I knew not whom to diſtruſt, our little Troop was compos'd of no perſons, but ſuch from whom, indeed, we had reaſon to hope an untainted fidelity; my ſelf excepted, Rodon and Neander were the principal: Rodon was made the Princes ſub-Governour in his tendereſt years, and had not a leſs part in his education than my ſelf; beſides, he had a Son there of the ſame age with the Prince, that was brought up with him, and then followed him in that Voyage: Neander was a man of approved fidelity; and the reſt all eminent Officers of Cleopatra's Houſe, as ſhe had culled from ſuch as ſhe thought moſt true; yet even among thoſe we found Monſters capable of the blackeſt Treaſon, and the moſt prodigious villany that ever was hatched by humane invention.

After I had almoſt waſted that night converſing with cares, too reſtleſs to admit ſleep, I threw my ſelf from my Bed, in which I was laid in my cloaths; and paſſing into a little Gallery adjoyning to our Chamber, I opened a window, to ſee if I could ſpy the approach of day; under this window was a Garden, in which I over-heard ſome perſons diſcourſing, and though I had little room for curioſity, unleſs ſuch as regarded my Princes ſafety, yet then, and peculiarly then I think the Gods inſpir'd me with it; the firſt words had no ſooner delivered themſelves at my ear, but I knew the voice was Rodon's, and preſently after diſcovered him that talk'd with him, to be a Kinſman of his, and one that he deeply truſted, call'd Acetes, for whom he had formerly procur'd a beneficial Grant from the Queen. The time and place made them exchange their thoughts with a confidence fearleſs of over hearers; but Heaven was awake in my Prince's behalf, and by that miraculous occaſion, beckned me to his preſervation.

Rodon and Acetes did but enter the Garden when I open'd the window, and therefore I believe I heard all their parly. ‘Thou haſt made great haſt, ſaid Rodon; but is it poſſible thou couldſt diſpatch ſo many things in ſo ſhort a time, coming out of Alexandria but with us! Content your ſelf, reply'd Acetes, that the affair is driven to the mark of your deſires, that I ſpake with Caeſar himſelf, who well remembred your name, and mentioned the ſolicitations he had formerly made, to obtain that which now you have offered him: There I ſtaid, by his command a full hour, while he conſulted with his friends upon the moſt requiſite reſolution; at laſt he called me to his preſence, commanded me to return unto you, & aſſure you, that he would not only beſtow thoſe Jewels on you which the Queen had comitted to Eteocles cuſtody, butbids you hope for more important favours; and this day to expect news from him upon the way, which your Letter told him, you were to take. My ſelf over-heard the command he gave to a Centurion, to be ready, and I believe they will overtake us before we reach the forreſt of Agria, through which we are to paſs. They will have time enough to do that, replyed the diſloyal Rodon; for our march has been ſo ſlow ſince I nail'd our Horſes, while Eteocles and the reſt were at their repoſe, that the Romans will need but a little diligence to reach us; but now let us talk no more of it, for we cannot carry too much caution and diſtruſt in an Affair of this nature.’ And thus whether they fear'd to be leſſen'd or ſurpriz'd by the days arrival, which then began to appear, they left the Garden, and me ſtill at the window, in ſuch a confuſion as is impoſſible to repreſent.

Gods! What a ſtrange agony of Thoughts was I then diſtracted with? To what extremes of Grief, Aſtoniſhment, and Anger, did the knowledge of that loathed Treaſon hurry me? I had much ado to credit my own Ears, in a thing ſo unlikely; it had almoſt ſurpriz'd the uſe of my Reaſon and Judgment; The firſt thing I did was to deteſt Rodo'ns infidelity; then, upon my knees, I gave thanks to the Gods for the miracle of this Diſcovery, and Petition'd the continuance of their aid for the Princes ſafety, yet I was much to ſeek for the continuance of my endeavours; for I ſaw my ſelf, on all ſides, menaced with ſo much difficulty, that I almoſt wanted power to conceive a hope of ſucceſs.

[Page] And now the day had withdrawn all the Curtains of darkneſs, before I could faſten upon any other reſolution than to kill Rodon, and at leaſt revenge my Prince, if it were not permitted me to preſerve him; nevertheleſs, having no time to loſe, I return'd into my Chamber full of mortal inquietudes, and after I had given order for the Horſes to be ready; I wakened the Prince, and caus'd him to riſe with a haſty diligence; while he was apparelling himſelf, I drew Neander aſide (having learned by Rodon's diſcourſe, he was not of the Conſpiracy with that Traytor) in a few words I let him know our deſtiny, which ſhook him with as great a fit of confuſion as my ſelf; while we were talking of it, the unfaithfull Rodon came to us, the ſight of whom had almoſt put my power into the hands of Paſſion; and I was even ready to fly upon him and ſtrangle him, yet, with much ado, bridled it, and adviſing Neander to the ſame reſervation, we got the Prince on Horſe-back, concealing the truth from him, leſt his tender years being too weak to diſguiſe his apprehenſion, ſhould betray it in troubled looks, and ſo deprive us of the means to endeavour his preſervation.

Thus leaving the Town, we took the ſame way was firſt reſolved, for fear Rodon ſhould ſcent the diſcovery of his Treaſon, and we had ſcarce marched a quarter of an hour, when the Gods ſent me a thought, which I reſolved to Act without further deliberation.

I confeſs, at firſt, I felt ſome repugnance, for the danger to which I was to expoſe an innocent Perſon; but the ſafeguard of my Prince out-weighed the reſt of my conſiderations, and helped me in a moment to level all the obſtacles that oppoſed my intention: For that reaſon, making a ſign to Neander to keep up with the Prince and the reſt of the Troop, I marched ſoftly after with Rodon, whom I had ingaged in diſcourſe; but when the reſt had left us a little behind (feigning that ſomething was broke about my Saddle) I alighted, making ſhew to amend it, and oblig'd Rodon to ſtay for me, telling him that a little gallopping would ſoon recover our company: Beſides that, I had ſome authority over him, the eſtate whereto his Conſcience had reduced him, left him not confidence enough to gainſay me; nor was he unwilling to accept of any occaſion to retard our voyage, becauſe he knew it might advantage his Deſign.

Thus, when our little Troop had gained more ground of us, and by the help of a little Hill betwixt us, I had loſt ſight of them, I remounted my Horſe, and approaching Rodon, with a look that repreſented part of the paſſion that ſwayed within me; Traytor (ſaid I) thy death is at hand; and if thy Prince muſt dye by thy diſloyalty, thou ſhalt yet want the ſatisfaction to ſee him periſh, or reap the profit of thy horrid Treachery.

I had no ſooner utter'd theſe words, but my Sword was in my hand; and the faithleſs Rodon (more combated with his Conſcience, than the fear of my Valour) receiving my menace with a pale diſmaid look, had much ado to put himſelf in any poſture of reſiſtance; nevertheleſs with a trembling hand he drew his Sword, but defended himſelf ſo ill with it, that, with a facility which took away all the glory of that action, I paſs'd mine twice through his body, and tumbled him upon the ſand, where he vomited out his perfidious Soul with his blood.

After this execution, ſheathing my Sword again, I haſted after the Prince with all the ſpeed I could make; but caſting my eyes back from the top of the Hill, I perceiv'd the Squadron of Horſe that Coeſar had ſent after us, marching out of the Town where we lodged, which I preſently judg'd to be the ſame that the falſe Rodon expected: This ſight made me ſpur up to my company, and when I had overtaken them, approaching to Neanders ear, ‘Neander, ſaid I, Rodon is dead, but our Enemies appear; Take the Prince with you and two of our men, gallop on afore to the Foreſt of Agria, thruſt your ſelves into the thickeſt part of it, and there expect my coming up, with good newes, the reſt of the day: I will try to abuſe our Enemies; and, if Heaven favour my intentions, hinder their further purſuit of us; If you ſee me not come back to you ſome time to day, at night purſue your voyage, under the conduct of the Gods, who will not abandon you.’

I ſaid no more, and without giving him time to anſwer, made him ſpeed away with the Prince and the two that were to follow them, one of which (becauſe of known fidelity) carried the Jewels and Gold the Queen had given us. Coeſario, who had a moſt docile ingenuity, abſolutely obeyed my will, and made no ſcruple to follow Neander, becauſe I counſelled it; I could not ſee him part ſo ſuddenly without letting fall ſome tears as a tribute▪ to my fearful incertainty of ever ſeeing him again: And in the mean time, turning to thoſe that ſtaid with me, My Friends, ſaid I, we are betray'd; our enemies are within a hundred paces of us: Rodon ſtays behind to make diſcovery of them: And behold the Traytor, ſhewing them Acetes; ſee, the Villain that hath ſold us, has the confidence to ſtay among us. [Page] At theſe words I flew at him with my Sword in my hand, but was prevented by two of my Companions that ſtepp'd before him, as he was preparing to fly, and with two blows threw him dead at our Horſes feet.

Rodons Son, whom I cauſed to ſtay with us, though he would gladly have followed the Prince, who, as I told you, was of an equal Age and Stature to him, and had much in his looks that over-top'd his Condition, beheld the death of Acetes with aſtoniſhment, when approaching to him, and taking him by the Arms, I ſhewed him the Romans, that were advancing to us a good ſwift trot: We are all dead men, ſaid I, if we do not deceive our Enemies, by making you paſs for the Prince Caeſario; the perſonating this Dignity will ſave your life, for if the Romans take you for the Son of Caeſar, they will onely content themſelves to lead you priſoner to their Emperour; if you tender your own and our lives, favour this juſt deceit.

The fear of death had ſo ſeiz'd the Youth; as it diſpoſed him to follow my fatal counſel, which I had ſcarce ended when the Romans were upon us, and ſpreading themſelves upon the Plain, began to inviron us, and ſhut up the paſſage to our flight.

I then perceiv'd the danger at hand I had expoſed my ſelf to, and had well fore-ſeen it, before the attempt: But the Gods can witneſs, that I felt no regret to hazard my Life for my Prince's Safety, & that there came no other care to my thoughts but for him and his Conſervation. At a ſign I made to my Companions, we all threw our ſelves from our Horſes, and putting our knees to the ground, we encompaſſed the Son of Rodon, whom I had only caus'd to keep his Saddle. The Romans, who ran upon us with an impetuous haſte, perceiving us in that ſuppliant poſture; were ſtaid by the command of their Captain, attending his Orders, without offering a blow: but ſo ſoon as my voice could be heard; Ah! whatever you be, cryed I, if we have merited your anger, turn your weapons upon us onely, and ſparc great Caeſars Son; Sacrifice us to your rage, if we have offended, but give our Prince his life.

Theſe words, with our ſubmiſſive action, turn'd the Roman Swords (fatal to the innocent ſon of Rodon) from our throats; for the Captain approaching to him with his drawn Sword: For you, ſaid he, we give you your lives; but 'tis this ſame Son of Caeſar we only ſeek to take. At theſe words, making his way through us, he ran the youth through the body with his Sword, juſt as he was about to ſpeak, and probably to tell him, he was not Caeſars Son. I cannot remember that poor young man's unripe fall without the ſenſe of ſome remorſe for my own treachery; but my Lord, it was otherwiſe impoſſibe to ſave our Prince; and ſince one muſt periſh, it was but juſt that the Son of that Traytor ſhould be Sacrific'd to his Fathers Treachery: beſides I had indeed conceiv'd a hope (if hope could ſhape it ſelf in ſo ſhort a time) that the Romans would forbear the cruelty of his Murder, and only content themſelves to lead him to their Emperor; in the mean time, I caſt my ſelf upon his body, and (the better to abuſe our Enemies) I made my complaints ſwell to as high a tide, as I ſhould have let fall upon the Corps of our own true Prince. The Roman Commander being a man of quality (as good fortune would have it) was touch'd at my piety, and proteſted to me, that he had executed Caeſars command with regret: He oppos'd himſelf againſt many of his men, that would have cut off the Youths head, to preſent it to the Emperor; and told him they might aſſure him of the truth without exerciſing that inhumanity upon the Son of Julius Caeſar; nevertheleſs, at their ſolicitation, he demanded the Jewels which Cleopatra had given us; but I reply'd, they were in the hands of one of our Companions, called Rodon, whom we had not ſeen all that day, and that I believed that it was he that had betray'd us. At this the Soldiers fell to threaten, and began to ſearch us, but they ſound little about us; and their Captain remembring his name was Rodon, who in effect betray'd us; and knowing the Emperor had deſign'd him the Jewels, as a price of his Treaſon, eaſily believ'd that he was gone away with them; and deſiring he ſhould rather poſſeſs them by that Title, than as the gift of Caeſar, commanded them to un-hand us, reſtore us our Horſes, and ſet us at liberty, to retire where we pleas'd. And thus his Men marching after him, they left us about the unfortunate Son of Rodon, upon whom I continued ſtill my Laments.

When our Enemies were Marched out of ſight (after we had covered the body of that innocent Youth with a little Earth, and indeed contribuuted ſome true tears to his deſtiny) we remounted our Horſes, exalted with our happy ſucceſs beyond expreſſion, and followed the track of our true Prince.

See, My Lord, what has paſſed about Caeſario's ſuppoſed Death; they were abus'd that believed he was ever in the hands of Octavius, for I dare aſſure you he never ſaw him: and that if he did conſult upon what was to be done with him, and reſolv'd to put him [Page] to Death, as you related, by advice of Arrius the Philoſopher, it muſt either be while Rodon's Meſſenger was with him, or before, while the War was hot between him and Anthony; during which, 'tis true, he had oft ſolicited us to deliver the young Prince into his hands, or put him to death.

Two hours after we had thus eſcaped our Enemies, we arrived at the Forreſt of Agria, and at the end of it found the Man that Neander had ſet Sentinel near the high-way, to conduct me to the place where the Prince was hid; without this precaution, our task would have been difficult to have found him, becauſe the Forreſt was vaſt, and full of Thickets. But Gods! what a joy exalted me when I recovered the ſight of my dear Prince! what words did I not utter! what tears ſhed, when it was permitted me to embrace him, for whom, ſome hours before, I had been ſhook with ſuch juſt apprehenſions? But then what a pleaſing ſatisfaction was given me! when (after I had receiv'd my Princes Careſſes overflowing with affection) I learn'd of Neander the inquietude he had ſuffer'd for my abſence; and his reſolution (after he knew the truth from Neanders mouth, who could not refuſe it to his preſſing importunity) to return back and run our fortune, without permitting us alone to expoſe our lives for his ſafety: A deſign ſo Noble (from which Neander only withheld him by force) in ſo young a ſoul, pleaſingly confirmed me in thoſe hopes I had already conceived of the height of his courage, and after I had expreſs'd my reſentments of his Nobleneſs, and he rewarded us with tears of acknowledgment for what we had done for his preſervation; and, as proofs of an excellent diſpoſition paid ſome to the memory of that innocent Son of Rodon, I caus'd him to mount on horſeback, and ſo we got out of the Frreſt, and continu'd our voyage.

My Lord, the particular paſſages by the way, deſerve nothing but ſilence, and to give way to things of more importance, which I muſt inform you of. Within a few days we left Aegypt at our backs, and having traverſed part of the Deſarts of Nubia, which are contiguous to the two Realms; we enter'd Aethiopia, and took our way toward the great City of Meroe, where that mighty King then made▪ his reſidence. Our young Prince ſuffered the incommodities of the Voyage with an admirable courage and patience, he was ever the firſt that urged our departure from thoſe Towns in our way, where I had oblig'd him to ſtay and take ſome repoſe; we called him not by his right name, leſt the news of his ſafety coming to his Enemies ears, ſhould make them try to find Traytors in Aethiopia, as they had done in Egypt; and for that cauſe we accuſtomed to call him Cleomedon, with deſign that none there ſhould know him by any other name, except the King, and ſuch other perſons as muſt neceſſarily be truſted with the truth. But why ſhould I detain you longer? We arrived at Meroe, whither we had ſent Neander ſome days before, to advertiſe the King of our Princes coming, and excuſe the entrance of his Dominions without permiſſion, with the preſſing neceſſity of his flight.

The King of Aethiopia (one of the beſt and juſteſt Princes upon Earth, who hated the Roman Tyranny, and ever honour'd Cleopatra) expreſt much joy at the confidence that great Queen repos'd in him, and diſpos'd himſelf to treat the Prince her Son as his own: he would have given him a magnificent reception, if Neander had not diſſwaded it, inſtructed by the fear that we had to divulge that, which former conſiderations taught us fit to be concealed. The King, to favour our Deſign, was content to receive him in his Cabinet, where he gave us a particular audience, without admitting any to be preſent, but ſuch as he knew would guard the ſecret.

The Magnificence and Furniture of his Palace had doubtleſs aſtoniſh'd any perſons but ſuch as had dwelt in the Court of Cleopatra, where there gliſter'd more ſumptuous Pomp and Glory, then all the World beſide could boaſt of; yet we there ſaw ſuch an abundance of Riches, as cuſtome to behold ſuch ſights could not keep us from ſurpriſal: for, (as I believe you know) in Aethiopia Gold is ſo common, that it is employed by Perſons of the loweſt Rank, upon the moſt vile offices: But to contract my diſcourſe upon this ſubject, I ſhall only tell you, That as the Majeſty of the King challeng'd our veneration, ſo the countenance of my Prince wrought an effect upon his Spirit, that ſoon made him conſider'd as the Son of Caeſar and Cleopatra; for he accoſted him with a Garb that juſtified his Birth, and ſaluted him with a ſtately modeſty that had nothing in it but what was great and graceful, which rather ſtir'd up admiration and reſpect than pity: I had prepoſſeſſed him with ſome few inſtructions, which he made uſe of with a moſt becoming grace; and after he had render'd his due ſalutes to the King.

Great Prince, ſaid he, my Parents, whom Fortune hath abandoned, have bequeathed me to you, with a belief that you will not refuſe me your Protection; and with [Page] them I demand it of you, as the ſole Prince of the World, from whom I am willing to receive it.

He ſaid no more than theſe few words, which he utter'd in a Kingly faſhion; and at the ſame time I preſented the King with the Queen Cleopatra's Letter, who preſently acknowledg'd the Seal to be hers, and in it found theſe words.

The QUEEN Cleopatra, to the Great Hidaſpes, KING of AETHIOPIA.

THe Knowledge I have of your Vertues, bids me hope that your Affections will not change with our Fortune; and that having been our Friend and Allie in proſperity, one Calamity can neither make you forget our Amity or Alliance: Upon this confidence, I give you mine, and the Son of mighty Coeſar, whom the Arms of his Enemies have chaſed from his Native Country, and reduced to ask a Refuge, which, but from you, I would not beg of any. If the Gods conſent to guard us from the Roman yoak and oppreſſion, I ſhall dearly preſerve the memory of this Obligation: But, if (for expiation of ur faultt) they have reſolved our Ruine, at leaſt I ſhall periſh with this comfort, That I truſted not the deareſt thing I had in the world, but to him, who of all Princes is moſt worthy of the confidence and amity of Cleopatra.

King Hidaſpes having read theſe words, and heard the Princes, with a viſage moyſtened with ſome tears, that Cleopatra's misfortunes drew from his Eyes, he turned to him, and taking him in his Arms: ‘Son of Caeſar and Cleopatra, ſaid he, welcome; I ſee and receive you with an unfeigned joy; the memory of your Father, and the Perſon of the Queen your Mother in me ſhall ever challenge a ſacred Reverence: Promiſe your ſelf, not only the ſame Offices from us, you might expect from your own, but be confident of our Protection ſo long as I have a man that can hold a Sword.’

And thus my Prince was received by the Aethiopian King, who preſently cauſed him to be lodg'd in the Palace, gave command for the proviſions of his Houſe, and made his intention known to us, that he would have him treated as his proper Son. His orders were ſo punctually executed, as in a few days we beheld our ſelves in as high a condition in Meroe, as we had formerly appeared in Alexandria; the Prince had a great number of Officers, a large proud Equipage; and indeed wanted no reſpect that was fit for the Son of a mighty King in his Fathers Court.

His proper name and true birth were only known to ſuch as the King honour'd with moſt confidence: Among the reſt he paſs'd under the name of Cleomedon, for a Prince only a Kin to Cleopatra, and ſomething allied to King Hidaſpes.

Tyridates at that paſſage interrupted Eteocles: Though I have been ignorant of Caeſario's deſtiny, ſaid he, I have heard of Cleomedon; and the diſtance that divided us, could not hinder renown from bringing his name among us, and with it the report of his grand actions that carried it. Under that name, reply'd Eteocles, my Prince did things conſiderable; and ſuch as doubtleſs their reputation reach you; but I ſhall relate them in their order.

You know the Aethiopians are black; but the Kings having been oblig'd by reaſon of State, to make Alliance with their neighbour Princes, and ſo eſpouſe white women; have partly loſt that ſcorched complexion of their Family. This King, who was born of a white Woman, was only a little ſwarthy, and the Queen his Wife, who died a year before we arrived in Aethiopia, being purely white, and a moſt beautiful Princeſs, brought forth a Daughter that not only Heir'd her Mothers complexion; but became miſtriſs of ſo fair a Beauty, as made her the wonder of her own, and the better part of the World beſide. This was the fair Princeſs Candace, and the ſame bright Queen now in your houſe, which you deliver'd from the greedy waves, where ſhe had periſh'd without your ſuccour. To come to the relation of her Life, with my Princes, I have begun you a Narration, which, though ſomething remote from them, will not altogether appear unneceſſary; and now I ſhall conduct your knowledge through all thoſe accidents that compos'd the preſent fortunes of thoſe two great Perſonages.

The Princeſs Candace exceeded not eleven years of age when we entred Aethiopia; and we had not reſided there above a year, before my Prince render'd his Arms to her triumphant Beauty, and deliver'd up unto it a precious liberty, which he could no longer hold againſt the rare perſections of that Princeſs. This paſſion that entirely ſez'd his Soul, came ſeaſonably to baniſh a dangerous grief, and arreſted him ſhortly after our arrival, with the news of Cleopatra's deplorable end, and the lamentable fall of that unfortunate Family.

[Page] This ſtruck my Prince ſo deep, that all the comfort we could urge had much ado to keep him from his Tomb; nor had we ſo ſoon appeas'd his ſorrow, if Candace's beauty had not ſtruggled more ſucceſsfully with it than our arguments: indeed it was half impoſſible for a Prince ſo born, and newly entred an age capable of the ſweet impreſſions of love, to reſiſt ſuch uncommon puiſſance. And though at firſt Caeſario ſtrove hard to preſerve his liberty, yet all his luctation fainted at laſt, to the confeſſion of his weakneſs, and buckled to the yoke of a Tyrant, that handled him more rudely becauſe he reſiſted.

I did not diſapprove the birth of this Paſſion; for (finding nothing in it fit to cenſure) I no ſooner knew it from my Prince, but indulg'd him in it, in ſtead of diſſwading. He ever dearly lov'd and reſpected me, and not only conſider'd me as his Governour, that had over-ſeen the growth of his greeneſt years, but as him that had ſaved his life, with the dangerous hazard of his own, and to embrace his Intereſts, had caſhier'd all other thoughts that had eyes for his own: This knit him to me with the tender ties of ſuch a confidence, as indeed was only due to the Queen his Mother. He open'd his heart unto me ſo ſoon as he felt the wounds that Love had given it; and having demanded my counſel and aſſiſtance, and found me wholly diſpos'd to contribute all to his deſires: ‘Father, ſaid he, at Love's firſt Alarm, I feel a delightfull pain; but becauſe 'tis cruel enough to rob me of my Reſt, me-thinks it reſembles that Fire, whereof I have oft heard the Queen my Mother and your ſelf diſcourſe; and I fear it will uſurp as much power in my Soul, as it did in the unfortunate Antony.’ ‘Gods! ſaid he, a while after, what a bright wonder is this Princeſs Candace? how impoſſible is it to ſee and not turn ſlave to her Beauty? Theſe words were accompanied with divers ſighs, which I had neither will nor power to condemn.’ In the mean time his flame grew daily higher, and in a ſhort time made him a moſt ardent Paſſioniſt.

I ſhall forbear to importune you with the large diſcourſes he made at the firſt ſentiments of his Love, and only inſiſt upon ſome particularities that fell out in the blooming years of this young Couple; and though I am willing to ſtep haſtily over thoſe, that I may bring them to an age more rational, yet I cannot ſilence thoſe paſſages, which methinks deſerved better than to be ſwallowed in oblivion.

The fair Aethiopian Princeſs was born to all thoſe excellent advantages, that the conſpiring bounty of Heaven and Nature can beſtow; but the beauties of her Aſpects, which I preſume you have noted, are dim to thoſe that ſhine within her Soul; they began with her earlieſt youth to break out with ſuch beams, as were not to be ſeen but in her ſelf: her extraordinary vivacity was alwayes accompanied with a marvellous ſolidity; a Judgement elevated above her Sex, and Courage great enough to challenge a rank among Perſons the moſt generous: of this ſhe hath given ſuch clear proofs, as will ſoon claim your Credit: but before I paſs to their recital, 'tis fit I ſtay upon ſomething that preceded.

The Divine qualities of this Princeſs twiſted ſuch a reſpect with my Prince's affection, that he long ſmother'd his ſighs, before he durſt declare his Paſſion; and though the ſublimity of his Birth, and the merit of his Perſon might have arm'd him with a boldneſs capable to attempt any thing; and the tender age of the Princeſs, younger by four or five years than himſelf, might well have help'd to diſcard part of his fears; yet he alwayes beheld her with ſo much reſpect, as he wanted the aſſurance to ſerve himſelf with any of theſe advantages; he daily ſaw her with more freedom than any of the other Princes that were educated in the Aethiopian Court: and the King, who dearly lov'd him, gave him a more free and familar acceſs to his Daughter than any of the reſt: She gladly admitted him a Companion to her Sport: and though he had already a ſolidity that over-top'd his years, yet his affection had found the way to ſweeten the moſt ſerious and important employments: he paſſed all his Evenings with her, and in the daytime upon her Walks; but ſtill kept himſelf about her with ſo profound a reverence, that he took no other advantage from the Princeſs civility to licence the declaration of what he felt, but by his ſighs, his paſſionate looks, and his actions full of extraordinary complacency.

The Princeſs (young as ſhe was) was not yet ſo innocent, but ſhe had already begun to diſcern a difference between Actions of Civility, and ſuch as parted from another motive, and (as her knowledge ſurmounted her age) ſhe obſerved part of that in my Prince, which his own mouth durſt not bewray.

Caeſario, by his excellent parts, was already become the darling of the Aethipian Court; he was grown ſo accompliſh'd in all thoſe ſervices and exerciſes, to which he had given marvellous beginnings in Aegypt, that he was look'd upon as a Perſon of moſt refined qualities; [Page] nevertheleſs, I am bound to confeſs that there was a Youth of his age at Meroe, which my Judgement tells me was no way his inferiour, but in Birth; and indeed ſince ſome remarkable events will have him mingled with my Prince in this Hiſtory, he doth merit a particular mention, and cannot without injuſtice be deprived of that which is due, even from his Enemies.

Among a great number of Servitors, of which the Princeſſes houſhold was compos'd, there were divers young men particularly dedicated to her ſervice, that alwayes kept near her Perſon, but at ſuch times when Women only had acceſs; theſe were alwayes ready to receive her Commands, took care of her divertiſements, and for that they were particularly employed; for the moſt part, they were of noble extraction, choſen by the King from the beſt Families of the Realm, and from ſome ſtrangers that came thither to inhabit.

Among theſe the young Britomarus appear'd with wondrous advantage, and though he was the Son of a ſtranger, who for many years had made his reſidence in Aethiopia, and it was ſomething difficult to prove his Nobility; yet the qualities of his Perſon prevail'd with the King to paſs by that conſideration: Indeed I never beheld a perſon better ſhaped, neither for Body nor Mind; he had a moſt comely proportion; in his Face there was that rare mixture of ſweetneſs and gravity; his Eyes full of a ſparkling livelineſs, but in his Air, Port and Actions, he bore it out with a garb ſo fierce and haughty, that he ſeemed to be ſenſible of nothing leſs than his own baſe and obſcure Birth: and though his knowledge taught him ſubmiſſion to ſuch as he believed had right to a legitimate obedience, he could never bow to thoſe who had no other pretence to command over him but ſuch as their Birth or Fortune gave them; he lived with his Companions, as if he had been their Maſter, and though there were ſome among them of the moſt conſiderable Houſes of Aethiopia, yet he never regarded any but for their Vertue; only to the Princeſs he was moſt flexibly officious, and when any particular ſervice was requiſite, he never could ſuffer, but with much regret, that any of his fellows ſhould be employed.

This Youth was near about the age of Caeſario, but he quickly cheriſhed an averſion againſt him, a part of which I believe (conſidering the qualities that got him the eſteem of others) his Nature contributed; but there were ſtronger reaſons to exaſperate him againſt my Prince, that in the end tranſported him to things that merit the recital, and ſuch as have obliged me to give ſomething too curious a deſcription of a perſon of his condition.

My Prince one day entred the Palace Garden, to go look for the Princeſs, and in croſſing an Alley, he met young Britomarus, who had gotten a Noſegay in his hand, with intent to preſent it to the Princeſs; Caeſario perceiving it to be a fair one, deſir'd to make this preſent himſelf, and for that reaſon ſtaying Britomarus, ‘I pray thee, ſaid he,’ beſtow that Noſe-gay upon me, that I may give it the Princeſs.

‘My Lord, anſwered Britomarus, it was for that deſign I made it, and do intend to preſent my ſelf, if you pleaſe to permit it;’ ‘For that reply'd the Prince, you may get another, but muſt needs conſent that I may give her this, and I aſſure you ſhe ſhall know it came from you.’

Britomarus could not well refuſe my Princes demand, well knowing how high his credit ſtood with the King', but he obeyed him with an action that plainly told him with what repugnance he did it. Caeſario, in ſtead of being offended at his behaviour, eſteem'd his courage, and, to appeaſe his diſpleaſure, would have reſtor'd him his Noſe-gay, if he had not ſuddenly left him, and ſhortly after quitted the Garden: he would have called him back, ſorry to do him ſuch a petty injury, if I had not diſſwaded it, telling him, that Britomarus was not a perſon conſiderable enough for him to value his diſpleaſure: but this was not the only encounter wherewith my Prince gave him cauſe of complaint: As Britomarus was the forwardeſt undertaker among all his Companions, ſo he ſtill carried away the chief employment for the Princeſs ſervice; wherewith, while he was often buſied, Caeſario entering the Chamber, and envying the honour was done him, would oft take the Work out of his hands, and ſo conſtrain him to leave the place; but he alwayes did it with ſuch a reluctance, as made the print of it ſelf upon his viſage. This behaviour did not provoke young Caeſar againſt him, though the eye of his affection often looked upon the others officious forwardneſs about Candace, not without ſome Jealouſie: but beſides that, he was of a moſt ſweet diſpoſition, and far from doing the leaſt injury, the obſcure condition of Britomarus hindred him from heeding any occaſions that might kindle diſpleaſure; for he was remote from any imagination that his reſentments ſprang from the true motive, that cauſed them; and ſuſpected not the young man of any other ambition than to raiſe his Fortunes.

In the mean time my Prince's fire burnt inward, without daring to give his paſſion [Page] vent, though his Face and Actions plainly told what he ſuffer'd. At laſt, after a long conteſtation, he gave fire to the Train; the firſt time he attempted it was in the Temple of the Sun, where the Princeſs being at her devotion, Caeſario approached to the place where ſhe kneeled, and ſtanding a long time behind her, let her go on in her Prayers, without interruption; but at laſt turning her head ſhe ſpy'd him, and ſweetly reproving the faintneſs of his zeal, invited him to bear her company in her Devotion. The Prince preſently obeyed her, and proſtrating himſelf behind her, ‘I bend my knees, ſaid he, as you command; but the Gods muſt pardon me, if I ſay it is you, as the chief Divinity, I muſt ever adore.’

At theſe words he let fall his eyes, and the Princeſs ſignified by a bluſh, that ſhe was not ſuch a novice as not eaſily to apprehend the meaning: and being already confirm'd in the truth by Caeſario's geſture, ſhe would fain have diſſembled, as if ſhe had not underſtood him: but her bluſhes betrayed her, and the confuſion that ſeized her would not ſuffer a reply; her ſilence made the Prince a little more hardy, and deſirous to put a progreſs to this beginning, he recover'd his diſcourſe, and without removing his eyes from the earth, ‘If you refuſe my Adorations, ſaid he, you do not imitate the Gods, whom you commanded me to pray to; in their Preſence I proteſt, that the reſentments I have for you cannot ſtrike ſail to the reſpect I owe to them: Madam, let me then be ſuffer'd to avow this in their Temple; I confeſs it is a preſumption, and the thoughts that ripen'd it too ſoaring to hope for pardon from a leſs goodneſs than yours; but I have kept them covered with a whole years ſilence, and ſhould not now have adventur'd to let them go, had it been longer poſſible to hide them; if you find ought in it to be condemn'd, to you I will not dare to excuſe it, nor alledge any other juſtification than the violence your ſelf has done me, againſt which greater forces than mine are not capable of reſiſtance.’

Doubtleſs he had ſaid more, if the Princeſs had not interrupted him. This language could not juſtly offend, coming from a Prince, that by the greatneſs of his Birth, and the qualities of his Perſon, might diſpute priority with all the Princes on Earth: beſides, his tongue ſaid nothing that ſhe had not read before in his actions; nevertheleſs this unmasking did a little ſurprize her; and not willing to ſuffer him to go on, I am ſorry, ſaid ſhe, you ſhould interrupt my Prayers with language I cannot like, and henceforth you ſhall do well to find other ſubjects for diſcourſe: ‘If I have diſpleas'd you, reply'd the Prince,’ I will not repine to endure the puniſhment you ſhall ordain, and if I have been ſo unfortunate to kindle your anger, by diſcovering thoughts full of veneration and reſpect, I ſhall think nothing too unjuſt or rigorous, to expiate the offence I have committed.

'Tis not for me, anſwer'd Candace, to appoint puniſhments for Princes of your extraction; I have only right to complain of the diſpleaſure you have done me in holding a diſcourſe which I neither underſtand nor approve.

She pronounced theſe words with ſuch a ſerious coldneſs, as the Prince durſt venture no more replies; and receiving the anguiſh, which Candaces diſpleaſure had given him, at the Centre of his Heart, he retir'd with a Countenance ſo ſad and troubled, as almoſt put his Face out of knowledge: and I think this grief had gone further if at the recital which he made of his adventure, my Counſel had not ſtop'd it, by repreſenting, that he had no cauſe to afflict himſelf; but that in all likelihood he could not hope a more favourable anſwer from the Princeſs, who before had never heard any Language of that nature. Caeſario drew comfort from my words, and reſolved this firſt repulſe ſhould not diſarm his courage.

In the mean time he liv'd with her after the ſame manner he had done formerly, and intermitted not the payment of his obſervances full of reſpect and diſcretion; but ſhe appear'd to him more reſerv'd than uſual, call'd him not ſo freely to her Recreations, and her Walks; and though ſhe ſtill continued to him her firſt Civilities; yet ſhe kept him off from occaſions to renew the diſcourſe that had diſpleas'd her: but if his tongue was mute, his eyes and actions became Orators ſo eloquent, that though her tender years had contributed leſs underſtanding than ſhe had, ſhe would have needed no other interpretation of the reſpect that ty'd his tongue, and might eaſily perceive that my Prince his paſſion, in ſtead of abating, daily took a greater inflammation from her coldneſs; and in this condition he was with her, when there arriv'd a memorable accident that merits your attention.

At a ſolemn Feaſt that was celebrated at Meroe, upon the Prince's birth day, without the City, there were made moſt magnificent Courſes on Horſe-back, at which the King, with the moſt eminent Nobility aſſiſted; the young Courtiers were engag'd for this exerciſe, where they appear'd in all the bravery they could make; they ran arm'd at all [Page] points, and in the courſe launc'd their Javelins againſt a mark, and made divers other active trials of their force and dexterity: Caeſario was enter'd his 17th year, and being already ſtrong enough to make a ſtout performance in all manly exerciſes, preſented himſelf into the Liſts, clad in gallant Armour which the King had given him; his Caſque was ſhaded with white and black Feathers, he was mounted upon a Horſe white as Snow which he manag'd with an admirable grace and agility: This was the firſt time I ſaw him in Armor, and me-thought he became it ſo gracefully, as my eyes could not be ſatisfied with a ſpectacle ſo agreeable. The King, Princeſs, with the whole Court, faſtened their regards upon him with marvellous hopes, and poſſibly the whole Aſſembly yielded but one perſon, whoſe affection he had not attracted. Before the Courſes began, all the young Gallants preſented themſelves before the Ladies they lov'd, and publickly demanded their favours, and upon ſuch an occaſion they were hardly permitted to refuſe them; there was ſcarce any that did not obtain of their Miſtreſſes, either Knots, Scarfs, Bracelets, or other Preſents of that nature; only Britomarus made no addreſs, but ſtood almoſt alone at the foot of the Scaffold, where the King, the Princeſs, with the chief of the Ladies were ſeated, without expreſſing the leaſt deſire of what the other ſo eagerly entreated: he had purchaſed ſo high an eſtimation at Court, that divers perſons became intereſſed in his coldneſs, and the King himſelf having cauſed him to be call'd, demanded the reaſon why he ſought not to gain ſome favour, as well as his companions, to ſhew his activity, in honour of her whom he beſt affected.

The bold Youth lifted up his head at the Kings demand, and beholding him with a bravely aſſured look, Sir, ſaid he, I have lived till now among all the Ladies of your Court, without parting with my liberty; and though I have honoured them all as I thought, I have made no ſingle preſent of my heart to any, nor indeed am I willing to beſtow it: I am entirely vowed to the Princeſs ſervice, to whom your Majeſty has done me the honour to give me, and though I ought to look upon her as a Subject, and domeſtick Servitor, I hope ſhe will pardon me if I take the liberty to proteſt before her, that I will not ask a favour from any but her ſelf: I never had other aim but at her ſervice, ſince I was made happy in my dedication to it; and, if I may not enter the Liſts under her Cognizance, I am reſolved to beg no others.

While young Britomarus ſpake in this manner, the boldneſs of his action became the wonder of all that ſtood near him: this raiſed a cry among them, which re-doubled his aſſurance, and, ſwelling with the flatteries of thoſe Acclamations, he advanced to the Princeſs ſeat, and throwing himſelf at her feet, If your Highneſs, ſaid he, will vouchſafe to honour the meaneſt of your Servitors with ſome badge of your beauty, I dare promiſe that there is not a perſon in this company able to diſpute the prize of this day, nor to carry away the Victory in any kind of combat I ſhall undertake for your ſervice.

The words and behaviour of Britomarus were diverſly receiv'd by the company; many of the aſſiſtants cenſured them as inconſiderate and over-bold; and ſome excuſed his Youth, and imputed it to that true height of courage, that had ſhewn it ſelf in all his other actions; of this number was the King himſelf, who, in ſtead of checking the young man's confidence, witneſſed, that he approved it, and commanded the Princeſs to beſtow ſomething on him; Candace was ready to obey, when my Prince, who regarded Britomarus his action, with thoughts very different from the reſt, and felt himſelf ſtung with Jealouſie at rhe young mans hardy demand, could not ſuffer the honour was intended him; and conceiving the Princeſs's favour due to none but himſelf, was loath that a perſon ſo much below him, ſhould carry away advantages, which he durſt not petition for: and, in the heat of this thought, approaching the Princeſs, and bending his knee before her; I was not bold enough, Madam, ſaid he, to aſpire to the grace Britomarus has demanded, deeming my ſelf unworthy of it, as doubtleſs he is: but if you muſt ſtoop to beſtow it on one of us, I hope I may believe that my hopes have the fairer title, and will not come behind him in defending that glory in all our combats.

The Prince had no ſooner ſpoke, but his deſire was granted; and the King not permitting the Princeſs to reply, ‘Give the Prince Cleomedon a Favour, ſaid he; Britomarus muſt not diſpute his pretences, and to ſatisfie him, command ſome of your Maids to give him a preſent.’

If theſe words ſeem'd cruel to Britomarus, they were as pleaſing to the Prince, who receiving a Bracelet of Jewels from Candaces hands, after he had kiſs'd it with abundance of reſpect, mounted on Horſe-back with a tranſport of contentment, and preſently put himſelf in the head of thoſe that were to begin the Courſes.

Britomarus was call'd to receive a Gift offer'd him by Artimis, one of the Princeſs Maids: but he would not vouchſafe to look upon her, but leaping on his Horſe in a furious [Page] diſcontent, convey'd himſelf out of the company, without ſo much as entring the Liſts.

The Courſes began, of which I ſhall paſs particular Deſcriptions, and be content to tell you that my Prince behav'd himſelf with ſo much active ſtrength and bravery, as he aſtoniſht the whole Aſſembly, eclips'd the repute of all the reſt, and confirm'd the King and Court in the pregnant hopes they had entertain'd of him; after a great part of theſe Exerciſes were finiſh'd, my Prince, deſirous to breath a while, and withdrawing about one hundred paces from the preaſe, to the freſh air, he ſpied Britomarus leaning againſt a Tree, and looking upon the manly ſport his Companions made, in the poſture of a man much afflicted. Though his carriage had diſpleaſed the Prince, yet the rejection he had procur'd him, and the eſteem of his good qualities with the grief his looks confeſt at the affront was done him, exchang'd his jealouſie for pity: In fine, his excellent nature could not give him leave to ſee his affliction, and himſelf the Author of it, without endeavouring to give him the redreſs of ſome comfort: with this reſolution he ſoftly gallops up to him, ſpies his Face covered with tears, and him in a condition ſad enough to require a juſt compaſſion. ‘What Britomarus, ſaid he, in tears? Is it poſſible ſo great a ſpirit (the marks of which we have acknowledged) can deſcend to weep for ſo trivial a cauſe of diſpleaſure?’ ‘Yes, my Lord, anſwered Britomarus, I do weep, and I ſhould weep tears of bloud, for the injuſtice of my Fortune, that expoſes me to miſeries my courage cannot brook.’ ‘And have you no greater ſubjects of ſorrow, reply'd the Prince, than thoſe we know of?’ ‘No, my Lord, ſaid Britomarus, yet thoſe are ſtrong enough to drag me to my grave, ſince Heaven, in giving me courage, has not given me a birth that will permit me to make uſe of it. I am born, my Lord, with an heart as big as yours, and poſſibly thoughts about it that look as high, only Fortune has put a difference betwixt us, which it may be Vertue intended not; from this blind chance you daily take Commiſſions to wrong me, and my condition ordains me to ſuffer it; you have oft provoked me with ſhame and diſpleaſure, which though reſpect hath taught me to pocket without complaint, my ſpirit could not learn to ſupport it without ſinking under ſadneſs; had I taken theſe injuries from a perſon with whom I might have meaſured my Sword, (wherewith I one day expect to reap ſome glory,) you ſhould ſoon ſee this diſcontent diſpell'd that clouds my brow; but ſince I am abus'd by a Prince, from whom I cannot hope that ſatisfaction, I will turn my Sword againſt my own breſt, and puniſh the ambition there, for lifting its head ſo high above my extraction.’

While Britomarus ſpoke in this manner, the young Prince heard him with admiration and thought he found ſomething in his words that taſted of an unweighed irregular ambition, yet he took notice of a Spirit ſo bravely daring, as he could not diſapprove it: but withall clearly diſcovering his intentions, and (not willing to ſmother his own) he anſwered him with a ſerious coldneſs: ‘I did believe, Britomarus, that our diſtance in quality did forbid all competition betwixt us, that you need not have afflicted your ſelf for ſome advantages I have ſeiz'd, which to my thinking, you ought not to diſpute, and this perchance has made me paſs by that circumſpection which I would preſerve with my life, not to injure perſons of Courage: I am ſorry I have offended you, and really to witneſs that I am ſo, I will not ſeek excuſes in my condition, to refuſe that ſatisfaction that may content you; I will grant that to your Courage, which your Birth could not ſuffer you to hope, and poſſibly may make you know, that Fortune has not put all the difference betwixt us.’

‘Ah my Lord, cry'd the young Britomarus, raviſh'd with Joy, now you prove your ſelf a perfect Prince, poor Britomarus is a debtor to your Nobleneſs, for the honour you profer; My Lord, I accept it with more gladneſs than I would do the gift of a Crown, and will not otherwiſe uſe the Favour, than to let you ſee, that he that durſt not demand it, was not wholly unworthy of it: and ſince you have offered it with ſo much generoſity, I cannot ſlight an occaſion that propoſes ſo glorious a remedy, for the diſpleaſures you have made me reſent.’ ‘Let us go then, reply'd the Prince, beginning to be angry, and if you deſire this conſolation, let us fly the ſight of ſuch Perſons that may hinder it, our Arms are equal, for I would be loath to uſe any advantage which you want.’ At theſe words he ſpurr'd away from the company, and Britomarus haſtily following with a fierce joy, they ſoon loſt the ſight of the Aſſembly. Yea they were loath to ſtay near it; and the Prince, unwilling to be interrupted in the firſt aſſay of his Manhood, ran on about fifty or ſixty Furlongs further, till they came into a Valley where none could diſcover them.

There Caeſario ſtop'd, finding the place commodious, and turning again towards Britomarus, ‘We will go no further, ſaid he, let us give our Horſes a little breath, and then end our difference.’

[Page] Britomarus his courage was ſo high flown, as it would permit him to make no anſwer; and ſuffering his Horſe to breath a while, he beheld the Prince with eyes that ſpoke nought but defiance. The age of both was equal, their ſtature little different, and this the firſt time that either had worn Arms; they had both Javelins in their right hands, and Swords at their left; their Horſes were both good, both choſen for the ſolemn exerciſe of that day: ſcarce had they patience to give them leiſure to breath, when after a loud defiance, they lanced their Javelins at one another, with a force ſo impetuous, as ſcarce was ever more fury ſhown by any of the rudeſt hands that ever were inur'd to the trade of War, which they then but began to practiſe: their Javelins were both ſhivered upon their Shields into a thouſand pieces, and the young Combatants paſſed by one another, without the leaſt ſtaggering in their ſeats; but they ſoon return'd with their drawn Swords, as yet unuſed to this imployment, and advancing them in the air, with an action bravely menacing, turning their Horſes heads, they flew the ſecond time at one another, more eagerly than before: the firſt blows drew blood, and the ſecond made two deep wounds. Britomarus was run through the left Arm, and Caeſario in the Thigh. Never did two young Lions ſee their own bloud drop from the Hunters Spear, with a rage more violent than that of my Prince, and the ambitious Britomarus: They equally breathed vengeance and victory, and ruſhed together with ſo laviſh a fury, that if the Gods (like them) had forſook the care of their lives, their practice in Arms had there begun and ended together. They had each received another ſlight wound, when my Prince coming cloſe up, laid hold on Britomarus his Arm, and he not refuſing to cloſe with a like intention, ſtreightly ingaged him in his; and thus locking one another in friendleſs embrace, and putting ſpurs to their Horſes, they fell both to the Earth, where they began to rowl o're each other with a moſt dreadful fury; ſometimes one was uppermoſt, and then the other, yet neither could keep the Maſtery; but in this ſtrugling they loſt ſo much bloud, that at laſt both riſing by a joynt conſent, they were ſcarce able to hold their Swords; however in that ſtaggering condition they fell to freſh blows, and doubtleſs would have ended their Combate, and poſſibly both their lives, for as yet there appear'd no advantage on either ſide, when we happily arriv'd to ſtop the miſchief.

Their ſudden departure had given us ſome outrage: We were far from ſuſpecting Britomarus his raſhneſs: but, as faithfull care would ſeldom ſuffer me to keep my Eye from my Prince, I had no ſooner learn'd in what manner he departed, but without ſtay, mounting my Horſe, I ran after him with all the company I could engage, and we came, as I told you, in a happy time to part theſe young Combatants, whom we found in an eſtate that ſpake our arrival very neceſſary.

So ſoon as Caeſario ſaw me, he even ſob'd with grief to ſee himſelf interrupted, and ſuſpecting (not without likelihood) that we would do Britomarus ſome outrage, he put himſelf before him in a poſture of defence, and crying out to me as I firſt came in; Father, ſaid he, as you tender my life do not hurt Britomarus, it was I that firſt aſſail'd him, I compell'd him to defend himſelf, and I will rather ſuffer death, than him to he injur'd; ‘I will defend my ſelf as well as I can, ſaid the fierce young man, for it is not fit I ſhould hold it of you, having done my utmoſt to take away yours.’ Theſe generous and gallant words on both ſides gave us new wonder; in the mean time having taken care, according to my Prince his deſire, that Britomarus ſhould not ſuffer, we haſtily lighted from our Horſes, and ran to the two Combatants, juſt as they were ready to fall to the ground with weakneſs: I ſnatch'd my Prince in my Arms, and wetted his face with my tears; but whilſt I was helping him on Horſeback, and getting up my ſelf behind him, he deſired the ſame office might be done to Britomarus: and not only content to take that care for him, he made Neander get up in my place, and ſent me before to the King to beg the young man's Pardon, and to proteſt, that he would never come in his preſence till he had granted it: I obey'd his command, but found it not ſo eaſie a task to reverſe the Kings reſolution, who had abſolutely deſigned Britomarus for puniſhment: but at laſt he granted mercy, upon condition, that ſo ſoon as his wounds were healed, he ſhould leave the Court, and never more return, upon forfeit of his life.

In the mean time my Prince was conducted to his Lodgings, preſently put to bed, and ſearched by Chirurgions; his wounds were found not dangerous, only the loſs of bloud had done him the greateſt miſcief; and after the application of ſome neceſſary Remedies, they enjoyned him a ſilent repoſe without any diſturbance till the next day.

In the mean time, the bruit of his generous gallantry ſpread it ſelf in a moment, and the relation of Britomarus himſelf to his friends of the bravery and nobleneſs of his behaviour filled the whole Court with admiration. Oh how gladly I drank up his Praiſes [Page] from every mouth, how ſweetly was my fear and diſpleaſure vanquiſhed that his wounds had given me! the gentleneſs and grandeur of that firſt action made me gladly conclude him, worthy to be what he was; and though I blamed the Prince for that paſſage, to prevent future hazards by the like, yet I did it in ſuch terms as gave him a clear diſcovery that I could not diſapprove it.

So ſoon as the Chirurgions would permit him to be ſeen, the King came to viſit him, and after he had expreſt the intereſt he took in his recovery, with words full of affection, he fell a commending that action, as indeed it merited, and yet in ſome ſort gently blam'd him, by the conſequence of an intreaty, no more with ſo careleſs a valour to hazard the Son of Caeſar and Cleopatra againſt a man of Britomarus condition.

The King was ſcarce parted from him, when by his own orders, the Princeſs his Daughter came to viſit him; but at that ſight his joy was ſo exceſſive, as his wounds had like to have broke looſe, and by the change of his Countenance, had they but mark'd it, they might eaſily know what his heart meant by it. The fair Princeſs having taken a Seat by his Beds-ſide, accepted his thanks for her viſit, with a Majeſtick Modeſty, Her Anſwer expreſſing in very obliging terms, the grief ſhe took for his hurts. This conducted Caeſario's paſſion into the Scene, for, perceiving the Princeſſes attendants keep themſelves at a diſtance through reſpect: ‘Madam, ſaid he, it was but juſt that I ſhould buy your Favours with the blood they have coſt me; but had I added all that is left in my veins, to what is already gone, it would not have paid for the meaneſt part of them.’ ‘I am ſorry, ſaid Candace, the King ſhould command me to give you ſo dangerous a preſent, which at beſt has coſt you ſome bloud too precious to ſpill for ſo mean a toy; You undervalue that, ſaid Caeſars Son, that the moſt ambitious Princes would prefer to Empires; but might I diſpute this Subject againſt any other but your ſelf, the World has not a Perſon, from whom I would not force a confeſſion, that all things elſe, though of the higheſt value, become worthleſs and contemptible, when compar'd with the Princeſs Candace's favours, and indeed it ſhould teach me a higher pride, if your own free choice, without the Kings Command, had beſtow'd it, and it had not only been the Child of obedience. Madam, I know this deſire has too much ambition, but I am grown to weak to repulſe it; and if it have kindled your diſpleaſure, Madam, behold me in an eſtate to quench it with the reſt of my bloud that is left, and ſo make my life the expiation.’

‘I demand no ſuch reparation, ſaid the Princeſs, as you offer for the offence; your life is not prized follow, but we can rather chuſe to ſuffer ſomething from you, than put that in hazard; but I ſhould take it well at your hands, would you turn the tide of your diſcourſe upon another Subject, and not oblige me to hear that, which muſt make my Viſits leſs frequent.’

Theſe words came ſo ſeriouſly from her, that the Prince began to fear indeed he had diſpleaſed, and from that thought, ‘If either my diſcourſe or action, ſaid he, have made me ſo wretched, to urge your diſpleaſure, I do here vow to puniſh my ſelf with a rigour that ſhall ſatisfie your anger; the Gods raiſed Britomarus to call to an account my unjuſt ambition; for teaching my eyes ſuch aſpiring looks; but if his Arm was not ſtrong enough to do it alone, I will enforce the Juſtice of his quarrel by the aſſiſtance of my own; and ſince it is a raſhneſs worthy of your anger, to ſpeak of a paſſion you cannot brook, I am reſolv'd to doom my tongue to an eternal ſilence.’

The Prince put ſuch a paſſionate action to theſe words, as it ſoftened Candace to ſome pitty; and not willing with a harſh reply to exaſperate his afflictions, ‘I have already told you, ſaid ſhe, that I deſire no ſuch cruel reparations of you, and do tell you again, that it behoves you to mind your recovery in a place where none can wiſh you ill.’

She had gone further, if the arrival of divers Perſons, who then entred the Chamber, had not interrupted the diſcourſe; among whom was Tyribaſus the Kings Favourite, or rather the ſecond King of Aethiopia, whom, though I have not yet mention'd, muſt make up a principal part in the progreſs of this Hiſtory.

This Man was of illuſtrious extraction among the Aethiopians, of a great courage, and a greater ambition, comely of Perſon, dexterous in every thing he undertook, and indeed worthy to ſit where Fortune had plac'd him; his Credit with the King was not greater than with the Souldiery, in whoſe Hearts he had got the Power (by Commanding them in ſeveral Warlike Expeditions) of an abſolute diſpoſal. In fine, he was the Chief Man of Aethiopia, and though others were born nearer unto the Crown, their Authority not only fell ſhort of his, but was entirely ſtrangled by it; and, as then there being no diſſention between my Prince and he, knowing that the King deſired it, he appeared his Friend, [Page] and at that time gave him a very civil viſit; where, after he had ſtaid with him till the Princeſs withdrew, he attended her back to her Lodgings; after this my Prince often ſaw her, while his wounds confined him to his Bed, without gaining the leaſt intelligence by her diſcourſe how to faſten any judgment upon his Fortune, or know what was hid within her Breaſt.

And now he had left his Bed, and was reſolv'd the next day to quit the Chamber; when one came to tell him that Britomarus (whoſe recovery had been as forward as his) was at the door, and deſir'd permiſſion to ſee him. We much diſſwaded this interview, ſuſpecting that Britomarus (whoſe deſperate rage had ſo lately made the danger of it known) had carried ſome deſign againſt the Princes life; but he knew his Heart better than we, and not having power to diſtruſt him, commanded us to conduct him in.

Britomarus enter'd the Chamber with a viſage ſomething pale, and his Arm in a Scart: but with a Countenance ſo noble, and ſo bravely aſſur'd, that in ſpight of prejudice it even wreſted both eſteem and affection from us: Caeſario roſe up to meet him, whom Britomarus having reſpectively accoſted, though with a very ſad look, My Lord, ſaid he, I could not carry away my ſelf from this Court, without leaving my thanks behind me for the favours you have made me receive; you have permitted me (a poor Soldier as I am) to draw my Sword againſt a Prince, defended me from the fury of your Servants, and employ'd your credit with the King to ſave my life. Theſe Obligations, great as they are, cannot make me your friend; the diſhonour you have done me, and the diſpleaſure I reſent to abandon a place for your ſake, where I had ſo ſtrong a tye, have forced my diſpoſition to oppoſe and reſiſt it. Nor is it only to diſcharge my Heart of theſe words, that has brought me to take my leave of you; but to aſſure you, though I muſt be your enemy, I ſhall diligently ſeek occaſion to be quit with your generoſity. I am now going in queſt of glory, and poſſibly may find a Fortune in ſome other Country, that will be leſs ingratefull than this. I hope the Sword which I had the honour to draw againſt you, will reap me advantages that may permit me to ſee you again upon the ſame occaſion: my Heart tells me my Birth is not inferior to yours, and if it deceives me, I will puniſh the falſhood by making it dig for that in a Mine of danger, which my extraction hath refus'd me: I have appeared worthy to be ſcorn'd by the King of Aethiopia, the Princeſs his Daughter, and your ſelf; but I muſt preſume to tell you, that none of you yet have known me, and I dare hope one day to appear in a condition that may challenge a better notice.

When he had ended theſe words, and given a reſpective reverence to the Prince without ſtaying for an anſwer, he departed the Chamber, though the Prince called him back, and follow'd to ſpeak with him; and immediately mounting his Horſe, he quitted Meroe with the Aethiopian Court, and was never ſeen there ſince.

Tyridates ſtay'd Eteocles at this paſſage, I am deeply deceived, ſaid he, if I be not able to learn you news of this Britomarus you ſpeak of, and they are ſuch, and ſo great, as I wonder they ſhould miſs the way to your Ear: but this merits a particular Diſcourſe, and I will not interrupt yours. Eteocles was going on with his Story; when one told him the Queen was awake, and had call'd for him, which made him take leave of Tyridates for ſome moments, In the mean time the Prince called for his Clothes, and quitted his Bed, where Eteocles Story had detain'd him longer than ordinary.

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA, OR Loves Maſter-Piece. PART I.
LIB. IV.

[Page]

ARGUMENT.

The ſight of Alexandria renews Candace's complaints for her Caeſars loſs. Tyridates invites her to take the freſh air, with the promiſe of a pleaſant walk; where, preparing to go on with her Story, ſhe is interrupted by the arrival of a ſtrange Knight, who is known by Tyridates to be Coriolanus Prince of Mauritania. He ignorantly reſcues Zenodorus from Britomarus, as he was ready to kill him: while the Knights fight, the Pyrate eſcapes. Tyridates interpoſes his perſwaſions invain. The arrival of Caeſario diſorders the Combat, and for a while makes it Tripartite. His Cask is ſtruck off by Britomarus, and Candace knows him. They are parted. Zenodorus returns with twenty Horſemen, who aſſail the Knights, while he carries away Candace. Britomarus ſaves Caeſario's life, who ſpurs away in purſuit of Zenodorus. The Pyrates men are all ſlain but three, by the prodigious valour of the Combatants. Candace is miſs'd by Tyridates, who ingages the reſt to joyn with him in purſuit of the Raviſher. Their ſearch proves vain, and they all return to Tyridates houſe.

IF the fair Queen walk'd late that day, it was not ſo much to be imputed to her wearineſs of the former, as to her cruel cares, that refus'd to be charm'd by ſleep till day was ready to break; the conſideration and complaint of her diſaſters, had almoſt ſwallowed the whole night, and that courage that had ſhewn it ſelf great in all the accidents of her life, could not ſometimes deny Homage to a grief too juſt to be condemn'd: The troubles of a Kingdom (either loſt or very ſtaggering) could not feed her griefs ſo high, but the continual fears for the loſs of that which her ſoul indulg'd, batter'd it with more violence.

Theſe juſt and cruel apprehenſions, not onely drew ſighs from her breaſt, but laments from her mouth, with a brook of tears from her fair eyes, which they let fall in ſuch abundance, as her pillow was wholly ſteep'd in the ſtream.

‘Good Gods! ſaid ſhe, What are the offences have provoked your impetuous rage againſt me? And what could a poor Maid commit worthy of ſo many marks of your protracted anger? Was it ſo great a crime for Candace to love the Son of Coeſar, that the loſs of one of the faireſt Crowns in the World, ſuch unparallel'd perſecutions of my ſex and condition, with ſo many dangerous hazards that I have run both of my life and honour, could no [...] expiate it; but I muſt ſtill be tortur'd with the remembrance of perils, to which you have expoſed that which is more dear to me than my ſelf? Alas! continued ſhe, 'tis too probable my dear Caeſar lives not; for, if Heaven did not ſend him particular aſſiſtance, he could not but be cruſhed with ſo many dangers (joyned with his ſorrow for my loſs) that my malicious fortune has thrown upon him: Ah! if it be ſo, juſt [Page] Heaven do not ſuffer the wretched Candace to ſurvive him one moment; ſnatch her no more out of the jawes of Neptune, nor the hands of her Enemies, by a reſcue a thouſand times more cruel than that death from which you have guarded her.’

The fair Queen had inlarged her complaints, if the Maid that lay with her, who had much influence upon her, had not turn'd their current by the ſweeteſt comforts ſhe was able to apply. Candace would hear her, both becauſe ſhe dearly loved her, and beſides, delighted to have her misfortunes flatter'd, and to ſtay her ſelf upon the hopes ſhe gave her of the recovery of her Empire, and the ſafety of Caeſario. And thus they waſted the greateſt part of the night, till, a little before the Birth of day, ſleep came to becalme her cares, and drew the Curtains of her bright eyes, which ſhe kept ſhut about four or five hours: At the end of which being awaked, and feeling no indiſpoſition that could perſwade her to lie ſtill, ſhe caus'd Clitie to riſe (that was the name of her Maid) and give her her Cloaths; a part of which when ſhe had put on, ſhe quitted her Bed, and in that eſtate took ſome turns in the Chamber; at laſt ſhe opened a window, whence the eye might freely ſpread its view over the adjoyning Sea, and the ſtately City of Alexandria.

The ſight of that City (heretofore the abode and legitimate inheritance of her dear Caeſario) awaken'd her Complaints, and after the Prologue of two or three ſighs, tying her eyes to thoſe proud Walls that Alexander built.

‘Deſolate Alexandria, ſaid ſhe, ſince thou haſt loſt thy faireſt Ornaments; ſince thy Anthony's, Cleopatra's and Ptolomee's, dwell no longer with thee, but in thy duſt: Pompous and triumphant as thou wert; thou doſt now languiſh under Tyrannick Yoke. Oh! that I could at leaſt repair part of thy loſſes, in reſtoring that to thee which thou gaveſt to me: Within thy boſom my young Caeſar firſt ſaw the light; to thee I owe the education of his tendereſt years; and of thee I received him, with all thoſe lovely graces that he brought among us: and now I am come without him to thy forſaken Walls, to expoſe my ſelf to the reproaches thou mayſt throw upon me, for having unjuſtly detain'd him from thee. But pardon me, my Beloved's native Soil, if I cannot reſtore what my ſelf hath loſt: He is pull'd from me by the cruelty of my deſtiny; and I bring thee as much of him as is poſſible, by offering thee a heart, where he hath as lively and perfect being as in that place he now inhabits. Ah! my eyes, ſaid ſhe, (wiping away ſome tears that had newly forced their paſſage) muſt every object give a freſh warning to your tears? Can you preſent nothing to my imagination, but what renews my diſquiets? Since you firſt became Fountains, you have been ſo laviſh of your ſtreams, as your ſpring might well be exhauſt; but you ſtill over-flow as much as when my miſeries firſt alarm'd you: Ah! could my dear Caeſar yet come and dry you up, I ſhould delightfully remember with what fidelity you have kept me company in my Diſgraces, and then how zealouſly ſhould I bleſs the moſt dangerous and ſad occaſions I have had, to witneſs of the height of affection? But alas! how incertain are thoſe hopes! how cruel the arms of our barbarous enemies! and then how dangerous are your inconſtant billows that rowle before mine eyes.’

She had enlarged her Plaints, and ſuffered theſe ſad conſiderations to waſte a great part of the day, had not Clitie interrupted her, telling her it was time to dreſs her, receive the Prince Tyridates, who could not fail to wait upon her ſo ſoon as ſhe could be in a condition to permit his viſit: Candace came to her ſelf at Clities ſolicitation, as one newly waked from a deep ſleep: And regarding her with a languiſhing eye; ‘I had abandon'd my ſelf, ſaid ſhe, to ſome melancholy thoughts, which the view of Alexandria had rouz'd within my Soul; and I aſſure my ſelf, thou canſt not (without ſome tenderneſs) caſt thy eye upon theſe places where my beloved Caeſario took his birth: See, ſaid ſhe (opening the window again) look upon this ſame City, where the lamentable Cleopatra delivered him to the World, where ſhe nouriſhed and brought him up to beſtow upon me: And ah! how gladly did I receive the rich Preſent of a perſon ſo Illuſtrious? how tenderly and dearly would I have preſerved him, whoſe abſence (and it may be utter loſs) I now regret with ſuch violent reſentments.’

The Queen would never have given over, ſtill finding freſh ſubjects to entertain her ſorrows, if Eteocles, advertiz'd by Clitie, had not entered the Chamber; yet ſhe would needs draw him to the window, to ſhew her (as well as the diſtance would permit him) all that might be diſcovered of the Palace where the Prince was born and nouriſh'd: with ſuch other places as he and the reſt of his royal Play-fellows (often mentioned to her by Eteocles, in the ſtory of his Maſters youth) had chiefly frequented in his greeneſt years. After the Queen had allowed ſome time to this pleaſing employment, ſhe made an end of dreſſing her, which when Tyridates underſtood, he came to bid her good morrow, and was met and receiv'd by her with an air full of ſweetneſs and Majeſty.

[Page] Tyridates, who was now grown acquainted with her name and condition, accoſted her with all the reſpect due to her Perſon and Dignity. ‘You ſee, ſaid the Queen, a perſon very ſloathful, yet not altogether inexcuſable, for having wearied out ſo many cruel nights and days without repoſe, I aſſure my ſelf you will not take it ill that I have now taſted it from your bounty.’ ‘Madam, would it pleaſe the Gods, ſaid Tyridates, that I had power to perform more than what this miſerable retreat can contribute, and you ſhould ſoon know, that the moſt difficult and dangerous occaſions to ſerve you, would always be delightful to ſuch as Fortune ſhall honour with the employment.’

‘Indeed I ought not to expect leſs generoſity, reply'd the Queen, from a Prince of the Arſacides; for, 'tis ſo natural, that you cannot want it, without belying your blood. 'Tis true, ſaid Tyridates, the houſe of Arſaces had a fair ſtock of vertuous reputation, before the inhumane Phraates diſhonoured it with his cruelties; but it is now the infamous ſhame of all Royal Families; Nor do I believe that any can paſs a more gentle thought upon it, without ſharing in the guilt that is faſtened to it.’ ‘The crime of Phraates, ſaid the Queen, cannot reach to you; the ſpots of his Cruelty are ſolely limited in himſelf, and cannot ſo much as dim the luſtre of your Vertue.’

That fair Queen had gone on, if the modeſty of Tyridates would have ſuffered it; but interrupting her diſcourſe, to change the ſubject, he demanded how ſhe had paſs'd that night. ‘Could my mind, ſaid Candace, have ſhar'd in the repoſe you have given my body, I ſhould ſay, By your means I have reſted well. But as the troubles of my ſoul have received no comfort, but from your Aſſiſtance, I think I may ſay, I have numbered the tedious hours of the night with more unquiet than your ſelf.’ ‘The Gods preſerve you, ſaid Tyridates, from ſuch racking pains as drag my days through eternal death; for, could your apprehenſion but reach them, you would doubtleſs give them another character.’ ‘I ſee well, ſaid the Queen, that Eteocles has not yet told you my Story, or has but related a few of the firſt events. 'Tis true, ſaid Tyridates, that I am yet but acquainted with the beginnings of it; for Eteocles has gone no further than the generous Combat that the Prince Caeſario had with young Britomarus. Then you have yet heard nothing of my life, ſaid the Queen; but when you ſhall once know it, you will confeſs that I have Miſeries enough to match yours, and ſome to ſpare, ſuch as your patience never traverſed. I am baniſh'd as well as you from my native Country, poſſibly diſpoyled of a moſt flouriſhing Empire; ſeparated, like you, from the Perſon I Love, whom I left expos'd to dangers far greater than ſuch as threaten Mariamne's life, ſuch as Heaven it ſelf cannot reſcue him from, without a wonder.’

‘Theſe Calamities, reply'd the afflicted Tyridates, are very conſiderable, eſpecially in the Perſon of ſo great a Queen as your ſelf. But your Majeſty may permit me to tell you, that I have ſome too cruel to be pattern'd among the worſt of yours. You are bereav'd of that happy Perſon whom you have judg'd worthy of your Affection; but the ſubjects of our loſſes are very remote in nature; I aſſure my ſelf, that the Prince you love, does ſupport the ſeparation at leaſt, with as much impatience as you; and the loſs of you makes him out-ſigh you for his abſence: beſides, your diſpleaſures have not ſtruck you in the moſt ſenſible part, ſince the blows you received, came only from the rude hand of Fortune, and not the will of him you love: But Gods! how different is my deſtiny; the only will of Mariamne creates all my Miſeries; it was that baniſhed me her preſence; and (which wounds me deepeſt) while I die for her, ſhe does not ſo much as dream of me. Would Heaven that every raving wave were my profeſſed Enemy! that all the Arms of the Empire bent their points at my happineſs! nay, that every thing in nature defied me, on condition Mariamne were for me, I would encounter all their traverſes with contempt, and either not feel them, or at leaſt with an invincible patience ſuſtain them; For as my Joys and Griefs are entirely dependent on her, ſo 'tis ſhe alone can make me Happy or miſerable: And from thoſe that ſpring from any other ſource, in me they will find but little ſenſibility.’ ‘I ſee your affection, ſaid the Queen, is truly worthy of your ſelf, and the object it aims at: But, if I miſtake not, your evils are not ſo great as you have Figur'd them, if they only depend on Mariamne's will; my thoughts tell me ſhe yet loves you, and had not the care of her reputation, with the ſevere rules of her Duty, laid too heavy in the other balance, ſhe would never have baniſh'd you her preſence, but rather beſtow'd ſome proofs of her acknowledgment upon you, which ſure ſhe could not bridle without much conſtraint: that laſt condeſcention ſhe granted in your favour, when ſhe ſuffer'd you to ſee her in the midſt of ſo many dangers that menac'd her, could not come from ſuch a perſon as Mariamne (who was never accuſed of levity or imprudence) without the conſent of affection, which was all the excuſe ſhe had for it: Nor do I believe her wholly exempt from that which your being divided makes you ſuffer for her ſake; [Page] and am confident ſhe paſſes not a day wherein ſhe calls you not into her memory.’ ‘Ah! Madam, cryed the amorous Tyridates, how agreeably you flatter me, and how neceſſary is the authority of ſuch a Perſon as your ſelf to perſwade that which appearance could never manifeſt: I am unworthy of the affection and remembrance of Mariamne, and the gods can witneſs, I never cheriſh'd a thought ſo arrogant to believe I deſerv'd them. Yet I cannot liſten to your diſcourſe without ſome comfort, repreſenting to my ſelf, that a Perſon ſo divine as you, cannot (like our common ſpirits) be capable of error.’

This diſcourſe had been enlarg'd, had it not been interrupted by thoſe that brought up the Queens dinner; Tyridates din'd with her, and ſo did Eteocles and Clitie, becauſe they would have it ſo; not being then either in place or condition to obſerve the regular method of all Ceremonies.

After dinner Tyridates told the Queen, that, though the place was Deſart and Savage, it afforded ſome unfrequented walks not unpleaſant, which gave her a deſire to take the air; when after her eyes had ſpent ſome time in turning over ſeveral objects at the window, ſhe went out of the Houſe, prop'd by the arm of Tyridates, and only follow'd by Eteocles and Clitie; they walked a while upon the Downs where their eyes had liberty to converſe with the ſucceſſive waves, and thoſe wondrous flowes and ebbs that had ſo puzled the ſcience of all Philoſophers: But the Queen beginning to be wearied by the Sand, Tyridates led her down to a very pleaſant Valley, ſemi-circled on the one ſide with divers points of a Rock cover'd with moſs, and on the other with a little wood, which joyning creſcentwiſe with the extremes of the Rock, left a green Meadow in the middle, beautified with divers Chryſtal Fountains.

This place agreed with the Queens inclination to ſolitude, and ſuiting her intention to be private, ſhe accepted that invitation to diſcourſe the reſt of her adventures to Tyridates, and ſpying a ſpace between two Rocks, cover'd with Moſs, and framed by Nature into a ſeat, ſo ſecretly contrived, as it concealed them from the ſight of any in the Meadow, though they might eaſily diſcern what paſt in any part of it; ſhe ſetled there, inviting Tyridates to ſit by her, while Clitie and Eteocles made choice of a place to lie down in, ſome five or ſix paces from their Miſtriſs.

After the fair Queen had been a while ſilent, ſhe looked upon Tyridates with a little bluſh, that with a glad ambition was newly climed into her cheeks: ‘If I give you the relation of my life, ſaid ſhe, I muſt be obliged to uncover ſome follies, which the preciſe rules of modeſty would keep conceal'd; but as it is not juſt, that I ſhould either ſerve my ſelf of your aſſiſtance, or demand your counſel in Affairs whereof you are ignorant, I ſhall freely give you the naked account of my life, with that Adventure that conducted me into this Country; and in fine, crave your advice about the fitteſt order to be obſerved for the compoſure of my affairs, and ſecurity of my Perſon.’ ‘I ſhall always be more able to ſerve you in Perſon than Counſel, reply'd Tyridates, being very incapable of directing a Perſon of ſo much Prudence as your ſelf; however I ſhall employ (ſince you ordain it ſo) all the judgment is left me, without expecting the trouble of this Relation from your Majeſty, which I may as well learn from the Mouth of Eteocles, and ſo eſcape a Soleciſm in Civility.’

Candace was about to reply, and had diſpos'd her ſelf to take up the Story where Eteocles let it fall: when they were interrupted by a noiſe of Horſes which trod very near, and gave warning to their eyes to look about them; which they had no ſooner done, but they ſpy'd two men on horſe-back coming out of the Wood into the Meadow; the chief of the two that appear'd the Maſter, quickly drew the regard both of the Queen and Tyridates, as well upon the the beauty of his Arms, as his graceful deportment on his Horſe; the ground of his Armour was black, but very richly gilt; ſet round with Rubies of great value, and in all the other places moſt remarkable, the plates of ſteel that were below his Taſes, reach'd to his Knee, and thoſe upon his Arm to his Elbow, which were of the ſame materials and workmanſhip; his Horſe was black, with ſome white ſpots upon him, but then all white with his own froath, which his pride and courage had newly dreſs'd him in: his Squire carried the Shield of the ſame materials with the reſt of his Arms; on which he bare a Crocodile, with a Motto under it of the Roman Tongue.

In this equipage, leaping a little Hay, he entred the Meadow, with intent to let his Horſes feed there, while himſelf took ſome repoſe; and allighting from his Horſe, his approach gave Tyridates and the Queen a more perfect deſcription of the beauty of his ſhape, which appear'd with an admirable proportion; all his geſtures, and every action ſo becoming as it faſtned their eyes upon him with a moſt ſerious regard; but their ſatisfaction was much improv'd, when (the better to refreſh himſelf) he took off his Caſque and gave it to his Squire, lending them a ſight of his unarmed Head and diſcovered Face, which [Page] made them confeſs, they had never ſeen one better ſhaped among all the perſons of his Sex; all the lines of it ſo evenly regular, as it was too hard for the skilfulleſt deſire to mend any thing about it; his complexion was ſomething brown, his eyes black, but full of ſuch a ſparkling vivacity, as it required a ſteady eye to behold them without ſhrinking at the luſtre; his hair of the ſame colour, being very long, and curling naturally, fell in large annulets upon his ſhoulders; In fine, his whole compoſure carried ſo compleat a Symmetry, as it would have pos'd Envy's ſelf to have found fault.

This Stranger (ſuch, and much better than my words have copyed him) after he had ſet his Horſe at liberty, ſought a place to lie down on, and diſcharge ſome wearineſs he had lately contracted in a long voyage; and to favour their curioſity, Fortune led him to the choice of a place very near the corner of their Rock, which though it hid him from their eyes, yet it could not hinder their over-hearing the diſcourſe betwixt him and his Squire; who, after he had taken care of the Horſes, laying his Shield, Caſque and two Javelins in readineſs, came and laid down at his feet, and deſired him, if it were poſſible, to releaſe his griefs to an hour of reſt: ‘For Sir, ſaid he, I think no ſorce, no health but yours, could have ſtood the rude ſhock of ſuch violent pains as you have ſuffered; nor can you long reſiſt it, if you perſevere in this cruel manner of tormenting your ſelf.’

The Maſter, fetching two or three deep ſighs (as Prologue to his Anſwer) ‘Ceaſe dear Emilius, ſaid he, to trouble thy ſelf for a life which is not worth the pains thou tak'ſt about it, and which I cannot regard but as my deadlieſt Enemy: I loved it once, when it was near to Cleopatra, but now ſhe has refuſed an intereſt in it, I abandon it to deſpair as well as ſhe. But my Lord, reply'd the faithfull Squire, To what then ſerves that undaunted Courage, which (ſurmounting the growth of your unripe years) hath carried you to ſuch a height of Reputation? To what your ſtudy in Philoſophy, which you beſtowed ſome of your budding age upon, with ſuch a rare ſucceſs? My courage and Philoſophy, ſaid he, indeed have helped me to ſupport that with ſome moderation, which poſſibly without their ſuccour would have forced the effects of ſury and tranſport, as well as thoſe of folly; that in all likelihood Report has carried to the limits of the Roman Empire: But they cannot cure a diſeaſe of this nature, without ſtripping my Soul of that Senſitive faculty, of which her ſelf is in part compos'd; The advantages I I have gain'd above others that wanted my education, do diſſwade me from repining againſt the Gods, from diſpairing of their goodneſs, and holds my hands from falling foul upon ſubjects of Innocence, upon which the tempeſts of my grief (without their aſſiſtance) might poſſibly throw me; but they cannot hinder me from ſighing, lamenting, and proving my ſelf a Man, by afflicting my ſelf with cauſes of affliction; as I was formerly abus'd into an opinion of happineſs by an impoſture of proſperity; and would'ſt thou call to mind in what manner I reſiſted affronts conſiderable enough, when they ſprang from other cauſes than the will of my ungrateful Princeſs, thou wilt remember that neither Courage nor Moderation failed me. What I ſuffered by the cunning malice of Tyberius, the Tyrannick authority of Auguſtus, with many other croſsblows that thou knoweſt of, I felt my ſelf able to ſuſtain, and poſſibly I ſhould not have ſhrunk under any weight, that had only power to bow an ordinary ſpirit; but after explication of the ingrateful and pitileſs intentions of Cleopatra, 'tis not enough to complain; 'tis fit I die, Emilius, nor can either Courage or Philoſophy urge a juſt diverſion from ſuch a purpoſe.’

He uttered theſe words with a tone ſo paſſionately heightned, as it drew pity from his concealed Auditors, and Prince Tyridates was about to tell the Queen a conjecture of his, when they o're-heard him go on in his complaint. ‘Forget, Inhumane Princeſs, ſaid he, were ſo many ſervices, ſo many proofs of affection no more than to be inſenſibly driven from your memory? Have I deſerved to be thus uſed for an inviolable fidelity? and think you this does not ſtain the blood of Antony and Cleopatra, to ſacrifice an innocent life to deſpair, which without the leaſt reſervation was eſpouſed to your ſervice? Juſt Gods! Gods whom I have ſo oft invoked, and of whom I have received ſo many favourable aſſiſtances, if your anger be ſtill decreed to perſecute the miſerable Reliques of our Houſe, which you have ſuffered to fall under the Roman Arms; turn all the points of it againſt me only, but do not puniſh me, becauſe I Love, with ſuch pains as ſhould only be reſerv'd for the guilty: If Cleopatra provokes your indignation by her ingratitude to me, Conſider ſhe is the Maſter-peece of your hands, and that however my Conſcience avows me innocent, yet ſure I am not ſo, her ſpirit is incapable of Errour, and I by the weakneſs of ſome action, have ſurely plotted my own diſgrace: If it be ſo; as I owe that belief to her judgment; my life, my actions, my thoughts, I diſavow you all, if you have any other aims than the Love, Service, and Glory of Cleopatra: The Gods all know I [Page] never owned any ſuch, and if you ſlily crept into my breſt, it was in ſuch diſguiſe as I diſcerned you not from thoſe ſhe might ſafely approve.’

The Stranger would have ſtretched his complaints further, if his Squire, who began to be weary of that kind of life, had not thus ſtop'd him: ‘My Lord, ſaid he, I beſeech you be not ſo laviſh to your griefs, as to give away the power of reflecting both on what you are, and what you ought to be; 'tis true, your misfortune is great, but yet not deperate: and, as I believe, this change in the Princeſs proceeds from ſome impreſſion has been given from you: ſo I hope (the truth once diſcovered) to ſee you reſtor'd to the ſame eſtate in her favour. I am more than confident this miſchief was plotted by the artifice of Tiberius; for that peeviſh man will omit no occaſion to deprive you of what he pretends to ſo unworthily. But the Princeſs Cleopatra's ſpirit cannot be ſo poſſeſs'd, but time will open her eyes upon your innocence: Beſides, the friendſhip of Agrippa and Marcellus will be active in your behalf; and methinks Fortune begins to intend you ſome kindneſs, by conducting Cleopatra hither, who, you know is ſhortly expected at Alexandria with the Emperor and Empreſs Livia, whom ſhe always attends: all things conſpire more aſſiſtance to your Deſigns here, than at Rome, eſpecially the place of your reſidence being unknown, and probably 'tis doubted in the Emperors Court, whether you be ſtill living.’ ‘They have reaſon to doubt it, ſaid the Maſter, and had I liſtned to the rational motions of my grief, thy fidelity had miſſed this daily trouble of urging fruitleſs conſolations. Indeed, I am glad at the coming of Auguſtus to Alexandria: but 'tis leſs out of hope to ſee Cleopatra, before I ſhall dare to appear in her preſence, than for the revenge I intend upon Tyberius: I know that diſloyal man thinks his ſubtleties have deſtroyed me; but he ſhall find, I am ſtill living to give him death in the very Arms of the Emperor and Empreſs his Mother, that ſupport him ſo unjuſtly againſt me. This is rather the deſign of my ſtay upon this Coaſt, than to juſtifie my ſelf before my Judge that ſovereignly condemns me, and poſſibly this ſole intent preſerv'd my deplorable life, that elſe ſhould have been ſacrificed to my juſt reſentments.’

The Stranger thus ending his Diſcourſe, gave occaſion to his over-hearers to communicate their thoughts. Candace had oft heard the name of Cleopatra pronounced with ſuch intereſt, whom ſhe could take for no other than the Siſter of her dear Caeſario. But Eteocles, who ever kept the blood of his dead Miſtris in ſacred veneration, could not hear the name of that Royal Maid without appearing tranſported. Tyridates read both their troubles in their looks; and not ignorant of the cauſe: ‘I do not wonder, ſaid he, to ſee you amazed at this encounter, for my own ſurpriſal is little leſs than yours; but I think I am able to give you ſome light in this miſt: for, if I be not deceiv'd, this Stranger, whom we have alſo juſtly admir'd, is the Valiant Prince of Mauritania, Son to the great King Juba, who with Cato and Scipio was vanquiſhed in Affrica by Julius Caeſar: His Love to the Princeſs Cleopatra made it ſelf known to all Rome by the marvellous effects it produced; and there was ſcarce a perſon that was ignorant of his quarrel with Tyberius, link'd with divers other events that deſerv'd remembrance. During my ſtay at Rome, he was abſent; but if the general opinion might be credited, ſhe could not boaſt a braver man, nor one whoſe valour was more advantageouſly accompanied, with ſuch other qualities as render an accompliſhed Prince:’ ‘I muſt not let him go, ſaid Etcocles, before I ſee and know him better, and demand ſome news of that Princeſs whom I have carryed a thouſand times in my Arms, whoſe Birth, Perſon, and Name are ſo ſacred unto me:’ ‘And indeed, ſaid Candace, though my concealment be requiſite, I cannot but wiſh to ſee him that loves my Caeſars Siſter ſo paſſionately; the praiſes you have given him, with what I have diſcern'd in his looks, have gain'd him much of my eſteem, and made me already intereſt my ſelf in his Fortune.’ ‘Madam, ſaid Tyridates, I am glad to hear you ſay ſo; if you think fit, we will ſhew our ſelves to him; and with your permiſſion, I will offer him that poor retreat you did not ſcorn to accept; there we ſhall have leiſure to know him, and learn, whether I gueſs'd right at his name and quality.’

To this the Queen gave an eaſie conſent, and they were riſing to ſalute him, when a great noiſe of claſhing of Arms, and loud voices, that ſent it ſelf to their ears, from a neighbouring Valley prevented them. This retir'd the Stranger from his profound thoughts, and unwilling to hazard a ſurprizal in that eſtate, he ſuddenly ſnatched up his Caſque, and commanded his Squire to Bridle his Horſe, which done, he was no ſooner leap'd into the Saddle, when he ſaw two men on horſe-back coming towards him in their full ſpeed from the Valley, in a different eſtate and poſture. The firſt (having no other Arms but his Sword) fled before the other arm'd at all points, who with his Sword in his hand purſu'd him with loud threatnings, and wanted but little of overtaking. The Arms of the hindmoſt were of a brown complexion, and (as if Art had ſtudied diſorder) confuſedly filleted [Page] with Gold and Silver; his Coat of Mail was ſuitable to his Curiaſs; upon his Caſque he bare a Lyon, with a long Horſe-taile in his paw, that fell backward from his head upon his ſhoulders. The ſame Beaſt was pourtrayed on his Sheild, with a Motto under him, that could not be read at that diſtance.

The Garb of this Warrior was not ſo proud and fierce, but the other was as poor and timorous; the fear of death, that hung out its pale badge upon his Viſage, would let him expreſs no anger, but to his Horſe, which he ſpur'd moſt furiouſly; and as he turn'd his eyes round, as if he hunted for hope of ſuccour, he ſpyed Cleopatra's Lover, whom he ſaw in a condition to deſend him from his Enemies rage; and ſpurring up to him, with his hands ſtretched out in a ſuppliant poſture: ‘O ſave me Sir, cryed he, from this cruel man that has taken this advantage to Murder me!’ He had no time to enlarge his entreaties, nor was it neceſſary to a man in whom the ſentiments of vertue had too deep an impreſſion, to fly any opportunity that might ſet his courage a work to relieve the oppreſſed. He returned him no other anſwer than a preparation to give what he demanded: And to that end, putting himſelf between him and his purſuer, and firſt deſirous gently to try the force of perſwaſion; he cryed out to him aſar off, to moderate the violence of his paſſion, and prayed him to conſider the glory he was like to purchaſe, for a man armed as he was, to ſet upon a perſon that had ſo little to defend himſelf.

The Stranger, whom a moſt violent choler and animoſity againſt the fugitive had wound up to a haughty fierceneſs, could not ſee the way to his revenge block'd up, without converting his fury upon him that deny'd it paſſage, and inſtead of a reply, he advanc'd his Sword in the air, and flew upon him like a Lyon: ‘Thy life, ſaid he, ſhall pay the forfeit of this Traytors, which thou rob'ſt my juſt indignation of.’ With theſe words came ſo weighty a blow, as his Enemy having ſcarce time to ward it with his Shield, was half aſtoniſhed: but he, deſirous to make uſe of that diſorder, (Revenge over-powring Glory) would have quitted the Combat to continue the purſuit: But Cleopatra's Servant ſuddenly recovering himſelf, catched hold on the rein of his bridle as he was paſſing by, and gave ſo rude a tug to the tender mouth'd horſe, as made him riſe ſo high before, that he wanted but little to overthrow himſelf backward upon his Maſter; but he ſlacking his hand, with a ſharp remembrance of the Spur, pricked him forward; yet not ſo ſoon but his fugitive was already got out of ſight, and (that he might leave no certain tract to his follower) had betook himſelf to the Covert of an adjacent wood. But when he ſaw his hopes of overtaking him were fled with him, he turn'd his anger afreſh upon his new enemy; and beholding him with eyes that darted flames of rage: ‘Thou canſt not, ſaid he, but be baſe and perfidious, ſince thou favour'ſt thoſe that are ſo; but thy death ſhall repair the diſpleaſure thou haſt done me.’ ‘Take heed, ſaid the other, and defend thy own life carefully; for, believe it, thou wilt have more need of all thy force againſt me, than him whom thou wouldſt have kill'd at ſuch an advantage.’

The two brave Combatants, valiant as any that ever got a name in Arms, follow'd theſe words with ſuch weighty blows, as he that firſt enter'd the liſts, with an unwilling complement, was forc'd to bow his head to the Sadles pomel, and the other to touch the Crouper of his Horſe. But recovering freſh force and fury, each finding the valour of his enemy, and expecting by the firſt blows what was like to follow, quitted the thoughts of an eaſie Victory, and wak'd all the dexterous force that nature and exerciſe had given them, to find advantages. The Prince of Mauritania (for Tyridates was not miſtaken) at firſt was leſs angry than his enemy: but when he ſaw his Arms dyed in his own blood, he ruſhed upon his Foe with ſuch an unbridled, yet skilful fury, as would quickly have given him the Victory, had he not diſputed with a courage ſo invincible, as the World could not boaſt a braver.

The proofs they had given for their mutual valour, were ſoon become the wonder of their Spectators. And while Candace was wrapt in a deep amazement at the ſight; Tyridates and Eteocles quitted their places, and advanced into the Meadow, with an intent, (if it were poſſible) to part them: an undertaking ſomething difficult, they being both on foot, and only armed with Swords: Tyridates therefore judging the gentler way the beſt, and approaching ſomething near them: ‘Gallant men, cryed he, will you kill one another without a Subject for a quarrel? might you not better reſerve your valour to employ againſt your Enemies whom you have cauſe to hate?’ The Knights were ſo edaf to diſſwaſion, as all the anſwer they return'd was a hot continuance of the Combat, each ſo vehemently ſpurring up his horſe to gain the crouper of his enemies; that Tyridates, fearing to be troden under foot was conſtrain'd to retire a little and become a quiet Spectator, [Page] ſince he could not be an Arbiter, attending the event of that furious Combat, not without much fear it would prove too bloody.

It was yet fought on both ſides with ſuch an evenneſs of fortune and courage, as no judgment could allow either the leaſt advantage; when the appearance of a third that came galloping up to the Combatants, gave Tyridates ſome hopes of aſſiſtance in his deſign to part them: The Arms of this laſt commer were very richly embroidered with gold, and artificially engraven with the Roman Eagles; Upon his Shield was painted that Royal-Bird turning her undazl'd eyes upon a Sun in its glory; and upon his Cask ſhe erected her two heads, and expanded her wings, as ſhe is repreſented in the Arms of the Empire.

The arrival of this new Cavalier, not more conſiderable for the gallantry of his Armour, than the bravery of his Garb and Poſture, made Candace and Tyridates (wholly fixed as they were upon the former ſpectacle) to take off their regards, and beſtow them upon him: but he allow'd them but little time to obſerve; for he no ſooner caſt his eyes upon him of the two that bore the Lyon in his Cask and Shield, but he clapp'd down the Viſor of his Beaver, then half up, and approaching the Prince of Mauritania. ‘Valiant Sir, ſaid he, I conjure you, by the remembrance of what you love deareſt, to quit your place unto me, and permit me to continue a Combat with your Enemy, which I began before yours, and is poſſibly of greater importance.’

The Prince turning his eye upon him that entreated ſo ſtrange a courteſie, lik'd him ſo well at the firſt ſight, as he ſhould not have ſtayed his conſent, had he not been exceedingly provok'd by a reſiſtance, which he was not accuſtomed to find among other Enemies; nevertheleſs he was about to reply, when he was prevented by the other, who having heard the requeſt of the laſt commer, at the firſt glance knew and received him with a joyful clamour; ‘Come, come, ſaid he aloud, and joyn your Forces together, I do not fear to fight you both, nor doubt the Victory, though your number were greater.’ This ſaid, he flew from his firſt Antagoniſt, and ruſhing in with his Horſe upon the other, gave him a rude ſhock with a blow upon the head that made him reel in the Stirrops; but the other Stranger was not long in his debt, for having his Sword ready in his hand, he diſcharg'd it with ſuch a puiſſance upon him, that the blow carried away part of his Shield, and ſo benummed the hand that held it, as it forced him to let fall his reins, and his Horſe feeling himſelf at liberty, ſtarted away, and ſo ſaved his Maſter from the ſecond blow: But he quickly recovered his Bridle, and being much aſhamed of the accident, he bravely turnned head to both his enemies, that approached him with equal ſury: A while he doubted upon which to beſtow his firſt blows; but having little time to conſider, he addreſt himſelf to the Mooriſh Prince, and witneſſing with his hand, that he had ſomething to ſay: ‘I do not doubt, cryed he, but I have courage and force enough to diſpute the Victory againſt both: But if thou doſt value the requeſt of an Enemy, ſtand by a while, and give thy ſelf the pleaſure of ſeeing us decide a quarrel of greater importance than what is betwixt us two, and I promiſe that immediately after my Victory, we will end our difference.’

‘I fear, ſaid he, he will not leave thee in a condition to give me ſuch reſiſtance as my honour can accept; for methinks his forces are ſo little inferior to thine, as I cannot hope the ſucceſs of this Combat will tend to thy advantage; finiſh firſt then what thou haſt begun with me, and if fortune decrees that thou ſcapeſt my hands, thou ſhalt have leiſure enough to debate thy firſt quarrel:’ Theſe laſt words of the Prince were not ſo much as heard by the Enemy, who ſtaying for no anſwer, had eagerly renewed his Combat with the Knight of the wings, and was received by him with as much bravery as he brought: The valiant Moor angry to be ſo ſlighted, ran up to him with his Sword in a poſture to expreſs it; but ſeeing him engaged with the other, and aſhamed to aſſail him at ſuch an advantage, he held his Sword advanced in the air, as yet uncertain how to diſpoſe of it; very unwilling he was to give over the Combat, and as loath to wound his credit by ſtriking one that was ſo hotly match'd by another as valiant as himſelf: but during his irreſolution, the two Cavaliers charg'd one another ſtill with ſuch mighty blows, as made their lives indebted to the goodneſs of their Armour; nor could that longer hinder their Swords from cutting paſſages for the blood in divers parts of their bodies, the ſight of which rather animated then enſeebled them, urging each to crave his revenge upon the other, with ſuch height of fury, as there was never ſeen a Combat between two Men ſo terrible; their blood had in divers places dyed the Earth in its own complexion, when after many cruel blows that came too thick to be counted, at laſt there fell two together with ſo huge a force, as they wanted both but little of kiſſing the duſt, [Page] but they reeled a long time upon their Saddles; before they could recover their Stirrops, the Knight of the Lyons broke his Sword upon the Caſque of his Enemy, but with the blow cutting the laces (that faſtned it) aſunder, it threw the Roman Eagles to the ground, and left the head of its Maſter naked and diſarm'd; which diſcover'd to the lookers on, one of the handſomeſt and moſt Majeſtick faces that ever credited Natures workmanſhip: at the firſt glance Candace and Eteocles knew it, and advancing towards him with a tranſport of joy, Ah my Prince, cryed they at once, ah! Cleomedon, Caeſars Son; and indeed it was Caeſario, whom the heat of the fight had deafn'd to their cries; for covering his head with his Shield, with his Sword ready to cut out work for the Chirurgion, he re-advanced towards his oppoſite that attended him with an equal reſolution: but the Prince of Mauritania, who had lent attention to the words, and regard to the Viſage of Candace, was willing to do homage to the Empire of beauty in a deſire to oblige her: and ſeeing the Combatants in a very deſperate condition, threw himſelf between to part them, beleiving Caeſario, with whom he had no quarrel, would not ſtrike him, and the others truncheon he did not fear.

Tyridates and Eteocles joyning with him, at the ſame time laid hold of their Bridles, and by that means hindred the Progreſs of the Combat, which they fretted at with exceſſive choler: Caeſario's appear'd in flaſhes at his eyes, and bluſhes in his face, but at laſt lending an ear to the words, and an eye to the faces of Eteocles (who held his bridle) and Candace that ſtood by ſtill crying out, Cleomedon, Cleomedon, immediately he knew them both, and with a Joy that broke out into loud Accents, ſeeing his Enemy held by the Mauritanian and Parthian Princes, he forgot all thoughts of Enmity, and was flying into the Arms of his Princeſs; when they all took a freſh Allarm, from fifteen or twenty Horſe-men, that with their Swords in their hands, came up towards them upon the Spur, conducted by the ſame man that fled from the Knight of the Lyons, and at him only they all ſeem'd to bend their unmanly out-rage: but the two others (then quitting, or at leaſt ſuſpending all animoſity) of Enemies were quickly become parties; which known, without ballancing the baſeneſs of the act, they pour'd themſelves upon them all; but the firſt that aborded them, carryed away incurable marks of their treachery: for they coap'd with ſuch Enemies as were incapable of being diſmay'd at ſuch a number. The Prince of Mauritania, who was the freſheſt of the three, ſent the firſt he met without a head to the ground, and cut off the arm of the ſecond, juſt as it was advanc'd in the air to ſtrike him. Theſe two firſt blows gave Caeſario time to put on his Caſque, which Eteocles had given him, and the Knight of the Lyons leiſure to recover a Sword inſtead of his own that was broken. Which done, they both bravely joyned with the valiant Moor, and help'd him to diſtribute death among their Enemies: the firſt that fell under the ſword of Caeſars ſon, had his head cloven in two pieces; and he that died on the other hand, was run through the body, his point finding a way through the weakneſs of his Curiaſs, to tumble his Soul from the principal ſeat of life. Theſe were no ſooner fallen, but Tyridates, covering his head with one of their Caſques, and ſnatching up a Shield, leap'd upon a Horſe, which a new blow from the gallant Moor had made Maſterleſs, and came and joyned his aſſiſtance, like a conſiderable reſerve to the reſt.

Eteocles, with the Prince of Mauritania's Squire, follow'd his example, onely the Queen and her Maid remained Spectators of the Combat: and indeed it was almoſt a prodigy to ſee Men ſo wearied and wounded in a former fight, with effects beyond humane puiſſance, in ſo few moments to reduce ſuch a number of their Enemies to deſpair of Victory. Tyridates, though but half arm'd, quickly tumbl'd two at his feet, and Eteocles couragiouſly cut his paſſage through the preſs, and joyn'd himſelf with the Prince his Maſter. But while theſe four gallant Warriors, ſtung with brave emulation, like ſo many new Mars's diſplay'd their invincible Valour, the Captain of their enemies, whom fear of Death had rang'd in the rear, coutenting himſelf to animate with words, but not daring to give the encouragement of a perſonal example, chanced to caſt his eyes upon the Queen of Aethiopia, who was ſeeing Heaven with her ſilver tears to reſcue her Caeſar from the perils that menac'd him: he no ſooner ſaw, but knew her, and and breaking into an out-cry, ‘Oh you Gods! ſaid he, and do you then reſtore me my Fugitive, that was wreſted from my hands with ſo great a danger of my life?’ When preſently, commanding one of his men that was neareſt to follow him, he ran to her, juſt as ſhe was thinking (for ſhe had ſpyed him) to hide her ſelf behind the Rock: but ſhe made not haſte enough to prevent that barbarous Villain, who rudely ſeizing upon her, and, by the help of his companion, having ſet her up before him upon the Pomel of his Saddle, he carried her away in ſpight of all the reſiſtance and ſtruggling ſhe could make for eſcape: his companion [Page] would have had no pleaſant task to force Clitie to the ſame poſture, if her reſolution to follow the Fortune of her Miſtris, diſcarding the conſideration of her own, had not made her his eaſie prey: But Gods! What ſury ſhot it ſelf into the Soul of Caeſario? when hearing the out-cries of his Queen, and his ear directing his eye, he ſpy'd her in the Arms of her cruel Raviſher, who had borrowed all the wings that haſte could lend, to get ground of his ſuſpected purſuers; the whole ſtreugth of his Enemies were now grown feeble to arreſt him; for having thrown down one that oppos'd his paſſage, with a blow that clove him to the breaſt, he darted himſelf among the reſt, with ſuch an irreſiſtible vigour as he ſoon clear'd the way to his purſuit, when (by a freſh piece of Fortunes malice) his Horſe, no longer able to endure the many wounds he had receiv'd, fell dead under him, and ſo ſuddenly, as falling with his Maſters feet engag'd in the Stirrops, he expos'd him to the mercy of his Enemies; two of which ſpying the caſual advantages, were coming to kill him, which they had eaſily effected, if the Knight of the Lyons (a while before his eager Enemy, reſigning hatred to a fitter ſeaſon) had not flown to his defence, and with two blows laid both his Enemies at his feet, the one dead, the other with a deep wound: and taking one of their Horſes by the Reins, juſt as Eteocles had thrown himſelf down to diſ-engage the Prince from his, ‘Riſe Cleomedon, ſaid he, and receive this aſſiſtance from thy greateſt Enemy, but ſuch an enemy as is unwilling to owe any thing to thy generoſity.’

The Son of Caeſar at another time would not have taken this ſuccour from his declared Foe: without ſtriving to reſtore the benefit, or at leaſt tendering an ample expreſſion of his reſentment, but at that moment the loſs of his Queen (who to his eye had appear'd and diſappear'd like lightning) wholly ſeiz'd him, and would ſcarce ſuffer him to make a fit reflection upon the generous act of this gallant Enemy; onely in taking the Horſe from his hands, and leaping upon him with more agility than his wounds could well allow of; ‘I know not ſaid he, how to underſtand thee, who in declaring thy ſelf my Enemy, haſt rendered me the office of an intimate friend: but I proteſt, that as much my Enemy as thou art, I will ever be ready to pay thee back this life which thou haſt ſo bravely aſſail'd, and ſo generouſly defended: Finiſhing theſe words, and leaping into the Saddle, having now no Enemies capable to ſtay him, he haſted after the Raviſher with all the ſpeed imaginable.’

Eteocles, whoſe memory harbour'd nothing ſo carefully as his Princes Intereſt, after his example ſuddenly re-mounted himſelf, and obſerving the way he took, followed ſo ſwiftly, as in a ſhort time he recover'd him.

In the mean time the Prince of Mauritania and Tyridates had handled the reſt of their enemies ſo roughly, as they were reduced to a deſpair of Victory; and when he that ſo valiantly reſcued Caeſario, was again joyn'd with them, they made ſuch havock among thoſe that remain'd, as after the death of all their Companions, three that were onely leſt, were conſtrain'd to truſt their ſafety to their heels; the gallant Warriors diſdaining to purſue them, fell to a mutual admiration of each others Valour, and the brave Unknown, addreſſing himſelf to the Prince of Mauritania; ‘At firſt, ſaid he, you did me a diſpleaſure that made me your enemy, in hindering the execution of a revenge ſo juſt, as, had you known the cauſe, you would doubtleſs have favoured what you prevented: but you have ſince ſo nobly aſſiſted me againſt enemies, who I think only level'd their malice at me, as the memory of that overpowers my reſentments; and joyning with my wonder at your Valour, devotes me to the ſearch of occaſions, that may make me worthy to become your Friend.’

‘I am ſorry, replyed the valiant Moor, for the diſpleaſure I have given you; judging by what I have ſince ſeen you do, and by the late baſe actions of your Enemy, that he was worthy of the puniſhment you deſigned him; but (as the truth was maſqu'd) I could not refuſe a protection which I thought was due to the weaker party. I deem it no mean happineſs to have effected your reſentments by ſo poor a piece of ſervice; and after the experiment of your Valour, I cannot without much joy receive the profer of your amity.’

This ſaid, they ſhook hands, and lifted up the viſors of their Helmets. If the Stranger was raviſh'd with the beauty and Majeſtick air of the Moor, the two Princes were not leſs ſurpriz'd at his high and Heroick Mind, both believing, not without much reaſon, that they never beheld any that ſurpaſt it; thus they gaz'd one at another, their admiration taking a pretty diſtant precedency of their words: but the Prince of Mauritania firſt breaking ſilence, & turning toward Tyridates, who was dividing his aſtoniſhment betwixt them; ‘[Page] It is to you valiant man, ſaid he, we have the moſt conſiderable obligation; to your valour and generous reſolution we owe the wonder, ſince naked as you are, you have brav'd a danger capable to diſmay men moſt ſecurely armed, rendring a gallant ſuccour to unknown perſons.’ To theſe words the brave Stranger added others that imported the ſame ſenſe, which Tyridates modeſtly receiving, ‘I have done nothing, ſaid he, but what the incitement might juſtly challenge; and the little help I was able to contribute, ſhew'd ſo poor and worthleſs in the preſence of your grand actions, as it merits no remembrance.’

In uttering theſe words he obſerved their Arms cover'd with blood, eſpecially the ſtrangers, who had loſt very much in his Combat with Caeſario, and not willing to dally in ſuch a condition: ‘I ſee, ſaid he, your wounds expreſs the neceſſity of a ſudden aſſiſtance, which I am preſently able to give, if you refuſe not the offer of a poor lodging about a hundred paces hence, where your wounds ſhall be ſearched, and your ſelves ſerv'd with much affection: but where is Cleomedon, continued he, looking round for Caeſario.’ ‘Sir, he is gone, ſaid the Prince of Mauritania's Squire, (who being leſs eager than the reſt, had better diſcern'd what paſt concerning the Combat) in purſuit of thoſe Raviſhers that carried away two Ladies, that ſtood and looked on while we were fighting. How, cry'd Tyridates, are the Ladies carried away, that were with me when you arrived? Yea my Lord; reply'd Emilius, they were ſeized on by the chief of thoſe men whom you ſo lately defeated.’ ‘Oh Gods! ſaid Tyridates, what an unvaluable loſs is this if it be not ſpeedily recover'd? how paſſionately could I wiſh theſe valiant Men in a better condition, that they were able to endeavour the reſcue of one of the moſt conſiderable Perſons upon Earth! Let us go, ſaid the Prince of Mauritania, our wounds ought not to diſpenſe with the ſuccour of a Perſon of ſo much importance.’ ‘Indeed, ſaid Tyridates, your obligation is particular, and poſſibly I know you better than you imagine: but am loath to expoſe you in this eſtate to any freſh peril, eſpecially that gallant man, pointing to the unknown, whoſe wounds are deeper and more dangerous than yours.’

‘'Tis true, ſaid the Stranger, my hurts are great: but they ſhall give me leave to go to the Sea-ſide, which is the only courſe you can take in this deſign; for the Pirat Zenodorus (who was he that I purſu'd, and doubtleſs the ſame that bore away the Perſon whoſe loſs you regret) has carried away the Prey to his Veſſels, that rid near the Shoar, and only there we ought to ſeek it.’

This ſaid, he put Spurs to his Horſe, and led the way (though not without much pain) towards that ſide of the Coaſt where he had ſeen Zenodorus his Veſſels; the Princes eagerly followed, and (being in much the better eſtate, quickly left him behind) ſpeeding their courſe to that part of the ſhoar which he pointed at: but all alaſs in vain, for finding no Veſſel in the Road, and coaſting a while upon the ſand without any diſcovery, at laſt they ſpy'd two Ships a far off with full Sails making off to Sea, which they preſently judg'd to be the ſame they ſought for: the brave unknown, who was as much intereſs'd as Tyridates, and poſſibly not much leſs than Caeſario in purſuit of the Pirat, fetching two or three deep ſighs, and caſting a ſad look upon the Prince of Mauritania, ‘Oh, ſaid he, how ſhould I hate you, if the ſuccour you have given me, with the knowledge of your vertue could leave a poſſibility for the Paſſion.’ ‘Gods! purſu'd he, Oh you Gods! what a loſs do I ſuſtain by this fatal Combat? what have I loſt in a condition, that diſables me to give my ſelf the leaſt hope of recovery.’

At theſe words he had let himſelf fall from his Horſe with weakneſs, if Tyridates had not haſted to ſuſtain him: and the Mauritanian did as much on the other ſide, proteſting his ſorrow for the injury his ignorance had done him, and the ſhare he had took in his fortune. During his diſcourſe, Tyridates conſidering that a longer ſearch would but vainly ſtrengthen their deſpair of finding, began to lead them the way to his own houſe, always keeping near the Stranger, whoſe loſs of blood, and depth of wounds had ſo enfeebled him, as he was ſcarce able to keep his Saddle: but they ſoon reach't the Houſe, where the Servants of Tyridates tendered the ſame offices to the Strangers that were due to the Perſon of their Prince: they were laid in ſeveral Chambers, (the houſe being ſpacious enough to to afford commodious lodging, and their wounds viſited, which were not found very dangerous, eſpecially the Prince of Mauritania's, who had only received a hurt on his left Arm, and another ſlight one on his ſide; the Strangers were greater both in number and condition: but the Chirurgion (who was an officer to Tyridates, and an expert Maſter of his Art) promis'd an infallible cure to both.

[Page] The Stranger took but little comfort from this promiſe, and appear'd ſo ſenſibly afflicted, as the fears of thoſe that ſerv'd him began to augurate worſe ſucceſs from his ſadneſs than his wounds. He was no ſooner laid, but there entered into his Chamber a young man whom he preſently knew to be his Squire; who having ſpent a part of that day in his ſearch, had at laſt addreſt his inquiry to that houſe, where he underſtood what was happened.

At the ſight of his Squire the Maſter expreſſed ſome ſigns of comfort, and having call'd him to his Beds-ſide, he entreated the reſt to leave him to his repoſe. Tyridates had received two ſlight wounds, one on his right hand, and the other on his head: but they were too inconſiderable to confine him to his Bed, and having caus'd ſome remedies to be applyed, he ſpent his principal care upon the ſervice of his gueſts, whom he marvellouſly eſteemed. At the evening underſtanding that the Prince of Mauritania might admit a viſit, he entred his Chamber, and being received by the Prince with an exceſs of civility, they ſpent ſome time in terms of Courteſie and deference; which ended, and Tyridates ſeated by his Beds-ſide, before they could methodically change the Subject, he of Mauritania calling to mind a word or two the Parthian let fall ſome hours before: ‘I remember you told me, ſaid he, that I was better known to you than I knew of, make me the favour, if you pleaſe, to let me underſtand what knowledge you have of me, and by what means you gain'd it:’ ‘I drew it, reply'd Tyridates, from ſome words I overheard you utter before the arrival of the valiant Stranger, againſt whom you Combated, your ample mention of the Princeſs Cleopatra, and of Tyberius, added to what I had heard at Rome, of the life of that Princeſs, begat my opinion you were the Prince of Mauritania; but if at firſt it was only a ſingle conjecture, the ſight of your viſage, with the grand actions you performed in my preſence, have ſtrengthned it to a confidence.’

This diſcourſe rais'd a bluſh in the Princes cheeks, becauſe it imported him to diſguiſe his quality, yet willing that his Obligation to Tyridates ſhould vanquiſh the diſpleaſure; ‘I ſhould be ſorry, ſaid he, (as my Affairs are now ſtated) to be known to any other perſon than your ſelf; but you have too nobly engaged me to a high eſteem of your worth to allow diſtruſt a being.’ ‘'Tis true, I am that unhappy Prince of Mauritania, whoſe misfortunes, if you made any ſtay at Rome, have poſſibly reacht your ears; but becauſe methinks your face too, diſcovers more marks of greatneſs than your Equipage, I ſhould gladly learn to whom I am reduable, and what he is that I have truſted,’ ‘If I pris'd my life, reply'd Tyridates, I ſhould not have leſs cauſe than you to hide my name: but as fortune has us'd me, the preſervation of it is ſo inconſiderable, as were my confidence in you leſs than it is, I ſhould make no difficulty to tell you, that I am Tyridates, Son of Orodes, and Brother to Phraates King of Parthia, perſecuted both my fortune and friends, and reduced ever ſince my greeneſt years to beg from Court to Court a ſhelter for my life. At this relation the Prince of Mauritania, a little lifting himſelf from his Bed, ſaluted Tyridates, with an addition to his former reſpect.’ ‘I am no ſtranger to your name, ſaid he; for when you quitted Rome, you left your ſelf upon every tongue in ſo fair a Character, as is not inſuitable to my preſent experience of your Perſon and vertue. I am not ſorry to be reduable to a Prince of your birth, nor to find ſuch high worth in him, of whom my eſtimation preceded my knowledge.’ ‘To you ſaid Tyridates, I owe, with much more Juſtice what your expreſſions have miſ-plac'd upon my ſelf, the bruit of your beauteous actions hath produced ſuch effects through the Roman Empire, as doubtleſs, you are not known where your vertue is not admired and adored.’

The Prince modeſtly retorted this Language, and they had ſome while continued a Courteous conteſt full of deference and proteſtations of amity, they transferred their diſcourſe upon the valiant Stranger, who repos'd in the next Chamber; wherein they forgot not to mention his rare compoſure both of face and garb, his undaunted Spirit, with thoſe grand actions they had ſeen him perform, which kindled an equal ardour in both, to be as well acquainted with his name and quality; and as they contriv'd the means, they ſpied his Squire paſs by the Chamber door, that ſtood half open; Tyridates call'd him, and after he was entered and come near the Bed; ‘We call'd to you, ſaid he, to demand ſome news of your Maſter, and to intreat, if you may grant it without incurring his diſpleaſure, the ſatisfaction of our deſires to know him, the bravery of his actions muſt excuſe our curioſity, in containing which, you may deeply oblige us.’

‘My Lord, reply'd the Squire, had I permiſſion from my Maſter, you ſhould gladly [Page] be obey'd, but having not yet revoked the command he gave me to conceal his Perſon, I muſt be forced to a very unwilling diſobedience, yet this I may take commiſſion to ſay, that poſſibly I ſerve one of the greateſt Men upon Earth, and young as he is, (if your remote abode be not ſcituated where ſame is a ſtranger) doubtleſs the noiſe of his actions had found you out; happily when he knows your deſire, he will command me to ſatisfie it, and if you pleaſe I will demand his leave.’

‘It is not neceſſary, ſaid the Prince of Mauritania, for though your diſcourſe hath much augmented our Curioſity, we ſhould be too uncivil to preſs any thing that may diſpleaſe him; when it ſhall come from his own free motion we ſhall joyfully receive it, and in the mean time content our ſelves to know him by thoſe marks of greatneſs that ſhine in his Perſon, and by what he has done in our preſence.’

With this anſwer the Squire departed, and a while after Tyridates (finding it time to leave him to his repoſe) bad his gueſt good night, and went to ſeek that in his own bed, which was there to entertain him.

FINIS.

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA, OR Love's Maſter-Piece. PART II.

[Page]

LIB. I.

ARGUMENT.

Emilius begins his Maſters life to Tyridates. Characters of his Father King Juba, whoſe Power, Pomp, and Life, proves a ſacrifice to Caeſars Fortunes. His Birth and Education at Rome. He is ſtruck with Cleopatra's Infant-Beauty, as ſhe is ſhew'd among the ſpoil in Auguſtus Triumph. The rare example of Marcellus amity in reſigning his claim to Cleopatra, carries them both to the German▪ War. Their [...] brave behaviour there, and return. Tiberius becomes his Rival. Puts a cunning trick upon Coriolanus, which enſuares him in a jealous error.

LOVE never had more cauſe, in ſo little Elbow-room, to employ all his puiſſance, than in that houſe, where Tyridates and his two illuſtrious gueſts reſided; and ſcarce could the whole extent of his Empire, ſhew three nobler Slaves, whom he had fettered with more glorious chains.

The Mooriſh Prince, the brave Stranger, and the Parthian, ſigh'd at the ſame time for ſeveral objects; and, as the Earth could not boaſt any more worthy to light up their amorous flames; ſo it would have been difficult to have found, in the ſtock of Mankind, three ſouls more capable of ſuch paſſions, as they had power to kindle in hearts leaſt ſuſceptible of Love's impreſſion. Oh! could the night (blind as ſhe was) have ſeen thoſe refin'd fires, that fed their luſtre in that little retreat, they would have clear'd her complexion to a beautiful day, had they had an equal commiſſion, to ſhine as well as burn. The Stranger's deep wounds had ſo enfeebled his body, as they ſeem'd a little to leſſen the violence of thoſe reſentments, wherewith love and grief had inſpir'd him; thoſe that lighted upon Tyridates (which were ſo favourable as they could ſcarce be felt) left his thoughts an entire liberty to work upon the ſtate of his Love and Fortune; and the Prince of Mauritania's (though ſomething deeper than his) yet not enough to unbuſie thoſe ſad conſiderations, and leave him leiſure to regard his bodily health, in ſo cruel an indiſpoſition of his mind. All things that had power to renew his anguiſh, came flocking to his memory ſo freſhly, as if the whole time, and all the accidents of his life, had ſtill been as young as at the moment of their birth; when, after his officious thoughts had examin'd every good and ill, that trod their ſucceſſive ſteps in the courſe of his Fortunes, that came to hint Cleopatra's ingratitude, that almoſt threw him into a ſwoond, with the torments of grief and deſpair.

But Oh! what a number of bitter plaints and hollow ſighs did that ſad remembrance tear from his mouth and heart: and how fitly did the blacks of the night ſuit with the [Page] mourning which his ſoul had put on: to him the darkeſt ſhades were far more welcome and agreeable than the brighteſt beams that could ſpring from the active treaſury of Light, and not well enduring the day, ever ſince the eclipſe of thoſe fair hopes that enlightned his ſoul, he found ſome comfort in an obſcurity conform'd to that of his ſpirit, that helpt him to wrap it in a dull cloud of heavy thoughts: and thus having quitted the care of himſelf, the day appear'd, before the repoſe of his body could give an hours calm to the ſtorms of his mind. He no ſooner ſpy'd the new▪ born light ſhoot it ſelf through the windows of his Chamber, when ſaluting it with ſome ſighs, ‘How importunate is this bright intruder! (cry'd he) how ſenſibly doſt thou aggravate the vexations of a wretch, which ſhould be intomb'd in an eternal night? All the objects thou doſt offer to mine eyes, ſerve but to wake a remembrance worſe than the crueleſt death. I can breath no Air, ſee no Sun; nor behold a Heaven, common to me and Cleopatra, that does not prompt my memory with her diſloyal change. Ah! how much more happy had I been, that thou hadſt ſeen me periſh in thoſe actions, wherein thou didſt light me the way to glory; that I had rather taken an eternal leave of thee in thoſe occaſions, that the World thought worthy of ſome remembrance: than to ſuffer ſuch a fatal preſervation, to be trod upon by the malice of injurious Fortune, and poſſibly, to ſee my ingrateful Cleopatra wrapt in the armes of the ſubtle Tiberius.’

‘In the arms of Tiberius, repeated he: Ah Son of Juba! chaſe that baſe thought from thy Soul, and recover the knowledge of thy Courage, that never yet forſook thee in any accident of thy life, which thou began'ſt with the loſs of all thou wert born to; Parents, Crowns, nay the whole glory of thy Houſe, which at the firſt opening of thine Eyes, thou ſaw'ſt expos'd in thy Perſon, to the ignominy of a Roman Triumph; Thou haſt carried it through pains and perils, with toyls of body and mind, capable to overthrow a common conſtancy, and at laſt muſt end it by deſpair; yet ſuch a deſpair, as will never leave a blot upon thy memory, nor tell the World thou doſt either degenerate from the Roman Education, nor that Illuſtrious Extraction, which thou took'ſt from ſo many Kings. If thou muſt die, (as it is requiſite, ſince thy hopes are periſh'd) if poſſible, thou ſhalt throw down thoſe with thy fall that caus'd it, or at leaſt follow thy Fathers ſteps, who took his repoſe upon the point of his own ſword, becauſe he ſcorn'd to ask it elſewhere, after the fading of his glory, and the fall of his Empire.’

He had enlarg'd theſe plaints, if his Squire, who overheard divers of his ſighs, and underſtood ſome interrupted words, had not come to the Beds-ſide, and asked how he felt himſelf. ‘I am but too well, ſaid he, and with grief I feel, that my body is not brought low enough to ſuit my mind.’ The Squire was about to reply, when he heard one of Tyridates ſervants at the door, that came from him to enquire of his health, and know, if a viſit from his Maſter would not incommode him; Emilius was commanded to return him a very civil anſwer, which, within a ſhort time after he had carried back, the Parthian Prince enter'd the Chamber, and approaching the Beds-ſide, bad him good-Morrow. The Mauritanian receiv'd Tyridates▪ with acknowledgments full of affection, and after they had ſpent their firſt Civilities, having caus'd him to ſit down by his Beds-ſide; ‘I ſhould deem my ſelf highly oblig'd, ſaid he, to the care you take of my life, if every thing (in the condition it now is) that conduces to its preſervation were not hateful; however I hold my ſelf infinitely bound to your good intentions, and do offer in requital to that noble care you take of it, all the remainder that Love and grief have left at my diſpoſal.’ ‘Your life is too precious, too glorious, ſaid Tyridates, to deſerve the neglect of any thing that may concern its ſafety; Report hath acquainted me with ſome paſſages of it, memorable enough to ſet it a high value in every eſtimation, of which I am confident few perſons can be ignorant, and yet I think there are fewer know the particulars of your love to the Princeſs Cleopatra; for my part, I underſtood no more of it, than hath already entered every vulgar ear in the Roman Empire; nor have I gleaned any thing from the common report, that could content my deſire, to be better inſtructed in the ſingle paſſages of your fortune, I know not if my curioſity be pardonable. It is, ſaid the Prince, interrupting him, nay more, I am not loath to preſent it with a clear ſatisfaction, indeed not willing (after the receipt of ſuch generous favours, with the rare proofs you have given me of your vertue) to debar your knowledge of the leaſt particular. 'Tis true, you may have learned ſome accidents of my life, that are but too well known, but 'tis impoſſible you ſhould underſtand thoſe of the moſt importance, unles you receive them either from mine or the mouth of Emilius, from whom I have nothing concealed.’

‘It ſhall be then from Emilius, if you pleaſe, (reply'd Tyridates) I will take this ſatisfaction, as well becauſe he has told me you have taken little reſt this night, and therefore [Page] it will require a good part of this day, to repair your loſs of ſleep, as becauſe he will give the relation more at large, and poſſibly more true, than your modeſty will condeſcend to, which in all likelihood would either ſilence or diſguiſe ſome of your braveſt actions.’

‘I have done nothing ſaid Coriolanus, which the greateſt modeſty might not own and utter; but ſince Emilius has more credit with you than I, I am contented he ſhould give you the full recital of my life, without the leaſt reſerve of any particular.’

After this permiſſion, Tyridates, thanking the Prince, quitted his Chamber, and took Emilius with him, who was willing he ſhould have that morning given him to recover his reſt: but before Tyridates would engage his attention to this ſtory, he went to viſit the gallant Stranger, for whom his care was not leſs than the Prince of Mauritania; his obſervation of ſo many marks of grandeur in him, made him regard him with a high reſpect, and a marvellous eſteem; but at the Chamber door he met the Chirurgion, who diſſwaded that viſit, telling him he had great hope of his cure, but it was not ſafe for him to receive & pay the Civilities of any Perſon that morning, becauſe ſtriving to ſpeak, might impair his preſent condition, and retard his recovery.

Tyridates ſtop'd at theſe words, and after recommending the continuation of their care to his officers, he retired to his Chamber with Emilius, and (forcing his reſpect to accept of a ſeat) ‘Since the Prince your Maſter, ſaid he, has given permiſſion, let me deſire an entire relation of his life, without omitting the moſt trivial paſſage your memory can hint, or interrupting the narration of ſuch things as you may think have already reached my knowledge; for I have taken nothing but confuſed notions, from publick Rumour, which often disfigures the truth of things not perfectly known.’

‘Sir, ſaid Emilius, though I ſee my ſelf engaged to a long narration, I ſhall ſtrive to pay obedience to yours, and the Prince my Maſter's commands, as well as I am able. At theſe words, making a little pauſe, to range with ſome method in his memory the things he had firſt to utter, he began his diſcourſe in this manner.’

The Hiſtory of Prince Coriolanus, and the Princeſs Cleopatra.

NEver had any life ſo ſad a beginning as my Maſter's, and in ſo ſmall a number of years as compoſe his age, never did Fortune play ſo many tricks with a Princes Deſtiny; yet this I may ſay, and truth can witneſs it, my Maſter ows nothing to her, but has loſt all by her: at his birth ſhe took away his Crowns, Parents and Liberty, ſhe has ſince endeavour'd, and does ſtill continue to do him miſchief, more ſenſible than his firſt loſſes; but all the favours ſhe ever granted him, were ſtill forc'd from her by his vertue.

He was born poor, though lawful Heir to two great Kingdoms: born a ſlave, though Son to the moſt potent King in all Affrica: he ſaw the light and his own ſhame together, and commenced his life to appear in an action, which made Cleopatra reſign up hers, nor would himſelf have done leſs, had his age been capable to have ſhewed himſelf the ignominy.

The great King Juba (whoſe memory ſtill keeps its beauty without a blemiſh) was Monarch of both the Mauritania's, and ſupported himſelf with a puiſſance that ſtruck terror into his Neighbours, and would have made him conſidered by the whole Earth, as Maſter of the greateſt part of Affrica, if his unlucky choice of the weakeſt party had not ruined him, and his fortune done homage to that great mans, for whom fate had reſerv'd the univerſal Empire. His Dominion was of a grand extent, his Court pompous and flouriſhing, and that Authority which the terror of his war-like vertue exercis'd upon his borderer's, render'd himſelf little leſs than Sovereign of the third part of the World. In this eſtate he lived with an untroubled glory, when after the defeat of the great and unfortunate Pompey, the fragments of his ſcattered Forces, rallyed themſelves again in Affrica, under the Conduct of Scipio and Cato: King Juba, either out of Friendſhip to Pompey's memory, or jealouſie of Caeſar's greatneſs, joyned with his Enemies, and helped to ſwell their thin Forces with a puiſſant Army; Backed with this conſiderable addition, they three oppoſed the torrent of Caeſar's Fortune, and not only arreſted the courſe of his victories, but by ſome remarkable advantages they got at the beginning of the War, the whole World began to queſtion his ſucceſs.

[Page] At laſt their malicious fortunes conducted them to the plain of Thapſus, near to a City of the ſame name; where, prided with a vain ſhadow of proſperity, they offer Caeſar Battel: Indeed they had much reaſon to hope a favourable event, but the Gods ſtruck in his quarrel, for whom they had deſigned the Worlds cammand, and maugre all the Affrican puiſſance, made Victory perch her ſelf upon Caeſars Standards; there did King Juba and his companions loſe 50000 men, and in one day ſaw themſelves and their hopes ruined beyond repair. This gave them a reſolution, to ſeek no further than Death for a remedy; and though they might have hoped a better deſtiny from the clemency of Caeſar, they rather choſe to quit the World, than take their life as a gift from the Conquerors mercy.

Scipio killed himſelf with his own Sword upon the ſpot, Cato being ſhut up in Utica, ſtabbed himſelf, and a while after tore out his own bowels, to defraud their care that endeavoured his recovery; and the King of Mauritania, with the poor remnant of his ſhattered Forces, took his flight to one of his neareſt Cities, where ſeeing himſelf hotly purſued by the victorious Army, after he had ſtriven in vain to re-aſſure the courage of his Affricans, who had taken too much fear from the Roman Fortune, reſolved too to ſnatch his ſhare in the common fate: and in purſuit of this intention, having cauſed a magnificent Feaſt to be made for Petreius a Roman Captain, who had been of his Party, and was then a Companion of his Fortune, at the end of their repaſt, regarding him with a viſage that breathed nought but Death, ‘Petreius, ſaid he, 'tis fit we dye to preſerve our liberty; for if we ſtay on earth but a few days, we ſhall have no power left, to put by the ſhame is prepared us, I demand no other proof of thy affection but Death from thy hands; and, as my Fortune is now ſtated, I cannot receive a greater from thy Friendſhip. Here, ſtab this breaſt, purſu'd he, preſenting his naked boſom, pierce this heart, which the Arms of our Enemies have unluckily ſpared, and make a KING fall by thy friendly hand, whoſe courage ſcorned to bow under the fortune of a puiſſant Enemy.’

He mingled theſe words with ſome others ſo preſſing, that Petreius could not refuſe the fatal courteſie, but without farther delay, ran him through with his own ſword, the King not ſo much as turning his eye aſide, nor letting fall the leaſt action unbecomming the grandeur of his ſpirit: Petreius, when he had ſeen him breath his laſt, turned the ſame point againſt his own breaſt, and throwing himſelf upon it with all his force, fell dead at his feet; thus were the feſtival Ornaments diſcoloured with Royal blood, and thus did this great King, catch up the ſhield of of death, to defend himſelf from ignominy.

A few days after, the victorious Caeſar rendered himſelf Maſter of both the Realms, and with them of the Queen his ſpouſes liberty, whom he deſigned for one of the principal Ornaments of his Triumph: ſhe was gone ſome months with child, when the King her Husband loſt his life, and was brought to bed of the Prince my Maſter, two days after her arrival at Rome, whither Caeſar ſent her two months before he made his triumphal entry.

Thus was my Prince begotten free, and the Son of a King, but born a ſlave, and between his Conception and Birth, happen'd that deplorable revolution of his Fortune.

Some days after his Birth, he was carried along, as one of the moſt remarkable Ornaments of Caeſar's Triumph; happy in his misfortune, that as yet he underſtood not the ſhame they made him ſuffer, being then of an age incapable of reſenting the loſs of his Crowns, his brave Father, or the death of the Queen his Mother, who reſigned her life a few days after ſhe had diſcloſed the little Heir of her misfortunes to the World. But there wanted not perſons that took care of his bringing up, for the great Caeſar (from whom the diſaſtrous fate of his Parents had drawn ſome compaſſion) caus'd him to be brought up at Rome in the garb of a Kings Son, and beſtowed ſuch a particular care upon him that ſcarce any of his neereſt kindred, in that high ſwoln proſperity, was trained to a braver Education: I will yet ſay further, and believe I ſhall not injure truth in affirming, that the loſſes of his eſtate were in part repaired by the gallant Education he receiv'd among the Romans; wherein that tender age eſcaping the impreſſion of the Affrican cuſtoms, and the Company of ſuch perſons, which falling far ſhort of the Romans politeneſs, might have given him a taſte of the Barbarian, his excellent nature contributed ſuch marvellous aſſiſtance to the care of thoſe, that were ordained to form him, that before his age could promiſe it, he became as accompliſhed in all requiſites of a Prince, as wiſh could fancy, and rarely skil'd in every undertaking, to which his vertuous inclination carried him.

In his earlieſt Infancy, Caeſar would often cauſe him to be brought into his preſence, [Page] and obſerving that ſomeehing Majeſtick and Heroical, was already riſen with that morning of his excellent beauty, he let him get ground in his affections, to that degree, as one day he broke into an earneſt proteſtation, that if the little Juba (for at his birth they gave him his Father's name) ſeconded thoſe hopes he had already begun, he would reſtore him the Crowns of his Anceſtors; but he took ſpecial care to mould him to the Roman faſhion, and deface all ſuch unpoliſhed manners, as his inclinations might poſſibly borrow from his Affrican blood. Beſides, to fortifie the friendſhip he would have him bear to the Republick, he gave him a Roman name; and becauſe he was brought up in the Martian Family, illuſtrious among the Patricians, and derived from the famous Coriolanus, whoſe valour ſurvived him in ſo glorious a reputation, he would have the young Prince called by his name, that the appellation of Juba, which ſounded harſh and barbarous to a Roman ear, might be covered with that of Coriolanus.

In all likelyhood, the affection and bounty of that great Dictator, would not here have ſtopped, and doubtleſs the Prince had gathered the fruits of thoſe promiſes, if Death had not robbed him of that Protector, or rather that Father, before he attained to his fourth year, an age that hardly rendered him capable to dream of thoſe hopes were given him.

That man, the greateſt that ever liv'd, was murder'd in the Senate-houſe, by the ingrateful conſpiracy of thoſe, that his own generoſity and nobleneſs had rais'd from their knees; all the world knew it ſelf intereſſed in the loſs of him, who had made himſelf Maſter of it with his Sword, yet held it in ſo gentle a ſubjection.

After Caeſar's death, the little Coriolanus (for ſo was always called) wanted no protection; for the Senate ſucceeding Caeſar in his Patronage, took up that care of him which his death had let fall; and trained him up with the Sons of divers Kings, that were Friends and Alleys to Rome, without making the leaſt difference in their Expence, or Equipage, though their Fathers had ſtill their Crowns in poſſeſſion. Divers children of noble Exteaction, and an equal age, deſcended from the families of Roman Knights, were placed in his Service, of which number I was appointed one, and as I was always brought up near his perſon, ſo his affection did me the honour to take me neareſt to his heart. During thoſe cruel and diſmal diſorders of my Country, that bloody Civil War, which revenge kindled for Caeſars murder, the prodigious effects of that horrible Triumvirat, which overflowed Rome with the blood of her nobleſt Citizens, and that famous conteſt betwixt Antony and Octavius Coeſar; the young Prince grew up with a ſucceſs miraculous: Never did Eye behold a youth of thoſe years, handle his Arms with ſo great a grace, or perform any Bodily Exerciſe his Tutors taught him, with a dexterity comparable to his, his propenſion led him with ſo much advantage to the ſtudy of Sciences, as he became ſo learnedly vers'd in Aſtrology and Philoſophy, ſo critically skilled in all kind of Hiſtory, as the World could ſcarce afford another to match him, and for Eloquence, that famous Orator that loſt his life in the heat of the Triumvirat, by the cruel command of Antony, could hardly challenge preheminence; nor had he qualities diſproportioned to theſe rare endowments of body and mind, ſo that the old Partricians that took our examples of high and ſublime vertue, from the ancient Roman Diſcipline, could find nothing Recorded of the Fabricii, Camilli, and Scipio's, which they began not to remark, with admiration, in the firſt actions of young Coriolanus: beſides his prompt inclination to great attempts, he conſtantly ſhow'd ſuch a natural horror of oppreſſion and injuſtice, as it was obſerv'd, he never cheriſh'd a greater contempt of danger, nor a more ardent love of glory, than pitty of anothers misfortune, and even ſlighting of his proper intereſts, to give relief and comfort to the miſerable. A thouſand times I have heard him, though ſcarce arriv'd at his thirteenth year, beg of his Governors in the heat of a moſt preſſing importunity, to lead him to that famous War wag'd between thoſe two great Competitors, Antony and Octavius Caeſar, ſince call'd Auguſtus; and ſigh at the recital of thoſe great actions, becauſe he was not permitted to venture for ſome of the glory. Theſe right marks of a perfect greatneſs, gave him the hearts and eſteem of all that knew him, and with them purchas'd that of Auguſtus; for if his firſt inclinations had not been croſſed in their Progreſs by anothers Intereſt, and by ſuch accidents as have ſince arriv'd, his hopes need not have aim'd at leſs advantage in his Patronage, than they might have done in the great Julius his Unkle that went before him; all the nobleſt Romans made vows in his favour for this excellent young Prince, who with a ſweet generous, and obliging behaviour, which he maintained even at the price of his deareſt Intereſts, a charming converſation link'd to the lovely advantage of a moſt handſome face and feature, with that admirable grace that ſhined in all his actions, took into the affections and reſpect of all perſons that were friends to vertue. His gallant deportment in publick Spectacles, drew admiration both from Senate and People, and before he had fully reached his [Page] fourteenth year, he wone the prize in all thoſe exerciſes, wherein valour or wit were called to try their ſtrength; beſides other diſputes, wherein his age might adventure for repute.

He was ſcarce fifteen, when Caeſar, after the defeat and diſaſtrous fate of Anthony and Cleopatra, return'd a Triumphant Conqueror to Rome, where he made himſelf ſole Monarch of the Empire, which that puiſſant Rival in ambition had ſo dangerouſly diſputed. Upon this occaſion, my Prince appear'd among thoſe that went out to meet the Emperor, in a gallant garb; all thoſe that beheld him clad in a habit, whoſe riches lent ſome aſſiſtance to the charms of his natural beauty, mounted upon a brave Horſe, which he managed with a matchleſs grace and dexterity, at the head of a Troop of young Gentlemen much of his own age, gave him a loud applauſe, and cry'd he was not only worthy to be their Commander, but would one day deſerve larger fortunes, than thoſe to which his birth intituled him; and the Emperor himſelf, ſwoln as he was, at that grand proſperity and glorious Eſtate to which he was newly mounted, ſtaid his ſtately progreſs to Careſs, embrace, and give him ſuch praiſes, as the young Princes modeſty could not accept without bluſhes.

The Triumph of Auguſtus was the proudeſt that Rome ever ſaw, and it ſeem'd that all the Pomp upon Earth was aſſembled to make a Maſter-piece of glory for one man; I will not trouble you with the deſcription of what I believe you have often receiv'd from better hands, but content my ſelf only to tell you, that the greateſt beauty of the Triumph appeared at the third day; in the two preceding, Caeſar only ſhew'd the ſpoils of ſome barbarous People, and repreſented his victory at Actium; but at the laſt he triumphed over Egypt and Cleopatra; I ſhall forbear to deſcribe that immenſe profuſion of Riches, and prodigious number of Captives which helped to compoſe that ſhow; for my eyes, as well as thoſe of the people, let all the reſt go, to ſtay themſelves upon that ſtately Chariot, wherein was drawn the lively Protraiture of Queen Cleepatra, repreſented in that poſture as ſhe ſtretched out her arm to the Aſp, expecting the fatal benefit from his poyſonous tooth; the viſage of that great Queen appeared ſo full of Majeſty, as the pitiful ſpectacle drew tears of compaſſion from the better part of the Spectators; but if the ſight of her Image tenderly touch'd ſuch hearts as were capable of pity, the living appearance of thoſe children ſhe had by Antony, which were ſeated at the feet of their Mothers Effigies, wrought effects no leſs moving.

The young Alexander and his Siſter Cleopatra, then about ten years of age, were plac'd upon a ſeat of equal height, and their Brother Ptolomee, younger by one year then they, a degree under them: Never did Mortal eye converſe with any thing ſo fair as theſe little Illuſtrious Captives, which almoſt unty'd the gaze of all Rome from other objects, to faſten them there with extraordinary attention. Their years were not ſo few to diſpenſe with the apprehenſion of their own misfortune, which eaſily made it ſelf known in the ſad compoſure of their garb, and in making the Crimſon roſe only keep the field in their faces.

Alexander and Cleopatra were attir'd in the ſame habits of Apollo and Diana, which the unlucky vanity of their Parents, had formerly cauſed them to appear in, and had not their preſent condition deſtroy'd that belief, they might have paſſed in the Spectators opinion for the Divinities they repreſented; the rays that environ'd the head of the little Cleopatra, rather ſeem'd to proceed from her eyes, than exterior dreſs; and if Shame and Modeſty had not directed their beams downward, ſhe would even have out-ſhin'd that Goddeſs whoſe figure ſhe had borrowed. Antony had been a moſt beautiful Prince, and Cleopatra ſuch as Nature would have bungl'd in their off-ſpring, had ſhe made their features fall ſhort of wonder; and indeed, this young Princeſs had not borrowed all that was excellent in both, but ſurpaſs'd them in moſt apparent advantages; ſhe had the Queen her Mothers mouth, with all the bewitching features of her Face, but a complexion beyond compariſon more white and delicate; in the ſhine of her blew eyes ſweetneſs and Majeſty plaid together; her hair was much brighter than her Mothers, and as much darker than Antonies; in fine, it would then have been a difficult task for the quainteſt invention to find out praiſes for her ſhape and beauty, but time has ſince compleated them to ſuch a height of perfection, as it would poſe the skilfulleſt wiſh to follow any thing more accompliſhed; I would ſay more upon this ſubject, if your own eyes had not taken too exact a peruſal of theſe rarities, to need my courſe diſcription. Oh what wonders did my young Prince take in at that view! how powerfully did it wake him out of ſome melancholy thoughts, into which he was plunged by that reſemblance of his own Deſtiny; he had beheld the two firſt days Magnificence with an indifferent eye; thoſe glittering heaps of Gold and [Page] Jewels, the taking in of Cities, and deſcription of Combats, repreſented both by Pencil and Sculpture in the third dayes Triumph, could not wooe him to a ſhare in the general Acclamation. But he could not behold the Image of Queen Cleopatra, without paying the tribute of tears to a juſt compaſſion, accompany'd with ſome ſighs, which the conformity of that Families downfall with his, forc'd from his breaſt; and when he caſt his eyes upon thoſe young Princes, in the ſame eſtate my relation has made them, he thought he had view'd the beginnings of his own life, and abandon'd himſelf to the pity and intereſt he took in their condition.

From theſe firſt motions of compaſſion, he ſucceeded to the admiration of their beauty and thence began to enter upon that paſſion, to which he has made an entire reſignation of his life; I was then (as I ſeldom fail'd to be) neer his perſon, when turning to me, ‘Oh Emilius, ſaid he, what have I ſeen? did Nature ever make an equal to this young Princeſs, and doſt think ſhe that is led this day in Triumph, ought not one day to Triumph over the moſt precious liberties? Oh Fortune! (purſued he a while after) how doſt thou play with the deſtiny of Princes? what illuſtrious companions haſt thou given me in my bondage?’ At theſe words he return'd his eye, and faſten'd it with all his thoughts upon that object, keeping always neer the Chariots ſide, without the leaſt removal, till the Ceremony was ended.

The Prince was not yet arriv'd to an age capable of ſtrong and violent impreſſions; and the Princeſs who was younger than he by at leaſt four or five years, had not approached to that rare perfection of Beauty, which has ſince taken her ſo many Captives; yet Coriolanus felt himſelf ſtruck with an abortive paſſion, and Cleopatra's beauty, (though but then in the bloom) ſtaid not for riper Excellencies to begin thoſe Conqueſts, which ſhe has ſince perfected with ſo much eaſe.

The young Prince began to grow melancholy, to ſigh and ſeek out ſolitude; and, as he never admitted the caution of hiding his thoughts from me, I knew preſently, though my years exceeded not his, where the blow pain'd him. ‘Emilius, ſaid he ſome days after the Triumph, didſt ever ſee ſo goodly a creature as this young Cleopatra? or rather can Man's imagination faſhion an Idea that may pattern hers? 'Tis true, ſaid I, the Princeſs is very handſome.’ ‘Handſome, reply'd he, repulſing me with a little anger? Say rather, that all things elſe, when they come in her preſence, are ugly, and that the Gods employed all their power to render her the exacteſt peice that ever parted from their hands. Ah! how happy will the Man be whom Heaven ſhall think worthy to adore her, and who may be permitted to lay down his life at her fe [...]t, and entirely dedicate it to her ſervice!’ ‘That may poſſibly be your ſelf, ſaid I, and I ſee you begin to aim at that mark, with ſo direct a diſpoſition, that you are moſt likely to be the happy man you ſpeak of.’ ‘Doubt not, reply'd the Prince, but my reſolution has already devoted my life to the ſervice of that Princeſs, and that no other thought can ſtay in my breaſt, but ſuch as may ſhew me how to merit her eſteem, and promote my deſign never to be other than hers.’

‘My Lord, ſaid I, in the condition your fortunes are, reſolutions of that nature will deſerve the weighing; and methinks you ſhould not dream of any alliance, but ſuch as may reſtore you to the Eſtate from whence your Family is fallen, nor hatch a deſign of that importance, without Caeſars and the Senates approbation, upon which apparently depends your deſtiny.’

At theſe words the Prince regarded me with an angry eye; ‘I did not think, ſaid he, thou could'ſt have nurſed ſuch baſe thoughts, to adviſe me to do violence upon thoſe beautiful inclinations, by any conſideration of fortune; If to ſcorn Cleopatra will cut off my pretence to the Crowns ſhe has taken from me, it will requite me with a glory, upon which that blind Deity can exerciſe no power; nor can my deſire get up to a nobler pitch; than by courting the Daughter of Antony and Cleopatra, that lately were Maſters to ſo many Kings, and held the moſt conſiderable rank in the Univerſe. Neither Caeſar nor Senate can juſtly diſapprove the deſign: but ſhould they refuſe me their protection, if I have vertue on my ſide, the Gods will never forſake me, and poſſibly my ſword may recover that, which my hopes now tamely expect from their conde [...]cention.’ Such thoughts as theſe did this young Amoriſt already nouriſh, and if they were then ſo ſtout and generous, time hath ſince fortified them with ſuch ſupplies of ſtrength and vigour, as the whole World cannot urge a conſideration capable to divert him.

In the mean time Cleopatra's children were brought up at Rome, in an Equipage rather quadrate to their Birth than Fortunes; for the Princeſs Octavia, ſiſter of Auguſtus, Widow of Antony, and the ſame which he repudiated for Cleopatra, in ſtead of preſerving an angry [Page] reſentment againſt the memory of her ingrateful Husband, whoſe crime was big enough to excuſe it; on the contrary, by the ſole motion of her own generoſity, ſhe took home the Children to her houſe, reſign'd up all that eſtate for their maintenance which ſhe held of Antonies, and brought them up with ſuch care and tenderneſs as if they had been the fruit of her own womb, without putting the leaſt inequality betwixt them and thoſe ſhe had, as well by Antony, which were two Daughters, as by Marcellus her firſt Husband, by whom ſhe had likewiſe two Daughters and a Son; the brave Marcellus, whom doubtleſs you have known to be Romes darling and delight. The Emperour much applauded his Siſters goodneſs, which he publickly confirmed by witneſſing a high eſteem of that Act, and his Empreſs Livia to ſecond his intentions, took the Princeſs Cleopatra to Court, made her be very carefully educated in the Palace, while the young Princes remained ſtill with the vertuous Octavia. In the mean time my Princes paſſion did daily riſe to a greater height in his Soul; and as Nature had given him a hardy confidence, which helped him to enterpriſe and perform every thing with a ſucceſsful grace, ſo Love had then left him neither power nor will to keep it longer undiſcovered; he had often ſeen and entertained the young Princeſs, in whom, beſides an unparellel'd beauty, he encounter'd a wit ſo vivacious, temper'd with a judgement ſo ſolid, as the World could not boaſt the like of another perſon of no greater years; to this charming ſweetneſs he had now yielded up his liberty, and caſhier'd all thoughts but ſuch as were ſerviceable to his amorous Devotion; he had not yet declar'd his paſſion while ſhe lived with Octavia: though the accoſtable innocence of her youth ſeem'd to offer him that liberty: but after her removal to the Court, the increaſe of hazard haſtened the attempt, and one Evening meeting with her in the Empreſſes Chamber, where the Emperour with divers of the nobleſt Romans were likewiſe preſent, he aborded her in a gallant faſhion, and a graceful garb, onely peculiar to himſelf. ‘Fair Princeſs, ſaid he aloud, our Deſtinies carry a near reſemblance; would to Heaven our thoughts did ſo, and that you could as freely own the deſigne I have to make my ſelf yours, as I have hugg'd the paſſion that compells me to adore you.’ Theſe words were pronounced with an Ayre ſo hardy, and yet ſo agreeable, as they got a plauſive admiration of all the over-hearers; the young Princeſs was not then inſtructed by experience how ſhe ought to receive ſuch language, yet Innocence did not ſo blind apprehenſion, but that ſhe perceiv'd ſomething in it extraordinary, which made her onely bluſh him an anſwer; but the Empreſs who had over-heard this Courtſhip, repeated it aloud to the Emperour, and they both gave it an approbation that augmented the Princes confidence.

This quickly became the diſcourſe of the whole Court, and the general opinion voted, that there could not be a pair more fitly coupled than the Son of Juba, and the Daughter of Cleopatra; that their hopes were matches, their Birth and Fortunes equal, and that none could come nearer the graces of young Cleopatra's Wit and Beauty, than the noble ſhape and accompliſhed qualities of young Coriolanus. This diſcourſe which quickly flew through all Rome, marvellouſly favour'd the beginnings of my Princes paſſions, and imbarquing himſelf as it were with an univerſal conſent, his hopes were incourag'd to aſpire at a happier ſucceſs, than at firſt they durſt propoſe.

Thus he openly liſted himſelf in the ſervice of that Princeſs; and employed thoſe advantages which her youth allowed him, freely to inſinuate his affection, and leave impreſſions upon her ſpirit, which in a riper age would not eaſily have enter'd it; his endeavours wrought ſo happily, as, if he had not yet perfectly taught her how to love, at leaſt he had uſed her to endure the proteſtations of his, and oblig'd her to a liking and eſteem of his qualities, that made her to prefer him before all thoſe that came near her. Indeed the ſole merit of my Prince, by thoſe rare endowments that garniſh'd his body and mind, might well have wrought that effect; but to theſe he added an aſſiduity of reſpect and complacence, which mightily aſſiſted his deſert; and prudently conſidering that his condition would not always laſt in that eſtate, and perceiving by ſome marks his obſervation had ſhewed him, that the Princeſs with an accreſcent of years, would raiſe her behaviour to a more haughty ſeverity, than her youth could yet apprehend requiſite, he reſolved to prepoſſeſs her heart as much as poſſible, level thoſe difficulties while time invited, and ſtrive to weaken that Enemy which he knew would one day combat him.

This conduct is not ordinary in a Perſon of ſixteen years; but at that green Age he had a gray Diſcretion, which brought all men to their wonder that remarked it.

In the mean time he endeavour'd to delight her with a thouſand actions of gallantry, and as he had a moſt inventive wit, and an active body in all ſorts of exerciſes, he daily made Matches with young Romans of his own Age, either for Courſes on Horſe-back, [Page] or Combats in the Liſt, beſides divers other agreeable ſpectacles which were ordinarily preſented in the Cirque, in all which the young Prince behaved himſelf with ſuch a winning bravery, as inſenſibly gained the hearts of all that knew him: but he was not the onely man was deſtin'd to ſerve that fair Princeſs; for young as ſhe was, that riſing Sun in her beauty was already ador'd by the moſt illuſtrious Romans; two young Princes were ſtruck at once with her beauty, and Fortune could not raiſe him up two mightier Rivals upon Earth; they were Marcellus and Tiberius, the former (as I have told you) Son of the vertuous Princeſs Octavia, (Wife to Antony and Siſter to Auguſtus) and of Marcellus whoſe Widow ſhe was when Antonius eſpouſed her, and the other Son to the Empreſs Livia, and her firſt Huband Druſus. They were bred up with equal hopes and favour, but of conditions very different; Marcellus had a ſpirit repleat with ſweetneſs, freedom, and generoſity, a Courage noble and propenſe to great undertakings, and a perſon compleat and becoming in every action.

Tiberius with a handſom ſhape indeed had a grand Courage, but withall a Spirit ſo maliciouſly ſubtile, and known even at that age ſo skil'd in diſſimulation, as the oldeſt Courtiers were ſcarce capable of the like. My Maſter was link'd to Marcellus in the bonds of a ſtrict amity, and the conformity of their inclinations eaſily taught them how to love one another; but with Tiberius he liv'd in a faſhion very different, end only contented himſelf to conſider him as the Emperors Son in Law, without the tye of any particular affection,

One day young Cleopatra wallking in that ſtately Garden that belonged to the Palace, with the Princeſs Julia, Daughter to the Emperor, a Lady of a florid beauty, and a lively flowing wit, whom the Emperor had deſigned for his Nephew young Marcellus, to pull the knot of his alliance ſtraighter, and confirm the People (to whom Marcellus was infinitely dear) in their hopes, to ſee him one day plac'd upon his Uncles Throne; theſe two Princeſſes had walked a while in the great Alley that verg'd upon the River Tiber, when they ſaw my Prince and young Marcellus, who had been ſeeking them, appear at one end of it; though Marcellus did but ſlightly mask his love to Cleopatra from his friends, yet his knowledge of the Emperors intention made him tender in publick a Courtly reſpect to Julia, though all the ſympathy and inclination he had for her, were only perſonated in a bare complyance, which then obliged him to proffer his addreſſes. The Prince of Mauritania was raviſhed to ſee him thus engaged, becauſe it lent him the liberty of breathieg his amorous thoughts to Cleopatra, and that fair Princeſs, whoſe eſteem was as juſt to his worth as her age would allow, gave him a glad reception, and leuding him her hand, they walked at a ſit diſtance from Julia and Marcellus; She began but then to enter her twelfth year and my Prince was ſomething more than ſixteen, but indeed their knowledge had much out-run their age; He entertained her a while with ſome diſcourſes of divertiſement, and in ſequel, (hinted by the preſence of the other couple) ſucceeded thus to his purpoſe: ‘Would to Heavens, my Princeſs ſaid he, I could promiſe my ſelf as much intereſt in your breaſt as Marcellus has in Julia's: I know not, anſwer'd the Princeſs, what you deſire of me, but I believe Julia cannot think better of Marcellus than I do of you: 'tis a greater kindneſs of my Fortune, replyed Coriolanus, than Reaſon could encourage me to hope, I cannot be unſatisfied at this Declaration without injuſtice; but, would you permit me to unlock my heart with a little more freedom, 'tis poſſible I might bring you to acknowledge, that the eſteem you ſpeak of will not ſuffice for my felicity.’

‘I thought, ſaid the Princeſs, you might have been contented with it, and that I could not mention this eſteem, without informing your underſtanding, how highly I value your good qualities. This favour places me in a condition which I ought to be proud of, ſaid the Prince, yet let me have leave to tell you, 'tis not enough to eſtabliſh repoſe in a ſpirit that is dedicated yours; for admit the Gods had ſtored me with ſome deſerving qualities, by the right of thoſe I might credibly purchaſe a high opinion among the Romans, and yet not engage them to one ſingle motion of good will; the buſie noiſe of ſome vertue might take me up repute in remoteſt Nations; nay, 'tis poſſible to gain an eſteem among our enemies, without changing their inclinations: Thus was Hanibal's vertue as highly prized at Rome as at Carthage, though in the former he was mortally hated; thus the Gauls and Pompey's Partiſans conſidered Julius Caeſar as the greateſt of men, and yet he was their greateſt enemy. From thence you infer, ſaid Cleopatra, that we may eſteem what we do not love. So my reaſon ſayes, ſaid the Prince, yet I will not deny, but eſteem is very advantagious to perſons that deſire to be loved; nor that affection can hardly enter a well-compoſed ſpirit, if eſteem does not lead the way: I' will therefore receive that eſteem with which you reward my ardent affection as [Page] the beginning of a more accompliſhed fortune; and expect that of time, my ſervices, and your bounty, to which indeed my poor ſtock of merit, can yet plead no claim. I am not unwilling, replyed the innocent Princeſs, to accept your ſervices, and I know not a perſon whoſe carriage and converſe are more agreeable than yours. I cannot be ſo rude with my Princeſs (ſaid Coriolanus with an action that expreſs'd a reſpective acknowledgment) to demand more at her hands; I have only this to beg of her bounty, that ſhe ſhall not ſuffer time, (which ſhall never have power to weaken my adoration) to wear out theſe favourable impreſſions, nor the knowledge (that will approach with increaſe of years) of your own admirable beauties, and Divine qualities, perſwade you to regard him with diſdain, whom you now judge worthy of ſo many favours; nor the encounter of reſearches, more advantagious for your eſtabliſhment, prevail with you to prefer perſons more happy, or better propt by thoſe which Fortune has made our Maſters, before ſuch as ſhe has deſpoil'd of Crowns and Dignities. Cleopatra young, and as much Infant as ſhe was, was yet ſenſibly touched with this diſcourſe,’ and regarding my Maſter with an Eye full of ſweetneſs, returned him an anſwer, that proved her reaſon had much got above her age.

‘If the malice of Fortune, and the loſs of Crowns could render perſons contemptible, the children of Antony and Cleopatra would find little reſpect and conſideration among men; you know our houſe is fallen as low as yours, and were it reared again to its former height, neither that age nor knowledge whoſe approaches you dread, ſhould hinder me from conſidering that in you, which neither Fortune can rob you of, nor the ſupport of our Maſters beſtow on thoſe, which you excel as well by birth and virtue, as perſonal endowments.’ The Prince liſtned to this wel-framed language (which indeed his hopes little expected from ſo young an intellect) with tranſport and wonder, and, not able to ſtop the Carreir of his joy, with the conſideration of thoſe that were preſent, he put one knee to the ground, and faſtning his lips with a little violence to Cleopatra's hand, ‘The Gods can witneſs, ſaid he, that I never apprehended worth enough in my ſelf to meaſure with this grace my Divine Princeſs has given me; but I do here proteſt in their preſence, that I will ſtrive to merit it, both by ſervices of worth, and ſuch actions as ſhall either repair the ruines of my houſe, or at leaſt, hinder my Princeſs from repenting her bounty.’

He had enlarg'd his diſcourſe, if Marcellus (who then prefer'd Cleopatra's converſe far before Julia's) had not obliged the Princeſs to break off the parley by joyning company. If my Prince had not truly loved Marcellus, he would not have taken that interruption ſo gently, but his friendſhip joyned with the late ſatisfaction his ſpirit had taken, helped him to diſſemble the diſpleaſure he received, and accoſt the Princeſs Julia, with a viſage that betray'd not the leaſt mark of any alteration.

After that day he oft repeated his paſſion to Cleopatra, and confirmed his own hopes by a thouſand proofs of her innocent affection. Theſe beginnings preſag'd a happy progreſs but they met with checks by the way, for the rivalſhip of Marcellus did much trouble the ſtream of his deſign. Marcellus was (as I have told you) of a very amiable perſon and little ſhort of my Prince in any becoming quality, by his advantage in the Emperors favour, and Peoples affection, who gave him the name of Romes darling and delight; his face, perſon, and excellent parts, with that clear diſcretion that compos'd his Courtſhip to Cleopatra, kindled a juſt jealouſie in Coriolanus: beſides Marcellus as he was Octavio's Son, enjoy'd the ſame liberty with Cleopatra and Antonies other children, as if the ſame womb had diſclos'd them; and by that appellation of Brother and Siſter, both Octavia's Command, and Caeſars Will enjoyn'd them to call one another. And which moſt preferred this young Princes hopes, he poſſeſt an unreſtrained familiarity with the Princeſs, which was not accorded to any other: but that which ſtung my Prince deepeſt, was, that Marcellus (being as well the deareſt of his friends, as the greateſt of his Rivals) all the impediments and fears he gave him, were ſo incapable of blotting out his amity, as he could not proſecute his re-ſearch of Cleopatra without regret, ſince he could reap no advantage by it, that would not diſturb the repoſe, and affront the Fortune of his Friend; a reflection of this nature in ſuch a ſoul as my Maſters, could produce none but uncommon effects, and the ſequel will tell you how ſtrongly it wrought too in that of Marcellus, whoſe ſentiments, (not to abridge truth of her due) were not leſs noble than my Maſters. In divers Encounters theſe two Princes mutually apprehended the diſpleaſures they gave one another by a competition which in ſouls leſs generous, would oft have ſtrangled friendſhip; yet in theirs ſhe ſtood ſo firm and intire, as my Prince never glanc'd at Marcellus, when he pleaded in his own love-ſuit, nor did Marcellus (when he laid his amorous vows at Cleopatra's feet) ever let fall a word in diſapprovement of Coriolanus. My Maſter (by what [Page] might be judged from appearance) had more favour than his Rivall, which would have rendered his joy more perfect, had he carried that advantage from any but Marcellus; and he had hugg'd his happineſs with a clearer delight, if it had not ſtood bent to his friends prejudice. But if Coriolanus thus moderated the reſentment of his own felicity, becauſe it oppos'd his friends, Marcellus indured his diſadvantage with patience, ſince Coriolanus reap'd the profit, nor could his own misfortune afflict him without the mixture of ſome comfort, becauſe it conduc'd to his friends ſucceſs.

‘I deſire not, (would Coriolanus ſay to Cleopatra) you ſhould hate Marcellus; for, if a Man can merit it, he is worthy of your effection; but if it be deſtin'd for any Mortal, I demand it wholly and entire for Coriolanus. Marcellus would almoſt ſay the ſame things, only he durſt not let his paſſion come abroad ſo openly as my Maſters,’ for fear to diſpleaſe the Emperor his Uncle, who did him the honour to deſign him his Daughter, helped him to cut out a diſguiſe for his affection, and make the borrowed name of Brother (injoyn'd by Octavia) ſerve to mask that of Lover.

Thus had they waſted almoſt a year, during which my Prince, doubtleſs more deep ſtruck than Marcellus, daily gathered ſuch freſh cauſes of diſpleaſure from his friends encroachment, as the melancholy it produced, began to ſettle it ſelf in his face and behaviour, though the cauſe was conceal'd from all the World but my ſelf, whom by a peculiar preference to the reſt he always honoured with the knowledge of his ſecrets: ‘And why, ſaid he, one day to me, ſhould, miſchievous fortune raiſe me up a Rival of my deareſt friend, and ſuch a friend whoſe repoſe I cannot combat without wounding mine own? Ah! had it pleaſed the Gods to inſpire any other but Marcellus, with the deſign of ſerving Cleopatra, our Swords ſhould decide our titles, and ſure I ſhould kill any but Marcellus in ſo juſt a quarrel.’ In fine, his ſadneſs grew to ſuch a height, as Marcellus who perceived it with the firſt, began to be much troubled at it; and indeed (as one that went a deep ſhare in all the reſentments of ſo dear a friend) he often demanded the cauſe, though his own ſuſpition did partly anſwer him; but Coriolanus ſtill took care to cover the truth, till all his friends reaſons growing too weak to ſatisfie Marcellus care, at laſt he was conſtrain'd to diſcharge his heart, and one night as they lay together, which they often did, Marcellus having often preſt him upon that Subject, and a thouſand times ſworn he could never be capable of any pleaſure ſo long as he ſaw him drown'd in ſo deep a ſorrow, and himſelf ignorant of its Fortune; the Prince ſending one or two ſighs before the Diſcourſe he was to make: ‘Brother, ſaid he, (for ſo they always called one another) the Gods can atteſt, you do force that from me by your friendſhip, which I ever reſolv'd to wrap in ſilence, though you might eaſily have read it by your own obſervation, and ſo have ſpared your conſtraint of a bad relation; Did you believe I could ſee my ſelf travers'd in a paſſion that is twined with my vital threed, by a friend as dear to me as my ſelf, without a mortal diſpleaſure? Do you think I could deſigne the ruine of your content, or abandon the care of mine own repoſe without a cruel violence? You know I was Cleopatra's eldeſt priſoner, before your eye had marked her out for a Miſtreſs, and had my dear Marcellus prevented my deſign of ſerving her, I ſhould ſooner have ran upon my death than his pretences, or expos'd him to the anguiſh he has made me reſent; nor did I perceive he was my Rival, before I was engaged too deep to render what was due to our amity, which (if I may ſay it) he himſelf has forgotten to pay. Ah! would to Heavens our conteſt had been for Crowns, or any thing elſe of higher value, you ſhould quicly have ſeen with what a free heart I would have given up my intereſt. But for Cleopatra, my dear Brother, 'tis that cannot be obtain'd of an enſlaved ſpirit, that will never recover ſtrength enough to get out of the Abyſs wherein my ſpighthful Fortune has plunged me; I ſay my ſpightful fortune, for what ever glory I acquire by Cleopatra's ſervice and however my hopes may feed high upon ſucceſs, I ſhall never think that fortune propitious, that muſt be eſtabliſht at the price of your repoſe; nor have I the liberty to Court it ſo much as with a ſingle wiſh, ſince it can no where be raiſed, but upon the ruines of yours.’

Coriolanus accompanied theſe words with many others of the ſame nature, which ſunk ſo ſenſibly to Marcellus heart, as it was long before he could recover ſtrength enough to ſhape a reply; at laſt his words broke their way through his reſentments, and embracing my Maſter with an ardent affection; ‘My dear Brother, ſaid he, Heaven is my witneſs, that when my eye firſt told me, Cleopatra was lovely, I did not believe your youth could have been capable of forming a deſign to ſerve her; and if I have ſince let my ſelf ſlip into the ſnare, I rendered my liberty to that in vincible puiſſance, which no heart can reſiſt; yet I confeſs I have ſinned againſt our amity, and ſhould prove my ſelf unworthy of a place in Coriolanus heart, if I do not ſtrive with my ſoul to render the reparation I owe you; I know my intentions are good, but do a little diſtruſt my power; however [Page] but this night to clear all ſcores, and poſſibly, before we part, I ſhall make it appear how dearly I prize our friendſhip.’

‘Coriolanus would have reply'd to this diſcourſe, but Marcellus oppos'd it, and preſt him ſo earneſtly to give him the remainder of that night, as he was conſtrain'd to obey him; they both paſſed it over without ſo much as cloſing their eyes; my Maſter often over-hearing the ſighs that broke away from Marcellus, though he ſtrove to impriſon them with all his power, and ſtill cut them off in the middle, leaſt their noiſe ſhould convey them to my Maſters ear.’ The hour that he was wont to call them up, was not yet arrived, when Marcellus turning himſelf to my Princes ſide, with a vivacious and reſolute action. ‘Brother ſaid he, I have combated and conquered for you, or rather for my ſelf, ſince by this victory I am directed in part, how to expiate the crime I have committed; Cleopatra now is yours, and I ask your pardon for having ſo injuſtly diſputed her; our friendſhip with the aid of reaſon, has almoſt driven her from my heart, and all that remaines unfiniſhed of the cure, I think may ſafely be referred to the Chirurgery of time, my youth, and a ſhort abſence, wich is already deſigned: I am now entered an Age, that allarms me to the trade of my Anceſtors, and tells me, tis time to go ſeek out reputation with my ſword in my hand; I will therefore beg the Emperors permiſſion to go ſerve my Apprenticeſhip under the Conſul Vinicius, who marches within a few dayes with a puiſſant Army into Germany, where I hope to perfect my recovery, not only by the help of a large diſtance, and a different employment, but a ſtrong reſolution more exactly to ballance the Emperors favour, and turn all my thoughts upon the Princeſs Julia, who has already honoured me with more affection than I have merited. At my return I dare promiſe, you ſhall find me ſo perfectly chang'd, as I ſhall conſerve no other thoughts for Cleopatra, but to prize her as a Princeſs that deſerves my friends affection, and both to confirm and aſſiſt her deſigns in your favour, againſt all ſuch perſons as may plead pretences to the right you have in her.’

Thus the noble Marcellus charactered his victorious friendſhip, and at the cloſe of his diſcourſe, left my Prince ſo raviſhed at his freedom and generoſity, as it coſt him ſome time to put a ſhape to his reſentments; yet at laſt he replyed, but in ſuch language, as did rather combat than gratulate his friends intention; he was very loath to be outdone in generoſity, or put his deſires upon a gentler Rack for his friend, than he had already done for him: this begat a kind conteſt betwixt them, which laſted a great part of the day, and it was fought on both ſides againſt themſelves, with ſo much obſtinacy, as the repetition of particulars would but tire your attention; at laſt it was but fit that Marcellus whoſe (paſſion was of a latter date, and leſs ardent than my Maſters) ſhould keep the liſts, and that my Princes conſent ſhould quadrate to the Emperors intentions, and Peoples deſires, by placing his friends heart in the Princeſs Julia's ſervice; but he could not quit him to his German Expedition, without a reſolution to bear him company, and beſides the conſideration of their amity, not being leſs tickled than he, with deſire of glory, he concluded to carry his firſt Arms with him under Vinicius, and diſpos'd himſelf for his departure with ſuch lively hopes, as help'd to charm a part of his griefs for leaving Cleopatra.

Some Provinces in Germany newly riſen in Rebellion, had cut in pieces the Roman Garriſons; and with two mighty Armies, levy'd upon the banks of Dannbius, not onely ſtruck a terror into all the neighbouring Nations, but ſwoln with ſucceſs, began to menace the Empire it ſelf; for this Expedition Coeſar made choice of Vinicius, a ſage and experienced Captain, to go in the head of the valianteſt Legions: and he was ready to begin to March, when our two young Princes demanded leave of the Emperor, to go gather the firſt flowers of their reputation in the Field; I doubt not but you know this has been a Roman Cuſtome, and all thoſe famous Commanders the World has talked ſo much of, whoſe vertue gave Rome ſo vaſt a Dominion, did firſt learn their Alphabet of War under the ancient Captains.

The two young Princes confirmed in this deſign, threw themſelves at the Emperors feet, repreſenting that now the arrival of their ſeventeenth year had brought them ſtrength to charge through the incommodities of War, it was time to begin with ſuch actions, as might inſtruct them to deſerve his affection, and coppy the glory of their Anceſtors; this requeſt was eaſily obtained of the Emperor, whoſe generous ſpirit highly applauded their brave reſolution.

They preſently put things in order for their parting, but my Maſters grand preparation was to divide himſelf from Cleopatra! his paſſion was already grown to its full ſtature, and the Princeſs ſtill preſerved him in her favour, with particular improvements of good will; yet ſhe began to draw her ſelf within the guard of a greater reſervation than [Page] formerly, and her increaſe of years taught her the ſeverity to cut off thoſe liberties by degrees, which her flexible youth had allowed him.

The Princes fore-ſight of this prepared him to endure it with patience, inſtructing all his actions to expreſs a reſpect to her ſo ſubmiſſive, as pleaded a true title to what he had gotten in her heart, yet he could not defend himſelf from the ſtings of diſcontent at this ſeparation, and had not a greedy deſire of glory been too ſtrong for his grief, every eye would have read it too plainly in his Viſage.

The parting day being arrived, he felt a neceſſity of all his courage, to pronounce an untroubled farewell to his Princeſs; but he gathered no ſlight ſatisfaction from his diſcovery, by ſome infallible tokens, that ſhe was ſenſibly touched at this ſeparation, and betrayed a timerous Jealouſie of thoſe dangers, to which he was going to expoſe his ſafety.

There are too many paſſages challenge a mention in my recital, to allow me the leiſure of enlarging my ſelf upon the ſeveral diſcourſes they enchanged at this parting, and therefore I ſhall only content my ſelf to tell you, that my Prince, after he had made freſh proteſtations of an eternal fidelity to the Princeſs, obtained a promiſe from her fair mouth, to preſerve him in her thoughts with ſo vigorous a care, as ſhould weaken all the attempts of abſence againſt her reſolution, to prefer him before all men: but the parting words of Marcellus were very remarkable, and after he had vowed at Cleopatra's feet, that he deſpoiled himſelf (for his friends ſake) of all thoſe pretences, that his love and ſervices might have given him; he ſpoke ſuch things in my Princes behalf, as (though they did Truth no injury) could ſpring from no other Fountain but a ſtrong and perfect amity, yet the ſweeteſt of my Maſters comforts at that parting, was a permiſſion, by the command of Octavia, and conſent of the Empreſs her ſelf, to write to his Princeſs.

But I will hold you no longer, the two Princes Marched away with a proud Equipage, and I followed my Maſter in that expedition, (as I did in all the reſt that ſucceeded it) and joyning the Troops that attended them, with the Conſuls groſs body; we left Italy behind us, and by large Marches quickly gained the Danubius; we met no adventures by the way that will deſerve to be dwelt upon, and indeed my relation ought but ſlightly to paſs away the morning of my Maſters youth, that it may more ſpeedily arrive at theſe weightier actions of which his life has been compoſed; I will onely tell you that his beginnings were miraculous, that at his firſt encounters he did ſuch things as raviſhed the Conſul, amazed the Soldiery; and ſcarce found credit at Rome, though ſeveral letters reported it.

Marcellus alſo at the firſt eſſay of his young valour, bravely ſignalized it by actions worthy of an eternal memory, and theſe two Princes, (in ſtead of Envy and Emulation) did mutually intereſs themſelves in each others glory; Marcellus taſted no truer delight in his own, than in the Reputation Coriolanus had gotten, and Coriolanus could not liſten to his proper praiſes, with clearer ſatisfaction, than to thoſe that cryed up Marcellus his credit; indeed 'tis true, my Maſter had the luck to perform ſome acts, that made his Fame ſound higher than his Friends, and in the ſeveral encounters were made upon the banks of Danubius, before the grand Battel he rendered himſelf remarkable by the effects of a valour, which the Romans publiſhed beyond all example; at an encounter which one of our Legions had with ſome Troops of Barbarians, he reſcued the Roman Eagles from a throng of Enemies that had newly ſeiz'd them, and brought them back to Vinicius, with their wings bathed in the blood of his Enemies, who cried up that action with ſuch loud praiſes, as could not be accepted by the Princes modeſty; at the aſſault of ſome revolted places that oppoſed our paſſage, and were carried by ſtorm, he was ever the firſt that entred the breach; and by the confeſſion of the Romans, their taking it was due to the glorious example he gave thoſe that fought near him, nor was his valour (of which he had given them ſo many preſidents) his only vertue, for in all thoſe diſorders that Victory uſes to drag along with it, he gave proofs of a moſt unparallel'd moderation, treated thoſe that fell into his hands, more like Friends and Allies than Enemies, and at the taking of ſuch places as were won by aſſault, he often obtained many lives of his Enemies by his earneſt interceſſion, which Vinicius had deſigned for an exemplary terror to be cut in peices: by ſuch actions as theſe, with the reſt of his brave demeanour among the Officers and Soldiers; he had ſo gain'd the hearts of the whole Army, that they all Petitioned Vinicius to give him ſome conſiderable Command, though it was unheard of in the Roman Diſcipline, to commit any charge to perſons of his Age; and when Vinicius at their ſolicitation, aſſiſted by his own eſteem of their worth, had given him and Marcellus a joynt Commiſſion to Command the Cavalry, all the Officers ſubmitted to them, with a joy that wanted no proofs to expreſs it ſelf.

[Page] But the Germans were not the only Enemies they had to Combat, for Cleopatra's remembrance kindled a crueller War, than the Barbarians could menace; indeed my Prince had no greater task than daily to feed and confirm thoſe thoughts that entirely laid his life at his Princeſs feet, every Idea that his fancy could ſhape, had the face of delight, and left a pleaſing impreſſion upon his ſpirit; but Marcellus fought with a ruder Combatant, and found his deſign to baniſh her his breaſt, was not like to gain an eaſie Conqueſt, however he ſtretched all his Forces to ſtrugle for it, and at laſt his continued care carried the victory; my Maſter (who in part perceived the ſilent torments that Prince's generoſity inflicted upon himſelf) did often endeavour to ſtagger his reſolution, and daily proteſted, that he had rather have him for a Rival all his life, nay, and would ſooner chuſe (if neceſſity required, and poſſibility conſented) to releaſe all his own pretences, than approve the violence ſuffered for his ſake.

But the generous Marcellus ſtuck to his promiſe with an unſhaken conſtancy; and then being yery young, and daily diverted by his Warlike employment, which he ever followed with a marvellous ardour, he obtained in part of himſelf what he deſired, and ſtriving to prefer Julia to his thoughts by the memory of her beauty (which indeed might be ranked with the moſt delicate in the world) by the favour ſhe had ſhown him, and the Emper or's will, upon whom his Fortunes totally depended, he quickly made a conſiderable progreſs.

In the mean time my Prince wrote often to the Princeſs Cleopatra; it would poſe my memory to repeat all his Letter, I have only in part retained the ſenſe and words of ſome of the ſhorteſt, and I believe the firſt he wrote little differed from theſe terms.

Prince Coriolanus, to the Princeſs Cleopatra.

‘IT is not enough to tell you (my Divine Princeſs) that you are always preſent in my memory; for with greater truth I may proteſt you have the entire poſſeſſion of my ſoul, where, in the ſterneſt dangers, you ever keep your Command, and Combat Romes Enemies with Arms that are invincible. Ha! my Princeſs, who can oppoſe a heart animated with ſo bright an Image? What Enemy will be able to diſpute the glory with me that may ſhew me the way to deſerve you? This high deſign will doubtleſs teach me to do ſomething more great, than Fortune can promiſe, and my deſtiny is too fair to fear a defeat by other Enemies, after being conquer'd by the Divine Cleopatra.’

This firſt in a ſhort time was ſucceeded by another, and I think the words were theſe.

Prince Coriolanus, to the Princeſs Cleopatra.

‘I Would ſay Fortune ſmil'd upon me, if the ſucceſs I have gotten by her favour, were not moderated by an abſence, to reſiſt which, I have ſcarce any courage left me; yet I would ſtrive to ſupport it, might I hope a place in the memory of my adorable Princeſs, I confeſs I cannot ask it without raſhneſs, and yet not forbear the demand, without neglecting what I owe to the conſervation of a life I have given her.’

Theſe were the two firſt he wrote, of which he received no anſwer; but a while after, having done wonders in another encounter, which report quickly carried to Rome, the Princeſs Octavia and the Emperor himſelf enjoyned her to write to him, which to ſatisfie them, ſhe did in theſe words.

The Princeſs Cleopatra to Prince Coriolanus.

‘I Obey the Commands impos'd upon me, to write to you without repugnance, and I follow my proper inclinations, when I aſſure you of the intereſt I take in the glorious ſucceſs of your arms; the whole world publiſhes your beautiful actions, Rome is an entire admirer, and I a particular rejoycer at them; the Gods grant that Fortune may never forſake you, and that you may not ſo blindly reſign your ſafety to your courage, as not to be careful of preſerving a life, that can never be indifferent to thoſe you judge worthy of your remembrance.’

My Prince received this Letter from the Princeſs, with an exceſs of joy, and kiſſed it a thouſand times, in an amorous rapture at theſe precious marks of her affection. The knowledge it gave him how much ſhe concern'd her ſelf in his glory, ſpur'd him on to greater enterpriſes, and carried him to ſuch a ſublime pitch in the whole Armies eſteem, as it talk'd of nothing more than the effects of his Valour, nor was he leſs known (by the havock he made) in the Enemies Camp than ours.

[Page] After divers Fights in Parties, the two Armies came to a general Battel, and it was fought ſo bravely on both ſides, upon the Banks of Danubius, that the ſtreams took increaſe and complexion from the blood that was ſpilt; young Coriolanus and his friend Marcellus at the head of the Cavalry they commanded, did there diſcloſe ſuch prodigies of Valour, as till then were not known among the Romans, and gave proofs of their prudence and good conduct, which no hopes could rationally expect from ſo immature an age: twice or thrice they rallied, and reinforc'd their Troops, which the firſt fury of the Barbarians had put into diſorder, and led them on again ſo couragiouſly, as after they had forced their reſiſtance by a valour more than humane, they totally routed the Enemy, and oblig'd the Roman Conſul to publiſh at the end of the day, that the Palm of Victory was only gather'd by their vertue.

Marcellus ſaved the life of Vinicius, mounted him again, and bravely cut him out a path to ſafety through a throng of his Enemies, in the middle of which, he was fighting on foot in manifeſt peril of his life: and my Maſter among other actions, by which he ſignaliz'd himſelf in that memorable day, having broken the ſtouteſt Squadron that environ'd them, gave Death with his own hands to the two chief Commanders of the Enemies Army, and by that action depriv'd all the reſt of their courage which they took from the preſence of their Generals.

The Battel did not period the War, for there yet remain'd ſome ſcattered Troops to be defeated, and revolted places that made ſome reſiſtance: two whole years were ſpent in this expedition, at the end of which the two Princes having now no more work for their Swords in Germany, bent their courſe with the Conſul to Rome, laden with praiſes that were never due before to ſuch young beginners; my Maſter daily ſhortned his way with all the joy that could be given him, by the hope of reſtoring his eyes to the ſight of Cleopatra, whom two years abſence (in ſtead of effacing) had more lively ingraven in his memory, and which help'd to compleat his ſatisfaction, he perceiv'd his dear Marcellus was perfectly cur'd, and that he had now no farther cauſe to fear to be travers'd by ſuch perſons whoſe repoſe he was oblig'd to value.

The exploits Vinicius had done in Germany were ſo great, that the Senate decreed him the honour of Triumph; but he refuſing it with a remarkable modeſty, the grandeur of his ſervices were acknowledg'd by other recompenſes that were very glorious, and by the command of the Emperour and Senate, there was made him a moſt magnifick entry, where every thing appear'd in a pompous dreſſing, but the greateſt part of the Romans found nothing ſo beautiful as our two young Princes, that marched on both ſides the Conſul, clad in arms, that were hid in the ſplendour of Gold and Jewels, their head and ſhoulders were ſhaded with white Feathers, and themſelves mounted on two white Horſes, whoſe beautiful pride did marvellouſly aid the grace wherewith their Maſters managed them; all thoſe that ſaw them paſs in that equipage, and had taken the account of the gallant actions they performed in War, from the mouth of Fame, ſtrew'd their paſſages with loud Acclamations of joy, and their praiſes throng'd like themſelves to welcome them; the Emperour received them with abundance of careſſes, and the priviledge Marcellus borrowed from his alliance, gave him no advantage of my Maſter in that reception; they were likewiſe ſaluted by the Empreſs and Princeſs Octavia with kind aſpects; but when they approached Cleopatra, the ſight of her made my Maſters eye releaſe all other objects, and his memory efface them; in this two years abſence he found her marvellouſly chang'd, her ſtature (though ſhe was then but fifteen) already reach'd the common height of Women, her neck almoſt formed to its perfect proportion, and her beauty mounted near to that Meridian in which you have viewed her; but with this advantagious change, a Royal Majeſty ſat iuthron'd in her face, and armed her looks with a greater ſeverity than appear'd in her precedent years, and my Prince could not behold her viſage without gathering the effects of a fear from her flowred Excellencies, which grew not there before in her budding youth; yet ſhe received him with her obliging civilities, he had no ſooner accoſted her, but without regard to the illuſtrious Spectators, he bent a knee to the Earth, and raviſhed a kiſs from her fair hand, before ſhe could enforce him to riſe, by this extraordinary reſpect publickly ſtripping part of his amorous deſigns to thoſe eyes that had not yet diſcovered them. In the preſence of ſo many witneſſes and perſons that waited to ſucceed one another in his embraces, he then had not the freedom of a particular converſe with her, but his eyes were the Deputies of his tongue, and elegantly tranſlated moſt of thoſe amorous thoughts into paſſionate looks, which his mouth ſhould have put into Accents, the whole Court ſpoke highly to his advantage, the general vote publiſhed his brave beginning beyond parallel, and the Emperour himſelf commended him to ſuch a height, as might have top'd the moſt irregular ambition; the honours that were rendered [Page] him had the approbation of all but Tiberius, the only man that envy'd his fortune, who (prepoſſeſſed by a mortal jealouſie againſt him) was ſtung to the heart at the praiſes were given him; Marcellus had a great ſhare in the glory, which indeed he juſtly merited, and the affection which the Romans naturally bare him, was marvellouſly augmented, by that clear proof of his vertue.

My Maſter being return'd to his lodging, was viſited by a throng of his Friends, and the firſt news he received, was, that Tiberius was enamoured of the Princeſs Cleopatra; my Prince had begun to ſuſpect it before his departure, but during his abſence, Tiberius had made his re-ſearch ſo publick, as Rome had few perſons that ignor'd it. Coriolanus reſented this intelligence with a ſenſible diſpleaſure, yet diſſembled it to his Friends with all the power and skill he could uſe; but when they had left him the liberty to entertain me in private, he paſſionately declared himſelf, fearful of ſo puiſſant a Rival, not that the valour or merit of his Perſon had any place in his fears, for while thoſe were only in queſtion, he knew himſelf able to diſpute Cleopatra; but he dreaded his Mother, the Empreſs Livia, well knowing, the credit ſhe had with the Emperor, had power to croſs his deſigns, if ſhe once approved of her Sons affection: however he reſolved to aſſault all obſtacles that encountred him, and openly to diſpute that at the price of his life, which his reaſon judg'd to be no mans due but his own.

He patiently waiteth an occaſion to entertain the Princeſs upon that ſubject, and (if poſſible) learn from her mouth the ſentiments ſhe had for his Rival; the following day offered him the liberty to make that trial, and obtaining the permiſſion to give her a viſit in her own lodgings, he enjoyed a large opportunity of exchanging his thoughts with her without interruption.

Their firſt diſcourſe may better be imagined than related, and you may eaſily judge my Maſter ſpent it upon the torments he ſuffered for her abſence, while the Princeſs expreſſed the glad content ſhe took in his return, with the happy and glorious ſucceſs of his voyage; yet ſhe contracted her language and looks with ſo much moderation and ſtrict reſerve, received the diſcourſe with ſo ſerious a face, as it ſtartled ſome of his forwardeſt hopes, which though he had foreſeen, yet he was not ſo well fortified againſt it, as not to read over her viſage with a timerous eye; yet he met ſomething there that hinted the occaſion he deſired, and mingling the reſpect with his words, which that new Majeſty imprinted; ‘Madam, ſaid he, if I may be permitted without offending the veneration I owe you, to undiſguiſe a part of my Sentiments, I muſt take the liberty to ſay, that the ſeverity that ſits upon your brow, does promiſe no happy Augury to my hopes; indeed if it only ſprings from a right underſtanding of what you are, I have no reaſon left me to complain, and mine ſhall agree with the judgments of perſons moſt diſ-intereſſed, that it is but a fit companion of that bright Majeſty, which we all acknowledge in you, as the Princeſs of the World, in whom it is moſt juſtly ſpher'd; but if it parts from another cauſe, I do there behold my condemnation, and read my irreparable ruine.’

‘I did not perceive, ſaid the Princeſs, interrupting him, that my behaviour to you had put on any other faſhion than it has formerly worn, and if a ſmall acceſs of years, has a little checked the freedom of my carriage; I cannot think the change can either diſadvantage your hopes, or diſquiet your repoſe:’ ‘I did always judge, replyed the Prince; that the childhood of my fortune was too forward to be long-liv'd, nor can I frame a juſt complaint, becauſe you cut off a part of thoſe favours which I never merited; but ſince all men are as unworthy as I, with your permiſſion I will believe, that Tiberius has not more right to demand them than my ſelf.’

By theſe words Cleopatra perceived the kindlings of my Maſters jealouſie, and now not doubting but he had heard of the purſuits Tiberius had made in his abſence, ſhe reſolv'd to keep on the Mask no longer, and preventing his diſcourſe with a ſmile; ‘Indeed I thought, ſaid ſhe, you would meet with the notice of what has paſſed ſince your departure, and if you ſtill owned an intereſt in my affairs, you would not ſtay long for the knowledge, that Tiberius has offered me affection; I did believe it neceſſary to diſſemble what I knew of it, nor ſhall I make any ſcruple to avow (if my apprehenſion ſcap'd miſtake) that the reſentments Tiberius has for me are the ſame with yours:’ ‘With mine, ſaid Coriolanus, with a haſty interruption, Ah! Madam, do not wound me with ſo deep a diſpleaſure, to think mine can ſuffer compariſon, without a mortal offence; I will eaſily believe Tiberius doth love you, for there is nothing upon Earth deſerves leſs incredulity, but that his Paſſion can meaſure with mine, is a belief that all the ſtrength of my ſubmiſſion and obedience is too weak to bow me to; Tiberius has excellent qualities, and poſſibly a Perſon more conſiderable than mine, but our diſpoſitions are very different, & I know our ſouls are incapable of cheriſhing an equal flame; if all the requiſites [Page] of Love were comprized in offering Proteſtations of fidelity at your feet, or ſpruſing up the paſſion in artificial language, perhaps I might juſtly claim no advantage; but if to miſpriſe and abandon all thoſe things, wherewith ambitious perſons build their felicity, to ſacrifice my life at your feet; nay, and if poſſible, to dye it a thouſand times over in your ſacrifice, be to love aright, methinks you ſhould find ſome difference 'twixt the Paſſion of Tiberius, and that of Coriolanus.’

‘Then I will tell you, ſaid the Princeſs, to repair the diſpleaſure I have given you; that I do diſtinguiſh betwixt you; and if I thought you would not take too much advantage of my words, I would add, that you are better placed in my opinion than Tiberius, not that his affection has not put on as fair and ſpecious proofs, nor that it has almoſt ſpoke the ſame language that yours have utter'd, yet with truth I dare aſſure you, that neither his diſcourſe nor actions have got any hold in my heart, and if I change not my humour, I think it will ask a long time to make my inclinations look that way.’

This free and unreſerv'd Declaration of the Princeſs, gave my Maſter a ſatisfaction that drove away all his fears, and calm'd his diſpleaſures, which not being able to diſſemble one moment, recovering that gaiety that uſually ſparkled in his lively looks; ‘I am made too glorious, ſaid he, by the honour you have done me, in thus unmaſquing your propenſions; and ſince they are not diſpos'd of my Rival, but I am permitted to try my title with him by my ſervices, I will learn to hope from your bounty, and the Divine favour, that he ſhall not carry the advantage; and now Madam, I will freely confeſs, that I take not my greateſt fears from his perſon, for I do much more redoubt the credit of the Empreſs, than either the ſervices or good qualities of Tiberius.’ 'Tis true, reply'd Cleopatra, the Empreſs did a while ſince ſpeak in his favour, but ſhe had not as yet much preſſed it; for as her thoughts are buſier in building up the fortunes and greatneſs of her Son, than ſoothing his affection; ſo I think her ſtudies are more directly levelled, at a power in the Emperors ſpirit, than in mine: May ſhe have the Gods conſent, replyed Coriolanus, to the ſucceſs of that deſign, for they all know I will neither grudge him the favour of Auguſtus nor the poſſeſſion of the Empreſs, provided he lets fall his Title to my Princeſs affection.

Cleopatra was going to reply, but was hindered by the arrival of the Princeſs Julia and Marcellus; who, with a great train of other perſons, then enter'd the Chamber, but the following days they reſumed opportunities of reviving this diſcourſe, which gave my Maſter, a clear diſcovery, that he was not only preferred to Tiberius in his Princeſs thoughts, but was almoſt as well ſeated there, as his own reaſon could deſire from ſuch a perſon as Cleopatra, whoſe courage was already mounted to that pitch, that there was not a humane conſideration capable to abaſe her ſpirit ſo much as to one ſingle thought, unworthy of her former Fortunes.

In the mean time the two Princes her Brothers were brought up at Octavia's houſe, with as much care as was due to their extractions, and equal to the hopes they promiſed; Alexander was of the ſame age with his Siſter, Ptolomee one year younger, and both endow'd with a beauty ſo excellent, ſuch an amiable gentileneſs was ſtamp'd in their behaviour, performing all the Exerciſes were taught them, with ſuch a graceful dexterity, and diſcloſing ſo much grandeur of Courage in all ſuch encounters, as gave them opportunities to ſhew the marks of it; as all the Roman People regarded them with admiration, the Emperor highly eſteemed, and the Court conſidered them as the deſerving Children of ſo great a Father, and worthy to inherit a better deſtiny; they no ſooner reach'd 15 but they appeared at all the great Meetings, and deſpiſing the childiſh employments, that commonly buſied perſons of their age, they mingled with thoſe of riper years that addicted themſelves to ſuch as were more ſerious and important.

My Prince who both regarded them as Cleopatra's Brothers, and as Princes that needed no other aſſiſtance than their own deſert to purchaſe his eſteem, ſtrove to indear them with much affection, and equally engaged himſelf to their intereſts and his own; but he particularly obſerved ſomething ſo great and ſo noble in the Mind and Spirit of Alexander as invited him to a perfect amity, and that Prince (young as he was) ſo well underſtood my Maſters admirable qualities, that his affection to him, ſcarce gave Marcellus the precedency.

At that time the inclinations of Marcellus began to bend their courſe to another Centre, and as he ſtill drove on the deſign of drawing off his thoughts from Cleopatra, ſo he turned his eyes with leſs reluctance upon the Beauties of the Princeſs Julia, which he found ſo full of charms, as it was impoſſible, after his reſolve intirely to put off the other paſſion, to regard her long with an indifferent eye; in effect that Lady is Miſtris of ſo delicate a beauty, as it may ſcarce give place to any of Natures choiceſt favourites, and ſhe makes uſe of theſe [Page] advantages with ſo nimble an ingenuity, as few perſons in the World come near her; ſhe has a ſpirit, hardy, ſupple, and pliant to all ſorts of encounters, but very wavering and dangerous to the repoſe of ſuch perſons as are taken with her baits, which had Marcellus known before, I think he would not eaſily have engaged upon thoſe Rocks, againſt which her inconſtant and artificial humours have often daſh'd him.

Though doubtleſs you have taken this in bulk from the mouth of Report, yet I may learn you ſome particulars in the recital of my Maſters life, which never yet came at your ear; and indeed their adventures are ſo entangled one with another, as it would be a very difficult task to ſingle them in my relation: when Marcellus firſt undertook to ſerve Julia in earneſt, he found her diſpoſition ſo ready to receive his addreſſes, as (though himſelf had valued his deſert at the higheſt) he could not have gotten ſuch large hopes in ſo little time, without the aſſiſtance of a powerful anticipation; but this dexterous wit, no ſooner perceiv'd he had ſwallow'd the bait, but ſhe began by degrees to put a cover upon her former kindneſs, as much as to ſay, ſhe was willing he ſhould openly buy that with ſome pain, which indeed ſhe had already liberally given him, before he was willing to ask it.

Marcellus was not the onely Priſoner to Julia's beauty, for ſome of the Principal Romans, with divers Kings Sons that were brought up at Rome, and many Kings themſelves, which the neceſſity of their Affairs detained neer Auguſtus Perſon, did all ſigh for her in ſecret.

In the mean time my Maſter and Tiberius daily met in Cleopatra's Chamber, both openly profeſſing their reſearch; but the knowledge they both had of this mutual competition, would not have been pocketed on either ſide, if ſome powerful conſiderations had not held their hands; Tiberius was well acquainted with my Maſters courage, and my Prince forgot not Livia's authority and credit with the Emperor. One evening they met at her Lodgings, which immediately preceeded a day that Auguſtus had appointed for publickly ſpectacles, wherein, beſides Gladiators, and Combats with wilde Beaſts in the Amphitheatre, the nobleſt Romans were to ſhew their addreſs in Courſes on Horſeback, and divers other exerciſes that ſuited their condition; for theſe my Maſter, Tiberius and Marcellus, made their preparations, and formed Parties to ſignalize themſelves before their Princeſſes, thus tacitly inſtructing the whole City, to expect things from them worthy of their Magnificence and Gentilneſs.

A part of the fore-going night was paſs'd away in the Princeſs Cleopatra's Chamber, who had been let blood that day, and carried her Arm in a rich Scarf tiſſu'd with Gold and Silk, and wrought with admirable artifice, which the Rival Princes had no ſooner ſeen, but they were both ſtruck with an equal ardour, to wear that precious favour in the next days ſolemnity; my Princes reſpect and moderation impriſoned his deſires, but Tiberius being more hardy, or (to expreſs it better) leſs reſpective, was willing to make uſe of that confidence, which he knew how to practice in the reſt of his actions, and addreſſing his words to my Maſter; ‘Think you not Coriolanus, ſaid he, that the Perſon which could gain the Princeſs conſent, to let him wear this precious Scarf in the Liſts to morrow, would not have a grand advantage of his Companions, and, by a Favours encouragement of ſo high a price, infallibly carry that which the Emperor has deſigned for the beſt deſerver?’ ‘That will be eaſily granted, reply'd my Prince coldly, but as I think it a grace which few mens hopes are worthy to aſpire at, ſo I doubt the Princeſs will not find out any that are fit for ſo much happineſs:’ ‘and why not, ſaid Tiberius, what ever price her Favours can amount to, can any reaſon forbid hopes to thoſe Courages that are hardy enough to enterprize all things for her ſervice? Her goodneſs allows us to hope for what ſhe is pleaſed to grant, reply'd my Maſter, but Raſh is a fitter Epithite than Hardy, for him that will raiſe a Title to it, as a thing that may be merited, when he only ought to wait for it from her pure condeſcention.’

Tiberius was going to reply, when the Princeſs, who had all this time been ſilent, regarding him with a diſdainful look; ‘Do not put your ſelf to the trouble, ſaid ſhe, of diſputing thoſe pretences any further, my Favours do but weakly deſerve your Services, and you ſhould do well to level them at objects of higher value, which poſſibly you may obtain with greater eaſe.’

‘If I ever took care, (ſaid Tiberius) to aim at any thing but you only, let me wear out my life without a recompence: yet I cannot deſpair, continued he with a ſmile, to obtain part of my deſire, and I am now going to ask the Gods good will, that I may have yours to accord it. When he had uttered theſe words, making a low Reverence to the Princeſs, he left her preſence, with a face apparently full of ſatisfaction.’

[Page] My Maſter who had liſtn'd to this diſcourſe, not without the uſe of his patience, ſtaid ſome time the Princeſs after his departure, whom he then entertain'd with a larger liberty, and expreſſed an ardent deſire to appear next day in the field, under her Colours; but he found her indiſpoſed to grant that requeſt, and as ſhe ever temper'd all her actions with an admirable circumſpection, ſhe contented her ſelf to afford him a verbal aſſurance, that ſhe gave him the preference above all the perſons that ſerv'd her, without conſenting to allow him advantages, which ſhe thought would bely that haughty and rigorous vertue, of which ſhe made a ſevere Profeſſion.

The next day all things were made ready in the Amphitheatre that the Pomp requir'd, but I think you do not deſire my relation ſhould range on either ſide from what concerns my Maſters life; I will therefore contract the particulars, and only tell you, that every thing was diſpoſed for the celebration of theſe ſports; the people were rank'd according to the cuſtomary order, the Emperor plac'd on one ſide, with the moſt conſiderable perſons of the Senate, and the Empreſs on the other with all the Princeſses and nobleſt Roman Ladies, when my Prince enter'd the Cirk armed and mounted very gallantly; all his Armour offer'd the eye a mingled ſplendour of Gold and Jewels, and the hand of Art had ſo curiouſly embelliſh'd the materials, as it would long have kept the aſſiſtants gazing, if the grace of him that bore him, had not beckn'd their looks to a more delightful attention; his Cask was ſhaded with twenty white feathers, and through his Viſour, which was then half up, there appear'd a face ſo noble and ſo amiably fierce, as all the Spectators beheld it with reſpect, and almoſt all their hearts voted in his favour; but the acclamations of the people could take but little hold of his thoughts, and deſpiſing all ſorts of other objects, he ſent his eyes in ſearch of the Princeſs, whom they found ſeated at the Empreſs feet, by the Princeſs Octavia's ſide, where ſhe ſhin'd like ſome great Star, whoſe Maſter-light had half obſcur'd the reſt of the Celeſtial Spangles, attracted the eyes of Rome, and buſied all mens thoughts, with a juſt wonder at her beauty; when I ſaw her in that eſtate, I confeſs I was dazled as well as the reſt, and pos'd to find any thing ſtrange in the effects which that marvel of beauty produc'd in my Maſters ſpirit.

After he had ſpent ſome time in gazing upon her, with all the affections of a Man that had loſt his heart, he was obliged to retire to another ſide, and put himſelf in the head of his Troops after the example of Tiberius, Marcellus, Agrippa, young Alexander and his Brother, who already began to mingle themſelves in thoſe Exerciſes, with the other Captains, which were then preparing to begin the ſports; Never was any thing ſeen more pompous than Marcellus, and his brave Mine had the help of all the Ornaments and advantages that the Roman Curioſity could invent; nor was Tiberius behind him in the pride of Garb and Equipage; he was Jewel'd all over with a marvellous profuſion, his Habit, Caſque and Armour, were ſtarr'd with a thouſand flames, which dazled all the Spectators opticks; but, for his moſt precious and remarkable ornament, his Shoulders were covered with that fair Scarf, which my Prince had ſeen Cleopatra wear the night before, and the ſame which gave occaſion to the diſcourſe recited; my Maſter no ſooner ſaw but he knew it, and that knowledge ſuddenly ſtabb'd it ſelf through his heart with a mortal ſurpriſal, an univerſal ſhivering preſently ran through all his Members, and in one moment overthrew the force of his Reaſon; he ſtood and gaz'd a while, holding his Arms a-croſs, in the poſture of a man that was Planet-ſtruck, upon that cruel object, when the ſound of the Trumpets, which made the Amphitheatre eccho, call'd him back to himſelf, and made him demand a reſolution of his ſpirit; the firſt that preſented it ſelf to his incenſed thoughts, was to fly upon Tiberius, and ſnatch away his life in the ſight of the Emperor and all the Romans, and change the Combat which was only deſign'd to wear the harmleſs livery of delight into a Crimſon complexion, but theſe tempeſtuous thoughts to which the firſt motions of his fury hurried him, began already to overblow in his mind; they were oppos'd with ſome remains of reaſon, but more over-power'd with the fear of offending Cleopatra, than any other conſideration; he had ſome thoughts publickly to reproach that Princeſs, with the injuſtice ſhe had done him, but reſpect had ſtill ſtrength enough left to defer the effect of that reſolution; the laſt which he clos'd with, was, to retire from thoſe ſports, where he had now neither force nor courage to appear like himſelf, and take freſh advice of his thoughts, without the interruption of ſo many ſpectators.

Theſe deep Cogitations that ſuſpended his ſenſe and motion, had ſwallow'd ſo much time, as all the Troops had already chang'd their places, and begun to joyn in the Exerciſe, only his ſtood ſtill in its place, attending his order and example to move; the young Alexander who was of his ſide, had often call'd to him, when taking him gently by the Arm, ‘My Lord, ſaid I, do you not perceive that ours is the only Troop that is not Marched?’ This brought him to himſelf, and regarding him with a viſage wholly chang'd; ‘[Page] Let us go Emilius, ſaid he, I can do no more.’ At theſe words after he had intreated Alexander to take his place, he crowded through his own Squadron, and leaning upon my ſhoulder retir'd towards one of the Gates.

Tiberius, whoſe intereſt ſtill kept an eye upon my Maſters actions, perceived him when he parted, and taking commiſſion from his haughty pride, newly ſwoln with this preſent proſperity, to brave him: ‘What Coriolanus, cry'd he, do you retreat? do you quit the Liſts?’ Theſe words had like to have put my Maſter paſt all conſideration, and provok'd him to a percipitate aſſault of that Rival with his Sword in his hand, who had taken ſo much inſolence from that advantage; but a reſerve of Judgment did then hold the hands of his paſſion, and only turning towards him with a furious look, and a pair of eyes that flamed with rage; ‘'Tis not to thee, ſaid he, that I quit the Liſts, but to thoſe marks of thy Fortune, which thou art not worthy to bear, and which I ſhall poſſibly find a time to make thee reſign, with thy life to boot.’

I believe Tiberius (who had turned his head another way) did not well underſtand theſe laſt words, but they were clearly over-heard by divers perſons of his own party, that might eaſily carry them to his ear, and to that purpoſe my Maſter ſpoke them.

‘'Tis not unlikely, interrupted Tyridates, that they might be concealed by the diſcretion of thoſe that heard them, leſt they ſhould incenſe the Emperour, with ſomenting a quarrel betwixt perſons ſo conſiderable as your Maſter and Tiberius.’

‘I am of the ſame belief, reply'd Emilius, In the mean time, Sir, let me intreat, you would not think it ſtrange, it I a little amplifie ſome particulars, that are not the moſt important in my Maſters life, though not altogether ſo trivial, but you may poſſibly judge them worthy of your attention.’

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA, OR Love's Maſter-Piece. PART II.
LIB. II.

[Page]

ARGUMENT.

Coriolanus, by an improvement of his jealous miſtake, and the receipt of an angry anſwer from Cleopatra, falls into a deſperate feaver. Marcellus unridles Tiberius's Plot, cures the Malady, and reconciles the Lovers. Julia looſely deſerts Marcellus, and diſplaces her affection upon Corolianus, her levity divides the friends, till Coriolanus clears the ſuſpition. The enquiry of their fate from Traſillus begets an open Quarrel 'twixt him and Tiberius, the Emperor interpoſes, and Cleopatra is propos'd as a prize to him of the two that deſerved beſt in their Military employments.

THUS my Maſter left the Amphitheatre, excuſing his departure with ſome indiſpoſition to thoſe that demanded the reaſon; my ſelf was as ignorant as the reſt, of the true cauſe of it, but when we were arriv'd at his Chamber, as I was taking off his Arms, I remark'd an extream paleneſs, and an extraordinary change in his Viſage, which made me timerouſly demand the cauſe of ſo great and ſudden an alteration. He ſtood a good while without returning an anſwer, overwhelm'd with ſo black a ſadneſs, as it ſcarce left him the uſe of ſpeech; but after I had often redoubled my ſolicitations to know the reaſon; ‘Didſt thou not ſee, ſaid he, with two or three ſighs, didſt thou not ſee that Scarf which Tiberius wore to day upon his Armes, and couldſt not perceive it was the ſame that Cleopatra carried her arm in yeſterday, when thou wert with me at her Lodgings?’ To me ſhe refus'd the ſlighteſt, and moſt trivial favours, though I begged them with abundance of ſubmiſſion, and to that inſolent, has granted what he proudly pretended to in my preſence, on purpoſe to dreſs him up a Triumph over me, while my own eyes, with all the Peoples muſt ſtand gazing at my ſhame; that inconſtant woman has forgot the promiſes ſhe repeated a thouſand times over, to place me ever in her eſteem before him, has forgot her ſelf on purpoſe, to publiſh her legerity to all the Empire. That Cleopatra, that ſpirit which I believed incapable of the weakneſs, and imperfections of the Sex, has ruin'd me with the fall from vertue, and makes nothing to give up a Prince as a prey to deſpair, that can ſhew more deſert for her affection, than he that her ingratitude and injuſtice prefer'd before him; in the ſequel of this paſſionate diſcourſe, he let looſe a Torrent of other reproaches; but within one moment retracted all, with a ſudden motion of repentance gets the Maſtery of his reſentments, and demands Pardon of the Princeſs for the raſh words his rage had utter'd; then he turns the tide of his choler upon Tiberius, and addreſſing his Speech to him with an action full of fury; ‘Think not, ſaid he, think not thou inſolent Rival, to prevail by theſe advantages that fortune has blindly given thee, thou doſt [Page] thou doſt hold nothing of me, but of her, and if by the fall of my Empires I am fallen to a lower eſteem with Cleopatra, than the Son of Livia; at leaſt by a courage more Noble, a birth more illuſtrious, and the Teſtimonies of a Love more perfect than his, I may repair the defects of that, which giddy chance has only given thee above me: thou art now grown gay with the ſpoils of my repoſe and glory, and haſtproudly deck'd thy ſelf with an Ornament due to me only, but fear Tiberius, (if thy fortune will let thee apprehend it) fear, that this preſent may prove fatal; thou mayſt yet be put to buy it at the price of thy blood; nor canſt thou give dear enough for it, though all thy veins were empty'd for the payment.’ His paſſion brought forth a thouſand other complaints full of the marks of tranſport and deſpair. In this manner he tormented himſelf the reſt of the day, till the evening arriv'd, and about the hour they return'd from the Spectacles, he reſolv'd to write to the Princeſs; when, after he had try'd all the ſtrength of his reaſon to tame the rage that poſſeſt him, and reduce himſelf to a condition, employing of the ſame reſpect, which he uſually expreſt in his other Letters, at laſt he made the Paper ſpeak in theſe terms.

Prince Coriolanus, to the Princeſs Cleopatra.

‘IT is not for the unfortunate Coriolanus to complain of Cleopatra: he owes her all, and, has merited nothing of her; but if he might have leave to aſſume the liberty, he would make it appear that though he be unworthy of her favours, Tiberius has not better deſerv'd them: the grant of ſo publick an advantage, has openly deſtroy'd the promiſe you made me, never to prefer the Son of Livia before the Prince of Mauritania: but ſince it is not permitted me to demand of my Sovereign the effects of her promiſes, I will try the courteſie of Death, for a comfort which I can receive of none but her, and for which I am willing to owe her the entire obligation.’

He had no ſooner finiſhed theſe words, when (without conſulting further with reſpect or reaſon) he commanded me to carry them to the Princeſs. I found ſome precipitation in this proceeding, but as I ever paid him a blind obedience, I took the Letter and carried it to Cleopatra's Lodgings. She was newly return'd from the Amphitheatre, and retir'd alone into her Cabinet much troubled, but when ſhe knew I was there to ſpeak with her, ſhe commanded I ſhould enter; I preſently read a part of her diſcontent in her viſage, yet ſhe forc'd it (before I had time to ſpeak) to demand how my Maſter did, ‘In a very ſad eſtate Madam, ſaid I, part of which you will learn from the Letter he commanded me to give you.’

The Princeſs, without returning an anſwer, took the Letter and read it, but before ſhe had got to the end, I eaſily perceived that choler had drowned the Lillies of her face in a flood of bluſhes. That haughty courage could not ſuffer the liberty he took to reproach her, and feeling her own Innocence, ſhe repented her deſign to give him comfort and ſatisfaction, if his patience could have waited it; and now deſpight began to grow active in her, but ſhe commanded her ſelf with a power ſo irreſiſtable, as hindered the heat of it from breaking out in my preſence; though ſhe knew my Maſter honoured me with he knowledge of his ſecrets, and letting fall the Letter upon the Table, with an action full of cold neglect: ‘Coriolanus has reaſon, ſaid ſhe, to believe, that it is not for him to complain of Cleopatra, nor demand the effects of her promiſes; for my part I never made any to him, that could engage me ſo deep as he has injuſtly pretended: my favours are neither for Tiberius nor him, nor ſhall ever be granted to any perſon that uſurps the liberty to upbraid me: I could poſſibly juſtifie my ſelf againſt his reproaches, and perhaps would have done it too, had he given me time; but ſince he has prevented the intention I might have had, with an act ſo inſuitable to the knowledge he ſhould have of my humour, bid him go ſeek his comforts where he can find them, and let me be quiet.’

At theſe words (after ſhe had made me a ſign to retire) ſhe took up a book and began to read in it, without turning her head any more towards me. I went away in a deep ſadneſs, and a grand confuſion, at the bad ſucceſs of my meſſage, and was no ſooner returned to my Maſter, but my Face told him part of the truth before my Tongue could begin it; yet I had ſome deſign to ſweeten it as much as poſſible, but his impatience would neither allow me the time, nor leave me aſſurance, forbidding me to diſguiſe any thing, with a a look ſo ſevere and terrible, as I durſt not adventure it. Then I punctually recounted to him the action, and repeated the language word for word of Cleopatra, which brought him to the ſaddeſt condition that miſfortune could make; I did believe the unkindneſs he took at her pretended change, would have fortified him againſt the fear of her anger: but his ſoul found room enough for both the paſſions, and if he were afflicted with a belief of [Page] Cleopatra's diſcretion, he trembled at the thought of her anger, and the very intelligence of ſo haſty an indignation in ſo moderate a ſpirit, confirmed his opinion of her inconſtancy; for he could not believe that petty offence could paſs her ſo ſuddenly, to a cold indifferency touching his repoſe and his life, unleſs ſhe had loſt that which formerly nouriſhed the care of it, and receiv'd a new impreſſion that had effac'd the old one; then did he let fly ſuch language and behaviour, that it was but little conform'd to his ordinary moderation; all his thoughts tended to the death of Tiberius: but he was ſoon put paſt the power of acting thoſe reſolutions, and whether cauſed by the jealouſie of his Rivals Fortune, or apprehenſion of Cleopatra's anger, he fell that very evening into a moſt violent Feaver.

He was ſcarce laid in his bed, when Marcellus (who had been anxious for his welfare, ever ſince he ſaw him depart the Cirque ſo unexpectedly) entered the Chamber; I was very glad of his preſence, hoping the power he had in his ſpirit, would prove the beſt medicine to remit his diſeaſe: before he approached my Maſters bed (who yet knew not of his coming) he demanded of me the account of his health, and I (knowing my Maſter never uſed to hide any thing from him) was willing to give him the naked truth, concerning it, requiſite to ſave the ſick man the labour, who could not enter upon that recital, without the danger of a paſſionate tranſport. Marcellus was aſtoniſh'd at the diſcourſe which I made him touching Cleopatra's Scarf, and the rage ſhe was in at my Maſters Letter, and being indeed his real friend, he did tenderly intereſs himſelf in his affection; but he was Maſter of a grand courage, and that rather diſpos'd him to aſſiſt than bewail his friend; with this deſign approaching his beds ſide, ‘What Coriolanus, ſaid he, is your courage fled, as ſoon as you feel the firſt blow of misfortune? cannot you call to mind how bravely it has ſerved you in more dangerous encounters?’ ‘Ah! my dear Marcellus, reply'd the Prince with a deep ſigh, as my unhappineſs is ſtated, how vainly would my courage ſtruggle to relieve me? and how much more eaſie is it to brave Death with my Sword in my hand, than thus to ſupport the Choler and inconſtancy of Cleopatra?’ ‘I know, ſaid Marcellus, Cleopatra's Choler will not be long liv'd, and for her inconſtancy, let me tell you, your ſuſpition is built but upon ſlight appearances.’ ‘Call you theſe ſlight appearances, reply'd my Prince, that I ſaw with my proper eyes, and could Tiberius obtain a more conſiderable advantage over me, than that which glittered in the ſight of the whole City?’ ‘Emilius has told me all, ſaid Marcellus, and I confeſs you have ſome cauſe of diſcontent; but thus to throw your ſelf down ſo weakly, is that which I cannot pardon, ſince I can ſee no ſolid foundation to prop the opinion of your unhappines.’ ‘Ah! Marcellus, cry'd my Maſter, how eaſie is it for thoſe to ſwim in a tide of proſperity, to ſentence a weakneſs, which doubtleſs themſelves would fall into, if their fortune once grew angry! Do you believe, purſued he, leaning upon his Elbow, and regarding Marcellus with a paſſionate look do you believe that after ſuch viſible marks of Tiberius fortune, and my diſgrace, I can keep the current of my grief within the banks of moderation? and would you eſteem that a true courage as you alledge, if it ſhould defend me from the ſenſibility I owe to the utter ſhipwrack of my hopes? No no, my dear Marcellus, ſince I have faſtned my life to Cleopatra's affection, 'tis but fit it ſhould die with it, and I ask no more of the Gods, but only to give way to my revenge upon Tiberius; I ſaw that inſolent man deck'd with a precious favour, that I durſt not raiſe my hopes to, and I remember, after he had proudly demanded it in my preſence, his diſcourſe and action witneſſed that he was ſure to obtain it; that Princeſs, which I believ'd incapable of ſo black a diſſimulation, cunningly cover'd her deſign to favour him, and ſince made no difficulty to bely the appearances that deceiv'd me, and diſplay to every Roman eye the advantages ſhe gave him to the prejudice of my hopes: After ſo cruel a diſgrace, one ſlight complaint, and that too ſweetned with reſpect, a complaint which the Gods never forbad us in our leaſt afflictions, has drawn upon me the indignation of that ſpirit, which (had it not been chang'd) would eaſily have pardon'd the effect of ſo juſt a reſentment. Nor would ſhe have put ſo much gall of contempt and cruelty in her words, if ſhe had not deſign'd this life (which I have intirely given her) for a Sacrifice to deſpair; and oh that her ſelf would offer it! or at leaſt behold the deplorable end of a life which I will preſerve no longer, ſince it has diſpleaſed, and is grown indifferent to her. At afflictions of this ſtamp, my deareſt friend, you do but throw away the fruit of your generoſity; and this effect of friendſhip which your admirable vertue has forc'd from you in my favour, is now laviſh'd in vain, ſince my preſent condition will neither permit me to receive nor requite it.’

The Prince (who thus let himſelf be carried down the impetuous ſtream of his paſſion) would doubtleſs have inlarged his complaint, if Marcellus, who judg'd a diſcourſe ſo vehement, might prove a dangerous foe to his health, had not interrupted him.

‘I do not ſeek to oppoſe your reſentments, ſaid he, and I am well enough acquainted [Page] with the cauſe that afflicts you, to excuſe the effects, but I could have wiſh'd you had made a clearer diſcovery before you leap'd the precipice to theſe extremities. I know I can quickly learn the truth, and when you have no further cauſe to doubt of your good or ill fortune, we ſhall ſee what behaviour will beſt become you; 'tis too late this night to ſee the Princeſs Cleopatra,’ but to morrow I will not fail to viſit her, and as cunning as ſhe is, I dare pawn my promiſe ſhe ſhall find a hard task to hide her inclinations from my ‘knowledge;’ in the mean time for my ſake diſpoſe your ſelf to reſt, and oblige my endeavours to redeem you from this ſad condition, with the auſpicious hope of a happy ſucceſs.

My Maſter was ſo deeply buried in grief, as he ſlighted the officious cares of his friend, and earneſtly oppoſed his deſign to labour his repoſe, proteſting; if his life were indifferent to Cleopatra, he would never try the ſtrength of his own, nor others induſtry to preſerve it: but Marcellus, having ſtaid ſome time with him, made a diſcreet uſe of it in inſinuating ſuch preſſing reaſons, as if he did not pacifie his ſpirit, at leaſt he diſpoſed it, to expect the event of his intended diſcourſe with Cleopatra. When Marcellus was gon, my Maſter waſted the reſt of the night with nothing but ſighs and ſobs, accompanied with disjoynted ſpeeches: and though his feaver was very intenſe, he would not ſuffer us to call a Phyſitian, nor employ any remedies to reſcue his health, which himſelf had abandon'd.

The next day, ſo ſoon as the Princeſs Cleopatra might civilly be ſeen, the officious Marcellus went to her lodging, and found her in the ſame angry mood that poſſeſt her the day before, nevertheleſs ſhe receiv'd him with all the civility was due to his condition, to the merit of his perſon, and the particular eſteem ſhe had always born him; ſhe had then no other company with her but one Maid, whom ſhe peculiarly truſted, which offer'd him opportunity to entertain her with liberty enough, and taking a hint from the ſadneſs that over-ſpread her viſage, to fall upon his deſign; ‘If I did not highly value your quiet, ſaid he,’ I would borrow ſome comfort from the encounter of a perſon, that appears as Male-content as my ſelf, but I will always importune the Gods to preſerve you from ſuch afflictions as I endure.

Though the Princeſs ſuſpected his drift, yet ſhe was not willing to croſs it, and feigning ſome amazement at his words; ‘If I knew you had a juſt cauſe for any inward anguiſh, ſaid ſhe, I ever eſteem'd you at the price of taking my ſhare in your afflictions; but I cannot think you have now any reaſon to find fault with your fortune.’ ‘Yes, I have great cauſe to complain of her, reply'd Marcellus, and if reſpect would permit me, would ſay, of you too, ſince you have both joyn'd to deſtroy me, the moſt generous, and perfecteſt friend that ever breath'd; the infortunate Coriolanus dies, and I cannot comprehend for what offence you have doom'd him; ſure you can neither doubt the grandeur of his love nor reſpect, and for the qualities of his perſon, they are ſo known to all the world, that 'tis not likely you alone ſhould ignore them; I would ſay more, (and if you pleaſe, you may ſafely give me leave) that you have formerly eſteem'd him, and time is not two days older, ſince he had cauſe to be proud of his fortune; but the ſpace of one night has ruined him, and then, when he was leaſt prepared for ſo cruel a revolution, he hath ſeen with his own eyes the indubitable marks of his diſaſter, and received from anothers mouth, that brought him your intentions, the fatal ſentence you pronounced againſt him;’ yet he does not murmur at you, nor complain of his Deſtiny, ſince he always laid it at your feet, but if an innocent may have leave—

Marcellus would have gone on, when the Princeſs (who had liſtened with impatience) haſtily interrupted him; ‘'Tis enough Marcellus, ſaid ſhe, I apprehend all you would ſay for your friend, and poſſible I ſhould not ſo long have ſuffered the ſame diſcourſe from another perſon: I am neither ignorant of his birth, nor the qualities of his perſon, and till now I wanted cauſe to complain of his affection or reſpect? but ſince he has begun to quit it, and believes he may lawfully take commiſſion from my ſoftneſs, for his pretence to the command of my actions, he ought not to think it ſtrange if I deſire to diſabuſe him, and let him know, that I will never reſign that power either to him or any perſon living. See what a Letter he hath ſent me, (continued ſhe, taking up my Maſters Letter, which lay open upon the Table) conſider the terms, and judge if you pleaſe whether it holds a proportion with that reſpect, for which you would fain recommend him.’

‘When he wrote the Letter, reply'd the diſcreet Marcellus, he deemed himſelf already loſt to your thoughts, for he had ſeen Tiberius vapour it with the badge of a happineſs which could never be built but upon his ruine, and at the knowledge of ſo viſible and ſo publick an infelicity, would you have him do leſs than put in his complaint, which methinks he has done too with moderation enough.’ ‘Had he made uſe, reply'd the Princeſs, of that moderation and reſpect you talk of, he ſhould doubtleſs have received a [Page] full ſatisfaction, for as his misfortune had no other foundation but his own opinion, ſo that once confuted, he would have been reſtored to the Eſtate, of which he believed him ſelf unjuſtly deprived: but inſtead of repairing to me with a due reſpect for my conſtruction of the truth, he writes to me in an imperious ſtile, upbraids me with promiſes made him, and favours given to Tiberius, in terms full of pride and inſolence; do you think he did not owe me the deference, at leaſt to inform himſelf calmly of the truth, before he flew into reproaches ſo audaciouſly againſt a Princeſs, to whom by his own confeſſion, he had given ſome power in his breaſt, and to whom his Choller would have been very indifferent, if ſhe had not formerly allowed him ſome favours, which he has unworthily abuſed?’

‘I confeſs, anſwered Marcellus, he was a little inconſiderate, yet it is true too, that thoſe paſſions are faint and feeble, that in ſuch a trial are compatible with that cold diſcretion you expected from him, and I ſhould not have believed Coriolanus had loved with ardour, if after the knowledge of this diſaſter, founded upon ſo clear an appearance, he he had ſtill kept his reaſon in her Throne.’ ‘He ought to have underſtood me better, ſaid Cleopatra haſtily, and rather have given his own eyes the lye, than admitted an opinion, and taken the boldneſs to declare it too, that has mortally offended me: he ſhould have left me the liberty of my own actions, if it be true that he has given me the command of his; and had he called to mind how I have led my life, it would have check'd his haſty belief, that I had any right to theſe reproaches. I ſhould not, then, have refuſed to juſtifie my ſelf to him; as I will now to you, not for the ſatisfaction of Coriolanus but Cleopatra, and to ſtop the courſe of your opinion, leaſt it ſhould condemn me of more kindneſs to Tiberius than I am guilty of. Know then he had not that Scarf of me, that helped to deck his Parade at the publick Sports, but received it from the Empreſs his Mother, who yeſterday came into my Chamber when I was dreſſing, and finding it lay upon the Table, ſhe fell a commending the Work, and begged it of me; I could not tell how to refuſe ſuch a toy, to a perſon of whoſe bounty I held all that I had, and I ſhould not have denyed it, though my ſuſpicion had foreſeen the requeſt was deſign'd with ſo little Decorum to her dignity; but concealing her intention, ſhe carried it her ſelf out of my Chamber, and doubtleſs gave it to her Son, who I am confident had obliged her to ask it: but when I ſaw it at the Solemnities appear upon his ſhoulder, I wanted not much of being as mad as Coriolanus himſelf; nor could I ſince recover ſuch a temper, as I durſt truſt my ſelf withal, to viſit the Empreſs, for fear the couzenage would have urged my reſentments to some unbecoming language. Thus Marcellus, have I given you the naked truth, and ſhould not have ſcrupled the ſame to Coriolanus: had he not forgot to give me my due, and by this indiſcreet behaviour redoubled my vexation.’

‘While Cleopatra ſpoke in this manner, and Marcellus (raviſhed with joy in his friends behalf) heard her with a greedy attention, Tiberius entered the Chamber; and as if the Gods had then voted the concluſion of this adventure, he ſtill wore the ſame ſcarf upon his Arme, that had cauſ'd ſo much diſorder, which he was reſolved to carry there, as long as it would hold the faſtening.’

‘The Princeſs no ſooner ſpyed him, but the object awaked her anger, which Marcellus eaſily conſtru'd by the comment of a bluſh, that haſtily overflowed her checks; nor could his impatience do leſs than change his colour at the fight of thoſe ſpoiles, in a Rivals poſſeſſion, which had coſt his friend ſo much anguiſh.’

‘Tiberius had no ſooner taken a ſeat, and diſpoſed himſelf to enter into diſcourſe, when the impatient Princeſs (no longer able to keep her paſſion under hatches) regarding him with eyes that expreſſed the contents of her meaning; Tiberius ſaid ſhe, intercepting the firſt word he uttered, I take it very ill you ſhould carry that about you by the Artifice and Authority of a perſon who has power over me, which you could not obtain by your own credit; and it was with a moſt ſenſible diſpleaſure that I ſaw you make your publick Parade, with a thing, which no conſideration ſhould ever have bent me to grant you.’

‘Tiberius was deeply ſurprized at this Diſcourſe, and much aſhamed it ſhould happen in the preſence of Marcellus, whoſe affection, he knew, had knit him to Coriolanus intereſt; yet his natural confidence quickly re-aſſured him, and indevouring to chain up his reſentment, that his reſpect to the Princeſs might ſtill be at liberty: I did not believe, ſaid he, we could have ſin'd in following the ſtreame of our Fortune and Glory, even the ſame way you have condemned; but my deſires ſhould have choſen another path, had I thought this would have led me to your diſpleaſure; but ſince my unhappineſs hath conducted me thither, I am ready to render as great a reparation of the fault as you can claim of my obedience. All▪ I demand, replyed Cleopatra, is, you would preſently reſtore my Scarf, and ſuffer me no longer to languiſh in diſpleaſure, when it is in your [Page] power to free me:’ ‘You gave it to a perſon, anſwer'd Tiberius, from whom I thought you would not have reſumed it in this manner; and ſince you know I had it of the Empreſs, I hope you will not ordain me to put it into any other hands than hers:’ ‘When I gave it the Empreſs, added Cleopatra, I believed it was intended for her ſelf, and not you, and when ſhe ſhall deſire it again for her ſervice, I will be ready to render it again for her ſervice, I will be ready to render it with all the reſpect I owe her:’ ‘Methinks you ſhould not place it among my offences, ſaid Tiberius, if I ſtrive to preſerve what came from ſo bleſſed a place, and ſo good a hand, nor think it ſtrange that I rather chuſe to abandon my life, than a gem that I prize above it, of which you have no right to deprive me, ſince I hold it not of your hounty.’

‘You had never received it of the Empreſs, anſwered the Princeſs, had you given her the leaſt hint, how I was like to reliſh the diſpoſal, for I know ſhe has too much Nobleneſs, to prejudice a Princeſs for your ſatisfaction that honours her as ſhe ought: but ſince you have deceived her as well as me, if you pleaſe you may tender it, or take it ill if I intreat you to ſee me no more.’

Tiberius was ſtruck with a deep aſtoniſhment at theſe laſt words, and at the inflexibility of the Princeſs, of which his hopes had promis'd him the victory, but diſſembling his trouble as well as he was able: ‘You treat me extreamly ill, ſaid he, in reducing my choice to two evils, the leaſt of which is as cruel as death it ſelf but if your reſolves ſtand firm, to enforce my election, I had rather reſign what the Empreſs has given me, than forfeit your ſight for ever:’ ‘You will do me a pleaſure, reply'd the Princeſs, and whether you call it a preſent or a reſtitution, I ſhall receive it at your hands as a ſovereign remedy for my repoſe;’ ‘'Tis poſſibly anothers intereſt as well as yours, ſaid Tiberius in choler, that thus carries you againſt your diſpoſition to do me violence, but I obey you, continued he, (taking off the Scarf and throwing it upon the Tabe) becauſe I know no Law to diſpenſe with my repugnance, yet you may pleaſe to remember, that I am the only man intereſſed in this harſh uſage, and I have right to complain to the Empreſs of the injuſtice is done me.’

At theſe words he flung out of the Chamber ſo tranſported with choler, as it ſcarce left him reaſon enough to guide his footſteps. Never did diſcourſe pleaſe Marcellus better than this laſt, at which he was preſent, he could only have wiſh'd for the more entire ſatisfaction of his friend, that he had been ambuſh'd in ſome ſecret place, to have diſcover'd the confuſion of Tiberius, and ſeen himſelf reveng'd for the tortures he had made him ſuffer; he could not conceal his joy from the Princeſs, and as ſoon as Tiberius was gone, he prepar'd to expreſs it, when turning her ſelf towards him, and preventing his words; ‘Think not, ſaid ſhe, I have taken back my Scarf to pleaſe Coriolanus, for I could do no leſs in behalf of mine own repute, and your friend has not managed that credit ſo well which he preſum'd he had with me, that I could ſtrain my cares to complaiſance for his content.’ ‘Ah! Madam, reply'd my Maſters excellent friend, what a vaſt difference is there, (if I may adventure to ſay ſo) betwixt your words and thoughts, and how eaſily your own knowledge may ſave me the labour of repreſenting the Innocence of poor Coriolanus; he has committed an over-ſight, which (if rightly examin'd) few men can boaſt they have not fallen into the ſame failing, and for it receiv'd a puniſhment which has reduc'd him to the extreams of his life. I left him in an eſtate which doubtleſs will plead pity enough to overthrow all the reſentments your Paſſion can arm againſt him, but in ſuch an eſtate as bids me fear that the aſſiſtance which my hopes promiſe from your goodneſs, will arrive too late for his recovery.’

Cleopatra, who truly lov'd my Maſter, grew tender at this diſcourſe, which Marcellus underſtood from her aſpect, yet deſirous to diſſemble it: ‘Come I know your friend, ſaid ſhe, with a forced ſmile, cannot be ſo ſick as you would make him;’ ‘He is fallen ſo low (anſwer'd Marcellus, with a ſadder gravity than his looks had yet expreſt) as I fear his life is in the hands of a mercileſs danger: and though I know it is in your power to apply the remedy, yet I doubt it will not come time enough to heal the wounds you have given him.’

He brought forth theſe words with ſo ſerious an Emphaſis, as the Princeſs convinc'd of the truth, and knowing by divers marks to what extreams my Maſters paſſion was capable to carry him, ſhe ſuffer'd his danger to ſoften her heart, and turning towards Marcellus with a gentle look, ‘My quarrel to Coriolanus, ſaid ſhe, is of no ſuch nature, to call his life in queſtion, or provoke me to refuſe him a remedy, if it may be found within my power, and apply'd with the ſafety of my honour.’

At theſe words Marcellus fell upon his knee before the Princeſs, and redoubling the force of his reaſons, the length of which perſwades me to leave them out, at laſt he vanquiſh'd [Page] her, and wrought ſo powerfully, as he diſpos'd her to write him a Letter, which, if I miſtake not, ſpoke in theſe terms.

The Princeſs Cleopatra to Prince Coriolanus.

‘MArcellus who has endeavoured to excuſe you, will juſtifie me to you, and witneſs there is more innocence on my ſide than yours, yet I do not cheriſh ſuch implacable reſentments againſt you, as not to deſire the return of your health; make haſte to be well then as ſoon as poſſible, and your recovery ſhall give me as much joy, as your impatience did diſpleaſure.’

Marcellus having obtain'd this Letter for my Maſter, was deſirous to take yet a greater ſtrain for his ſatisfaction, and aſſay'd by the moſt preſſing arguments his reaſon could urge, to gain him the Scarf which the Princeſs had taken from Tiberius; but he found it impoſſible to prevail, as well upon the averſion that high ſpirit cheriſh'd to the grant of ſuch favours, as the fear ſhe had wiſely entertain'd of giving cauſe of complaint to Tiberius, which might kindle a quarrel betwixt the two Princes.

In the mean time it fell out that Marcellus had ſpoken truer of my Maſters malady than he believed, for the torments that he infflicted upon himſelf that night, had enrag'd his Feaver to ſuch a height, as the next day it manifeſtly threatned his life, yet he perſevered (notwithſtanding the earneſt entreaty of his friends) in a reſolution to refuſe all remedies, and the opinion he had of Cleopatra's inconſtancy, had made ſo cruel an impreſſion in his ſpirit, as he ſought after nought but death, and certainly had ſoon found it, it Marcellus had not ſeaſonably arrived with the remedies that were requiſite for his cure; ſo ſoon as he approached his bed whence the other viſitants were then with-drawn: ‘Riſe Coriolanus, ſaid he, you muſt be no longer ſick, after I have told the news I bring you; at theſe words of Marcellus, Coriolanus turned his head that way, and regarding him with a languiſhing look;’ ‘Ah! Marcellus, ſaid he, what pleaſure do you take to ſport with miſery?’ ‘If you call it ſport (reply'd Marcellus, ſitting down upon his bed) I believe you will not think the game unpleaſant, and, before we part I hope to have better entertainment of your face than it now affords me; all you have to do is to get up as faſt as you can, and go and ask Cleopatra's Pardon for the offence you committed, or rather to pay your thanks to her goodneſs that has ſo eaſily remitted an injury that merited a longer penance.’

My Maſter liſtened to this language in a ſuſpence betwixt joy and diffidence, but Marcellus no longer willing to detain his happineſs wrapt in uncertainty, after he had prepared his attention, began to relate what befel him with Cleopatra, and repeated word for word all the Diſcourſe he had with her; My Maſter abandon'd himſelf to a painful joy when he learned that Tiberius received not the favour from Cleopatra, but when the ſequel told him of his unluckly adventure, with the rigorous treatment he receiv'd from the Princeſs, it ſeiz'd his ſoul with a raviſhment too deep to be put into words: but ſuddenly returning from theſe tranſports to converſe with ſome diſtruſtful thoughts that inſinuated, there was more deſign than truth in Marcellus words, on purpoſe to reconcile him to the care of his own health, he intreated him with a ſerious look not to abuſe his credulity, nor raiſe him with Romantick hopes to an eſtate from whence a relapſe would threaten more danger than the former malady: ‘What proofs would you ask, ſaid Marcellus, to avouch this truth? I would have a confirmation,’ replyed my Maſter, under Cleopatra's hand; ‘You ſhall have it then, ſaid Marcellus, and no longer willing to defer his contentment, he delivered him Cleopatra's Letter,’ at the ſight of which, with the knowledge of the Character and the reading of the words, my Maſter had like to have loſt his Senſes, and by an exceſs of joy, which he was not able to contain, he ſtaid a long time motionleſs and mute, as if he had been dazled with his happineſs.

When he came again to himſelf, he firſt ſtretched out his arms. and greedily ſeized upon Marcellus, elegantly expreſſing his reſentments in the humble language of embraces, from theſe his joy ſucceeds to words, wherewith he confirm'd it in a diſcourſe ſo paſſionate, as it drew tears from Marcellus eyes, it would make my ſtory tedious to repeat the whole Dialogue of kindneſs betwixt them. In fine, by the vertue of this delicious remedy his mind was perfectly cur'd, but his body was not ſo, and the Phyſitians that were called preſently after, judged that the extremity of his joy had redoubled his Feavour; yet we were encouraged to hope the beſt, by my Maſters ready diſpoſition to ſuffer the Medicines were preſcribed him; in effect he reſigned himſelf up to their diſpoſal that took care of his recovery, but his body could not take example by his mind, for his Malady viſibly increaſing, [Page] in a ſhort time it menaced much danger, the Prince having now no farther cauſe to hate his life, did all that he was able to gain a recovery, and reſtore himſelf to a condition of viſiting his Princeſs; but his will found little obedience in his body, for the violence of his grief, to which he had given himſelf up a willing prey, had contaminated all his blood, and his Feaver grew at laſt to ſuch a height, as the Phyſitians with a common conſent, expreſſed more feare than hope of his recovery.

All the Perſons of quality in Rome intereſſed themſelves in this Princes diſaſter, the Emperor himſelf came often to ſee him, and of the Principal Countiers, there was not a man but Tiberius (who had the ſting of his laſt affront ſtill ſticking in his memory) that did not render him a viſit: Marcellus (who never ſtirred from his pillow, and did him all the offices could be hoped from a moſt affectionate brother) was exceſſively afflicted at it, and the Princeſs Cleopatra (what ever violence ſhe did upon her ſelf to keep her griefs at home) could not totally hide the diſpleaſure ſhe reſented: this was firſt betrayed to my Maſter by a letter ſhe ſent him two days after the former, in which (after he had opened it with a trembling feeble hand) with much pain he read theſe words.

The Princeſs Cleopatra to Prince Coriolanus.

‘I Would not have hoped ſo little obedience from you, and I thought I had well enough expreſt my deſires of your care to engage yours upon the ſame ſcore; if you have any deſign to pleaſe me, endeavour your recovery, 'tis the greateſt proof I demand of your affection, and the moſt agreeable news I can receive for my own repoſe.’ Theſe words had alone been capable to reſtore his health, if the clear contentment of his ſpirit could have advanced it; a thouſand times did he kiſs that agreeable command, and obeyed it with all the induſtry our wiſhes could ask; but the diſeaſe had taken too deep a root, and from thence force enough to go on in its courſe in ſpight of all the care we took to arreſt it.

The poor Prince deſired nothing with ſo much ardour as the ſight of Cleopatra, and the Princeſs made no ſcruple in that extreamity, to avow before Marcellus and my ſelf, the affection ſhe bare him, profeſſed an equal deſire to ſee him, and waited for nothing but the means to do it with Decorum.

She durſt not adventure to make the viſit by her ſelf, and the Empreſs (whom ſhe would have accompani'd had ſhe done him that favour) preſerving ſome reſentment againſt him, in behalf of Tiberius, was contented to underſtand his condition by the return of her meſſages, at laſt Marcellus advis'd her to go with the Princeſs Octavia, who had been once already with him, and he knew would not be ſorry to meet an occaſion of rendring that teſt of her amity to Coriolanus: the children of Antony reſpected Octavia as their Mother, and ſhe them with ſuch a tenderneſs as fell not ſhort of a Parents Indulgence: and though the Princeſs Cleopatra liv'd at Court with the Empreſs, yet even by her injunction ſhe daily viſited Octavia, ever remembring to pay a ſubmiſſive reverence to her perſon.

Octavia was acquainted with my Maſters paſſion. which ſhe did not diſapprove, and her Son Marcellus no ſooner mention'd his deſire of her tendring that office to his friend, but ſhe readily undertook it, and the next viſit Cleopatra made, ſhe intreated her company to go ſee the Prince of Mauritania: The Princeſs, who knew ſhe might go any way with her, as her Mother, without the leaſt fear of blame, ſince the high reputation of her vertue, and the rank ſhe held as the Siſter of Caeſar, and widow of Antony might authorize all the viſits ſhe made in her company, obey'd her without repugnance. Marcellus by a pre-intelligence, diſpos'd my Maſter to expect this happineſs for feare the ſurpriſal of an immoderate joy ſhould work the ſame effects it had formerly done, to the prejudice of his health, yet my Maſter had a hard task with all the effects he could make to contain himſelf, and he no ſooner ſaw the Princeſs enter the Chamber, but the ſight had like to have made a Rape upon his ſenſe; Octavia came firſt to the beds ſide, after ſome words full of ſweetneſs and Majeſty, which was as natural to her as beams to the Sun, proteſting the diſpleaſure ſhe took at the continuance of his malady, ſhe was contented her Son, who had feigned a pretence to ſpeak with her, ſhould lead her to the window, leaving the Princeſs alone with him by the beds ſide, and the Maids of her Train at the other end of the Chamber; though Cleopatra had prepar'd her ſelf to ſee him in that eſtate, yet ſhe could not ſee him there, and hide her bluſhes, and ſhe had much a do to make her ſelf miſtris of that ſcrupulous nicety that taught her to Criticize too ſeverely upon that action: however ſhe ſate her down upon the Chair Octavia had quitted, while the Prince, whoſe confuſion had rob'd him of the ſtrength and confidence to open his mouth, ſtrive to expreſs himſelf at the eyes, with regards though wholly languiſhing, yet full of fire; Cleopatra advancing her head towards his, that ſhe [Page] might not be heard by thoſe on the other ſide the Chamber; ‘Coriolanus, ſaid ſhe, I have reaſon to complain of you, and if you truly lov'd me, you would cheriſh more care to improve the intereſt I take in your recovery; you were told of this by my letters, and I have vanquiſh'd ſome ſcruples, which I would not have combated upon a feeble conſideration, to come and confirm it to you with my own mouth, yet I find you ſtill in a condition that ſhews me no proofs of the power I have in you,’ The Prince, daunted as he was, took courage from theſe ſweet words, and ſending ſome looks before his language that ſpoke more paſſion than the former: ‘You have reaſon, Madam, ſaid he, to condemn the eſtate wherein you find me, ſince inſtead of ſeeing me in this unbecoming poſture, ſo diſproportion'd to the reſpect I owe you, I ſhould be proſtrate at your feet, asking pardon for the offence I committed; this repugnant body to your commands, has ſuffered for its diſobedience, nor has my Soul ſcap'd with a milder puniſhment, but neither one nor the other would ever have been capable of expiating the crime, if your excellent nature had not aſſiſted their impuiſſance. Speak no more, reply'd the Princeſs, (not willing he ſhould ſtrain his ſpirits with too long a diſcourſe) ſpeak no more of an error which I have remitted; indeed your eaſie belief engag'd you to ſome precipitation, but you have ſuffer'd more for it than I ſhould have doom'd you to, and if I ſtill retain any pique againſt you, 'tis becauſe you ſtruggle too faintly for your health, which is very dear to me, and which I recommend to your care; for my ſake exile all thoughts that may afflict you, and believe it, I ſhall never be ſatisfied till your mind and body are both recovered: I am ſo confounded Madam, anſwered my Maſter, with the favours you heap upon me, receiving from your mouth the confirmation of your goodneſs, in a place ſo unworthy to receive you, and where I have ſo little cauſe to expect the grace you have done me, as I cannot regret the loſs of that life which is now about to abandon me, but for fear it ſhould fail me before—Stay, ſaid the Princeſs, interrupting him, you muſt not now think of dying, while I hold your life at the ſame price with mine own, I will have you vanquiſh your malady, I ſay I will by the authority I have over you, and the intelligence I give you, that you cannot neglect your life, without indangering mine.’

The Princeſs put her hand before her face to cover a bluſh, which got up thither at the alarm of theſe words, nevertheleſs, to confirm them to Coriolanus by favours that yet ſhe had not granted, ſhe let the other fall upon his cheek, which the Prince taking in his feeble hand, carry'd to his mouth, and with all the ſtrength was left him, preſt it with an incredible raviſhment.

The Princeſs who felt it extreamly hot, and therefore fear'd the continuance of this paſſionate Diſcourſe might do him harm, grew willing to withdraw, and after ſhe had gently retir'd her hand; ‘I leave you, ſaith ſhe, riſing from her ſeat, for fear of doing my ſelf any injury in what I demand, remember to obey me, if you deſire I ſhould love you;’ at this laſt word more confuſed than before, ſhe had not the confidence to behold him longer, but turning to Octavia and Marcellus, ſhe told them a farther ſtay might do Coriolanus an injury, and ſo preſently oblig'd them to quit the Chamber.

I know not whether I may aſcribe my Maſters cure to that viſit, or whether the diſeaſe was then come to a Criſis, whatever it was, the next morning his Feaver was much abated, not many days after it wholly left him, and in a few others, he had gotten ſtrength enough to quit his Chamber, viſit Cleopatra, and render his thanks as he ought for the favours ſhe had done him; I have doubtleſs given you this relation in too large a ſtamp, there being ſtill ſo many great things that deſerve a mention in my Maſters ſtory, as I ought to have paſs'd by thoſe with a ſlighter touch that were of leſs importance; but I ſtaid upon this diſcourſe the rather, becauſe I knew it would draw you Cleopatra's diſpoſition more lively, than a recital of greater adventures, and by theſe petty marks I have given, you may eaſily judge that her ſpirit is lofty and imperious, but her nature generous and full of nobleneſs.

In the mean time the Empreſs, by the complaints Tiberius had made of an unkindneſs in which her ſelf appeared intereſſed, grew highly incenſed at Cleopatra, and probably that act might have coſt her her lodgings at Court, if Marcellus (who above the reſt of mankind was dear unto the Emperour) had not employ'd all the credit he had with him in her favour.

Caeſar to oblige his Nephew, and ſerve the Princeſs whom he highly eſteem'd, would needs have the Empreſs turn that pretended affront into Raillery, and ſo the Princeſs eſcap'd with enduring a petty reproof, and ſome ſullen looks, that laſted but a while from the Empreſs, who is very dexterous, cunning, and complaiſant in her compliance with the Emperors humours, but ſhe could not ſo eaſily diſguiſe her reſentments againſt my Maſter, and thoſe of Tiberius, much more violent than hers, did then give a root to that hatred, which [Page] has ſince produced ſuch grand effects, but as he was the greateſt diſſembler among men, the knowledge he had of my Maſters courage, and Marcellus his credit, who had openly eſpous'd his party, taught him to cloud the greateſt part of it, and attend till fortune offered him an occaſion, to let it break out at the beſt advantage.

For a while he forbore the Princeſs, proteſting he would never ſee her more, and the Empreſs her ſelf who ſtudied harder for the eſtabliſhment: of his fortune, than the ſucceſs of his love, labour'd to confirm him in that reſolution; but it could not long hold out againſt his paſſion, and the choller he conceiv'd againſt Cleopatra being diſſipated, or at leaſt over-powred by a ſtronger paſſion, he return'd to her more ſubmiſſive than formerly, and flex'd himſelf to her ſervice with greater aſſiduity than ever: tis true he did a little change his faſhion of life with her, and diſcovering by the laſt encounter that her ſpirit was too high and abſolute to be eaſily managed, he reſolved to ſeek his advantages no more by ſo haughty a carriage, and diligently endeavouring to bring himſelf in credit by an artificial humility, there was never any part of ſubtil and ſupple inſinuation acted, that he did not perſonate before her.

The Princeſs to whom beſides theſe ſubmiſſions, the greatneſs of his birth and the power of his Mother, ſtrove to render him conſiderable, was conſtrained to ſuffer his reſearch, and re-admit him with as ſmooth a brow, as ſhe had done formerly; in the mean time, ſhe managed both his and my Maſters ſpirit ſo diſcreetly, and ſo judiciouſly ſwayed the authority ſhe had over them, as the fear to diſpleaſe her, dayly enforced them to ſhut their eyes upon ſeveral paſſages, that elſe would ſoon have kindled a quarrel, that being the only bridle that often kept their hatred from coming to extreams, repreſſing their reſentments with ſo abſolute an Empire, as they neither durſt make any ſhew or noiſe: My Maſter had leſs cauſe than Tiberius, upon whom he had then a great advantage: but it was known to none but himſelf and Marcellus, for before the reſt of the world, the Princeſs governed her ſelf ſo prudently, as it would have poſed the cleareſt eye to penetrate her intentions; then began Fortune to raiſe her ſtroms againſt my Maſter, which my relation muſt interweave with Marcellus's adventures; for there is ſo much connexion betwixt his and my Princes, as one of their lives cannot be faithfully recounted without reciting a part of the others.

Marcellus, whoſe policy, firſt chain'd him to the ſervice of Julia, grew inſenſibly faſtened by inclinations; and indeed that Princeſs was armed with an ability ſtrong enough to ſubdue the moſt diſobedient ſpirits to Loves dominion; the diſpoſition of Marcellus was ſweet, ingenious, and ſuſceptible of impreſſions, and he no ſooner got the conſent of his own heart to love Julia, but he began to find out ſuch charmes about her, as were not only capable to confirm his reſolution, but impoſe a neceſſity of progreſs, in his firſt undertook deſign; he loved, but he lov'd Sincerely, and his affection inſenſibly increaſing, grew at laſt to that height as never heart was deeper ſtruck than his; my Maſter to whom that Princeſs's ſecrets were alwaies naked, underſtood it with a marvellous ſatisfaction, as well for joy that this new paſſion had clear'd his fears of the old, as deſires to ſee the fortunes of his Friend eſtabliſhed, by the conformity of his will with the Emperor's who had deſigned him his daughter, and daily obſerved the proofs he gave of his affections with unſpeakable contentment; nor were they unwelcome to Julia, and that Princeſs who had been before hand with Marcellus in affection, could not now receive thoſe unfeigned oblations of his vows, without a large encreaſe of her own, yet in a while ſhe diſſembled them as well as ſhe was able, and deſirous to indear the purchaſe to Marcellus, with a little difficulty, ſhe plaid the politick Tyrant, and made him ſuffer.

Marcellus complain'd and ſigh'd away ſome time for theſe feigned rigours of Julia, but at laſt ſhe unmask'd her ſentiments, and after ſhe had received ſome months tribute of ſufferings and ſervices, ſhe ſhewed him her acknowledgement and affection at as full a magnitude as he could vertuouſly deſire; nothing was refus'd him that might juſtly be demanded of Auguſtus daughter, and her confeſſions were the freer, becauſe ſhe knew the Emperor not only approv'd them, but that ſhe could not more dearly oblige him than in the perſon of his Nephew; he almoſt ſpent his whole day in her company, and his life wheel'd away with as much delight as his wiſhes could fathom; for though ſome of the cheifeſt Romans, with divers Kings Sons that were brought up at Rome were his Rivals, yet they all ſubmitted to his Fortune, and paid ſo deep a reſpect both to him and the Emperor, as they durſt not ſhock his intentions with the leaſt appearance; the Senate and People, to whom as I have already told you Marcellus was the darling and delight, were tenderly concern'd in his happineſs, and joyfully hop'd to ſee the Daughter, and Throne of their Emperor one day poſſeſt by the perſon of the World that was deareſt to them; their hopes were founded upon their likely-hoods, and doubtleſs might arrive at their aim, there being but few perſons under [Page] Heaven, whoſe fortunes would ſhew envy ſo faire a mark as thoſe of Marcellus, if Julia, with one of the rareſt beauties, and the moſt vivacious and ſubtill wits, had not the moſt wavering and inconſtant heart upon Earth; of this ſhe has given the World ſo much experience, as while you reſided there, you could not chuſe but meet it in many a Roman mouth; She began with a perſon, who of all the ſtock of mankind, was fartheſt from cauſe and conſent to wrong Marcellus; I confeſs he is maſter of ſo many bewitching qualities, as might well produce the ſame effects upon a conſtant heart, and by this reaſon I might poſſibly excuſe a part of Julia's firſt revoltings, but they have ſince been followed by ſo many others without ground or reaſon, as all that can be alledged in her defence, is too weak to juſtifie her.

My Maſter, as the deareſt friend Marcellus had, was he, that had the eaſieſt acceſs to her of all the Court, and rendring her greater reſpects for Marcellus ſake, than were due from him to the Daughter of Auguſtus, it oblig'd her to requite him with an eſteem beyond all the other Princes that were educated in the Emperors Court; he daily exchang'd long Diſcourſes with her, but talked of no other Subject but his friend, and becauſe he was acquainted with moſt of his thoughts, they ſtill furniſhed him with matter to entertain the Princeſs. The love ſhe bare Marcellus, made her treat my Prince for a time in terms that were reaſonable; but at laſt ſhe ty'd her thoughts too faſt to the conſideration of his incomparable qualities, and by little and little from a particular eſteem, ſhe proceeded to good will, and from thence was inſenſibly conducted into loves territories: had not any other ſpirit but hers thus ſuffered it ſelf to be taken, her whole life would have kept it a ſecret, and ſhe might have borrowed reaſons from the grandeur of her birth, the Emperors Command and Marcellus his ſervices, puiſſant enough to do violence upon her ſelf, and ſhut it up in her breaſt for ever: but her ſoul was of another temper, and ever impatient of Conſtraint and Tyranny, nevertheleſs ſhe had yet modeſty enough to diſſemble it, though not ſo covertly; but if ſhe betray'd not her infidelity to a publick notice, ſhe could not ſo cozen the Advertancy of intereſſed perſons. Marcellus was the firſt that percieved it, for my Maſters regards were ſo fixt to Cleopatra, as he had much ado to allow the lighteſt reflection to any thing elſe; and finding Julia's behaviour much colder towards him than it was accuſtomed, he often demanded the cauſe, but the promptitude and artifice of her wit never fail'd in finding pretences to paint the truth; ſhe was loath to break with him, knowing how highly it would diſpleaſe Caeſar, and what ſhe was to expect from his anger, beſides its poſſible her breaſt might ſtill keep ſome ſparks unquenched, that were of his kindling; but the impreſſion of this new image had ſo alter'd her, as if ſhe had not finiſhed the ruine of all thoſe thoughts that once held him dear, yet ſhe took no delight to ſee him, and only taſted content in the company of Coriolanus.

One evening Marcellus diſcourſing with her by her bed ſide, (a liberty which the higher powers had allowed him) and perceiving her thoughtful and melancholy; Madam, ‘ſaid he, has your goodneſs given me no right to the knowledge of thoſe inquietudes that have lately diſturb'd you? have not I ſhare enough in your pains and pleaſures, to to be led unto their Fountains? I perceive you muſe, I hear your ſighs, and your face characters an unquiet mind; Is it juſt, my Divine Princeſs, if I have any title to your thoughts, I could be longer kept a ſtranger to them? and if any thing perplexes you, where will you find a comfort ſo readily, as in that perſon of the world, that does moſt participate of your Paſſion.’

The earneſt ſollicitation of Marcellus awak'd Julia from her dumps, and regarding him with an Ayrie ſomething more affable; ‘Do not you know, ſaid ſhe briskly, that we cannot alwayes be of the ſame humour? and this alteration you remark in mine, may it not as well proceed from my preſent temperament, as any cauſe of affliction? I will believe what you will have me, replyed Marcellus, but either all conjectures ſhoot very wide or elſe your temperament cannot ſo ſuddenly bring forth effects ſo contrary to your ordinary humour.’ ‘Your belief is at liberty, ſaid Julia, without ſo much as turning her face to Marcellus, and ſince you repoſe ſo little in me, you may ſeek for that in your own conjectures, which you cannot find in my Diſcourſe.’

This cold Anſwer froze the very ſoul of poor Marcellus, and beholding the Princeſs with an eye that ſent out part of his thoughts before-hand, Ah! Madam ſaid he, what have I done? by which of my actions have I merited your anger? You have done nothing to me, replyed the Princeſs, but at preſent I find you a little too preſſing, and ſince you are melancholy as well as I, pray take it not ill if I change your company for a perſons whoſe mirth may divert my ſadneſs.

She ſpake theſe words juſt as ſhe ſaw my Maſter enter the Chamber, where he had not trod many ſteps, when riſing from Marcellus, with a face that had changed in a moment the Sence of Sadneſs into Gaiety, ſhe advanced towards Coriolanus, and offering him her hand [Page] with a free kind of action, ſhe led him to the other end of the Chamber, and there diſcourſt away the Evening with him, without ſo much as a ſingle reflection upon the eſtate wherein ſhe left the griev'd Marcellus.

That Prince was ſenſibly afflicted at her words, but cruelly galled with what he obſerved in the Sequel of her carriage, and though he was not yet poyſoned with a ſuſpicion of my Maſter, yet this unkind uſage ſtung him to the heart, and diſtruſting his own ſtrength to keep a Mask upon his grief, after he had ſtaid ſome time alone by the Princeſs bed ſide, he went out of the Chamber without engaging in any further diſcourſe. After this, Julia plaid him divers tricks of the ſame nature, which ſhew'd Marcellus, and my Maſter himſelf, how to level their thoughts at the truth: yet the ſuſpicion was nothing ſo ſtrong on my Princes ſide and whatever cauſe he had to think well of himſelf, he knew not how to imagine ſhe would abandon ſuch a perſon as Marcellus, for a man that loved her not, nor could he eaſily admit this belief, and it would long have been getting credit with him, if Julia, after ſhe had a thouſand times brought her thoughts into her actions, had not ſhewed them naked in the following Diſcourſe.

One Evening my Maſter having waſted a part of the night in her Chamber with Agrippa, Mecenas, and divers other perſons of both Sexes; after the Princeſs had bid goodnight to the company, and all were gone, Julia caus'd Coriolanus, who was got as far as the Anti-Chamber, to be called back again, telling him ſhe had forgot to acquaint him with an affair that deſerv'd his notice. Coriolanus received this command with a due reſpect, and coming back into the Chamber, Julia, who was already retired to her beds ſide, beckened him thither, and cauſed him to ſit down by her, which when he had obeyed, after ſhe had darted ſome glances at my Maſter, capable to enflame the moſt frozen heart; ‘I know very well, ſaid ſhe, I do now offer you violence, and that all the moments are tedious to you, that you waſt iu my company, when the Princeſs Cleopatra is not there;’ ‘I acknowledge reply'd my Maſter, that my heart lies at that Princeſs feet, where the power of love has placed and faſten'd it, yet that entire prepoſſeſſion of my ſoul cannot ſhut up my eyes upon what I owe to the Princeſs Julia, and the moſt preſſing and paſſionate thoughts ſhall ſuſpend their violence, while I have the honour to be near her perſon;’ ‘This is a flattery, anſwer'd Julia, that I cannot pardon, and I only deſire you would anſwer my queſtion without Artifice; Does Report ſpeak truth, that you are ſo enſlaved to paſſion for Cleopatra, as it has ſtruck you blind to all other objects and conſiderations, and Centered your thoughts in her ſo ſtrongly, as nothing elſe has power to remove them? Whoever ſpread that rumour, ſaid Coriolanus, ſpoke my thoughts as clearly as if he had been in my breaſt to Copy them, for it is moſt certain, the world has not a perſon ſo free that is more abſolutely his own, than I am the Princeſs Cleopatra's.’

‘I expected this confeſſion from you, reply'd Julia, ſince it is but the ſame you have publickly avowed, and hitherto you have done it with reaſon, but, as I demand a little better ſhare in your ſecrets than another, ſo I expect you ſhould tell me truly: whether you be ſo ſtrongly chained to Cleopatra, as no conſideration can untye or divert you: I know well your condition is glorious in ſerving ſo fair a Princeſs, but ſhould the will of the Gods offer you a right to greater advantages, would you ſo dote upon your former paſſion as not to open your eyes upon a fairer of Fortune.’

‘I cannot tell how to frame belief, replyd Coriolanus, that there can be a nobler Fortune found, than what reſults from the glory of ſerving Cleopatra; and could others (by the help of a greater blindneſs than mine▪ acknowledge ſuch a poſſibility, I ſhould never be drawn to own their thoughts, nor hatch one ſingle deſire in my whole life for a more happy condition, than to paſs it entirely at the feet of my adorable Princeſs. Imagine, ſaid Julia, you were beloved by a Princeſs equal in beauty to Cleopatra, and infinitely before her in all things elſe, whoſe high birth might give her precedency of the whole Sex, and reſtore you to the ſame eſtate, which your Parents loſt, or perhaps raiſe you to another more ſublime, would you deſpiſe her for Cleopatra? I ſhould have little reaſon, anſwer'd my Maſter, to miſpriſe ſuch a perſon as you have repreſented, nor could my inſenſibility or that favour be ſtrained to a contempt; but might ſhe tempt me yet with fairer offers, they could never make me halt in my fidelity to my Cleopatra: What if Julia, added the Princeſs, (vanquiſhing the ſhame that oppos'd the liberty of her language) What if Julia her ſelf ſhould love you, would you diſdain her for Cleopatra?’

Theſe words at the ſame time almoſt wrought the ſame effect upon the Prince and Princeſs, and if the confuſion ſhe took from her own words, made Julia bend her looks downwards, Coriolanus was ſo abaſh'd at a diſcourſe, which indeed he had little reaſon to expect from ſuch a perſon as Julia, as it was long before he durſt raiſe his to her face. In fine, that he might not increaſe his confuſion by his ſilence: ‘Madam, ſaid he, there is no [Page] need of an anſwer to his Diſcourſe, no neceſſity of declaring my ſentiments, in a reply to Raillery; But admit, ſaid Julia, what you call Raillery, ſhould prove Reality, how would you take it? and what entertainment would your breaſt give to Caeſar's Daughter, had ſhe a mind to baniſh Antony's from thence?’

Coriolanus ſeeing himſelf preſs'd in that manner, was reſolved rather to take advice of his Conſcience and Vertue, than lean to a complacence which he could not approve, and after he had taken ſome moments to contrive a fit anſwer: ‘Madam, ſaid he at laſt, though I have little reaſon to explain my ſelf, or exchange my ſerious thoughts for mockery, yet I muſt tell you ſince you have commanded me, that ſhould that Fortune befall me you mentioned, I were the moſt unfortunate of all men; ſince I am forbidden to enjoy it, not only by the fidelity. I ow Cleopatra, but the amity I preſerve for Marcellus, who only merits, the entire affection of the Princeſs Julia, and from whom I would not take it, though it were offered me, in the pompous dreſs of all the grandeur and felicity the Gods can beſtow.’

Thus did my Maſter unlock his thoughts which touched Julia ſo ſenſibly, as it was long before ſhe could recover her ſpeech, but at laſt her anger forced a paſſage for words, and, regarding my Mr. with a ſcornful ayre: ‘You conſtrued my Diſcourſe aright, ſaid ſhe, when you apprehended it raillery, it was ſo Coriolanus, and believe it, the affections of Julia ſhall never oblige you, to crack your amity to Marcellus, nor your Love to Cleopatra. I was only deſirous to try the temper of your heart, and now I have ſeen how well it guards the fidelity you owe your friend and Miſtreſs, it ſhall heighten my eſteem of your merits.’

She brought forth theſe words with a conſtraint that my Maſter eaſily obſerved, and though ſhe ſtrove to hide it, by entring a diſcourſe upon other ſubjects, yet ſhe followed it in ſo much diſorder and confuſion, as perceiving it would ask ſome time to undiſtemper her reaſon, ſhe bad Coriolanus good night.

My Maſter went away better inſtructed than he deſired in Julia's inclinations, and though by her laſt words, which deſpight had utter'd, ſhe ſeem'd to retract what before ſhe had too eaſily offered, yet he was not ſo ignorant as not to diſcover the truth: he ſince did me the honour to tell me, that he never reſented any thing in his life with ſo much anxiety, ſadly reflecting upon his own impuiſſance to ſatisfie the Princeſs deſires, but much more upon Marcellus intereſts, whom he now perceived ſo lightly forſaken, and foreſaw how cruelly he was us'd by Julia's lenity; nevertheleſs he was unwilling to acquaint his friend with this unwelcome news, and there reſolved to ſtay till Julia's humour ſhould change, or Marcellus learn it from ſome other mouth; nor would his diſcretion give him leave to let Cleopatra know of it, as well to conceal the ſhame of Caeſars Daughter and his friends Miſtreſs, as to forbear a Diſcourſe that might betray the leaſt appearance of vanity.

In the mean time he carefully fled all occaſions of meeting Julia alone, and that Princeſs perceived it with a deſpight that might well have baniſht him her breaſt, had her power been proportioned to her anger; but ſhe had force enough to hide her flames for a time, and treat my Maſter with a more reſerved carriage than was uſual: however he abated her no reſpect, but ſtill paid her his Civilities in as ſpecious a manner as her quality could challenge, only he was careful to eſcape both her entertainment and her ſight, when the place was void of witneſs.

Julia for a time feigned her ſelf very well ſatisfied, and meeting him one day in a Gallery that belonged to Livia's Lodgings, notwithſtanding he was accompanied with two or three of his friends ‘Coriolanus, ſaid ſhe, paſſing by him, there is ſeldome▪ſafety in preſumption, you lately paſſed a ſerious conſtruction upon what was meant in Jeſt, pray diſabuſe your ſelf,’ and be not ſo lightly ſeduced by an erroneous opinion: My Maſter would have replyed, had ſhe given him time, but ſhe paſſed by him ſo ſwiftly, as he had not the leiſure to ſhape an anſwer; and he was a little troubled at the manner of theſe words though he found ſome cauſe of ſatisfaction in them,

Thus Julia perſevered in her behaviour for ſome daies, ſtill treating my Maſter with a cold indifference, and her Spirit wanting reſolution to endure too much violence, herinclinations got the victory of her anger, and ſhe began to ſpeak at the eyes in ſuch accents, as ſoon gave Coriolanus intelligence her reſentments were diſſipated; but as before he ſtop'd his ears at her words, ſo now he ſhut his eyes at her glances, and compoſed all his actions with ſo much Caution towards her, as if her ſpirit were not hardy beyond Example, ſhe could never have had the confidence to bring her affection again into the Scene; She repented of all ſhe had ſaid to revoke the firſt Declaration, and, deſirous to repair that breach, meeting him one day at Court, ſhe drew him to a window, and when reſpect had drawn thoſe that ſtood near to a greater diſtance, advancing her head towards him in a languiſhing manner, [Page] ſpeaking ſo low as none could over hear her. ‘Coriolanus, ſaid ſhe, think it no more a mockery when you are told that Julia loves you, for believe it, 'tis a perfect truth.’

My Maſter was ſurprized at theſe words, yet not ſo deeply, as to be unfurniſhed of a ready anſwer; ‘Madam, ſaid he, I am now grown ſo well acquainted with your intentions, as I cannot be any more miſtaken, and ſince this ſport does divert you, I ſhould be loath to oppoſe the pleaſure you take in purſuing it.’

Julia was ſorry ſhe had lent my Maſter weapons to defend himſelf againſt her, and having now no time to explain her ſelf further, ſhe only tryed to perſwade him with a fiery bluſh, that her words were ſerious, and that ſhe had diſplayed her naked thoughts, but with too much truth; However the Prince concludes to perſonate an ignorance, arms her own diſcourſe againſt her ſelf, and ſtill feigns an interpretation of her words and actions as the effects of Raillery; in the mean time, (as it became him, as well in reference to her birth, as Marcellus affection) he ſtill treated her with his uſual deferrence, and becauſe in that point he deemed it not fit to diſoblige her, he could not ſo cunningly evade her company, but ſhe oft engag'd him in long diſcourſes, and then uſed ſo little skil in concealing her affection, as few perſons frequented their company that had not already diſcovered it.

Marcellus as the moſt intereſſed, took the impreſſion deeper than all the reſt, and receiving dayly ſymptoms from Julia's deportment, that no longer permitted him to doubt her inconſtancy; the blindneſs of his paſſion made him ſtumble upon a Jealouſie, that Julia not only loved Coriolanus, but was beloved again by him; this belief had no ſooner got credit with him, but it produced effects that had like to have dragged him to his Tomb, and when he called to mind thoſe rare proofs he had given Coriolanus of his amity, he could not reflect upon the ingratitude (of which his thoughts had now pronounced him guilty) without falling into a mortal Agony: his cruel jealouſie for ſome days made him flie the ſight of that unfaithful friend, and ſeek out ſolitude in the moſt untrodden places, diſcourſing his woes to himſelf, in the ſaddeſt faſhion that grief could invent.

My Maſter, who could never endure to be long out of his ſight, ſought him on all ſides, and underſtanding one day that he was retired alone, into thoſe Allyes of the Pallace Garden that verge upon the Tiber, he followed him thither without a companion, and at laſt found him laid upon one of the ſeats of an Arbour, in the moſt unfrequented part of the Garden: At my Maſters approach, he ſuddenly ſtarted up and diſcovered ſuch a wild troubled look, as my Prince no longer able to ſuffer him in that condition: ‘Marcellus, ſaid he, what ſtrange change is this? what ſadneſs is it that ſits thus lowring on your brow?’ and why do you fly from the perſon of the world that loves you deareſt? At theſe words Marcellus only nodded his head twice without returning an anſwer, keeping his eys ſtill fixed upon the earth in ſo ſad a poſture, as it put my Maſter into a grand confuſion; Coriolanus deeply touched at his behaviour, took him in his arms and earneſtly preſt him no longer to hide the cauſe of his affliction; but Marcellus after he had ſtaid a while in his firſt poſture, gave a ſudden leap out of his arms, and when he was gotten ſome five or ſix paces from him, he drew his Sword, and preſenting the pommel to my Maſter; ‘Coriolanus, ſaide he, ſince thou art proved the moſt diſloyal friend that ever infected the world, and haſt ſo cruelly belyed my opinion of thy vertue, here finiſh thy Crime by my Death, and pierce the heart of thy unfortunate friend, that ſo unluckily truſted thy diſſembled amity; thou haſt done that already that may clear all thy ſcruples of conſenting to this, and believe it, this laſt piece of cruelty, will merit a gentler cenſure than the former.’ Marcellus ſpake in this manner, and my Maſter (however his diſcourſe and action ſurpriſed him) yet recovered himſelf ſo readily, as his face ſcarce confeſſed the leaſt aſtoniſhment, and regarding Marcellus with a cold and compoſed look; ‘Since I am that baſe and faithleſs friend, ſaid he, that has ſo perfidiouſly betraid your Confidence and Amity, why do you offer me the wrong end of your Sword, and not rather ſheath it in my breſt? 'Tis the heart of a Traitor that ought to feel the point, and not of a deceived and guiltleſs Friend.’

While the Prince of Mauritania ſpoke this, he held his arms a croſs upon his breaſt, and beheld Marcellus with a mind ſo aſſured, as it would have been eaſie for a perſon leſs dim'd with paſſion to have read in his looks the contents of his Innocence: but Marcellus diſtracted with cruel jealouſie, could not be ſo ſoon diſabuſed, yet he grew ſo tender at the Diſcourſe and Countenance of his friend, as inſtead of purſuing his paſſionate obſtinacy, he ſet ſome tears (the marks of weakneſs) at liberty, which preſently over-flowed his viſage, and letting himſelf fall upon one of the Seats behind him: ‘Ah! Coriolanus, cry'd he, was I to expect my ruine of you? did I not offer fairly to our friendſhip in quitting Cleopatra, without releaſing Julia too?’ I had never bent my aims that way, but to abandon that to you, which I loved above my ſelf, ‘my inclinations have ſince voted my [Page] deſign to pleaſe you, and the Gods, to reward my good intentions, have given an afterbirth of ſweetneſs in that affection, where my hopes looked no farther than a toyl for your repoſe; and when by the help of time, and my ſervice, I had gained ſome intereſt in the heart of that inconſtant Princeſs, you have carried her from me, with a cruelty that ſuits not with your ſelf, and reduced me (with Cleopatra and Julia) to render up my life, which muſt now become a ſudden ſacrifice to deſpair.’

Marcellus had enlarged himſelf upon this ſubject, if his ſighs had not cut off the paſſage of his words, and my Maſter who had not heard him all this time without letting in a grief to his Soul little ſhort of his, after he had wiped away ſome tears, which he had no power to bridle; ‘Marcellus, ſaid he, the eſtate you are in, will ſcarce give me leave to upbraid you, with the injury you do me, and the injuſt opinion which has prepoſſeſt you, may ſpeak your excuſe for the outrage you have offered me: but I am comforted in this, that every thing pleads my juſtification: admit I could grow faint in my friendſhip to Marcellus, yet ſtill I love Cleopatra too well to change her for Julia; and ſay my heart could draw off from Cleopatra, yet my Marcellus is too powerful there, for me to affront his pretences; and now you force me to avow, what reſpect and diſcretion devoted to ſilence, if there be ſome levity in Julia's ſpirit, the Gods can witneſs, that in ſtead of indulging it, I have ſtill carefully rendered what amity required, even when civility and good manners forbad it: however I perceive, my dear Marcellus, in two things I am extreamly infortunate; firſt, that your friendſhip was not ſtrong enough to defend me from the cruelty and injuſtice of your ſuſpition: and then that I wanted occaſion to evidence mine in ſuch clear proofs as yours was ſtamped in, for in quenching for my ſake, the affection that Cleopatra kindled, you inflicted rigour upon your ſelf to ſtrangle the paſſion, but in flying the ſight of Julia for the love of you, I do no more than quit a perſon to whom (bateing your intereſts) I ſcarce carry a ſingle good will; would to Heavens (could I do it without betraying my fidelity to Cleopatra) that I had now as much affection for the Daughter of Auguſtus as you had for Antonyes, I would find out a better way than I can now make uſe of in quitting a perſon that I do not love, to witneſs my amity not inferiour to yours; all that I can now do for your quiet, and my devoir, is to abandon not the love, (for that would be impoſſible to me, and unprofitable to you) but the ſight of Cleopatra, and ſince I cannot be near her without hurting you, to remove my ſelf beyond the reach of Julia's eye, I am content to leave that Princeſs whoſe abſence will not be a milder miſery than what you offered.’

While my Maſter ſpoke in this manner, though Marcellus could not be cured of the grief that tormented him, yet he felt ſome eaſe by the diſſipation of his jealouſie, and reflecting at the ſame time upon the free and faithful diſpoſition of his friend, the cold compoſure of his late actions to Julia, much ſhort of the wonted deferrence he uſually paid her, and the ſtrong paſſion he kept for Cleopatra, which daily broke into clearer proofs, he entertained a belief he might be innocent, and ſuffering himſelf by theſe appearances, with the help of that affection he bare him, to be inſenſibly perſwaded, he repented his ſuſpition, and throwing his arms about his neck, with a paſſionate and tender action: ‘Pardon, dear Brother, ſaid he, forgive the offence you have received from a ſpirit diſcompoſed with its own misfortune, and reduced by deſpair, to interpret all things in the worſt ſenſe: indeed I ought to have underſtood you better, but you ſee that with the knowledge of my friends I have loſt mine own, and as my condition is now ſtated, I am ſcarce Maſter of a reaſonable motion: I doubt not but your friendſhip is able to give proofs of a greater difficulty, but I will never conſent to accept thoſe you offer, and will rather ſuffer all things than condeſcend, that you ſhould abſent your ſelf from Cleopatra, becauſe you fly Julia; no, let the Gods keep my repoſe, if nothing will redeem it but yours, and let me rather be an eternal mark of Julia's diſdain, than recover her affection by your diſpleaſure.’

‘I ſhall never be diſpleas'd, reply'd the ſon of Juba, by ſuffering any thing for my friend, nor will my miſery be ſo great as your imagination ſhapes it, ſince in leaving Cleopatra, I ſhall travel at the ſame time for your happineſs and mine own glory; beſides, 'tis not fit that a Prince deſcended from ſo long a ſucceſſion of Kings, ſhould waſte the beauty of his age at Rome, in the employment of ſimple Citizens; and ſince of all, I ſhould have heired from my Anceſtors, there is nothing left me but a Sword, 'tis but fit it ſhould ſhew me the way to overtake that departed glory, and thoſe dignities that once dwelt in our family: I know well, that I ought not to hope a recovery by force, of thoſe Crowns that the Roman Arms have raviſhed from us, they are poſſeſſed by a puiſſance that others are too feeble to encounter, and by a puiſſance more to me by Obligation than Grandeur: yet I may have the hap to oblige great Caeſar with my ſervices to [Page] make good the intentions of his Predeceſſor, and by laviſhing my blood and life for his Intereſts, poſſibly merit thoſe Crowns from his bounty that Fortune took away before Nature ſhewed me to the World: In the mean time the Princeſs Julia, whoſe ſpirit indeed is a little wavering, will loſe that impreſſion in my abſence, which ſhe received for my misfortune as well as yours, and your preſence aſſiſted by her own reaſon, and the force of her Judgement which will ripen with her age, no doubt will ſcatter thoſe young Idea's, which are yet ſcarce grown to a perfect form, and may therefore be eaſily chaſed away by your affection, and thoſe grand qualities the Gods have put into your Perſon.’

To theſe words the Prince added divers others to the ſame purpoſe, which Marcellus having peaceably heard; ‘For that which touches me, ſaid he, I will never agree you ſhould forſake a place to which you are tyed by ſo juſt and ſo noble a paſſion; to the other that regards your glory and the re-eſtabliſhment of your Dignity; give me leave to joyn Intereſt, with you, and for yours; believe it, I will never ſtick to hazard my life, nor refuſe to pay down my blood to the laſt drop, if the total expence of it may be fruiful to your repoſe or glory.’

Doubtleſs the two Princes had inlarged their Dialogue, if they had not ſpy'd a great troop of Ladies enter the Alley, which preſently they knew to be the Princeſs Octavia, Cleopatra, Emilia, Sulpitia, and divers others of the greateſt among the Romans: the Ladies no ſooner drew near the Arbor, but they ſaw the two Princes come out to meet them, and after the Princeſs Octavia had chid their ſullen and melancholy humour that miſlead them to the ſearch of ſolitude, ſhe ask'd if they had any mind to increaſe the company. There were but few men in it, and thoſe that were, reſpectively reſign'd their places to the two Princes. Marcellus, to oblige his friend, entertain'd the Princeſs Octavia his Mother, and Coriolanus led Cleopatra, the whole company walk'd in couples through the ſeveral Alleys, ſtill keeping ſuch a diſtance as lent them liberty to exchange their thoughts without any fear of over-hearers; Cleopatra eying an unuſual trouble, and an extraordinary Emotion in the aſpect of the Affrican Prince: ‘How is it Coriolanus, ſaid ſhe, that I find ſo ſad an inquietude upon your brow? has Fortune hatch'd you any freſh diſpleaſure? If the deſire does not diſoblige you, I would willingly know the cauſe of your trouble: 'Tis too hard a task Madam, reply'd the Prince, for my Face not to tell tales of my Sorrow, too difficult for him to perſonate content that is going to the rack of a cruel affection: Madam, my fate enjoyns me to leave you, which is the ſame to ſay, I muſt be torn from my ſelf, and who can carry ſuch a torture within him, and not betray ſome exterior ſymptoms? Madam, it is my ſhame that I have liv'd ſo long in your ſervice unbuſied with glory or ambition, and ſince I had the daring to raiſe my eyes to you, 'tis fit I ſhould think of other employments, to render my ſelf worthy of the honour to ſerve you; to be barely the Son of a King, can aſſert no ſufficient merit, and if Fortune robbed me of the dignity, 'tis requir'd of my vertue to recover it; for to live in the condition of a private man at Rome, and yet love Cleopatra, are things incompatible.’

‘I do not wholly oppoſe your deſign, reply'd the Princeſs, to purſue that path of glory to your eſtabliſhment which you have already begun to tread ſo hopefully; and though your preſence be as dear to me as you ought to deſire, yet I can reſolve to loſe it for a time, in hope to ſee your vertue remount the Throne of your Anceſtors; not that the loſs of your Crowns can render your perſon leſs conſiderable than if they impal'd your brow; that blind Deity has handled us as rudely as you, and humbled our Family too low to leave us any cauſe of miſprizing thoſe Princes that ſhe has plundred; but ſince nothing can look big enough to daunt your Courage, and that inſpires you to trace the ſteps of your Predeceſſors; the knowledge I have that you are born to great undertakings, ſhall vanquiſh that repugnance, which indeed diſſwades my conſent to this ſeparation; and if the Deſtinies do not oppoſe you, you ought to expect all from your valour; but Coriolanus, though this reaſon be ſtrong enough to take you from us, you muſt confeſs it is not the cauſe that drives you away, and that ſome other conſideration precipitates your departure.’

‘The reſpect which I have always chain'd to your will, anſwered the Prince, does not permit me to diſguiſe the truth, and though diſcretion and Modeſty diſpute againſt it, they are too weak to confute my obedience. It is true, Madam, ſince you are pleaſed I ſhould avow it, I do owe a little voyage to my friends repoſe, and being infortunate enough to injure him, I am going for a time to flie thoſe occaſions, and ſeek others, that may render me worthy to be owned by you: I apprehend enough, added the Princeſs with a ſmile, and I think I ſhall not make you bluſh, when I tell you, you are loved by Julia. I cannot believe it love, modeſtly anſwered the Prince, but rather the malice of mine and Marcellus's fortune, that was willing to conduct the addreſſes of that [Page] wavering ſpirit, while ſhe ſought occaſions of inconſtancy, rather to me than any other: I ſuſpected it before, reply'd the Princeſs, by divers remarkable conjectures, but was loth to let you know ſo much, for fear of diſturbing the ſatisfaction you receive in the affection and reſearch of ſo fair a Princeſs: Indeed it is ſo great, coldly anſwered Coriolanus, as I am too weak to ſupport the weight of it, and for that reaſon will flie as far as the Earth has limits, if it be otherwiſe impoſſible to defend my ſelf from it.’

‘You are cruel Coriolanus, reply'd the Princeſs with a graceful and Majeſtick action, and if you thus contemptuouſly treat fair Ladies, and ſuch as are of Julia's lofty quality, what may thoſe hope from you, to whom Nature and Fortune have been penurious? She that I adore, replyed my Prince, has receiv'd of Nature all that ſhe was capable of giving, nor can Fortune ſubſtract any thing from that, which ſtill keeps her placed in the firſt rank of mortals.’

‘I am well pleaſed, ſaid the fair Princeſs, that your blindneſs has betraid you to this opinion, and though I am not the ſame you ſpeak me, I am very willing to appear ſo in your Eyes and Judgement.’

She pronounced theſe words with an Air ſo ſweet, and a faſhion ſo obliging, as the Prince was loſt in a delightful raviſhment, and preſſing her hand which he held with an action full of ardor and tranſport: ‘Oh amity! ſaid he, Oh honour! What enemies are you grown to my repoſe? How ſweetly might I paſs my entire life at the feet of my adorable Princeſs if you would conſent to it.’

He had ſaid more, and their Diſcourſe had laſted longer, if the arrival of the two young Princes, Alexander and Ptolomee had not interrupted it, who, after they had ſaluted the reſt of the company, they approached the Princeſs their Siſter, and Coriolanus, whom they loved exceedingly; divers noble Romans, which came thither in their company, alſo mingled themſelves in the Troop, and the walk continued and ended, without offering my Maſter an occaſion of reviving his diſcourſe with Cleopatra.

The next day there befel him an accident, that gave a report loud enough through Rome, to arrive at your ears, when you reſided there, which as it haſten'd his voyage ſome days ſooner than he intended, ſo it gave him the means to undertake it with more glory than he expected. There was then at Rome a Mathematician call'd Trafillus, who by his ſublime skill in Judicial Aſtrology, had acquir'd a Reputation that highly advanced his credit, and made his acquaintance be courted by the principal Romans. ‘Alas, cry'd Tyridates, interrupting Emilius, that name is but too well known unto me, and I have hitherto found his prediction of my Fortune ſo credited by a ſucceſſion of accidents, and have now ſo little reaſon to expect an end unſutable to the former events as it muſt ever have a place in my memory.’ This Traſillus, reply'd Emilius, whoſe Science you experimented, had a particular acceſs to Tiberius, whoſe thoughts, (eternally ty'd to his Love and Ambition) made him ranſack this mans knowledge for a flattery of his future hopes.

That day I ſpoke of, he being in the Pallace Gallery, where the nobleſt Romans uſually walk'd, attending the Emperors riſing, my Maſter and Tiberius met there together, follow'd by a throng of the moſt conſiderable perſons in the Empire: though their mutual Jealouſie had extinguiſh'd all the ſparks of friendſhip, which might otherwiſe have been kindled betwixt them, eſpecially in the malicious ſpirit of Tiberius: their Enmity was not yet come to a Declaration, and if the reſpect, which my Prince carryed in Livia, kept a part of his under hatches, Tiberius, who is a perfect Maſter in the Art of Diſſimulation, conceal'd his hatred for other conſiderations, often ſpoke to Coriolanns, and treated him with as affable looks as his cunning could put on; but at that encounter, approaching to him; ‘Come, ſaid he, ſhall we know our Deſtinies, from the mouth of Traſillus?’ Then beckning the Artiſt to come nearer, and preſenting my Prince unto him; ‘What think you Traſillus, ſaid he, of the Prince of Mauritania's Fortune and mine?’ ſhall our inclinations thrive in the deſign they are level'd at? Traſillus had often ſeen my Prince, knew his Age, the Conſtellation that ruled at his Nativity, and had conſulted all other circumſtances from whence he uſually rais'd his conjectures, but he had ſtudied Tiberius with more circumſpection, and often told him many things that concern'd his Deſtiny, to my Maſter he had never ſpoken, having receiv'd but little encouragement from his curioſity, but then after he had ſpent ſome time in peruſing the two Princes; ‘If my Science deceives me not, ſaid he, you ſhall both be great, and both ſatisfied, the one in his Love, and the other in his Ambition; and becauſe you deſire not a more particular knowledge, I will aſſure you upon my life, that one of you ſhall one day be poſſeſſor of the Perſon you both love, and the other ſhall ſee himſelf ſeated on the talleſt Throne in the Univerſe.’

This Diſcourſe of Traſillus, to whoſe preſages the conformity of Events had acquired him a great deal of credit, was followed by a loud acclamation from the whole company, [Page] and the two Princes, to whom it was addreſſed, ſtood and gazed a while upon each other without uttering a word, at laſt my Maſter, after he had ſeriouſly ballanc'd Traſillus words; ‘For the enjoyment of what I love, ſaid he, I ſhould eaſily quit the Empire of the world, and on condition ſhe may be mine, I ſhall bare no grudge to my concurrents Fortune:’ This language was amorous and modeſt, but the reply of Tiberius was not ſo, and though he had power enough upon himſelf to be carried away with the Tide of a vain preſumption: ‘I pretend, ſaid he, to the poſſeſſion of Cleopatra, nor do I renounce my claim to the Empire, ſince the World has not another man, that is born with a better Title to both:’ This Diſcourſe lighted up an indignation in my Maſters ſpirit, as well for his own intereſt, which receiv'd an open affront in what referr'd to Cleopatra, as Marcellus right, who by the univerſal vote of the Romans, the intention of Caeſar, and the ſuffering of Equity it ſelf, might pretend with more juſtice to the Imperial Diadem than Tiberius, and by all theſe was placed before him; beſides, he could never ſtudy the Science of diſſembling, though then for divers conſiderations, he ſtrugled with himſelf to confine a part of his reſentments, and darting a diſdainful look at Tiberius; ‘I know not, ſaid he, to what you may be born, but I hope that neither Cleopatra nor the Empire ſhall be any part of your portion: and who ſhall diſpute it, reply'd Tiberius, fiered with rage, can juſter pretences, and better ſupported than mine, be ſhewn by a deſpoyled African? for the Empire, anſwered my Prince, Rome has enough more worthy than thy ſelf to command it, and for Cleopatra, that African will diſpute her with thee, who wholly deſpoiled as he is, is yet the Son of a puiſſant King, and not of a paltry Citizen, as thou art, and from whom Fortune has taken nothing that could make him loſe thoſe advantages he had of thee both in Birth and Vertue.’

At theſe words they both laid hands upon the guards of their Swords; and though the reſpect that was due to the place might have reſtrained them to more moderation, yet that conſideration had not then been capable to arreſt their hands, if the whole company had not ſuddenly thrown themſelves betwixt them, and ſo cut off a farther paſſage to their fury.

The bruit of this divided the whole Court in two factions, and if the authority of the Empreſs his Mother, added to the large alliances he had in Rome, gain'd Tiberius a puiſſant party, the credit of Marcellus, and the friends which his vertue had acquired, made my Maſters full as formidable; which may ſeem ſtrange, if the glorious rank and garb be conſidered, which Tiberius did then, and doth ſtill appear in: yet 'tis true, my Prince as much ſtranger and deſpoiled as he was, ſaw himſelf in a condition to hold up his head againſt the Son of Livia, the Druſi, Sulpitii, Metelli, with divers other families that ranged themſelves on Tiberius party, and with Marcellus, the generous Agrippa, the children of Antony, the Fabii, Cato's, with all that were brave and honeſt among the Romans, had their Swords ready to ſtrike in Coriolanus quarrel. Yet this number of divided friends ſerved for no more than to make known the Competitors Credit: for the ſame day the Emperor, being advertis'd of the quarrel, and having learned the truth from the mouth of Agrippa and Mecenas, one of which was my Maſters declared friend, and the other had high thoughts of his vertue, he ſent them to try if he could make them friends.

This favour was not ordinary, but beſides that, he was willing to do honour to the Son of his Wife, and a Prince of the birth and vertue of Coriolanus, he deemed his authority requiſite to hinder the animoſity of two ſuch important men from proceeding to extremities; indeed the ſollicitations of Livia, (who made the boldneſs of Coriolanus, and the little reſpect he expreſt to the Wife of Caeſar, ſound high in his ears) might have drawn his judgement away in Tiberius behalf, if, beſides the credit of Marcellus and Agrippa, who had much power with Auguſtus, the carriage of Coriolanus, that ſeemed to ſecond the Emperors intentions in repreſſing boldneſs, and condemning his ſawcy pretences to the Empire, had commended his cauſe to Auguſtus, and diſpos'd him to treat them with an impartial equality

They both preſented themſelves before him each with a proud train at his heels; and the Emperor, after he had heard them a part, ſharply reproved Tiberius for the knowledge he had given of his ambitious aſpirings to the Empire, and my Prince, for the contemptuous miſpriſal of his birth, whoſe Mother himſelf had taken to his bed, he commanded them to embrace each other.

My Maſter gracefully diſpos'd himſelf to obey him; but before they interchang'd that Ceremony, bravely addreſſing to Caeſar, with a boldneſs full of Majeſty, ‘Sir, ſaid he, I accept your command with a due reſpect, and to witneſs my reſignation to your Majeſties will, I will propoſe a means (if it may be allow'd) to cut up the root of any further quarrel betwixt Tiberius and my ſelf: we both love Cleopatra, and ſo long as our competition [Page] lives, we ſhall find a task too difficult to keep life in our amity: If juſtice doth appoint that Princeſs, as a treaſure to reward the ſervices of one of us' decree it, my Lord, that by thoſe ſhe may onely be diſputed, and not by indirect courſes, to which it would be injurious to ſtake ſuch a prize as Cleopatra; I am going, my Lord, as I did at my firſt acquaintance with the Camp, to carry my Life and my Sword into the Roman Army, and if it may pleaſe grand Caeſar to give me an employment, wherein I may ſignalize my ſelf for the glory of his Empire, I may poſſibly make it known, that though I am born an African Prince, I have neither leſs fidelity nor valour than the Native Romans. Let Tiberius do the ſame, and ſince to the intereſt of his Love, he may link the ſervice of his Country, let him Court ſome dangers for occaſions to merit Cleopatra: ſuffer not your favour, great Caeſar, to be partially ſwayed, but let him have the glorious prize that ſhews the moſt valour for it; I am willing to reſign her, with my life to boot, if in this Warlike deciſion Tiberius carries the advantage, and I hope from your juſtice, that what Fortune has already given, ſhall not be accounted in the purchaſe of a Jewel, which he only ought to buy with his blood and ſervices.’

My Maſter had ſcarce ended theſe words, when Tiberius, with as fierce a confidence in his looks as Coriolanus could ſhew, thus perſued his requeſt; ‘I gladly conſent, ſaid he, to the propoſition Coriolanus has made, and if it pleaſes the Emperor, that our valour ſhall onely try our Titles to Cleopatra, I ſhall that way advance my claim by fairer pretences than ever; I will go as well as he into the Armies that Combat for the Empire, and if the Emperor judges me worthy of a Command, I hope my behaviour in his ſervice ſhall render it apparent, that I want no courage to merit ſuch a recompence as Cleopatra.’

The Diſcourſe of theſe two young Princes, which had contracted the attention of all the aſſiſtants, marvellouſly pleaſed Auguſtus, and at the ſame moment he openly proteſted his approbation of their brave deſign, and promiſed by his conſent, that Cleopatra ſhould never be given but to him of the two, that in Romes ſervice could ſhew beſt proofs of their Military vertue.

My Maſter receiv'd this Declaration of the Emperours with an acceſs of joy, and Tiberius, who really is very couragious, expreſt it as great a ſatisfaction.

From that very day the Emperour grew ſtudious to find out employments for them both, and by good fortune an occaſion offered it ſelf as favourably as they both could wiſh.

Terentius Varro, and Tilus Coriſius, with a puiſſant Army made War againſt the Auſtrians and Cantabrians who were riſen in Rebellion againſt the Empire in prodigious numbers. But the Soldiers, no longer able to endure the inſupportable humour of Varro, the Emperor was conſtrain'd to call him home, and Coriſius made incapable by his perſonal defects of the ſole Command of that War, the Emperor was oblig'd to ſend a Captain in Varro's place, who till then by means of Coriſius infirmities, had ſuſtain'd the whole weight of Care in the conduct of that Expedition.

On the other ſide, War being kindled in Pannonia and Dalmatia, and the Captain that Commanded the Roman Army having been kill'd in an encounter: the Legions had ſent to demand a new General of Caeſar, which yet he had not nominated.

Theſe two employments, after the method of ſome deliberation, were given to the two Rival Princes with hopes of ſucceſs that were yet equally divided betwixt them.

My Maſter had Commiſſion to march in Varro's place againſt the Aſturians and Cantabrians, and Tiberius, who indeed, though very young, had already given many ſignals of his gallantry, was deſign'd to command the Army in Pannonia.

Theſe two Princes, highly ſatisfied with their employments, equally prepar'd for their departure, and vanquiſh'd by the help of their mutual Emuliation the grief they took to part with Cleopatra.

Marcellus, boyling as well as they with a deſire of glory, took example by them to demand a military employment; but the Emperor told him it was his abſolute will he ſhould ſtay near his Perſon, yet flattered him with the hope of an important expedition which he had in his thoughts, and my Maſters earneſt entreaty that he would ſtay a while with Julia, and endeavour to recover her ſickned flames, wrought upon him ſo ſucceſsfully, as at laſt he was content that Rome ſhould yet be his reſidence.

I need not ſpeak of the preparations theſe two young Generals made of their voyage, nor trouble you with Julia's diſcontent for my Maſters ſeparation, who in every place that he met her, and when he took his leave, ſtill evaded particular Diſcourſes with a grand Circumſpection; and the haſt I make to paſs to the Narrative of weightier affairs, [Page] only permits me to tell you, that the day of their departure being arriv'd, after they had received the Emperors Orders, the two Princes took leave of Cleopatra apart, I know not what language was exchanged betwixt her and Tiberius, but my Maſters ſhewed the marks of a moſt ardent paſſion, and Cleopatra's of an affection, which gave Coriolanus cauſe enough to be contented.

‘It is not Madam, ſaid he, after ſome preceeding Diſcourſes, it is not your affection that calls my courage to this diſpute with Tiberius, that keeps to a greater height of value for either to aſpire at, at the charge of all our blood; nor can it be bought but with ſuch ſervices as are peculiarly paid to your ſelf, and not thoſe that are laid out for the Empires Intereſts; no, 'tis the favour of Auguſtus, that by glorious actions I muſt pluck from Tiberius, if it be poſſible, and ſince your fortune has ſubmitted you in ſuch a ſort to his power, as after purchaſe of your conſent, my hopes muſt ſtill wait upon his to compleat my happineſs; give me leave, if you pleaſe, by laviſhing my life for his intereſts, to oblige him to conſider my ſervices as well as Livia's ſollicitations: yes, Coriolanus, reply'd the Princeſs, you have my conſent, and to confirm you, that you have it, know, you need not diſpute my affection with your Rival in the rough argument of arms; be aſſured the advantage ſhall ever ſtay on your ſide, and though fortune ſhould crown the Creſt of Tiberius with the Palmy wreaths of moſt glorious victories, ſhe ſhall never have a power to give him any part of my inclinations; you have already too great a ſhare in them to leave him the ſpark of any hope alive, and I cannot now aſſume the liberty of expreſſing that to you with any decorum, which I did not fix in my breaſt before I had weighed it.’

I will trace their amorous Dialogue no further, for fear the length of it ſhould diſoblige your patience; at laſt, after he had breath'd a thouſand vows at her feet of an eternal fidelity, and received a confirmation from her own mouth of thoſe dear hopes ſhe had given him▪ my Prince receiv'd her adieu with a conſolation that help'd to ſweeten the regret of his abſence, and about an hour after mounted on horſeback, with a great number of friends, who brought him many days journies on the way, but at laſt having parted from thoſe that went not the Expedition, we march'd with the reſt through Gallia Narbonenſis, and thoſe other Provinces that lay in our way to Auſtria and Cantabria.

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA: OR, Love's Maſter-Piece. PART II.
LIB. III.

[Page]

ARGUMENT.

The gallant Acts, and grand Victories of Coriolanus in the Auſtrian War. Tiberius luckily finiſhes that in Dalmatia, returns before his Rivals, and by Livia's means gains the Emperor to a partial Arbitration. The news of this haſtily calls home Coriolanus. His haughty language to Caeſar procures his Baniſhment. The fantaſtick viciſſitudes of Julia's kindneſs and inconſtancy to Marcellus. Coriolanus challenges Tiberius in the Temple, and the next day runs him through in the Streets.

THUS Emilius recounted his Maſters Life to Prince Tyridates, who heard him with a marvellous attention, when there came one and told him that Coriolanus, after ſome hours quiet repoſe, was newly awaked. Tyridates, whoſe generoſity was deeply concerned in the care of ſuch a qualified Gueſt, though he flamed with deſire to learn the ſequel of his Adventures, he then preferred Society before his Story; judging it time to dine, and enjoyned by Civility to keep him company, he was willing for a while to defer the continuation of Emilius recital.

They went together to his Chamber, and the Son of Juba no ſooner ſaw Tyridates, but receiving him with an obliging action, full of bewitching ſweetneſs; ‘You come, ſaid he, from trifling ſome hours upon a mean divertiſement, and you have had your deſires, to be acquainted with things ſo little worthy of your attention, as I fear you are juſtly diſpleaſed with my complacence to your curioſity: I have yet underſtood no more, reply'd Tyridates, than the morning actions of your life, and though thoſe of the latter edition, which I confuſedly took from the mouth of Rumour, be doubtleſs the greater and more important; thoſe beautiful beginnings have ſo tyed me to your vertue, in the chains of love and wonder, as I can now no more regard you without the extraordinary motions of affection and reſpect:’ ‘Your affection is too dangerous, anſwer'd the Mooriſh Prince, to be otherwiſe received than as the greateſt bliſs that fortune can offer me, but I rather owe it your generous diſpoſition, than the recital of a few trivial actions, incapable to merit it: that exceſſive modeſty of yours, reply'd Tyridates, has confirmed my deſign, to accept no part of the ſtory from your own mouth, for I ſee you will debaſe the Grandeur of your actions, as I ſhall draw nothing from you but what will fall infinitely ſhort of truth.’

While thus they inlarged their Civilities, their dinner came in, during which they entertain'd each other with diſcourſes as agreeable as their melancholy hearts could allow.

[Page] The valiant unknown, was ſerved in his Chamber with other meats, for the depth of his wounds oblig'd him to another ſort of nouriſhment, he was very hardly diſpos'd to ſuffer the application of any remedy, and the reaſon he had to afflict himſelf, returning to his memory, left him ſo little regard of life, as the care of his recovery was only acted by Tyridates and his Squire.

Indeed the Prince of Parthia omitted no endeavours that would have been contributed to his proper ſafety, and by the brave things he had ſeen him do, and that Majeſtick mind which was able to ſink an impreſſion of reſpect in all the Souls that beheld him, he had received an opinion of him as a perſon wholly extraordinary.

Dinner was no ſooner ended, but he was at his Chamber door to enquire of his health, and underſtanding from the Chirurgions, he might now ſafely be ſpoken to, he entered the Chamber, and approaching the bed, gave him the bonjour: the ſtranger inforced his griefs to return what he thought was due to his benefactor, and regarding him with eyes that in ſpight of their ſickly Eclipſe ſparkled ſomething more fierce and martial than was to be found in the reſt of mankind: ‘You miſ-employ your pity, ſaid he, upon a man that has neither fortune nor life enough left to acknowledge it, but the Gods will pay you in my behalf, and ſupply by their bounty the impuiſſance of a wretch on whom you have ſo nobly, and yet ſo ineffectually placed yours:’ this diſcourſe (the pulſe of a moſt violent grief) touched the ſoul of Tyridates with a freſh compaſſion, and deſirous to ſweeten the ſorrows of that valiant man, as well as his own would permit him: ‘I ſhould be really happy, ſaid he, in a power as well to reconcile your ſpirit with repoſe, as your body with health; but the Gods from whom you bid me expect a reward for ſuch trivial offices will employ their puiſſance (to which nothing is difficult) in reſtoring what they have taken from you, and if you truſt their goodneſs, you will doubtleſs receive all the aſſiſtance requiſite for your conſolation.’

In reaſon the Stranger ow'd a reply to this Language, and doubtleſs in another reaſon would have paid it, but his thoughts were then in purſuit of another ſubject, and after he had ſpent ſome moments in a deep ſtudy: ‘Have you yet learn'd no news, ſaid he, of the cruel Pyrate that fled yeſterday from my juſt purſuit? know you not whether the perſons that were in his power, were delivered by ſome Divine or humane aſſiſtance? We have heard nothing of that, anſwer'd Tyridates, and believe he ſaved himſelf with his prey in thoſe veſſels we ſaw laſt night put off to Sea; Gods! cryed the ſtranger, with an action full of tranſport, Gods! who have ſuffered me to find nothing among men but cruelty and ingratitude; ſhall I ever meet the refuſal of ſuccour at your hands, and muſt I be eternally expos'd to oppreſſion and injuſtice? have you favour'd me in thoſe occaſions that would contribute to my glory, to croſs me in all thoſe that ſhould ſerve my repoſe? and in fine, ſhall theſe advantages you have given me, ſerve for nothing but to dreſs my misfortune, and gag my ruine?’ He ſtop'd at theſe words, which he mingled with deep ſighes, and after he had ſtaid ſome time in the poſture of a man poſſeſt with furious reſolutions; ‘Do pittileſs fortune, purſu'd he, do, cruel Enemy, all the miſchief that thy blind power can faſten upon my deſtiny, I do here lay my ſelf open to thy cruel perſecution, and defie thy malice to trample upon a Courage, which yet thou haſt but vainly combated with.’

He paus'd at theſe words, and Tyridates perceiving he had much ado to ſtop there, out of fear that his preſence might put him to ſome conſtraint, and the Chirurgions opinion that a purſuit of his paſſionate diſcourſe might injure his health, after he had intreated him to take ſome repoſe, and follow their advice to whoſe care his health was committed, and ſeek, if poſſible, for comfort in that grand courage, whereof he had given ſo many glorious proofs in ſo ſhort a time, he took his leave for the reſt of the day.

From that Chamber he return'd to Coriolanus, to whom he gave an account of his viſit, repeated the words and deſcribed the paſſion of the Stranger: At this the Sun of Juba ſhrugg'd up his ſhoulders, and lifted up his eyes, when after he had been ſome moments ſilent: ‘Oh valiant Stranger, cryed he! if thy ſoul be ſeized with a violent grief, how well has Fortune pattern'd our Condition: yet thy Calamities muſt ſwell to a ſtrange bulk to meaſure thy Calamities with mine, when you ſhall know my laſt Adventures, continued he, turning to Tyridates, you will doubtleſs deplore my misfortune, and poſſible believe that the miſeries of others are trifles in compariſon of mine. To keep you no longer in doubt of this, Emilius is ready to finiſh his Story, ſince you had rather have it from his mouth than mine: for that, ſaid Tyridates, I ſhall take a time when Civility forbids me to enjoy your Company, though 'tis confeſt I deſire with ſome violence to learn the ſucceſſion of thoſe beautiful Actions, whereof the beginnings were ſo charming, but I ſhall refer it to thoſe hours which will not permit me to ſee you without importunity: [Page] I cannot ſuffer the conſtraint your Courteſie offers, ſaid Coriolanus, to a perſon who has no neceſſity to require it, do not diſoblige your ſelf for my Divertiſement, my thoughts do furniſh me with an ample entertainment, and let me have leave to tell you, that in the ſad eſtate to which Love and Fortune has reduced me, if your company was not marvellouſly bewitching, it would not be ſupportable.’

By theſe words Coriolanus obliged Tyridates to leave him, and that Prince taking Emilius along to his Chamber, made him ſit down in the ſame place where they paſs'd away the morning, and the faithful Squire knowing his intention, after he had prepared his diſcourſe with ſome moments of ſilence, he purſued the Story in this manner.

The Continuation of the Hiſtory of Coriolanus and Cleopatra.

WE marched out of Rome to Aſturia, with the encouragement of many auſpicious preſages for the War, and all thoſe to whom the frequentation of my Maſters company had given any knowledge of his vertue, entertain'd very pregnant hopes of his ſucceſs in that Epedition: though he could take no employment that over-top'd his illuſtrious Birth, he had ſome reaſon to think it ſtrange, that a Prince born of a barbarous King, Enemy to the People of Rome, not exceeding the age of 21. ſhould command a Roman Army, at a time when Rome abounded with ſo many famous Captains of her own, that were capable of Conduct; I ſay to command, for indeed though Tilus Cariſius remained with ſome ſhadow of Authority in thoſe Provinces, his want of Experience, with the infirmities of his Perſon, had render'd him ſo inconſiderable to the Soldiers, as, though my Prince ſtill did him the honour to receive his advice in all affairs, the abſolute Power was ſolely in his hands, and the entire glory of all thoſe memorable events in that Expedition by the general vote was allotted to him only: he was received by the Legions with loud acclamations, and beſides that the opinions of his former exploits, had gain'd him the hearts of part of the Captains; the bounteous diſtribution of Natures favour, ſignally ſtamp'd in his Face, Language, and Actions, quickly procured him the affection and reſpect of all thoſe to whom his Vertue was yet undiſcovered.

The Commiſſion he received from the Emperor was generally approved, the Soldiers, Officers, and Cariſius himſelf, (to whom Varro's violent humour had been intolerable) accepted this young Companion in Command without a murmur, and, though he was Lieutenant of a Roman Army, he held it an honour, that the Son of a King, a thouſand times more conſiderable by his merits than birth, was apparently contented to ſhare the Dignity with him, only reſerving all the trouble and danger to himſelf: 'tis then to my Prince alone you may pleaſe to attribute the honour of all that was done in that Way, and though the orders were often ſubſcribed with Cariſius's name as well as his, I am able to affirm as a conſtant Witneſs, that never forſook him, he had no more hand in any part of the action, than if he had then been at Rome, onely amuſing himſelf with political maxims how to govern the Provinces, and preſerve the Cities in obedience, that we have reduced; while my Maſter at the head of his Army did the buſineſs of the War, making new brooks of barbarous blood run through Campania.

The Enemies had two renowned Captains among them, he that led the Aſturians was called Sillo, and Theopiſtus commanded the Cantabrians: They had many flying bodies beſides, rang'd under ſeveral Lieutenants, which were placed as neceſſity adviſed, in divers parts of the Provinces, where they might beſt diſtreſs the Romans, their Cities were univerſally up in Arms, fortified with ſtrong Garriſons, and furniſh'd with abundance of Victuals, all their ſtreights and paſſes upon Rivers defended with ſo much ſtrength and caution, as it appeared no petty enterpriſe, no contemptible task to tame this warlike people.

Yet the threats of theſe difficulties inſtead of diſcouraging, enflamed the heart of the fierce young Prince, with an eager deſire of forcing from thoſe fair occaſions an improvement of his Glory; and joyning to his admirable valour, and incredible prudence, if compared with his years, he began to act in that War, both by Conduct and Execution, like another Hannibal, or a Julius Caeſar; never did any thing appear ſo beautiful, as my brave Prince in the functions of his charge, and when his head was in a Caſque, that noble and warlike mind was ſo highly advantaged by the grace he uſed in his command, as his Enemies themſelves had not power to behold him without affection; the firſt time he preſented himſelf to their view, was upon the bank of a little River, where Theopiſtus appeared in perſon at the head of above 30000 Combatants, the River was narrow but ſcarce fordable, which kept the Armies from joyning, and forced them for a long time to fight at a diſtance with no other weapons than Arrows, till my Maſter knowing the advantage [Page] of the Romans conſiſted in a cloſer Combat, and not in thoſe wooden ſhours, whereby the Barbarians might happily diſpute the Victory with danger to his party, after he had ſought the fitteſt place, he ſpurred his Horſe into the water, and like another Alexander at the paſſages of Granicus, both by words and example encouraged a part of his Cavalry to keep him company in the danger, and thus ſometimes fording, ſometimes ſwimming their Horſes, they gained the oppoſite bank.

The Cantabrians amazed at ſo prodigious a daring, had not courage enough left them to ſtand the Encounter, and my Maſter taking advantage of the diſorder, wherein fear and wonder had ſhuffled them, gave his Enemies a hot charge, and his own Souldiers time to paſs the River with greater facility than before, which ſtill came up with ſuch freſh ſupplies to his ſuccour, as at laſt he totally routed their Army, and carried ſo entire a victory, as more than 15000 Barbarians were left dead upon the ſpot.

The firſt loſs ſtruck ſuch a terror into the Enemy, as made them mannage their quarrel with more Caution.

A few days after they thought, they had gotten an occaſion to revenge the laſt ſlaughter by our total ruine, and indeed they put us in great danger; for my Prince, ſitting down with his Army before a Town called Tilloe, built upon a Marſh, and made by its Situation almoſt inacceſſible, the Enemies two Generals having rallied and rais'd all the Forces they could make, came up with an admirable diligence in two great bodies, incamped themſelves at our backs, and ſhut us up between the City, the Marſh, and their two Armies, leaving no paſſage free, unleſs we could cut out the way through one of their groſs bodies.

My Maſter preſently perceived what an Error his Ignorance in the Country had made him incur, but loath to give his Souldiers time to perceive their diſadvantage, and receive a terrour that might give the Enemies the victory, to ſave his men, he reſolv'd to raiſe the Siege, and judging the deſign more fit for the favourite of darkneſs than light; having caus'd the Troops and Legions to be ready to march about midnight, and giving all neceſſary orders to the Officers, he ſent two or three hundred men to give an Allarm at Theopiſtus Quarters, and when the Enemies believ'd the danger bent it ſelf that way, and he ſuddenly broke with all his Forces upon Sillo's Army, threw down all that ſtood in his way, and by his Example we charg'd ſo vigorouſly, as aſſiſted by our ſudden ſurpizal, and the fire we threw about into all the Quarters of their Camp, and the nights darkneſs, which increas'd the terrour, we put them to ſuch a general rout, as after we had killed about 10000 Barbarians, we paſſed through their Camp upon the necks of the reſt, which were left covered with Carkaſſes and blood, and made good our retreat ſcarce with the loſs of 600 men, to the top of a Mountain, where we incamped before day, whoſe new-born light made us quickly underſtand our ſelves in a condition to preſent them battel.

This brave piece of ſervice paſs'd for a miracle among the Barbarians, and ſo fearfully aſtoniſht them, as in ſtead of marching in Battel againſt us, they roſe up with their Army, and directed their March through the City, they went and encamp'd on the other ſide the Marſh

A few days after, my Maſter re-inforcing his numbers with the ſupplies of 8000 Foot and 4000 Horſe, which Cariſius had ſent him, he re-attaqu'd the City ſo vigorouſly, as in ſpight of the Enemies Army that lay at the Gates on the other ſide, and fortified it with numbers neceſſary for defence, within ſix days time we carried it by ſtorm, and marched toward the Enemy with ſo much Courage and Confidence, as it took away theirs, and obliged them to a timorous retreat into ſuch places, whoſe Situation hindred us from forcing them to fight. I contract the recital of theſe things in as narrow a volume as poſſible, for ſhould I tie my relation to every particular, it would coſt more time than I have now to lay out upon the whole Diſcourſe.

While theſe things paſs'd at the Camp, Fame daily carried intelligence of my Maſters grand actions to every Romane ear, which brought as much joy to Marcellus and the reſt of his friends, as deſpight to Livia, and the whole faction of Tiberius; the Princeſs Cleopatra who drave a more peculiar Intereſt in his glory than the reſt, forgot not to acknowledge her particular ſatisfaction, and to that purpoſe ſhe anſwered all his Letters; but my memory, too weak to retain them, I only preſerved ſome of the ſhorteſt, and eſpecially that which ſhe wrought upon intelligence of his victory I laſt related, I believe the words differed not much from theſe.

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The Princeſs Cleopatra, to the valiant Juba Coriolanus Prince of Mauritania.

TO gain great Battels againſt the Valianteſt people in Europe, to force Cities defended by an Army that out-numbered yours, and render the nights themſelves famous by your victories, are actions conformed to my wiſhes, and worthy of your Courage, but thus every moment to laviſh ſuch precious blood, ſo oft to expoſe a life ſo dear unto me to the mercies of danger, when neceſſity does not bind you, are actions contrary to your obedience, and the care you ought to take of my repoſe; yet I incline to pardon, when I remember, you combat for my conqueſt, as well as your own glory, and that you owe part of thoſe advantages your valour will give of your Rival, to the thought that you fight for Cleopatra.

Theſe clear proofs of Cleopatra's affection ſwelled my Maſters courage to a greater height, and daily carried him to the enterprize of braver exploits, for which Fortune offered him fair opportunities, and the Gods ſeem'd willing for his glory, that our Enemies, by the arrival of a great recruit, ſhould be once more able to face us in the field, and truſting to the number of their men, which far exceeded ours, they deſcended into the plain of Gangaris, and preſented us Battel.

Coriolanus, though much the weaker in number, joyfully accepted the Aſturians defiance, and ranging his Army with a dexterous prudence, he marched againſt the Barbarians not as to a doubtful Combat, but a certain victory.

I remember he was that day covered with a Coat of Steel, ſo exceedingly bright, as the ſplendor of it mingled with the rays of the Jewels that enriched his arms, and both received the Sun-beams, formed a flame which ſeemed to environ him; beſides, there appeared another in ſeveral flaſhes at his eyes that darted their fierce glory with ſuch extraordinary ardor, as it was even difficult for his friends to behold them without betraying ſome kind of fear; he wore no Caſque to cover his face, but only a little Morion after the Greek faſhion, ſhaded with twenty white feathers, under which his viſage appeared that whole day naked to the view, and his long curled hair which deſcended upon his ſhoulders in groſs a [...]ulets, ſeemed to borrow brightneſs from his warlike ardor: he was mounted upon a white horſe, dappled with black ſpots, which at once expreſs'd both pride and beauty, and in his right hand held two darts, which he brandiſh'd againſt his Enemies in a menacing faſhion.

Thus, and more fair than I am able to deſcribe him, after he had made an harangue to his troops, with an Eloquence that few alive could match, he lead them on to the Combat, and at his firſt blow, in the view of all his Army, gave death to Sillo, General of the Aſturians, a man of an extraordinary force and ſtature, who after my Princes example marching at the head of his forces, was pierced through and through with one of his Javelins, and fell without a ſoul at his horſe feet.

Coriolanus accompanied that brave Act with a thouſand others, which, in ſpite of the throng into which he ruſh'd with a precipitate fury, were remark'd by thouſands, and ſo couragiouſly animated his Souldiers both by his voice and Example, as after a well diſputed Combat, victory declared for us, and remain'd ſo entirely ours, as more than 35000 Barbarians died upon the place, their whole baggage was taken, and all thoſe that eſcaped the fury of our Souldiers, ſcarce found their ſafety in the wild ſhelter of the Foreſts and Mountains.

This Victory, which by the Romans judgment, to whom the news was quickly carried, might have challenged a compariſon, with the moſt memorable of thoſe that helped to eſtabliſh their Empire, gave a great ſtagger to this War, but it was not capable to end it, and though it was long before the Barbarians could recover a condition of fighting again, yet they had a great number of ſtrong Cities not one of which would render without reſiſtance, ſo that they coſt us no leſs than a whole years time to reduce them; during which, we had divers Combats upon parties, with the Enemies ſcatter'd Troops, which they ſent to ſet upon us on all ſides: at laſt we received intelligence that they had made one great effort for all, and having drawn all the forces together they could make, they were marching towards us, for the laſt deciſion of their liberty.

But while my Maſter thus bravely buſied himſelf in the ſervice of the Roman Empire, (and beſides the purchaſe of a glory that carried his name to the remoteſt limits of it, with the applauſe of the People, Senate, and Emperour) flew at a proud height in Cleopatra's favour, which he ſtill received, confirmed by daily proofs: the malice of [Page] his fortune would have it, that Tiberius ſhould light upon no worſe ſucceſs in Germany than he had in Spain: 'tis true, he had the advantage to command the valianter Legions, and deal with Enemies of far leſs Strength and Courage than ours, whatever it was (for my Maſters Intereſts cannot bribe me to debate the juſt value of his Enemies glory) he defeated the Pannonians and Dalmatians in two ſignal battels, took five or ſix of their chief Cities, and reduced them to ſo feeble a condition, as wanting thoſe great reſources that ſo often creſted the Aſturians and Cantabrians, they were conſtrained to beg their peace of Tiberius, and receive thoſe conditions it pleaſed the Conquerour to impoſe, which the cruel diſpoſition of Tiberius, (ever inflexible to pity or pardon) rendred very rigorous, and though indeed he did ſignalize himſelf in that Expedition by divers pieces of perſonal valour, he was much cenſured for ſpilling of blood, without a juſt neceſſity, and breaking the Articles in his Capitulation; however in eight months time, with great advantage to the Empire, he finiſhed that War, and returned to Rome covered with Laurels in ſo pompous an eſtate, as the triumphs of Caeſar, Pompey, and Paulus Emilius did ſcarce ſhew more magnificence.

His actions, to mention them without partiality, were certainly far ſhort of my Maſters, as the ſtories ſequel will inform you, but the ſucceſs not leſs conducing to Caeſars ſervice, which the Empreſs with her whole party cry'd up with loud praiſes, and ſtrow'd the Court with ſuch a noiſe of his atchievements, as if all other mens glory ought to ſuffer an Eclipſe when his was mentioned: Caeſar made him a reception, not unworthy of the ſervice he had render'd him, nor the place that he held near his perſon by his mothers authority, and the Princeſs Cleopatra, that ſhe might not be conſtru'd an Enemy to the State, by betraying any trouble for his proſperity, by advice of thoſe whom her own diſcreet choice had given Authority over her, received him with a ſmooth brow.

Tiberius left out nothing in his language or behaviour, that might prove a bait for her affection, and try'd all the ſtrength of his power with the Empreſs, in diſpoſing her to ſway Caeſars Judgement on his ſide.

Livia, as ſhe had formerly done, did for a time reſiſt his entreary, eagerly deſirous to addreſs his aims at the Princeſs Julia, whoſe poſſeſſion would put him in a fair path to the Empire, a deſign that eſpecially toyl'd her working thoughts: all the perſwaſions ſhe could urge, were employed upon her Son to change the object of his paſſion, endeavouring to make him feel the ſtings of Emulation againſt Marcellus, who by the enjoyment of Julia would ſtrengthen his pretences to the Soveraign Authority, and doubtleſs carry the Imperial Crown by the double advantage of Nephew and Son in Law to the Emperor.

Tiberius was the moſt aſpiring man upon earth, yet then more amorous than ambitious, which arm'd him with an obſtinate defence againſt Livia's Importunities, and after he had aſſur'd her they were all in vain, he preſs'd ſo hard for her aſſiſtance, proteſting his repoſe and his life depended on it, as that indulgent Mother to the paſſions of her Son, gave over her perſwaſions, and began to ſet her ſubtleties a work to content him, loſing no occaſion to ſollicite Auguſtus in his behalf, and practiſing all thoſe Charms upon him which ſhe knew had greateſt influence to perſwade his preferrence of Tiberius his ſervices to thoſe of Coriolanus.

The Emperor long reſiſted her perſecutions, and remembring what was due, as well to his Royal word, as the friendſhip of Marcellus (who publickly prop'd my Maſters Intereſts) and my Princes ſervices, who was then ſtrugling with death and danger for the glory of his Empire, he ſhut his Ears to the ſlie inſinuations of Livia, which inceſſantly tormented him: this perſeverance laſted ſome months, during which he often proteſted to determine the difference 'twixt the two Competitors with an impaſſionate equity, and decide the price of their Actions by ſuch a general Judgment, as neither ſhould have cauſe to ſuſpect partiality; but in fine, what could not Love do upon a Soul when he had once diſarm'd it? and what might not Livia hope from him, who for her ſake had violated the ſacred Laws of Marriage, and (beyond all Preſident) had raviſhed her great with child from her Husbands arms? well, that ſubtile ſpirit ply'd him ſo perpetually, as his eaſie ſoul at laſt conſenting to believe that Coriolanus mouth might be ſtop'd with rewards more important than Cleopatra, to pleaſe the importunate Livia, he declared againſt him, and promiſed to pronounce his judgement to her Sons advantage.

Of this the whole Court had preſent notice, and it quickly flew to the ears of Marcellus and Cleopatra, the Princeſs received this news with a moſt violent diſpleaſure, yet ſupported it with more moderation than Marcellus, who burſt into a loud and haughty paſſion at the injury was offered his friend, vigorouſly diſputed his Intereſts in the Emperours preſence, and went ſo far with Tiberius upon that ſubject, meeting with him at the door of the Capitol, and exchanging ſome warm words, they drew their Swords [Page] one at another; this quarrel might have raiſed dangerous diſorders in Rome, if Caeſars authority had not ſtep'd between, and forced them to a mutual embrace, charging Marcellus to keep his reſentments to himſelf.

My Maſter had advice of his misfortune that ſame day that he fought the laſt battel with the Aſturians and Cantabrians, and was giving orders at the head of his Army, when two Letters were brought him, one from Marcellus, and the other from Cleopatra: whatever his employment could then alledge to diſpence with their preſent peruſal, was all over-born by the paſſion he preſerved for thoſe two perſons, and opening the Letters he found theſe words in that of Marcellus, which he firſt read.

Marcellus to Juba Coriolanus Prince of Mauritania.

‘I Would ſtay till you received the troubleſome news I ſend you from ſome other hand, were it not dangerous to retard the Intelligence; the Emperour declares for Tiberius, if your preſence does not ſcatter thoſe advantages that Livia's perſwaſions have gained upon ours; come away my dear Brother if it be poſſible, and attend all things from the affection of a Friend, who would not have told you this miſchief, but with a purpoſe to ſerve you againſt it, at the price of his Fortunes, his Blood, and his Life. This was Marcellus his Letter, and Cleopatra ſpoke thus.’

The Princeſs Cleopatra to Prince Coriolanus.

‘YEſterday I underſtood from the Princeſs Octavia, that Auguſtus intends me for Tiberius. The previous diſcovery of my intentions will tell you how I reliſh the deſign; however I know his authority, as big as it is, ſhall never change my inclinations; your ſudden return will poſſibly befriend you more than all the power we can ſtir in your favour, and if you apprehend me right, no conſideration will be able to defer your coming.’

My Maſter, as I told you, received and read theſe Letters, juſt as he was at the point of giving the laſt ſignal for the Battel, and his eye had no ſooner arrived at the period, when ſtopping the forwardeſt with a loud cry, and commanding their ſtay till the ſignal was given, he remained in a confuſed perplexity, with his thoughts at a loſs, what reſolution he ſhould take; his reſentments of this injury no ſooner took fire in his Soul, but it preſently flew into ſuch a flame of anger, as the firſt thought that preſented it ſelf was to give away the Victory, and puniſh the ingratitude of Auguſtus by the loſs of his Army, and the ruine of his affairs in a Country where his valour had eſtabliſhed them; then diſtaſting the Treaſon in that deſign, and paſſing thence to another that claſh'd not ſo much with his generoſity, he took up a thought to abandon the Roman Troops, carry over his Sword to the Enemies party, and raiſe them by that to the ſame height from whence he had thrown them.

While this irreſolution kept him buried in a profound ſtudy, ſom of the Commanders that were neereſt his Perſon, had asked him divers queſtions touching their employment, without gaining the leaſt word of anſwer from his mouth: at laſt awaking from his deep cogitations, he lifted up his head, which all this time he had hung down as low as his Saddle bow, and turning his eyes round, wherein Choler was lively repreſented: ‘Let us go, ſaid he, whither our duty calls us, and prefer our honour before ſuch reſentments as cannot be juſtified by the event of this day, we may poſſibly reverſe Caeſars intention, or at leaſt find out a death to guard us from the injuſtice is offered.’

Finiſhing theſe words, after he had ſent all the Commanders to their ſeveral charges, he firſt gave the laſt ſignal, and was the firſt that flew in among his Enemies; I ſhall forbear the particulars of this Battel, which was the moſt cruel and bloudieſt of all the reſt, only after the diſpute had hotly held a part of the day, there fell to our lot ſo entire a Victory, as of more than 50000 Barbarians that faced us in the morning, ſcarce the tenth of that number were alive at night, the General Theopiſtus was there ſlain, with all the moſt conſiderable perſons of his party, and thus this root of Rebellion was cut up without the hope of reſource; for this miſerable people a few days after, ſubmitted to all the conditions were thought fit to impoſe.

They would have been very gentle could my Maſter have ſtaid his authority in thoſe parts, but the next day after the battel, conceiving his duty amply diſcharged, he went to find out Cariſius, whom he had left lame of the Gout in a neighbouring City, where after he had paſſed him an account of the ſtate of affairs as he leſt them, remitting the whole power into his hands, he took his leave of him, and a few days after parted with the ſame [Page] Equipage that followed him to the Army, endeavouring by great days journeys to reach the Imperial City.

I will not repeat the paſſionate complaints which broke from the ſence of his wrongs in that voyage, grief and anger took their turns in his words and actions, and ſometimes the latter tranſported him to ſuch raſh language, and loud threats, as his friends till then had never obſerved, and indeed were very unſuitable to his ordinary moderation; whatever diligence we uſed in the voyage, we arriv'd not at Rome till three days after the news of our laſt victory, which we found had taken up a glorious welcome and expreſs'd it ſelf in all the varieties of Joy to receive us; bonfires and ſacrifice made the ſtreets flame, and the Altars ſmoak, at a more conſpicuous expence, than was uſually beſtowed upon the combuſt of larger territories, and for a more conſpicuous mark of glory, the Emperour having now no more Enemies in the world to trouble the tranquility of his Dominion, in ſign of an univerſal peace, had cauſed the Temple of Janus be ſhut, which always ſtood open in time of War, and was never ſeen cloſed ſince the reign of Numa Pompilius.

Had notice been given before of my Maſters coming, his reception had been little ſhort of a triumphal entry, and certainly had he deſired the triumph it ſelf, it would have been granted him; but becauſe he left his charge, and came back without Auguſtus orders, he thought it not fit to give advice of his arrival, yet could not hinder the firſt that ſaw him paſs from breaking out into loud acclamations, and the noiſe of his return ran ſo ſwiftly from mouth to mouth, as in a few moments it was divulged through the whole City.

Love entituled the payment of his firſt reſpects to Cleopatra, amity pleads the precedency of his viſit to Marcellus, but his deſire to obſerve an exact Decorum in the requiſites of his duty, vanquiſhed the motions of Love and Amity, and conducted him with a great train of friends that followed, whoſe number ſwel'd at every ſtep, to the Emperours Palace, where he then was in perſon.

Marcellus, who had met the report of his arrival, as well as the reſt, ran to meet him with a throng of his friends, and encountring at the Palace-gate, that Interview was ſpent upon the dear entertainment of ſuch mutual Careſſes as cannot be well underſtood, but by thoſe Souls that have liſted themſelves under the ſtandard of as perfect an amity: nevertheleſs it was well obſerved, that their faces were not painted with that ſatisfaction which ought to have followed the glory of my Maſters victories: after they had a thouſand times repeated their dear embraces, and my Maſters courteſie paid what was due to the ſalutes of his friends, the two Princes drew themſelves aſide from the reſt of the company, and fell into ſome private diſcourſe, with the Subject of which, the language of their actions eaſily acquainted me: we heard not what was ſaid till the latter end, when my Prince raiſing his voice: ‘This is my reſolution, ſaid he, I will go preſently to Caeſar, and render him an accout of the Commiſſion he gave me, and after I have repreſented my ſervices, I will demand Juſtice of himſelf, for the injuſtice he has done me; and I, ſaid Marcellus, will joyn with you, and againſt all Enemies that dare oppoſe us, our intereſts ſhall be in ſeparable.’

At theſe words they mounted the ſtairs hand in hand, and went together to the Emperors lodgings; he was then retir'd into his Cabinet only with Agrippa and Mecaenas, that entertained him with ſome important affairs of State; but when it was told him that Marcellus and Coriolanus were at the door, he commanded they ſhould enter, & maugre his ſuprizal at my Maſters ſudden appearance, he receiv'd him with a ſmooth aſpect, and gave him ſuch a welcome as was due to the freſh memory of his grand actions.

Coriolanus having ſaluted him with all the reſpect that was owing to his perſon and dignity, fixing a bold and undaunted eye upon his face, and preventing ſome queſtions he was ready to ask, ‘Sir, ſaid he, I am doubtleſs culpable, by appearing in your preſence before the repeal of your orders, but while my being was neceſſary in thoſe places, where you did me the honour to ſend me, neither the memory of my deareſt intereſts, nor the entire peace of my Soul, had power to pull me from thoſe occaſions of your ſervice: all your Enemies are defeated; above 100000 Barbarians have had their threds cut by our Swords, their Cities are all ſubmitted, their Provinces in a profound obedience, and what now remains for Cariſius to do, will coſt neither labour nor effuſion of blood; and now Sir, I bring my Sword and my life to your feet, employ them both upon freſh expeditions, if that which I came from, has not yet made me worthy of the recompence your ſelf taught me to hope for; ſpare not blood, for it cannot be more gloriouſly ſpilt, than for the ſervice of Caeſar, and the conqueſt of Cleopatra.’

[Page] He let fall theſe words in a graceful and becoming poſture that charmed the Spirit of Auguſtus, who witneſſed the high thoughts he had of him, by moſt particular Careſſes and after he had repeated many embraces, with an action that overflow'd with kindneſs,: ‘You have done things for our Empire ſaid he, the Grandeur of which, does not only excuſe your return, but almoſt leaves us too weak to acknowledge it, yet I expected no leſs from your vertue whereof you have ever ſhown ſuch beautiful marks, as may give you a juſt encouragement to attend a recompence, that poſſible outweighs the poſſeſſion of Cleopatra. It is to her only, Sir, haſtily replyed the Prince, that I have rais'd my ambition, and, as it belongs to none but great Caeſar, to give away a Gem of that value, ſo I ought to receive it of him as a preſent, infinitely above my ſervices. I am ſorry, replyed the Emperor, that my promiſe does oblige me to favour Tiberius in his reſearch of Cleopatra, he is the Son of the Empreſs my Spouſe, whoſe affection has too great a ſway in my breſt, to go away with refuſal, yet I would never have conſented to vote againſt you, had not I prepared you another gift far more conſiderable than what you pretend to: and with what gift, my Lord, replyed the impatient Coriolanus, can you ſatisfie me for the loſs of Cleopatra? have you any thing ſo pretious in the whole extent of your Empire, to repair the injury you would do me, in martyring thoſe hopes, which had never been conceived but by your conſent; nor came abroad but upon your Parole: Yes anſwered the Emperor, I have the Realms of your Anceſtors, the Crowns of both the Mauritanians to reſtore unto you, which I am contented you ſhould poſſeſs under the protection of the Empire, in the ſame manner that Herod, Polemon, Arehelaus, and thoſe other Kings, our Allyes, do hold their Eſtates.’

This was not ſo cheap an offer of the Emperors, but it might have tempted any other ſoul beſides my Maſters, to have bit greedily at the bait, and produc'd an effect not capable to calm their diſpleaſure; but in his it encountered no ſuch diſpoſition, and not ſtaying one moment to ballance his anſwer, ‘Sir, ſaid he, with an action full of coldneſs, the Preſent you offer me is truly worthy of your own Altitude, and it pertains to none but great Caeſar, who is Maſter of all Empires, to give, with ſo much munificence and magnanimity: by the gift of my Fathers Crowns, I ſhould be infinitely overpaid for my ſervices, though I add the induſtry of my whole life, to bring them neerer to equality: But could you ſuper-add the reſt of the earth to this preſent, I would refuſe it, nay, and miſprize it too for Cleopatra, in her alone by your own permiſſion I circled my deſires, and without her, all the baits of ambition will loſe their taſte, and the Monarchy of the World would be inſupportable. I ſee your Paſſion doth now blind you, reply'd the Emperor, but when your reaſon ſhall once recover its liberty, you will quickly acknowledge, that I do you no wrong, in taking a woman from you, to make you a King of two puiſſant Realms. Ah! my Lord, cryed Coriolanus, this does not agree with the promiſe you made me, and when I drew my Sword in your quarrel againſt your Enemies Forces, you were willing, that by the advancement of your ſervice, and my own glory, I ſhould try my right to Cleopatra's poſſeſſion; Tiberius, whom your own condeſcenſion made my Antagoniſt, cannot render a fairer account of his employment, than I of mine; and if you take the pains to ſcan our actions, you will doubtleſs find the difference cannot be ſtrained to his advantage: If his Sword has reap'd a fairer Harveſt than mine, and himſelf be more conſiderable in being Son to the Empreſs, give him a reward, Sir, that better ſuits with his ſervices and ambition, give him the Diadems you offer me, I ſhall not ſee them embrace his Temples with an envious eye, though they were once my Fathers inheritance, and if Cleopatra cannot be merited, but by him that can ſet a Crown upon her head, I will go ſeek it among a people, which have not yet felt your puiſſance, where I may poſſibly gain that at the point of my Sword, which the diſaſtrous fate of my Parents loſt before I had a being.’

This liberty of language had probably been ill reliſhed by any other perſon of Auguſtus dignity, but that Prince, who in all his familiar diſcourſes uſed to allow a liberty to thoſe he loved, inſtead of condemning, eſteem'd his boldneſs, and then deſirous he ſhould retire, more maturely to digeſt the offer he had made him: Go, ſaid he, take advice with your Friends, and if it be their opinion that I have done you injuſtice, come again unto me and renew your complaints with an unreſtrained liberty.

Coriolanus would have preſently replyed, if Marcellus by a ſign from the Emperour had not led him away: that excellent friend fearing a perſiſtance in that diſcourſe, might provoke the Emperours ſpirit, and believing it might be more ſucceſsfully renewed at another ſeaſon, he obliged him almoſt by force to retire; but before he left the preſence, making a profound reverence to Auguſtus: Sir, ſaid he, give me leave to hope your juſt bounty will create a change in your intentions, which [Page] doubtleſs will be more equitable than that you have ſuffered in behalf of Tiberius.

He ſtaid not for an anſwer, but retired with Marcellus in ſuch troubled poſture, as he could ſcarce be known by his friends, whom the noiſe of his return had called from all parts of the City to viſit him. As he came out from the Emperour, he met Tiberius attended by a great number of fawning Courtiers, that ſince the ſwelling of his fortune and favour, thronged about him on all ſides, the two Rivals paſſed by one another without a ſalute; but this encounter confirmed Coriolanus, by the aſſurance he ſhould not meet his Rival there, in a ſudden reſolution to go ſee Cleopatra, and deeming it unfit to retard his viſit any longer, he went immediately thither, attended by the whole troop of his friends to the door, though Marcellus and he only enter'd the Princeſs Chamber, ſhe had heard of his arrival, and, to clear a path to his attempt of an interview, ſhe had cauſed it to be given out among thoſe that frequented her Chamber, ſhe was not then in a condition to receive a viſit.

In effect the grief ſhe had taken from the Emperours change, and Livia's perſecutions, had really cauſed ſome alteration in her health, and the two Princes found her upon the bed in her night attire, in the poſture of a perſon indiſpoſed: the approach of night had already cauſed the Tapers to be lighted in her chamber, and by the help of thoſe, Goriolanus entring, beheld his fair Princeſs with an amorous amazement, clad in the beams of a thouſand beauties: ſhe raiſed her ſelf up upon the bed to receive him, and while he put his knee to the ground, and took her fair hand to kiſs it, ſhe let fall her head upon his, and laid her arm upon his ſhoulder, with an action full of ſweetneſs and affection: the diſpleaſures of my Prince for ſome moments, were moſt delightfully charmed by that reception, nor could his deſires have invented more felicity than to paſs away the reſt of his life in ſo happy a condition: at laſt he roſe from his knee by the Princeſs command, and while Marcellus, to leave a liberty of diſcourſe to the Lovers, entertain'd himſelf with her Maids, taking a ſeat by her beds ſide, and greedily feeding his eyes upon her face from whence they had long been wean'd, he was opening his mouth to ſpeak, when the fair Princeſs preventing him, and taking the word with an Air repleat with grace and Majeſty;

After your glorious eſcape of ſo many dangers, ſaid ſhe, which have given me a thouſand fears in your behalf, I cannot behold you a triumphant Conquerour without betraying all the joy I owe to the high reputation your valour has purchaſed; yet my gladneſs had come nearer to perfection, could I have ſeen you here upon the ſummons of ſome other motives than that which called you home: and now to give you my naked thoughts, know Coriolanus, that the change of Auguſtus has not gall'd your heart with a more ſenſible quiet than mine, nor have the proofs of his intentions wrought any effects upon my ſpirit to your prejudice, Tiberius appears not more amiable ſince Caeſar ſupported him than he did before, whoſe ingratitude to you, if it be poſſible, has ſhewed me more worth and beauty in thoſe qualities that obliged me to love you: My Prince bowing his head at this diſcourſe with a profound ſubmiſſion: Then Madam, ſaid he, I am not utterly loſt, as my fear conſtrued it by your Letter and the Emperours language, for if your goodneſs ſtill own me, though all the world ſhould declare for Tiberius, he could not equal my condition: Let Livia ſollicite for him, and Auguſtus openly profeſs his partiality, they will both be too weak to ſtagger my fortune, ſo long as my Princeſs props it, and as her affection onely gives it a perfect being, if I loſe not that, I can loſe nothing elſe that is capable to afflict me.

He would have ſaid more, when the Princeſs deſired him to give her the diſcourſe between him and the Emperour; Coriolanus repeated word for word in ſo paſſionate a manner, as the Princeſs could not defend her heart from the ſame reſentments, but when ſhe underſtood in what faſhion he rejected the Emperours proffer of his Kingdoms for his ſake, ſhe would not hide her acknowledgement, and taking more kindneſs into her eyes than they expreſt before: ‘You have ſin'd, ſaid ſhe, againſt your intereſts, in preferring me before your Fathers Crown, yet in that act you have not deceived me, ſince I ever believed you capable of diſ-eſteming the moſt advantagious conditions, if they were once put into the other ſcale againſt your affection; methinks this Generoſity does well become the Prince I have given my heart to, and to give you a Copy of the ſame, Coriolanus, I do here promiſe you, that if Tiberius, or any other more conformed to my inclinations, could place me upon a Throne where I might ſway the Univerſe, I would deſpiſe it all for your ſake, ſince for mine you have refuſed the Crowns of your Anceſtors, my ambition ſhall lay away its wings, and find a clearer ſatisfaction in your perſon, than in the poſſeſſion of Royalties, and ſince fortune has taken away thoſe that belonged to our Houſes, we cannot brave her better, than by tying our affections to thoſe things upon which [Page] ſhe has neither Empire nor influence; 'tis ſhe alone that helped Auguſtus to the power he has over me, nor ſhall I break any modeſt rule, in diſobeying his command to love Tiberius, or offend any other Laws than ſuch as the Victors and the Fortune have impoſed upon the vanquiſhed and unhappy.’

‘Oh my Princeſs, cry'd my Maſter, how generous are you, how worthy to be the Daughter of ſo illuſtrious a Queen, who ſham'd our Sex by the Grandeur of her Courage, but Madam, what ſhall this happy unfortunate do, whoſe condition you hold up, againſt the puiſſance of the Empire, in the higheſt place of humane felicity? by what price ſhall he pay for the leaſt part of theſe Divine bounties? By a fidelity, reply'd Cleopatra, which I value above the Treaſury of Auguſtus, and by which you may preſerve till death, that affection whereon you eſtabliſh your felicity. If that be the means, reply'd my Prince, I will be happy to my Tomb, and all the humane conſiderations ſhall never ſtagger me one moment in that inviolable loyalty, which with new vows I do once more proſtrate at your feet, and which alone ſhall hold my Honour, my Repoſe, my Crowns and Dignities: But Madam, ſaid he, after pauſing a few moments, if I may have licenſe to ask it, how will you defend your ſelf againſt the Emperours will? and what order will you take to reſiſt him, when he commands you to love the Son of Livia? as yet, reply'd the Princeſs, he has not ſerv'd himſelf with his authority to oblige me, and the form of Government he affects; beſides the reputation he is deſirous to acquire, of a good and juſt Emperour, does bid me hope he will never come to open violence with the Daughter of Antony and Cleopatra: 'tis true, modeſty forbids me an abſolute declaration in your favour, and in divulging my repugnance for Tiberius, it will not become me to publiſh my inclinations for Coriolanus; but ſince for our misfortune, I am deprived of thoſe perſons, to whom my birth gave the right of my diſpoſal, I will proteſt an obedience to the Princeſs Octavia's will, who by her marriage with my Father, the ſhelter ſhe firſt gave me in her houſe, and the Maternal care ſhe has taken of us all, may with reaſon challenge a Daughters obedience: this will exempt me from all the reproaches I might elſe receive, and if it gives you any fear, becauſe Octavia is the Siſter of Auguſtus, it ought to re-aſſure you, becauſe ſhe is the Mother of Marcellus, and ſuch a one as ever cheriſhed a high eſteem of you with a great deal of affection. I am yet oblig'd to keep my ſteps in this path, by the abſence of my Brother Alexander, who has been long from hence, and of whom we have heard no news ever ſince his departure out of Germany, whither by the Emperours command he followed Tiberius: my younger Brother Ptolomee has medled but little with my conduct, which, if the reaſons that led me to this choice be ſcan'd aright, can be no where more ſafely depos'd, than in the hands of that vertuous Princeſs.’

During this Diſcourſe, Marcellus came and joyn'd company, and underſtanding Cleopatra's intention: ‘Siſter, ſaid be, (for Octavia would have that appellation to be commonly ſhar'd among her own Children, and thoſe of her dead Husband) I believe you cannot make better choice of a reſolution, for beſides that it holds the beſt proportion with that modeſt decorum you would practiſe, Coriolanus may make himſelf as ſure of Octavia's good will, as Marcellus friendſhip: that vertuous and grand Princeſs, added my Maſter, has ever treated me with too much goodneſs, to leave me the leaſt ſcruple of truſting her power with my fortunes.’

This Diſcourſe was follow'd by divers others upon the ſame ſubject, wherein Cleopatra and the two Princes were long a mingling their reaſons, which at laſt being brought to a concluſion, they took their leaves to go viſit the Princeſs Octavia, to whom after Cleopatra, my Maſter deſign'd the payment of his firſt reſpects: that good Princeſs after ſhe had received him with all the ſigns of a real amity, and confirm'd her Sons words, of the good opinion and high eſteem ſhe had of him, proteſted, that no conſideration ſhould ever menace or entice her conſent to lean to his prejudice: my Maſter kiſs'd her hands with a great deal of ſubmiſſion and acknowledgment, and taking his leave inſtead of retiring to his own lodgings, he went and lay that night with Marcellus, as well to ſatisfie his amity, which would not permit ſo quick a ſeparation, as to take a more particular account from his mouth, in relation to Julia, than his Pen had given him.

I have tyed my ſelf ſo ſtrictly to my Maſters adventures, as I half forgot to follow the thred of Marcellus his unlucky love to Julia; but I will now compriſe in a few words what happen'd in our abſence, wherewith my Maſter was partly acquainted by his friends letters, and more fully inſtructed from his own mouth at our return.

The ſpight that Marcellus took to ſee himſelf ſo lightly abandoned by Julia, kindled ſuch a reſentment againſt her, as would doubtleſs have quench'd his Paſſion, if a juſt anger could have over-matcht it, but if he had too little power to exile, at leaſt he had enough [Page] for a time to reſtrain it, and keep the fond effects of his love in hold, which that giddy Princeſs had ſo ingratefully abuſed. In effect he began to retire his obſervances ſo coldly, as inſtead of keeping up the cuſtome of waſting whole days in her attendance, he now ſcarce render'd her two viſits in two weeks; in lieu of ſeeking occaſions to find her alone, he fled them openly, and when he was obliged to entertain her, he did it with a reſpect, mingled with ſo much coldneſs, as it was eaſie to perceive, he rather treated her as the Daughter of Auguſtus, and ſo (as many reaſons advis'd him) did homage to her quality, than as a perſon to whom he had tyed himſelf by any other chain than the conſideration of her fortune; Julia, who obſerved his behaviour, and was not ignorant of the cauſe, did at firſt ſo little regard it (her thoughts being only bent at Coriolanus, who was ſtill freſh in her memory) as ſhe paid his perſonated coldneſs with one ſo real and remarkable, as it was quickly obſerv'd, and grown the diſcourſe of moſt of the Courtiers, who paſs'd their Judgements upon it according to ſeveral conjectures: by this ſcornful carriage of Julia, the anguiſh of poor Marcellus was ſo augmented, as his body took infection from his mind, and ſhared a part of the malady, which ſo decreſted the looks of that lovely Prince, as though the Emperor, who was one of the firſt that diſcovered it, did often examine his Nephews melancholy; he had ſtill a reſerve of diſcretion to conceal his daughters inconſtancy; and though Agrippa was particularly touched with the torments of Marcellus, had told the Emperor that it doubtleſs proceeded from ſome petty breach between the Princeſs and him, yet they found it impoſſible to clear that diſcovery by Marcellus's confeſſion.

In fine, the ſad eſtate of that abuſed Prince from day to day received ſuch ſenſible aggravations, as they began to find a feeling in Julia's ſpirit, whoſe affection though faded in the flower, was ſtill alive in the root, beſides the deſpight ſhe took to ſee her ſelf ſo diſdained by Coriolanus, made her reſolve to call home thoſe partial glances, and clearing her ſoul of all the violence affection had kindled, ſhe began to open her eyes afreſh upon that deſerving Prince, and repented ſhe had left him for a man who had openly miſprized her; to this I may add, that the Princeſs Seribonia her Mother, who reputed, as ſhe was, yet lived in Rome at a conſiderable height, and was often viſited by her Daughter, underſtanding the ſcurvy uſe ſhe gave Marcellus, and well knowing her advancement depended upon her complacence to the Emperors will, ſharply checked her for the little care ſhe took to conform her ſelf to it, and repreſenting Livia's dangerous power with Caeſar, which in all probability would powerfully carry his affections along the ſtream of her own blood, and leave her no more than the naked name of Auguſtus Daughter, diſpoſed her no longer to deſpiſe the means of preſerving her intereſts: in fine, whether by a real return of her affection, the care of her own advancement, or her indignation againſt my Maſter, Julia reſolved to recall Marcellus to her favour; and, that once concluded, ſhe was ſo little able to bridle her revived flame, as ſhe was ready to throw her ſelf at his feet, and vent it in all the ſubmiſſive ways ſhe could find to regain him: at the firſt diſcovery of her deſign, he ſlighted the nets her kindneſs ſpread, and, as Julia had given him a juſt offence, ſo he expected a reparation, which he ſaw ſhe was ready to tender, that might ballance her inconſtancy: being one day in the Emperors Chamber, where dividing himſelf from the reſt of the company, he was retir'd alone to the corner of a chimny, againſt which he lean'd in a deep meditation, when the Princeſs regarding his melancholy poſture, and not ſorry to meet that occaſion of diſcourſe, ſhe went to him, and finding him ſo buſied with his thoughts, as they had not ſuffered him to ſee her, though ſhe ſtood at his Elbow; ſhe put a handkerchief, which ſhe held in her hand before his face, and perceiving that action had ſcarce brought him to himſelf: What's the ſubject of your muſing, Marcellus, ſaid ſhe, iterating her familiar geſture, What is it you dream of? this laſt rowſing brought the Prince to himſelf, and taking notice of Julia's words: The ſubject of my muſing, anſwered he, is poſſible the ſame that ſets your ordinary thoughts to their task, I dream'd of Coriolanus.

That word brought warm blood into Julia's face, and willing to let him ſee that it ſtung her to the quick: ‘You are not deep enough in my heart, ſaid ſhe, to divine my thoughts: 'tis becauſe I am there too ſeldom reply'd the ſad Marcellus, that I know them ſo well,’ but he that has baniſhed me thence, has done it ſo innocently, as I have no reaſon to accuſe him: He brought forth theſe words with ſo melancholy an Aire, as whatever cauſe the Princeſs found to ſoment anger, ſhe ſaw more to invite pity, and to let him know as much: ‘If you were in a better humour, ſaid ſhe, we might poſſibly find a cure for your Error, but that care will be taken when you are more reaſonable.’

At theſe words (ſeeing Mecenas and Domitius approach with ſome other perſons that came to joyn company) ſhe quitted him, only ſhe left him a glance or two at parting, that were ſweetened on purpoſe to give him intelligence, that he might boldly renew [Page] his hopes of her affection, and by that action finiſhed her victory of his reſentments; for though the cauſe did ſtill weigh heavy upon his heart, yet ſhe had got ſuch an aſcendent there, as would not permit a perſeverance in the violence he offered to himſelf.

In ſtead of evading, as formerly, he now ſought occaſions to entertain the Princeſs, which that very evening he found it not hard to obtain, ſince the whole Court carried a complacence to his intentions, and Julia her ſelf deſired it with equal ardour. It was in her own Chamber where ſhe firſt reſtored him that liberty, and the reſt of the company when they ſaw them enter a particular diſcourſe, reſpectively withdrawing themſelves to a fit diſtance, he had as much diſtance as he could wiſh to ſerve his deſign: Julia her ſelf was the firſt that began the parley, and taking a hint from thoſe ſad looks which had dwelt upon his face: What Marcellus, ſaid ſhe, will you waſt the reſt of your days in ſuch a ſullen humour, as is inſupportable to all thoſe that come near you? will you never diſſipate theſe melancholly clouds, that render your ſociety ingratefull to all your friends?

Marcellus ſigh'd at this dicourſe, and darting a paſſionate look at the Princeſs: ‘Ah Madam, ſaid he, how eaſily your ſelf is able to anſwer this queſtion, and how well you are acquainted with the ſource of that woe which changes my face, and leads me to my Tomb; had I a ſpirit that could efface theſe impreſſions as eaſily as yours, I ſhould have already found out a way to comfort, and you no more have ſeen the marks of diſpleaſure either in my face or actions; I have ador'd you with a Religion, that has taught you to underſtand your own puiſſance, and the Gods are witneſſes, that ſince the moment I began to be yours, I have tyed my thoughts ſo entirely to your ſervice, as I could never admit any other conſideration, you have by your former bounties, which indeed were juſtified by the Emperors intentions, favoured this raſhneſs that has ruin'd me; nor did you block up my way with an impediment, that might wake the knowledge of my ſelf, or ſtay me upon the brow of that precipice from whence I am tumbled; you ſuffered me to hope, you permitted me to believe my ſelf beloved by you, and when that unlucky Errour had got ſuch authority within me, as I thought my ſelf mounted to the talleſt ſtair of my fortune, without any apparition of a cauſe, you have ſuddenly thrown me down, illtreated, abandoned, and baniſhed me for a man, who, worthy as he is of your affection, did never ſeek after it: after this (the greateſt, or rather the only miſchief that could tread upon my ſpirit) you wonder I can be ſad, and ſeem amazed at the appearance of a change in my viſage; no, rather think it a miracle that ſo grand a diſaſter ſhould do ſo little execution; conclude it ſtrange, that the grief you have ſeen and cauſed, ſhould not eaſe me of this deplorable life, which I ſtill drag along, and for default of that, my own hands ſhould not ſacrifice all that is left of it to your inconſtancy.’

Marcellus could go no farther in his complaint, it being ſtopped by a torrent of tears that drown'd the paſſage of his words, at which the Princeſs was ſo tenderly touch'd, as ſhe had no power to refuſe him thoſe affections, which before ſhe had ſo liberally given him; and though indeed ſhe made uſe of Deceit and Artifice to excuſe her levity, I really believe ſhe did then let her ſelf go down the ſtream of compaſſion, to her firſt inclinations: ſhe took one of Marcellus hands, which ſhe preſs'd between hers, and after ſhe had darted him a glance that penetrated his heart, and freſhly ſet loves wounds a bleeding, ‘Marcellus ſaid ſhe, I find great cauſe by your diſcourſe and actions to accuſe you, and had I a ſoul as prompt and prone to reſentment as yours, I ſhould plot a revenge upon your unjuſt ſuſpition, and puniſh the vexations it has inflicted on my repoſe as well as yours; but becauſe the affection I bare you can neither conſent to, nor conſiſt with vengeance, and your jealouſie had render'd me ſurer proofs of your affection, than I ſhould ever have drawn from your calmer thoughts, I will forgive your reproaches, and cure your diſtruſt.’ ‘What, added ſhe, with a milder ſweetneſs in her looke than before, did you think I could renounce you for Coriolanus? for Coriolanus I ſay, who cannot boaſt more favours from Nature than your ſelf, and is far your inferiour in all thoſe of fortune? ſhould I quit Marcellus a Roman Prince, Son to the Siſter of Caeſar, dear to the Emperor as his own child, and deſign'd my Spouſe from our infant years, for the Son of Juba an Affrican, whom fortune has deſpoiled of all but his Sword, and at whom I could level no ſuch aims that would not be criminal before the Emperor; nay more, who neither loves me, nor was ever affected by me? How, replyed Marcellus, did you never love Coriolanus? why did you then diſplay ſo many teſtimonies of it, as were interpreted by a thouſand perſons at the ſame time when you treated me with ſo much coldneſs and contempt, as nothing leſs than an entire blindneſs could have made me miſconſtrue your change? Was it from Coriolanus mouth, added Julia, that you underſtood the particulars of this affection you lay to my charge? Coriolanus, reply'd Marcellus, has too much Diſcretion and reſpect for perſons of your Sex & condition, to divulge any language that might wound their repute, [Page] but (beſides that he had little power to diſavow what appeared ſo openly) his confeſſion was neceſſary to confirm that knowledge, which was but too clearly ſhown me by a thouſand proofs.’

At this the ſubtil Julia put her hand before her face, feigning to hide a bluſh that was newly mounted thither: ‘I am ſorry, ſaid ſhe, you force me to diſcover my weakneſs, but the deſign I had to hide it from you, is much out-valued by the price of your quiet; know then, that allowing you as much affection, or more, than my reaſon told me was due, or your own could juſtly deſire; I was willing to believe that it merited the entire gift of your heart, when I perceived, or at leaſt I thought I perceiv'd, that you ſhar'd your affections to Cleopatra; the viſits you render'd her, frequent as thoſe I receiv'd, your regards, diſcourſe, and all your actions (on which 'tis confeſſed my intereſt might paſs an interpretation too criminal) joyn'd to what I have heard you confeſs, and the love you once bore to that beautiful Princeſs, ſtir'd me up a Jealouſie againſt you, which a little obſervation might eaſily have made your diſcovery; Indeed I avow that when I had once admitted the belief of your ingratitude and inconſtancy, I endeavoured with all my power to chaſe you from my thoughts, and then it was you began to apprehend thoſe cold diſtempers in my carriage, the cauſe of which I was reſolv'd to conceal all my life from your knowledge, ſuppoſing if you were really changed, that my Jealouſie, inſtead of reducing, would but augment your inſolence, and expoſe me to your ſcorn, by the knowledge of my immoderate paſſion; but theſe marks of my anger, and not (as they were conſtrued) of my oblivion wrought not the effects upon you I deſir'd, and finding you (as my ſuſpition told me) ſtill more ſedulous in the ſervice of your Paſſion to Cleopatra then before, I could bethink my ſelf of no other way, than to try if I could touch you with Jealouſie, and finding no fitter perſon to drive my deſign than Coriolanus, I feigned to love him, pretending by this Hypocriſie, a revenge upon you and Cleopatra together, endeavouring to poſſeſs you with a belief that I had chang'd you for the Affrican Prince, and requite Cleopatra, by depriving her of Coriolanus, as I believe ſhe had rob'd me of Marcellus; thus at leaſt I was one way infallibly ſure to thrive in my deſigns: if you truly lov'd me, I knew the fear you borrowed from my behaviour, would ſoon bring you home again; and if not, by thoſe ſlights and neglects in my carriage, I anticipated the declaration of yours, which might have expos'd me to that of all the Romans, and you might eaſily judge, by perceiving how I took thoſe reproaches you gave me, that the demonſtrations of the Love you ſuſpected, were made too publick to be real, and, if your memory has not loſt the obſervation, you know I took leſs care to hide it from you, than any other perſon, though poſſible I was not ſo ſtupid, but I could have diſguis'd a part of my thoughts, had my intentions conſented: Heavens! cryed Marcellus, interrupting the Princeſs; Gods! is it poſſible this ſhould be true? if you ſtill love me, reply'd Julia, it becomes you not to doubt it; and if I do not really affect you, do you know any reaſon can oblige me, to ſeek my juſtification in fiction and Artifice? What, ſaid the Prince wholly tranſported, is then all I obſerved of diſdain to me, and love to Coriolanus prov'd a Deceptio viſus? I have ſaid enough, ſaid the Princeſs with a diſcontented look to oblige your belief, and after ſo ingenious a confeſſion, which poſſible I have made with too little Decorum, you deem it not fit to part with your erroneous opinion, my intereſt in you is not ſtrong enough to render me guilty of a farther obſtinacy.’

At theſe words ſhe made an offer to riſe from her ſeat, but the paſſionate Marcellus ſtaying her by the Robe, ‘Madam, ſaid he, pardon this incredulity and diſtruſt to the weakneſs of my ſpirit, and be pleaſed to believe, that to paſs from the ſad condition in which ſome of the lateſt moments ſaw me plung'd, to that wherein your pity has now ſtated me, is not a thing ſo light and trivial to be comprehended by my ſoul without aſtoniſhment; the opinion of my diſaſter was ſettled too ſtrongly there, to go out without violence; nor is it only the height of that happineſs you reſtore me, that dazles my belief,—come, no more, ſaid Julia, I would have you efface the memory of what is paſt, as I have done thoſe impreſſions that oblig'd me to uſe you ſo unkindly; I will henceforth ſhape my belief and actions, ſaid the Prince, to the perfect rule of your will, and ſince the viſits I have made the Princeſs Cleopatra, as a Siſter, have given you ſome Ombrage, I vow henceforth no more to ſee her; but when you ſhall permit me to pay my friendſhip in good offices to her, what his hopes may challenge from our amity: No, ſaid Julia, I deſire not to tye you to ſuch ſtrict conditions, and ſince the apparent diſcovery of the truth, has clear'd up the clouds of my ſuſpition againſt Cleopatra, I do not only vote the continuance of your cuſtomary viſits, but, to diſſipate all your diſtruſts with mine, I will joyn my forces with yours to advance Coriolanus in her eſtimation.’

If there had been great ſtore of perſons in the Princeſs Chamber that muſt have been [Page] Witneſſes to the action, Mercellus had thrown himſelf at her feet, to pay the haſty oblations of his thanks for the favour ſhe had done him; and whether he gave an entire credit to her words, or was aſſiſted by the grandeur of his paſſion to deceive himſelf, and confute his former opinion, that Julia lov'd Coriolanus, he remain'd ſo perfectly ſatisfied as he could ſcarce find words to expreſs his contentment: This encounter above all the reſt, inſtructed me in the blindneſs of amorous Paſſioniſts, and though I believe that Julia did, repent her inconſtancy, and really renew'd her love to Marcellus, (had not that Prince who in all Eſſayes beſide, had ever an excellent wit and a clear judgement at command, been ſo powerfully prepoſſeſs'd) he would never have ſuffer'd himſelf to be abus'd, by the reaſons ſhe ſuborn'd for her juſtification. Whatever it was, he concluded that the happieſt day that ever increas'd his age, and Julia contributing all that depended on her, entirely to ſettle his repoſe: Marcellus began to live with her as he was accuſtomed, and all the ſprightly marks of his ſatisfaction came back into his viſage.

This highly pleas'd the Emperour, and ſpread an univerſal joy through the whole Court, for that Prince was ſo generally belov'd, as there were few perſons of importance that appeared not intereſſed in his good or ill fortune: not but Julia's deportment did often furniſh him with occaſions of relapſing into ſome of his diſcontents: the Princeſs was ever exceſſively forward and frank in her behaviour, of a free and confident humour, beyond the common rule, obſerved by perſons of her condition, ſhe put nothing either in her looks or language, to repulſe preſumption; and if her beauty had charms enough to ſet a whole world on fire with affection, ſhe wanted that ſevere gravity, which ſhould have taught them fear that attempted it, nor did ſhe pattern the haughty garb of perſons born to an equal Dignity, by affecting a redoubted Majeſty in her looks, but rather made choice of an attractive ſweetneſs, and was never better pleas'd, than by diſcerning that ſhe drew the hearts as well as the eyes of all that ſaw her; her eaſie acceſs lent confidence to many perſons, (when other reaſons refus'd it) to unmask their paſſion, and if they reap'd no other fruit from theſe attempts, at leaſt their diſcovery met no rigour from the Princeſs. Many Sons of Kings, and Kings themſelves, that were either Allies or Tributaries to the Empire, and then reſident at Rome, did an amorous homage to her Beauty: but the conſideration they kept for Marcellus, whoſe credit was able to ruine their affairs with Caeſar, and his vertue all their thoughts, that might diſpleaſe him, made them chain up a part of their reſentments: Julia, whoſe nimble eye ſaw their thoughts through the Mask, was willing to allow them kind looks in exchange, and ſometimes treated them ſo obligingly, as Marcel us could not ſupport it, without entering into ſenſible diſpleaſures, and uttering moſt paſſionate complaints, which Julia ſometimes heard with patience, but at others would flye in Choler, and once, as ſhe ever wanted a bridle to her thoughts.

‘Marcellus, ſaid ſhe, were I always oblig'd to be thus enſlaved to your Caprichios, I ſhould eſteem my-ſelf moſt unhappy; I love you, and you ought to believe ſo, ſince there is no reaſon to perſwade me to ſpeak it, unleſs it were true, but I will not have my affection ſo fooliſh to do violence upon my humour, and you ought to be ſatisfied that I love you without reſtraining my diſpoſing power, to that eſteem which I owe to perſons of merit.’ Marcellus durſt no more than ſhake his head at this language, and ſhe often brought him to his knees for pardon, and made him do many a days Pennance for croſſing her humour; but in effect ſhe lov'd him, and valuing him alone above all the reſt together, at laſt ſhe releas'd her ſelf entirely to him, and by the frequent teſtimonies of her love, againſt which, the Soul of Marcellus had no Rampire, ſhe left no place in his breaſt to ſhelter Jealouſie, and, to compleat the cure of that which referr'd to my Maſter, ſhe often ſpoke to Cleopatra in his favour, always took his part againſt Tiberius, and appeared not leſs concern'd than Marcellus, in his hopes of happineſs by that Princeſs affection: upon theſe terms were Marcellus and Julia, when we return'd to Rome, and my Maſter had the ſtory at length from the mouth of his friend, which his Letter had ſuccinctly and but confuſedly told him.

In the mean time all things were prepared for the ruine of my Maſters pretences, and Tiberius, by the aſſiſtance of Livia, had made his party ſo ſtrong with Auguſtus, as he ſearce harbour'd any doubt of Cleopatra's poſſeſſion: the very next day after our arrival, the Empreſs went to viſit her in her lodgings (a ſtrain beyond the maxims of her ordinary gravity, which did not often permit her conſent to thoſe civilities) and having found her in her Chamber in company of ſome Ladies that often haunted it, after ſhe had ſaluted her in an imperious faſhion. ‘I am come to ſee you, ſaid ſhe, as well to teſtifie the eſteem and affection I have for you, as to tell you ſome news, which, if you receive with an apprehenſion ſuited to former appearances, muſt needs rejoyce you:’ the Princeſs preſently perceiv'd Livia's deſign, and underſtood it with diſpleaſure; but as ſhe was adviſed [Page] by divers reaſons, to avoid all occaſions of diſobliging her, ſhe compel'd her thoughts to a reſpective anſwer, and endeavouring to expect her reſentment of Livia's condeſcention; ‘Madam, ſaid ſhe, I am ſenſible, as I ought, of the favour wherewith you have honour'd me, and with a due reſpect ſhall welcome the news you are pleaſed to bring, with aſſurance, that I can learn nothing from your mouth, but what muſt be glorious for me, and worthy of your own bounty. Though I have promiſed it for news, added the Empreſs, after ſhe had taken a ſeat, 'tis no more but the confirmation of a thing which you know already, I need not ſay, 'tis my deſire you ſhould call me Mother, ſince you are not now to underſtand it, not tell you that the Emperor does encourage the hopes of Tiberius, for report has ſpread it wide enough; but I will aſſure you, that his heart did never hatch a deſire ſo paſſionate, and he reſolved it ſo firmly, as nothing will be capable to divert him.’ The Daughter of Antony was mortally afflicted at this diſcourſe, but not willing to ſtudy long for a reply; ‘Madam, ſaid ſhe, this is not the day, wherein Caeſar and your ſelf firſt began to oblige me with your bounty, but though I confeſs you tender me a moſt advantagious fortune, yet I have learn'd to hope from your goodneſs, that you will not reſolve to appoint me my Deſtiny, without giving me the priviledge of a free ſuffrage for my own diſpoſal.’

‘The Emperor did believe, reply'd Livia, you were to rational to diſapprove his deſign, to wed you to my Son, and he has judge [...] Tiberius conſiderable enough by his birth, the qualities of his Perſon, and the grandeur of his actions, to win your conſent without other aſſiſtance, which you will poſſibly accord to the honour he has of ſo near and ſo great an alliance. I conſider Tiberius, reply'd Cleopatra, both as the Son of the Empreſs my Soveraign, and as a Prince that merits a greater fortune; but he muſt very highly oblige me, to conquer my conſent by his ſervices, rather than by the authority of thoſe perſons, who have an abſolute puiſſance over me: Is it poſſible, anſwer'd Livia, that ſince Tiberius reſign'd you his liberty, he has not deſerved your acceptance, nor avow of his ſervices? and has ſo unluckily miſpent his induſtry for many years, that it cannot pay the purchaſe of what we deſire? he has merited much more than what you are pleaſed to mention, anſwer'd Cleopatra; but if he has not yet obtained that, I muſt call it an effect of my miſ-hap, and not his, ſince having guided my apprehenſion with yours, to the ſurvey of all thoſe advantages he poſſeſſes, it has only taught me highly to eſteem, and truly reſpect him, without leaving the impreſſion of a particular deſire, of a farther ſubmiſſion to his.’ This diſcourſe extreamly netled the Empreſs, who is the proudeſt Princeſs upon earth, and not able to diſſemble it: ‘It is indeed an effect of your unhappineſs, ſaid ſhe, rather than that of Tiberius, which has given you this repugnance againſt him, and had he taken the counſel of his Mother, and his neareſt friends, he would doubtleſs have addreſſed his thoughts to ſome other place, that might have invited him with more advantage to his fortune: not that you poſſeſs not a large portion of natures fovours, nor that your birth is not illuſtrious; but the Deſtinies have not favoured your family, and as your condition is now plac'd, without an extraordinary indulgence of fortune, you could not rationally raiſe your hopes ſo high as Tiberius is able to place you.’

Cleopatra felt her ſelf ſtung with theſe words, but ſhe had power enough left to tame her diſpleaſure to this calm and untroubled anſwer: the Son of the Empreſs, my Lady and Miſtreſs, may doubtleſs raiſe his ayms to ſuch pretences, as are better conform'd to his fortunes, than thoſe he has had for reliques of ſuch a downfal houſe as ours, but the ſon of Druſus had not poſſible offended his ambition, by Courting the Daughter of Antony and Cleopatra, and though Fate has uſed us cruelly, the memory of that alliance betwixt Caeſar and Antony, is yet too freſh to leave the Parents of Tiberius any bluſhes at his deſire to mingle with our blood; nor would I be underſtood, Madam, as if I thought not my ſelf bound to the care you have taken to remove his affection, and ſince in your judgement as well as mine, I am unworthy of that condition, to which Tiberius would raiſe me, I ſhould be deeply indebted to your goodneſs, would you direct him to ſome other choice, that might better know how to merit and acknowledge it.

‘Were his obedience in my power, anſwer'd the cholerick Empreſs, do not doubt but it ſhould be heartily employ'd as you would have it: but ſince the Emperor is pleaſed to favour Tiberius, or rather you, in the thoughts he has for him, it would be as hard for me to reverſe the reſolutions he has taken, probably for your ſake more than his,’ as I find it impoſſible to vanquiſh the blind paſſion of my Son: ‘In the mean time, I hope you conform yours to the will of thoſe you ought to obey; and I adviſe you for your own Intereſt, as well as ours, to make this juſt averſion the Trophy of your reaſon. I ſhall ever be ready, replyed the Princeſs, vexed at theſe words, to render Caeſar what is only his [Page] due from my fortune, and not my birth; but his generoſity bids me hope, that he will offer no violence to the inclinations of a Princeſs, who is born of a blood too noble to be forc'd: I joyn my hopes with yours, ſaid the Empreſs, riſing from her ſeat, and I think you are more diſcreet than to ſtay till you are driven to what, you ought to run after.’

Finiſhing theſe words with a cold countenance, ſhe went out of the Chamber, without permitting Cleopatra to attend her to her own.

She was no ſooner gone from the Princeſs, but my Maſter came in, to whom ſhe punctually related all the diſcourſe that paſſed betwixt them; Coriolanus admir'd the great ſpirit and Courage of that young Lady, and, eſteeming himſelf too glorious by the perſeverance ſhe armed in his behalf, againſt the authority of ſuch puiſſant perſons, he threw himſelf at her feet, and there paid her all his thanks in ſuch terms, as clearly expreſſed the grandeur of his paſſion: But their diſcourſe was cut off by the importunate arrival of Tiberius to whom the Princeſs (in ſpight of her hatred) was conſtrained to give civil reception: the two Rivals beheld each other with thoughts little different, though their exteriour demonſtrations were unequal, Tiberius, the greateſt diſſembler of all men, look'd ſmoothly enough upon Coriolanus; but that Prince, who ever wore his heart upon his tongue and his face, not only receiv'd him coldly, but plainly told him with his eye, that the ſole conſideration of Cleopatra ſtop'd his reſentments from breaking out into other language: the reſt of that day was ſpent by the two Princes, in debarring each other the pleaſing liberty of entertaining Cleopatra, but in this mutual hinderance, each took an equal ſatiſfaction from the requital of his enemies malice.

Tiberius was ſad at the ſight of his diſadvantage in Cleopatra's affection, but he had the abſolute powers on his ſide; and my Maſter, whoſe hopes they thwarted, often took freſh comfort in the renewed aſſurance of his Princeſs good will, and thus ſome days paſſed away, during which, the two Rivals daily encountred in their viſits; but if ſeveral conſiderations held their hands, it was with ſo much violence as there was great cauſe to fear they would have come at laſt to extremities, if thoſe meetings had continued.

But Tiberius perceiving how ſlowly the authority of thoſe perſons that ſupported him, drove on his amorous deſign, preſſed the Empreſs with ſo much importunity, and Livia wrought ſo powerfully with Auguſtus in her Sons behalf, as, after ſhe had combated the remains of ſome repugnance that ſhe found in the Emperors ſpirit, at laſt ſhe ſo perfectly reduc'd his will to her own diſpoſal, as the Princeſs Cleopatra, and the Prince my Maſter, received upon the ſame day a command from Caeſar no more to ſee each other; theſe two perſons born to a Courage that could not eaſily brook a Tyrannick authority, accepted the meſſage with an animoſity that ſhewed it at the height, though the Princeſs curbing her anger with a feminine modeſty; received it with more moderation of the two, and only return'd this anſwer to Julius Norbanus, who brought her the Order; ‘I know what kind of ſubmiſſion I owe to the will of Caeſar, and ſince by the fall of our houſe, which he has ruin'd, fortune has diſplac'd me under his authority, he may forbid me the ſight of Coriolanus, but all the puiſſance he has, cannot from preferring him before Tiberius.’

Coriolanus gave looſer reins to his Impatience, and when Marcus Piſo, to whom the Emperor had given the charge, had delivered him his Command, all the fear he could admit of ſo abſolute a power was too weak to keep the Liſts againſt his Choler, and regarding Piſo with an eye wherein it was painted all in flames, ‘You may tell Caeſar, ſaid he, that though my Fathers misfortune has bow'd our Eſtates under the yoak of his Empire, the Soul of his Son has put on none of his chains, nor has he power enough complexed within the utmoſt Lines of his Empire, to fright me from the ſervice of Cleopatra, no nor the ſight neither, ſo long as I am forbidden by no other impediment but the fear of countervening his Orders; I have blood running in my Veins that methinks ſhould oblige him to ſweeten his Commands and a proportion of Courage to my birth, which he has acknowledged in the occaſions of his ſervice: if he will needs bereave me of the ſight of Cleopatra, let him take my life too; and if he deſires to give her quietly into Tiberius arms, without a conteſt, while he labours his repoſe, let him provide for that of his own Eſtate, in cutting off a man that in part may chance to diſturb it, if his rigorous uſage once provokes him to reſume the quarrel of his Fathers.’ Beſides theſe, his paſſion broke looſe into other words, which had they been carryed to his ear, might well have exaſperated the Emperor: but Piſo, who was none of his Enemy, inſtead of taking hold of that occaſion to do him an injury, ſtrained his endeavours to appeaſe the ſtorms he had, raiſed, but he thrived ſo ill in his friendly deſign, as doubtleſs he had parted with little ſatisfaction, had not Marcellus arrived, in whoſe hands he left him to lay the Tempeſt; Marcellus had [Page] gathered part of the truth from ſome Court whiſperers, and no ſooner entered my Maſters Chamber, but ſaw it all confirmed by the poſture wherein he found him; my Maſter walked a great pace about the Chamber with ſuch troubled looks and diſtracted thoughts, as they ſcarce ſuffered him to ſee his friend when he entered, or almoſt know him when he was there; Marcellus accoſted him with a viſage that raiſed more clouds to enrage the ſtorm, but no ſooner opened his mouth to ſpeak, when my Prince prevented him: ‘Brother, ſaid he, after the hiding my Irons within the outſide of good uſe, at laſt I am treated like a Slave, and the Emperor no more remembers that I am newly come from letting out Brooks of his Enemies blood, and ſpilling mine own for his ſervice; he forbids me the ſight of Cleopatra, and yet leaves me two Eyes, which in ſpight of all the temptations of other objects, will doom themſelves to a perpetual Eclipſe, if they may not have leave to behold my Princeſs; ſhall I give up that into Tiberius arms, which I hold of your amity? reſign my right to my cruelleſt Enemy, which I would not releaſe to my deareſt friend? No, Tiberius, purſu'd he, do not look for an effect of my obedience ſo baſe and timorous, and if thou borroweſt thy expectations of enjoying Cleopatra from my obſequy to their Commands that ſupport thee againſt me, condemn thoſe hopes for Impoſtors: I can tear out thy heart with greater eaſe, than rende the Image of Cleopatra from mine own, and thou wilt have a harder task to rob my eyes of my Princeſs, than me of a life, which muſt ever oppoſe the felicity of thine.’

He ſtill went on in this language, full of tranſport, before Marcellus deem'd it fit to interrupt him, but when he perceived the heat of his paſſion begin to waſt it ſelf to a better temper, he came to him, and taking him in his arms, with a moſt tender affection: ‘My dear Brother, ſaid he, beſides the grief that I equally ſhare with your ſelf, for the ill ſucceſs of your affairs, I feel a diſpleaſure only proper to Marcellus, that you have this day received one from a perſon, againſt whom I cannot joyn with your reſentments, as I would do to oppoſe the whole remainder of mankind, had I not cauſe to regard Caeſar as my Maſter, I would not ſtay to ballance a thought before I declared my ſelf his Enemy; but you know I owe for all to his blood and affection, that I rather reſpect him as my Father, than my Emperor, and that to me he is far leſs conſiderable in his power, than his goodneſs; yet Livia has overpowered me in his thoughts, and now I perceive, my credit will be but vainly employ'd in the advancement of your deſires, though it is not too feeble to promote other affairs, that are leſs to my wiſhes; nevertheleſs whatever veneration I owe to the Perſon and Intereſts of the Emperor, I will never conſent ſo to ſooth his humour, as not to appear your friend againſt Tiberius and his Enemy, in all thoſe encounters that ſhall prove him yours. After this proteſtation, Dear Brother, take it not ill if I intreat you a little to curb theſe diſtempers of your reaſon, that flow from the ſenſe of this miſhap, your affairs are not yet near the confines of deſpair, for ſince you ſtill hold your right in Cleopatra's breaſt, there is a poſſibility left of reverſing the Emperors decree in Tiberius favour, if you cut it not off by a violent and unweighed proceeding to Extremities; we will preſs the Princeſs Julia, who appears paſſionate for your Intereſts, upon your ſervice with the Emperor; the Princeſs Octavia my Mother, I know will aſſiſt her, and Agrippa, the powerfulleſt of all perſons with Auguſtus, has promiſed to act in your behalf, ſo as Tiberius muſt make a ſtrong party with Caeſar, to fruſtrate all our attemps upon this reſolution; in the mean time Cleopatra, whom the ſame order which ſhe but now received, has equally afflicted with your ſelf, is reſolved to forſake the Empreſſes Palace, and retire to her old lodgings (which ſhe knows ſhe may ſtill call her own) at my Mothers houſe, and I have advis'd her to demand permiſſion this very day to make her retreat: when ſhe is once ſetled with Octavia, we may plot a thouſand ways unknown to the Emperor, to bring you together, in the mean while, the Gods may poſſible ſtart occaſions from the womb of Time, that they may chalk you out a path to happineſs.’

Marcellus ſpoke more to this purpoſe, which indeed gave my Maſter ſome comfort, and in part reduc'd him to allow his deſires; and to credit ſome of his words, the ſame day at Cleopatra's earneſt entreaty, Octavia begged leave of the Emperor her Brother, that ſhe might for a time retire to her houſe. And though Livia, in effect oppos'd her demand, yet Auguſtus reſpecting that Siſter of his (whoſe rare vertues had ſpread their luſtre o're the world) too well to refuſe her a requeſt ſo reaſonable, and of ſo ſmall an importance. Cleopatra was remitted into the hands of Octavia as her Mother, (for ſhe not only carryed the name, but tenderly diſcharged the office) and that very night followed her home from the Court.

Tiberius impatiently ſupported Cleopatra's retreat, to a houſe that he held ſuſpected, but was pacified by a promiſe of Livia, to importune the performance of Caeſar's ſo effectually, as all the blocks his Enemies had thrown in his way, ſhould turn to their confuſion: in [Page] the mean time he often viſited the Princeſs at Octavia's houſe, where, by the Emperors order, he was very civilly received: my Maſter too, notwithſtanding the Imperial Command to the contrary, frequently ſaw her, yet only at ſuch hours when the houſe was clear of Viſitants, in a private cloſet of Octavia's, and always in company of Marcellus Siſters; though the Mother, for fear of incenſing the Emperor, feign'd an ignorance of their interviews.

There did my Maſter charm his diſcontents with the ſweet converſe of his Princeſs, and the dear aſſurance ſhe gave him of an unfading fidelity; the Daughters of Octavia, as well thoſe two ſhe had by her Husband Marcellus, as the other two ſhe bare to Anthony, moſt officiouſly laboured their Siſters content, and by their aſſiſtance the Prince enjoyed ſome hours in her Society, and banquetted his ſenſes with ſweets enough to encounterpoize his diſpleaſures: but Tiberius and Livia were perſons of too quick an eye, and too nimble a ſuſpition to ſtay long without piercing the diſguiſe, they began with conjectures, and at laſt diſcovered a part of the Truth, which netled Livia ſo ſenſibly, as after ſhe had loudly complained of the abuſe to Caeſar, at laſt ſhe gained his conſent to force Cleopatra's, and caus'd him to ſend her a peremptory Order, to diſpoſe her ſelf within a few days to Eſpouſe Tiberius. This Command broke like a Thunder-clap upon the Princeſs, and left her no ſenſe of any thing elſe but her grief, for the ſpace of a whole day, which after ſhe had diſtil'd in tears through her eies, and expreſſed her horror of Auguſtus Tyranny, in terms full of Choler, at the next viſit ſhe made him, ſhe turn'd the tide of it upon Tiberius, and regarding him with eyes enflam'd by a juſt indignation; ‘Think not, ſaid ſhe, to draw any advantage from the violence you force upon me; you ſhould ſtrive to win me, not by power and oppreſſion,’ but your ſervices, but remember I inherit the blood and name of her, that knew how to ſnatch an Antidote from death, againſt the malice of her fortune, ‘and you ſhall ſooner ſee me follow the Queen my Mothers example, than baſely ſubmit to ſuch a Tyranny,’

Tiberius was ſtartled at this language, but a ſhort reflection help'd him to believe that it proceeded from the firſt motive, and endeavoured (though in vain) with all the gentleſt words that love could invent, to comfort the Princeſs.

In the mean-time Marcellus, Octavia, and Julia her ſelf, fell at Caeſars feet, to deprecate and reverſe the ſentence he pronounc'd in Tiberius favour, but that was not the firſt time he made it known, his Reſolutions could not yield to the battery of Intreaties, thoſe perſons as dear to Auguſtus as any the world could ſhew, forgot to urge nothing that might probably obtain the effect of their Petition; but all their endeavours were laviſhed in vain, the inflexible Emperor alledg'd the pawn of his promiſe to Tiberius with ſo much vehemence, as nothing could have power to revoke it, and inſtead of being touch'd with the ſolicitations of his kindred, growing angry at the intreaties they oppoſed to his will, openly ſwore, that Tiberius within eight days ſhould Eſpouſe Cleopatra, and no importuni [...]y whatever ſhould win his conſent to a longer delay.

You may eaſier imagine, than I preſent, how deeply my Maſter was ſtruck at this cruel news, all that Grief, Choler, and Deſpair could produce, was found in his Soul, appeared in his words, and ſtarted from all his actions to ſuch a degree, as that affection he had ever allowed me above the reſt that were brought up in his ſervice, could not aſſure me ſo much Courage as to ſpeak to him; you ſee that lovely ſweetneſs that now ſpeaks it ſelf in his face and diſcourſe, but I can aſſure you that I never beheld any thing ſo terrible as he then appeared, and that Marcellus, and only Marcellus durſt aſſume the boldneſs to ſpeak to him, however all the reaſons he alledg'd to reclaim his paſſion were ſown in ſand, and maugre his advice, and that of all his friends, he immediately reſolved to go and preſent himſelf to the Emperor (whom he had not ſeen ſince he forbad him the ſight of Cleopatra) and complain to himſelf of the injuſtice he had done him; Marcellus unable to divert, was reſolv'd to accompany him, not fearing to incur any diſgrace with Auguſtus, for owning his Intereſt in ſuch a friend; with Marcellus, young Ptolomee the Son of Anthony, and Cleopatra, and an illuſtrious Company of the nobleſt among the Romans would needs follow him, and with that proud train he audaciouſly appeared at the Palace, where the common diſcourſe treated of no other ſubject, but his diſgrace, or at leaſt the advantages his Rival had gotten: upon the top of the ſtairs that lead to the Emperors lodgings, he encountred Tiberius, who was newly parted thence, and followed by numbers not inferiour to his, with a pride in his looks that expreſs'd the ſucceſs of his deſign. Coriolanus changed colour at that encounter, and had not Marcellus with held him by urging the regard that belonged to the place, he had doubtleſs been tranſported to ſome violent attempt upon his Rival, nor could he ſo moderate the agitations of his anger, but in the very middle of his guard he aborded him, and taking hold of his hand, which he preſs'd in his, with an [Page] action wholly furious: ‘Remember Tiberius, ſaid he, it is the advantage of thy ſervices and thy arms wherewith thou art only bound to deſpoil me of Cleopatra, if thou art able, and that all other wayes are baſe and unworthy of thy Courage.’

Tiberius was going to reply, and doubtleſs had done it very ſharply, if Mecaenas, who with divers other perſons came then from the Emperor, had not thrown himſelf between them, and oblig'd Marcellus to conduct my Maſter into the preſence, while he forcibly lead away Tiberius to another quarter of the Palace: Coriolanus entered the Emperors Chamber, with that fair number of his friends behind him, and Auguſtus, who had ſeen him of a time, and who inwardly felt ſome reproaches of conſcience for the injuries he had done him, was a little ſurpriz'd at the ſight of his reproach in ſo fierce and hardy a Garb: Coriolanus came up to him with as much aſſurance, as if he had then newly return'd in Triumph from a freſh victory upon the Aſturians, and owning no notice of the trouble that appeared in Auguſtus viſage: ‘Sir, ſaid he, I ſhould forbear to preſent my ſelf before you, after theſe effects of my miſchievous fortune, that has betrayed me to the forfeiture of theſe precious affections, wherewith you have heretofore been pleaſed to honour me; but ſince it is only my misfortune, or rather, my Enemies happineſs, that have raviſhed it from me, that I feell no remorſe of any action, that might draw your indignation upon me; and in fine, am no leſs innocent, than when you thought me fit for the honour of employment in your ſervice, I will not fear to appear before the face of Caeſar, to receive from his mouth either a new patent for my life, or the final ſentence of my ruine; Caeſar, they are both in thy imperial hands: if I be worthy of Death, I here preſent my criminal head to your Juſtice; but if I have no way ſinn'd to the deſert of your anger, you cannot take away Cleopatra from me: it was from your conſent in my budding years, that I drew the encouragement of my boldneſs to ſerve her, and only upon your parole, I credited my hopes to poſſeſs her, I have ſince done nothing that can make you repent your firſt bounties, and though I am forbidden by your order the ſight of Cleopatra, and that Princeſs be commanded to Eſpouſe Tiberius, I found it hard to believe, my Lord, that for my ſake only, you could offer violence to that delight, which you ever took in doing Juſtice, and conſent to doom a Prince to ſo cruel a Death, who has never appeared ingrateful to your bounty, nor ever ſpared his blood, when you gave him leave to hazard it for your Quarrel.’

Coriolanus ſpoke in this manner, and though Auguſtus was not well pleas'd with his Carriage, yet the eſteem, he ever cheriſh'd for generous perſons, helped him to digeſt the liberty of his language, and preſerve a part of thoſe thoughts unruin'd, which he entertain'd to his advantage; but, being reſolv'd to be abſolute in his Empire, and judging the proceedings of Coriolanus had ſhock'd authority, held up the ſame ſeverity that appeared at the firſt bluſh in his viſage, and taking the word as ſoon as Coriolanus was come to his Period: ‘I declar'd my intentions plainly enough, ſaid he, without leaving a neceſſity to you for repairing to my mouth for a further Explication; and you underſtood it too well before, to find a preſent Excuſe for your diſobedience, you knew it was my reſolution to give Cleopatra to Tiberius, and to make you no contemptible portion of thoſe Crowns which your Father loſt by the Law of Arms, yet without conſidering that by an exceſs of bounty I have done more for you than I ought, you have deſpis'd my offers and oppos'd my will, I could make it appear that it is in my power to make you know your duty; but I have endur'd the faults you have committed, for Marcellus, and my Siſter Octavia's ſake, who intereſs themſelves more than becomes them, in your behalf; and, in conſideration of them, though you have ingratefully abus'd the gift I have profer'd, I am yet willing to reſtore you Mauritania under a tribute, upon condition you murmur no more, and (in lieu of the condeſcention you are to receive of our bounty) from this very moment, totally releaſe all your pretences of Cleopatra.’

At this Diſcourſe of Auguſtus (any of a lower ſpirit than my Maſters, might have timorouſly taken an occaſion to be ſatisfied) Coriolanus appeared to the eyes of all the beholders, ſo enflamed with Choler, as he found it impoſſible for all the temper and moderation he could make, to check it.

‘Sir, ſaid he, it was no other than my Fathers lot in War, that made you a claim to my obedience, which you exact of me, as from the meaneſt Citizen among the Romans; I am deſcended of a regal ſtock, which before the luckleſs chance of Juba, never gave precedency to any, the unkindneſs of his fortune has reduc'd me to ſuffer all things from thoſe ſhe has made our Maſters; but ſhe has not abaſed my Courage to make me accept a preſent from you, after the receipt of ſuch unworthy uſage; you have not a reward in all your Dominions, that, in the meaneſt degree, can weigh againſt the worth of that Princeſs you have taken from me, and if ever the Gods grow willing that I reaſcend [Page] the throne of my Fathers, I ſhall find ſome other ſteps to mount it, than by the liberality of a man, who contrary to his promiſe, has deprived me of a Gem a thouſand times more precious than all that he is capable of giving: I refuſe, deſpiſe your offer, and inſtead of diſclaiming (as you would have it) my right to Cleopatra, I do here declare, that unleſs you remove my life out of his way, there is not a man upon earth ſhall poſſeſs her.’

Theſe words, (bold beyond all expectation, and parting from the mouth of a man, whoſe deſpair had extinguiſhed his deſire to live) fir'd the Soul of Auguſtus with a rage ſo impetuous, as, furiouſly riſing from his ſeat, he was infallibly about to pronounce ſome dreadful Sentence againſt my Maſter, if Marcellus on one ſide, and Agrippa on the other, had not haſtily fallen at his feet, and ſtreightly embracing his knees, conjur'd him to forgive the tranſports of a deſperate man, and rather impoſe the puniſhment he deſerved, upon them, than let the effects of his reſentments fall heavy upon their friend.

Auguſtus, who in himſelf excus'd a Paſſion, that ſeldom leaves us the uſe of reaſon, when it ruſhes to ſuch extremities, ſeeing two men at his feet, which he tendered as much as himſelf, began to cool in his fury, and turning his eyes from my Maſters face, for fear it ſhould reinflame him; ‘Let him live, ſaid he; ſince you deſire it, but immediately get him out of our ſight, and depart Rome within three days, if he has no mind to die an ignominious death.’

My Maſter had no time to underſtand theſe laſt words, to which he had infallibly reply'd, whatever peril had menaced him, for before Caeſar was come to his period, Marcellus and Agrippa, clapping hold of him on either ſide, had almoſt drawn him by force out of the Chamber, for fear his anſwer ſhould wind up the Emperors choler, ſo high, as would poſe all their power to appeaſe it.

When my Maſter was gone out of the preſence, Marcellus, Agrippa, and the reſt of his friends, deeply afflicted at this diſaſter, and not knowing which way to reverſe the Emperors orders, appear'd with a greater dejection, than doubtleſs they would have ſhewed for their proper Intereſt; but Coriolanus reading their troubles in their looks, and ſlighting that which inſtructed their friendſhip to admit fear in his behalf, after he had regarded them with a confident eye, ‘Let not my deſtiny, ſaid he, diſquiet you, the Gods will take care of it, and poſſible mine own arm may aſſiſt their providence; 'tis Caeſar's will that I go out of Rome, and I am reſolved to obey him in ſuch a manner, as perhaps he will quickly wiſh to ſee me again within the precinct of his walls.’

When his friends had conducted him home, he there paſs'd away the reſt of the day, and though by Marcellus's means, he might have ſeen Cleopatra in the Evening, he was ſo ſenſible of his own diſtemper, as he would not appear before her in that condition: Marcellus was much to ſeek for advice to give him, and only contented himſelf to tell him, that his Intereſts ſhould ever lie in an equal ballance with his own, and that he would not ſtick to ſerve him in all occaſions, and againſt all ſorts of Enemies, only the Emperors ſacred perſon excepted, as that of his Father and his Benefactor. Though my Maſter could not diſtruſt Marcellus, yet he thought it not fit to unmask his intentions to him, ſuppoſing by the advice of divers reaſons, he would ſtrive to diſſwade the reſolution he had taken, and the next day knowing that Tiberius was gone to ſee Cleopatra, in Veſta's Temple, who there aſſiſted at ſome Sacrifices with Octavia, and divers other Roman Ladies, he went thither with the young Prince Ptolomee, follow'd by thoſe of his friends that came to viſit him at his riſing; all thoſe that ſaw him enter the Temple, diſcovered in his face a large part of his inquietude, and paſſing by ſuch of his acquaintance with a furious look, as ſtood in his way, without lending the leaſt regard to any, he went and plac'd himſelf right againſt Cleopatra, not far from Tiberius, who retir'd his eyes from the Princeſs, where they had been taſting ſome rarities, to fix them upon his with a Countenance, wherein I read the Contents of trouble enough; my Maſter made choice of that ſacred place to ſpeak to him, well knowing that he could not have taken the ſame liberty in any other, and that all the Romans were ſo well inſtructed in their difference, as their Diſcourſe would have been cut off at the firſt encounter; at firſt Coriolanus for a time ſeriouſly beheld Cleopatra, and ſhe often anſwered his regards with ſome of her own, that were very advantagious and obliging; but the Prince, feigning that he was not advanced far enough to take a free and eaſie view of her, he quitted the place where he ſtood, and went up to Tiberius. Tiberius ſtaid for him in his ſtation, without the loſs of any aſſurance, and when my Maſter came near him, joyning his cheek to his, that he might not be heard by thoſe that encompaſſed them: ‘Tiberius, ſaid he, do not hope to poſſes Cleopatra, while I am on this ſide my Tomb, 'tis a fortune that will not be peaceably enjoyed, till thou haſt fought with me, and cut me from the world; my birth is no way inferior to thine, and my former actions may happily invite thee [Page] to gain an improvement of glory upon me; the Weapons are at thy choice, the place of Combat at thy diſpoſal, and if thou haſt a Courage worthy to ſerve Cleopatra, ſure thou wilt as readily facilitate the means of this perſonal deciſion as poſſible.’

‘That ſhall be done, reply'd Tiberius, with an untroubled look, when I am poſſeſs'd of Cleopatra, and till then I will not diſtrub ſo near a happineſs to content thy deſpair; but when I once can call her mine, I ſhall greedily embrace all occaſions to preſerve a treaſure, of which thy death muſt aſſure me; nor will I then refuſe any ſort of arms, place, or kind of Combat to ſatisfie thy paſſion and mine: if thou ſtayeſt for the enjoyment of Cleopatra, reply'd my Prince before our tryal, thou wilt never ſee the time thou haſt appointed, and this excuſe thou haſt found to defer the Combat, is baſe and unbecoming a perſon of Courage; for ſhame do not ask the delay of an action that carries an undiſpenſible neceſſity: and ſince thou ſeeſt that I yet keep the high-way of honour, do not provoke that deſpair wherewith thou upbraideſt me, to ſeek ſome private path to thy Deſtruction: Were I as diſtractedly perplex'd, anſwer'd Tiberius, and as near my ruin as thou art, 'tis likely I might leap the ſame precipice; but as my affairs are now temper'd, I am reſolved to ſeek my own ends as well as thine; and though my deſire of Combat be as hot as any thy heart can hold, thou wilt hope it but in vain, till three days after our Nuptials.’

‘Is that thy laſt reſolution, ſaid Coriolanus allin a flame? Yes, reply'd Tiberius, and if thou doſt not hurt thy deſtruction too haſtily, thou wilt preſs me no further. And here I proteſt by all the Gods that hear us, reply'd the furious Coriolanus, before the dawning Marriage day, though guarded by all the puiſſance of the Empire, thou ſhalt die by this hand.’

After he had pronounced theſe words, he went out of the Temple with ſuch a Tempeſt in his looks, as affrighted all thoſe that met him in his paſſage.

He retired to his Chamber, but ſtaid not there; for fear the words he exchang'd with Tiberius, being carried to Auguſtus ear, might bring a ſudden Seige of the Emperors guards about his Lodgings, and ſo deſpoil him of the means to execute his intentions: in homage to theſe thoughts, he mounted preſently on horſe-back, and taking no perſon with him but my ſelf, we got out of Rome through ſome blind unfrequented ſtreets, and in ſtead of keeping the high-way, we croſs'd over the fields to a little Village, to which we made our retreat, where my Maſter reſolved to ſtay the remainder of that day, and the night following.

There did he paſs away that whole time, in the ſtrangeſt condition that ever I beheld, and all thoſe reaſons which from the affection he had ever ſhewed me, I took the liberty to urge, could not draw him to ſo much as a moments truce with his furious thoughts. ‘Thou ſhalt die, ſaid he, thou inſolent Rival, Savage Enemy, and all the Tyranick puiſſance of thoſe that ſupport thee againſt me, ſhall not guard thee from the hands of a deſperate Lover; that very deſpair, late a ſubject of thy mockery, may prove more terrible than all the power of Auguſtus; the Marriage thou believeſt ſo near, does doubtleſs keep a remoter diſtance than the death I intend, which I will either give thee, or receive at thy hands in ſuch terms as honour ſhall appoint; and yet ſince thoſe are rejected by thee, think it not ſtrange if I ſeek out others, that may lawfully ſerve my reſentments.’

Such diſcourſes as theſe, with thoughts of the ſame alliance, ſwallowed the whole night, and the next morning without imparting any other Command than follow him, we remounted our Horſes, and bent our courſe back to the City.

By this time nothing made ſo great a noiſe at Rome as the Marriage between Tiberius and Cleopatra, all things were provided there for the ſolemnities, and the preparation advanc'd ſo far, as none doubted but three or four days would conſummate it, in vain Cleopatra had deeply proteſted her averſion to eſpouſe Tiberius, in vain engag'd Octavia, Marcellus, with the reſt of her friends, moſt powerful with Auguſtus, ſince all their intreaties did rather obdurate than ſoften his obſtinacy; for the ſame day we went to the Village, he came himſelf to ſpeak with Cleopatra, and in ſpight of all the Rhetorick of her Grief and Reaſon, expreſt in tears and words, he redoubled his command in ſo abſolute a manner, to prepare her ſelf within three days to tye the knot with Tiberius, as ſhe loſt all hope of obtaining milder conditions; I know not how her reſolution was then temper'd, but ſhe has ſince deeply vowed to my Maſter, ſhe would rather have taken a Diſpenſation from Death, than give her conſent to this Marriage, whatever Diſcretion ſtood before at the Helm of her words and actions, all could not now hinder her from appearing deſperate, Marcellus was torn upon the Rack of a violent grief, Octavia moſt exceſſively afflicted, and Tiberius with his party ſung their Triumphant Io's in the forward expectation of a happineſs, which he was not too well aſſur'd of.

This was the conſtitution of affairs when we entered Rome, and advanc'd towards the Lodgings of Tiberius, at the hour he was accuſtomed to go wait upon the Emperor [Page] at his riſing, my Maſter had the ſame Horſe under him which he charged upon in the laſt Battel againſt the Aſturians, one of the ſtrongeſt, fierceſt, and faireſt in the world, and choſen by him as the fitteſt in all his ſtable, for the execution of that hardy deſign which then buſied his thoughts: we had twice paſt by the corner of a Street, where we waited the coming out of Tiberius, when at laſt he appear'd, as my Maſter expected him, he was mounted upon a little white Nag, with a rich Capariſon embroidered with Gold, and ſet with Jewels that trailed after him upon the ground, Gaius Druſus his Brother, and Marcus Sulpitius, rode on either ſide of him upon two Nags of the ſame ſtature, after them followed a large train of people on foot, as well Servants as free Perſons, that ſawned upon the fortunes of Tiberius, with a ſervile complacence: my Maſter no ſooner ſpied Tiberius, but without ſpending a thought upon the numbers that followed him, he ſnatcht out his Sword, and ſpurring up to him with a ſwiftneſs comparable to lightning; Behold Tiberius, cry'd he, ſee here the Bridal I prepare thee, he had ſcarce finiſhed theſe few words, when he joyned up to him, and though Tiberius had been allowed leiſure to get out his Sword, the aſſault of my Maſter was ſo prompt and impetuous, as before his Enemy could put himſelf in a poſture of defence, he was quite run through the body by Coriolanus, and tumbled all bloody in the midſt of his men; but if his Sword overthrew Tiberius, the ſhock of his Horſe at the ſame time did no leſs to Druſus, and perceiving Sulpitius had got his Sword in his hand, and lifted it up to oppoſe his paſſage, by a ſudden blow with the Edge of his, he ſent it to the Earth with the hand that held it amongſt the horſe feet; after this prompt Execution, he eaſily opened himſelf a path through thoſe that were on foot, among which he found none hardy enough to oppoſe his fury, and though we met at the end of the Street with ſome Pretorian Bands that were going to relieve the Emperours guard, my Maſter broke through them like a Thunder-bolt, encountring no reſiſtance that had power to arreſt him: ſo few endeavoured to ſtop my Carrier, as I found it not hard to follow him at the heels, beſides, I was mounted upon ſo gallant a horſe, as it would not have prov'd an eaſie task to have taken me.

‘You have aſtoniſh'd me, ſaid Tyridates, with the recital of ſo grand a daring, and though I have liſtned to the piece of your ſtory, as a thing prodigious, yet I cannot forbear to interrupt it, with the tender of ſuch praiſes as his bravery has highly merited: I ought not, reply'd Emilius, to diſclaim the glory of my Maſters actions, and yet in that I muſt acknowledge, the depth of his Deſpair had as great a hand as the height of his courage, though the advantage of his horſe, and the ſwiftneſs of the action acquainted him with leſs danger than his own imagination could fanoy, but my relation muſt now ſucceed to greater things, and ſo in the ſequel draw to the end of this tedious Story.’

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA: OR, Love's Maſter-Piece. PART II.
LIB. IV.

[Page]

ARGUMENT.

Coriolanus flyes with Hyppias and Lipſipus into Mauritania, where his Fathers Subjects unanimouſly riſe to recover his right, and their own liberty. He bravely defeats Canidius, Cecinna, Sillanus, Voluſius, and Domitius Aenobarbus, in ſeveral battels. Totally reduces both the Mauritania's, and is ſolemnly Crowned King. Leaves his new Subjects, and in diſguiſe of a private man, goes to meet Cleopatra at Syracuſa; ſhe bitterly upbraids him with Diſloyalty and Ingratitude, which throws him into a Feaver. He is taken Priſoner by the Governour Lucius Varus, and is again ſet at liberty by Claudius Varus his Son, from thence he repairs to Alexandria in purſuit of his incenſed Princeſs.

WE got out of Rome with as much facility as we wiſh'd, and leaving the way that lead to Oſtia on our left hand, we ſought (not for the Village where we paſs'd the precedent night) but for a houſe that ſtood remote for all high-ways, in a wood above 100 furlongs from Rome, which my Maſter had often ſeen when he was a hunting, and remember'd it had ſhelter'd him from divers ſtorms, there he decre'd to expect the approach of night, well knowing that after ſhe had ſpread her ſhades, he might ſteal back into Rome; and becauſe the City was vaſt, and the Inhabitants very numerous, he might hide himſelf there for divers days with more ſafety, than any of the adjacent places could promiſe him.

We were no ſooner got into the fields, when my Maſter ſtopping his horſe, and turning towards me, with a look that acknowledged the ſatisfaction he took in the ſucceſs of his enterprize: ‘My Rival is dead, ſaid he, or at leaſt in too feeble a condition to rob me of Cleopatra, and now let the Gods do what they pleaſe with my deſtiny.’

I was ſo amaz'd at what I had lately ſeen, as, till then I had not the power to command a word, and though accuſtom'd to ſee my Prince do great things, the ſuddenneſs of this laſt act ſo ſurpris'd me, as I had not time enough to recover the uſe of my reaſon; but when this diſcourſe had a little diſpell'd the clouds of my amazement; ‘'Tis true Sir, ſaid I, Tiberius is dead, and if my eye did not cozen me, I ſaw him in an eſtate to diſhearten all hopes of recovery; but, my Lord, what meant you by all this? and what deſign do your thoughts now drive at? I meant, ſaid Coriolanus, to free my ſelf of a Rival that would have taken my life, to break this Marriage with Cleopatra, wherein I muſt have found my Sepulcher, and for the deſign thoughts are hatching, if they have but the luck to bring it forth, a few days will acquaint thee with it.’

[Page] This diſcourſe, with others upon the ſame ſubject, held us play till we arrived at the houſe, where we alighted, yet ſtill holding our Horſes by the Bridles, and ſtanding ready to make a ſudden retreat upon the alarm of any noiſe that deſerved ſuſpicion, the night was no ſooner come, but we mounted again, and taking a great compaſs, returned to the City, which we entered by a Gate that was very far from that we came out at, and paſſed through a blind Street to the Houſe of one Strato a faithful Slave of my Maſters, on whom, for ſome important ſervice he had lately beſtowed his liberty, with a bounteous Donative to ſupport him in his free condition.

To his Houſe unknown to all the Court he rather choſe to retire, than to any of his Friends, whoſe quality might ingender ſuſpicion; and ſo by ſheltring him expoſe their Credit to ruine in the breaſt of Caeſar.

Strato, who with the reſt of Rome, had learned the diſaſter of Tiberius, no ſooner ſaw my Prince at the door, but throwing himſelf at his feet with all the motions of paſſionate loyalty, begged of him not only to diſpoſe of the goods he held of his bounty, but employ his life too in the ſervice of his deſigns. Coriolanus being entered the Houſe, and having cauſed the Horſes to be carried away, demanded news of Strato, what the City talked of his laſt action, how Caeſar reſented it, and how Tiberius fared: Strato, who was very diſcreet, and whoſe affection to his Maſter had carried him all that day about the City, to inform himſelf of things wherein it gave him ſo great an intereſt, preſently told him that Tiberius was not dead, but almoſt paſt all hope of recovery, that Caeſar had appeared tranſported with ſuch an exceſs of fury, that he had not only ſent vaſt numbers in his ſearch, cauſed his Lodging to be ſeiz'd, and confiſcated all the goods he had at Rome, but proclaimed a promiſe of two hundred talents to any that could bring him his head, and one hundred to him that could detect the place of his reſidence.

This Diſcourſe awaked the Reſentments of Coriolanus againſt the Emperor; ‘He has reaſon, ſaid he, to deſire my ruine, and if he takes me from the world, he may poſſible free his apprehenſions by that act of none of the meaneſt of his Enemies.’ Strato added, that Auguſtus had conceived ſo high a pique againſt all my Maſters friends, as he would never ſince endure Marcellus, Agrippa, nor Octavia her ſelf to come in his ſight; and beſides had made a promiſe to Livia, his revenge ſhould reach to all thoſe that could be proved accomplices in that action.

After ſome other Diſcourſe, in which my Maſter aſſured Strato he would truſt him with his life, he got on horſe-back, and taking him along to the corner of a ſtreet neer Marcellus his Houſe, he commanded him to go thither, and endeavour to deliver his Meſſage in private to the Prince, and conduct him to that place where he would wait his approach: Strato quitted himſelf of his commiſſion ſo handſomly, as we had not ſtaid half an hour in the place where he left us, when we ſaw him return with Marcellus (without either Follower or Torch, but the light of the Moon, which was then at the full) on Horſe-back like us, with his face half mufled in a Cloak; he found my Maſter in the ſame eſtate, and no ſooner came neer him, but throwing his arms about his neck, as if ſome long time had crept between that and their laſt interview. ‘Brother, ſaid he, what have you done? to what a torment have you put me in behalf of your ſafety? I have done that, replyed my Prince, which, were it undone, I would do again at the hazard of a thouſand lives, and poſſible I have not yet done it to purpoſe, ſince Tiberius is ſtill alive: Indeed he is not dead, anſwer'd Marcellus, but there is ſo little appearance left of Life, and his wound is prov'd ſo deep and dangerous, as none have yet ſeen it without deſpair: Do not then torment your ſelf, ſaid Coriolanus, for my ſafety, my own hand has carved it for me in that action, nor ſhould I ever have enjoyed it, had Tiberius eſpous'd Cleopatra. I do not ſo much as pity that man, reply'd Marcellus, ſince his life was an Enemy to your repoſe; but how will you now diſpoſe of your intentions? and what can we do for you in this Extremity, to which you have hurried your Affairs, if we were not able to ſerve you when they rode at Anchor in a calmer Ocean? You ſhall do, reply'd Coriolanus, what you have ever done, ſtill continue to love me, ſtill aſſiſt me in the perſon and opinion of Cleopatra, and leave the reſt to the conduct of the Gods, who will not abandon me, nor can they involve me in a worſe condition than what this happy blow has ſo lately prevented: but do you believe your ſelf in any ſafety at Rome, added Marcellus? and though the vaſt extent of the City has often conceal'd other perſons, do you think to defraud the diligence of ſo many ſpyes, who are both Ey'd and wing'd for a narrow ſearch, by the promiſe of a rich reward for your diſcovery: For the time I intend to ſtay at Rome, reply'd Coriolanus, I hope to find it a ſafe retreat, and ſince I have employed the three days that Caeſar gave me as my [Page] wiſh contriv'd it, I will now quit it without another diſpleaſure, than thoſe I reſent it being divided from Cleopatra and Marcellus: In the mean time I ſhall find other places enough, that will lend me entertainment, and if I thrive in one deſign, perhaps I ſhall have no need to borrow it; I will only intreat the ſight of Cleopatra, (which you may eaſily obtain in my behalf) once or twice before my parting, and then repoſe that dear truſt, with ſome comfort in your hands, till the ſucceſs of my affairs will reſtore her to my Eyes.’

Marcellus took ſome time to ſtudy upon this, and then taking the word; ‘I believe, ſaid he, ſince my Mother and all her family are at your devotion, you have no more to do but go to the little door at the brink of Tiber, which you are well acquainted with, and ſtay there till I bring you ſome news, I will come and open it my ſelf, after I have ſpoke with Cleopatra and diſpos'd her to meet you in the Garden.’

My Maſter finding this contrivance very expedient for his purpoſe, returned a thouſand thanks to his friend, and giving him leave to go upon his own deſign, he releaſed him upon promiſe to meet at the place appointed, and when we were got about an hundred paces from thence, he alighted, and commanding Strato to ſtay for him with the Horſes in Mars's field, which was not far from thence, we walked upon the bank of Tiber, ſtill expecting when the opening of the door ſhould invite our approaches: indeed it coſt us leſs patience than we appointed, and Marcellus, the moſt real, and therefore the moſt diligent of all his friends, in half an hours time made all things ready as my Maſter wiſhed them. To make good his promiſe, himſelf opened us the door, and we were no ſooner entered the Garden, but the light of the Moon ſhewed us the Princeſs Cleopatra, followed by her Siſter the Princeſs Antonia, youngeſt Daughter to Antony, and Octavia, with Camillia, the Darling of her Maids, going into one of the Arbors.

Octavia had come her ſelf, if the conſideration of her Brother, and the Dignity of her own perſon, had not adviſed her to ſuborn ignorance to excuſe it, Cleopatra was half undreſt, and yet that diſadvantage, by the help of an imperfect light, was not able to conceal her Beauty, nor did ever the Star that ruled at the interview, in all her Celeſtial travels behold a mortal beauty that could equal her.

My Maſter no ſooner came near, but falling at her feet, and embracing her knees; ‘I ask your pardon my adorable Princeſs, ſaid he, for what I have done to preſerve you, and could I have kept you out of his power, without ſpilling the blood of a man that loved you, I would have bought off his loſs at the expence of my own; but ſince there was no other way to ſave the life that is yours, and defend you from a yoak that would have been impos'd againſt your conſent, do not you ſtill give me leave to appear in the dreſs of my former Innocence?’

The Princeſs took ſome time to anſwer my Maſter, when ſuddenly lifting up her head, and looking upon him with a languiſhing action; ‘Ah Coriolanus, ſaid ſhe, how raſh you have been! how well might you have ſpared me a diſpleaſure, by curing our common misfortune with means leſs violent: If I thought you bemoaned the fate of Tiberius, replyed my Prince, I could be content to retrieve his ſafety, by ſtaking my life to the ſame danger that threatens his; my regret for Tiberius, ſaid the Princeſs, ſtretches no farther, than becauſe I love not blood, nor deſire the death of my cruelleſt Enemies; you cannot but know that what you have done has made me a prey to very ſenſible perplexities, that your ſelf has robb'd your own deſires of the means to ſee me, and blocked up your way to the fruition of a happineſs, which you aimed at in the death of your Rival: I am better acquainted with the dangees that menace you here, than to ſuffer your longer aboad at Rome, and you know too well how dear you are to me, to ignore the grief that will gall me at our ſeparation: I am willing to believe, that in your abſence you will keep me that affection pure and undeflowred, which I prefer'd before the offers of Livia, and do ſtill prize above all the gay things wherewith the world can tempt me; but what comfort can be left me in ſo cruel and dangerous an abſence, in ſo ſad an incertainty of your return: Beſides, the mercileſs orders of Auguſtus will reach to all, and there are few corners of the Earth can hide you ſecurely, ſo long as he is your Enemy: what ſhall become of me in theſe woful apprehenſions I ſhall ſuffer for you? and which of the Gods will promiſe me I ſhall ever be permitted to ſee you again? Heavens, purſued ſhe, with ſome warm pearls that broke away from her fair eyes, did the faults of unfortunate Anthony and Cleopatra ſo highly incenſe you, as your pitileſs anger muſt ſtill purſue the reliques of their deplorable family?’

A throng of ſighs cut off the courſe of her words, and hindered the Princeſs from going on: Coriolanus, whatever ſhare he went in her grief, took a marvellous comfort in thoſe woful proofs of her affection, which touch'd him ſo feelingly, as after he had ty'd his lips for a time to one of the Princeſs hands: ‘Now let Auguſtus, cry'd he, diſplay all the [Page] puiſſance of his Empire againſt me, and let the whole world aſſiſt him in his aims at my overthrow, I brave them all, my Princeſs, in the eſtate to which your goodneſs has exalted me, and ſince your inviolate affection is mine in a greater meaſure, than my lawfulleſt hope could ambition, I can ſuffer nothing in my exile, nor in thoſe perils that threaten my ſafety, capable to counterpoiſe the meaneſt part of my happineſs: I know Madam, that I am forced to leave you, and were I in your heart, with as much advantage as the hand of Hymen could place me, I could not own one ſingle deſire to ſee you follow the fortune of a man, to whom Heaven has denied a place to repoſe you; no Madam, I muſt have a Kingdom to receive you as I ought and inſtead of deſiring you ſhould tye your ſelf to the condition of a wretch, I will never raiſe my pretences to the honour of your poſſeſſion, till I am able to ſet a Crown upon your head: perhaps I am not ſo far from performing this, as it is believed, and if fortune does not uſe me too rudely, I may happily come back in a Condition, that will enable me to ask the proofs of your affection in a more becoming poſture; let me beg the favour of your confidence in theſe words, and do not look for leſs than extraordinary effects, from a man that could not have liſted himſelf in your ſervice with a common Courage.’

‘There is nothing too hard for my hopes in your vertue, replyed the Princeſs, nor can I acknowledge any default of thoſe Crowns in your perſon, which for my ſake you rejected; 'tis true, I could wiſh my ſelf a power to inveſt you with thoſe that Anthony deſigned me in my child-hood, or be content to wiſh you a throne in ſome other place; not that Diadems can add new graces to your perſon, too lively of it ſelf to need an Exterior Ornament, but to provide us a covert againſt the ſtorms of Tyranny, and ranſome our liberty from the power of thoſe, who after the pulling down of our houſes, do ſtill inhumanly proſecute the remainder.’

At this period, Coriolanus looked round to obſerve if any liſtened to their Diſcourſe, and perceiving Marcellus (to leave them the greater liberty) was walked with his Siſter into the Garden, and Cleopatra's Maid who ſtaid with her Miſtreſs, ſtood yet at the diſtance of ten or twelve paces, letting fall the tone of his voice; ‘Madam, ſaid he, I have a deſign which I would, if you pleaſe, reveal to none but your ſelf; if I hide it from Marcellus, 'tis not ſuſpition that adviſed me, ſince, if the fates could ſpin me as many threads, I would truſt him with a thouſand lives, but the conſideration I keep for his Intereſt, not willing to involve him in a plot that may ſpeak him criminal to Caeſar, but I hope your goodneſs will give him my excuſes after 'tis once broke out: To theſe words, when he had begged of the Princeſs to preſerve it aſecret, ſucceeded the Diſcovery of ſome thoughts, to which I was yet a ſtranger, and which you ſhall learn in the Stories ſequel:’ the Princeſs timerouſly reflected upon the difficulties ſhe found in the deſign, but after ſome conteſtations with her fears, ſhe remitted all to the conduct of Coriolanus, and that to the Gods to whom ſhe recommended him.

By this time Marcellus and his Siſter were come back to the Arbour, and, after they had ſpent one hour together in Diſcourſe, my Maſter, fearing to incommodate the Princeſs, and at the reaſon, the nights not being over warm, he took his leave for the Evening, intreating the Company to give him the favour of a ſecond meeting in the ſame place the following night, wherein he reſolv'd to part from Rome; he intreated Marcellus to be there with the reſt, and not think of ſeeing him all the next day, reſolving to ſhut up himſelf in Strato's houſe, where he could not viſit him, without running the hazard of a dangerous Jealouſie, Marcellus though mortally afflicted at this ſeparation, at laſt conſented to his friends deſire, and, becauſe all that Coriolanus had at Rome, were ſeized by the Emperors order, he furniſhed him with Horſes, Slaves, and all things elſe his neceſſity demanded, and ſent them out of the City before day, with orders to ſtay for us at the Port of Brindes, under the conduct of one of my Maſters Officers that had formerly ſerved Marcellus with an uncommon fidelity.

My Maſter told his friend, he intended a retreat to the King of Libia's Court, the neareſt of his Kinſmen where he could ſtay with aſſurance, till the choler of Auguſtus was waſted to a cooler temper, which he would learn to hope from the power of his mediation; but the Reaſons he alledg'd to that Princeſs would not let him unrip any part of that deſign he communicated to Cleopatra.

We retir'd to the Houſe of Strato, and were no ſooner there, but my Maſter (inſtead of beſtowing the remains of that night upon reſt) ſent me to the Lodgings of Hippias, and Liſippus, to intreat them to come and ſee him before day. Theſe were two of the principal men in Mauritania, who, by the general ſuffrage of that People, were ſent to Rome, to carry their complaints to Caeſar, of the violent and harſh uſage they received from the Roman Garriſons, and the Praetor Voluſius, whoſe inſufferable inſolence and cruelty had reduc'd [Page] the poor Inhabitants to deſpair: Theſe two Deputies had been with their complaints at Caeſars feet, without obtaining any redreſs, and it was much about the time we return'd from the Aſturian War. Theſe Moors, who had already learn'd my Maſters repute from the common noiſe, beheld him with a reſpect proportioned to the Son of their late King: and him that had been born to command them, if Fortune had not ſtripped him of thoſe Dignities, before Nature compleated his being; and meeting with all the qualities in him they could deſire in the perſon of a Sovereign, after they had made themſelves particularly known by divers viſits, at laſt they ventur'd at the liberty to tell him, if he would preſent himſelf to his lawful Subjects, and ſhew them the face of the Son of Juba, (a name they ſtill honor'd with a deep veneration) and of a Prince already known by the bruit of his beautiful actions, they did not queſtion, but the People, taking Courage and as well from their affection to him, as averſion to the Roman Government, by an univerſal riſing, aſſiſted by his valour, would ſet him in his Fathers throne.

Theſe two Agents had often renew'd this propoſition, to which, though the firſt appearance of Caeſar's partiality had opened his ear, becauſe he was not yet his Enemy, he had as often rejected it, believing he could not anſwer any ſecret contrivance at the bar of Honour againſt a man that been his Benefactor: during this private Treaty, they received news from their Country that did no way cool their proceedings, and ſtill as my Maſters reſentments boil'd higher by degrees againſt Auguſtus, they failed not to ply him ſo hotly with freſh ſollicitations, as my Maſter perceiving all things grow deſperate for him at Rome, and underſtanding that Auguſtus had proſcribed his name, and caus'd it to be ſet up in the Streets, (as in the time of the Triumvirate) with a propoſal of a recompence to his Murderers, his juſt reſentments were wound up, to the reſolution of a revenge upon his Enemy, by a way that ſhould lead him to his lawful heritage: this was the deſign he imparted to Cleopatra, and the ſame that made him ſend me for Hippias and Liſippus.

Theſe two men (raviſh'd at the knowledge of their Prince's abode) for whom they had all the preceding day ſuffered ſo many fears, immediately parted from their lodging and came along with me to Strato's houſe: my Prince no ſooner ſaw and embrac'd them, but he declared his deſign to ſerve their honeſt deſires, in chaſing the Romans out of his Fathers Territories, he promis'd he would be ready to go away with them the following night, and bad them be aſſured he would not be ſparing of his life, to requite the injuries of Auguſtus, nor make himſelf an inconſiderable gift to that People, who had preſerved ſo much affection for his Family.

The Mauritanians, almoſt beſides themſelves with joy at this Diſcourſe, fell both at his feet, proteſting they would be ready to ſerve him as faithful guides till he ſet his foot upon thoſe Dominions the Romans had uſurp'd, and aſſured him he ſhould not find a man in both the Mauritania's, that would not willingly hazard his life to beat out the Romans, and gladly ſubject himſelf to his Sovereignty.

This reſolution confirmed, and all the circumſtances ſettled, the two Moors went home to order their affairs for a Journey, and prepare themſelves to go away with us the following night. I ſay with us, for though I was born a Roman, and deſcended from a Family noble enough, ſo real an affection tied me to my Maſter, as neither the Intereſt of my Country, nor the love of my kindred could ſlack my carrier in running his Fortune.

Strato having carefully ſought up the faithfulleſt of my Maſters ſervants, without diſcloſing where he was, aſſigned them to be ready about the beginning of night, at a place he appointed; the reſt ſtaid behind at Rome, for fear too curious a ſearch of all ſhould betray us.

Every thing thus diſpos'd of paſs'd away the day at Strato's houſe, the greateſt part of which, my Maſter, wearied with his former watchings, beſtow'd in ſleep, at leaſt as much of it, as the grief he took to part with Cleopatra would permit him: ſo ſoon as the night was a little advanced, we mounted on Horſe back, and rendered our ſelves at Octavia's Garden-gate, which was preſently opened us, wherewith Cleopatra, Marcellus, young Ptolomee, and the Princeſs her Daughters, Octavia came her ſelf in perſon, to bid Coriolanus adieu.

My Prince, very ſenſible of the favour, paid his acknowledgment to that great Princeſs, in the humbleſt language he could utter, but after ſhe had ſpent ſome time in his company, accepting her thanks for her friendly offices, and renewing the proteſtations of her amity, with a promiſe to employ her whole life, as well to mediate his peace with Caeſar, as preſerve him freſh in Cleopatra's affections, ſhe would needs leave him the freedom of taking a private leave of the Princeſs; when, after ſhe had often embraced him with [Page] as tender an inpulgence, as if ſhe had groan'd for his birth, ſhe retired to her own apartment: it would poſe me to repeat all the endearing language, that love and amity directed to Coriolanus at this parting, as well from a Princeſs ſo paſſionately lov'd, as a friend ſo dear, and ſo worthy of his amity.

Marcellus, Ptolomee, and the Siſters, made the like retreat as before, to give Coriolanus an unwitneſſed leiſure of entertaining Cleopatra; and reſuming the ſame Diſcourſe, he let fall at his laſt parting, and repeated the negotiation betwixt him and the two Deputies of Mauritania, and mentioned all the probabilities of ſucceſs that he ſaw in his Enterprize: ‘If the Gods conſent, purſu'd he, that I thrive in this project, and arrive at the power to declare you the Soveraign of a King, puiſſant enough in the number of his Subjects, and extent of his Dominions, as you are now of a deſpoil'd and exil'd Prince, will not my Princeſs permit me to ſue for the Complement of my fortune, in the conſent of Octavia, whom you have choſen for a Mother, and the approbation of Marcellus, with the Princes and Princeſſes your Brothers and Siſters; if ever Heaven gives leave that I ſeize upon that Scepter, I am reſolved to turn hither in diſguiſe, where being admitted to the ſame Priviledge of a private interview, which you now grant me, if you ſtill condeſcend to vote me happy, we will tie the ſacred knot betwixt us, and by conſent of your neareſt friends, you may then go and receive the Crowns that ſhall wait your arrival; I can eaſily convey you hence, if your Love be ſtrong enough to confute the ſtrict rules of ſeverity, and may oppoſe the reſignation of your ſelf, to the conduct of him you have choſen for a Husband: 'tis true, there are Seas to croſs, and toils to encounter in the Voyage, to which I ſhould not deſire to expoſe my Princeſs, but thoſe ſhort-liv'd troubles perhaps may prove as eaſie to be endured, as the Tyranny of Auguſtus, and Livia, to which your preſent condition ſubmits you: and thus my Divine Princeſs, for this happy unfortunate, you ſhall ripen the fruits of that affection, which does ſo gloriouſly ſweeten his Calamities.’

At the Period of theſe words, Coriolanus ſell at Cleopatra's feet, and embracing her knees, kept himſelf in the poſture of a man, that with fear and impatience, expected the effect of his earneſt Petition: Cleopatra's doubts, that the engagement of her word might ſin againſt her duty, bred a long War in her thoughts what anſwer to return; but at laſt overcoming the ſcruples that oppos'd her deſires:

Yes my dear Coriolanus, ſaid ſhe, I do allow your requeſt, and when you have got the conſent of Octavia, and my Brothers that I eſpouſe you, without ſeeking that of Auguſtus, or repairing to any other power but theirs, my own heart and hand ſhall freely confirm it, and when I have once received you for my Husband, I will ſhut my eyes upon pain and danger, while I follow your Fortune upon Earth and Sea: accept, ſaid ſhe, ſtretching out her hand, the promiſe I offer you, and believe it, if your fidelity ſtands firm and unſhaken, nothing ſhall have power to blot my ſoul with its violation.

My Maſter appeared ſo over-joy'd at this promiſe of his Princeſs, as it put a large part of that grief to flight, which he took to leave her; but, after he had tendered a thouſand thanks at her feet, in the moſt paſſionate language that love could utter, riſing from his knee in a deep ſucceſſion of ſighs, that witneſſed the return of his woes, to their old poſſeſſion, and a face overflowed with tears, which riſe in rebellion againſt his Courage, he diſpoſed himſelf to take his leave: the Princeſs wept exceſſively, and my Prince and ſhe felt the pangs of their affliction riſe to that height of fortune, as they both drew an unluckly Augury from that ſeparation.

Cleopatra kept him a long time cloſe Priſoner in her arms, but, having at laſt unlock'd thoſe dear chains and let him go, after ſhe had left him her laſt adieu, ſhe retired to her lodgings, in ſo woful a poſture, and ſo enfeebled with grief, as it had ſcarce left her ſtrength enough to guide her foot-ſteps; young Ptolomee and the Princeſs her Siſters were ſad to extreams, but I think the parting of Marcellus and my Maſter would have ſoſtned all the ſouls upon Earth, that were moſt incapable of amity: a hundred times did they part, and a hundred times came back again into each others arms, mingling ſuch paſſionate and tender language, which the repetition of every embrace, as I that quitted my Country, my Friends, and the neereſt of my blood with a moderate regret, could not look upon them, and not melt at the eyes with a feminine weakneſs: at laſt neceſſity rent them aſunder, and they deem'd it not ſafe for Marcellus either to go himſelf or ſend any company with Coriolanus to bring him part of his way, for fear the courteſie ſhould make too much noiſe, and leſt there ſhould be found ſo cheap and ſordid a ſoul among Marcellus followers, to ſell his fidelity for the Emperours reward, in revealing our departure, and the way we bent at.

After this cruel adieu, we went to meet the two Deputies, who with Strato and our Horſes [Page] ſtai'd for us in Mars's field, where my Prince having armed himſelf, we marched out at the neereſt gate, and following the track of our Equipage (which Marcellus ſent away the night before) we found them at the Port of Brindes, with ſuch of our ſervants, as our Order commanded thither, and there finding ſome veſſels that accuſtomed to traffick upon the Coaſts of Africk, Hippias and Liſippus hired one with the Merchants in it, to whom they gave their deſires, and we preſently imbarqu'd with a favourable wind, and pat off to Sea; Ah how many ſad looks, and deep ſighs, did Coriolanus ſend back to the Italian ſhoar! how ſenſibly did he feel himſelf torn from the precious pawn he left behind him? Winds, would he ſometimes cry, the more kindly you breath upon our deſigns, the further you remove me from Cleopatra, nor can you be propitious to our voyage, unleſs you divorce me by a large diſtance, from the nobleſt part of my ſelf; he ſtill inlarged his diſcourſe upon that ſubject, undiſguiſing the marks of all thoſe cruel quietudes wherewith his paſſion ſhook him.

In the mean time our Sails were filled and guilded with the breath and beauty of heaven, nor did ever any voyage of that length begin and end with a Calm more agreeable: the Horiſon was not ſullied with a Cloud and we felt not ſo much as a blaſt that was not requiſite to ſwell our Canvas, and drive on our Barque to the African ſhoar.

At laſt, after a happy Navigation we paſſed Hercules Pillars, and a few days after, entered the Cape of Ampeluſa, the chiefeſt Promontory upon all the Coaſt of Africk, where diſembarquing our ſelves, we mounted on Horſeback, and lay the next night at the City of Liſſa, ſeated upon the River Lixus, the Metropolis of all Mauritania, from thence we marched to the City Babba, and then ſucceeded to Banaſa, where the popular credit of Hippias and Liſippus had greateſt influence, and there it was they thought fit my Maſter ſhould firſt begin to own himſelf, they caus'd the report of his arrival to be ſown among their friends, with the deſign that brought him thither to diſ-inthral them from the Roman Tyranny, if they had Courage enough to draw their Swords with his in the Quarrel, and prefer the Government of their natural Prince, to the intollerable yoak the Roman had impos'd: the reputation of thoſe great things my Maſter had done, as well of late againſt the Cantabrians, as in the Tyrociny of his arms in Germany, had travelled through all Africa, and his Fathers Subjects, who deeply concerned themſelves in the Fortune, had liſtened to the ſtory that Fame told them of their lawful Princes Heroick acts, with a joy full of affection and tenderneſs: a thouſand and a thouſand times had they ſigh'd for the ſame happineſs, that then offered it ſelf to their acceptance; and thoſe of Banaſſa, no ſooner underſtood that he was within their Walls, but they flew into a throng to ſee him, at the firſt ſight meeting with that in his face, which promiſed more than report had ſpoke of, they threw themſelves at his feet, called him their King, and beg'd he would bring them on to redeem his Fathers Subjects from ſlavery; but by little and little, the preſs was ſwollen to ſuch a bulk, as the tenth part of thoſe that run thither, could not get neer to Coriolanus lodging, and while Hippias ſtaid neer his perſon, Liſippus ranging through the City, and claiming the arrival of Juba's Son, the people roſe ſo univerſally, as the very Women and Children loudly cryed out in the ſtreets to be ſhown their Prince, to let them ſee the Son of Juba: you will not think this ſtrange when I have told you, that the Romans having exerciz'd an untroubled authority in Mauritania, for three or four and twenty years, and believing their horrible exactions, had aw'd that people with too ſervile a fear, to attempt the removal of any preſſure, had neglected the care of ſuch things as neceſſity required to preſerve it, in ſo much, as (the places of the greateſt importance excepted) they kept no Garriſons in the reſt, that were not too weak for the inhabitants; beſides, the Souldiers had ingrafted themſelves into their families by Conjugal alliance, and lived among them with a fearleſs ſecurity, through the cruelty of their Companions that held the ſtronger holds, and the rigour of their Governour, and Vice-roy, had run them into deſperate apprehenſions.

The Garriſon of Banaſa no ſooner ſaw the tumult, of which they learned the cauſe as ſoon as the Citizens, but finding themſelves too feeble to face the ſtorm, they quitted the City, and with all the haſt they could make, retired to a Neighbouring Garriſon, while ſome that followed too ſlowly, were torn in pieces by the firſt fury of the multitude.

The Prince perceiving he had now no longer time to diſſemble; openly pull'd off the Mask, and the ſecond day mounting on Horſe-back, rid through the whole City, ſhewing himſelf to thoſe that had not ſeen him, making Orations in the publick places to all that could hear him, with a charming Rhetorick of Garb and language.

The people ſtill improving their wonder at thoſe bewitching gifts of nature, they found about him the Beauty of his ſhape and viſage, the ſmooth facility and Elegance [Page] of his language, and in fine, the united graces that ſhined and ſmil'd in every excellent part, their joy got up to ſuch extreams, as might be ſaid they induc'd it, and they cryed on all ſides, ‘Long live King Juba, the Son of our King Juba, the lawful heir of our ancient King, and let the Tyrants die, let the Romans, his Enemies and ours be deſtroyed.’

Theſe crys Eccho'd to every ſide through the City, and to anſwer them, the Prince in ſeveral ſpeeches, encouraged a perſeverance in their loyal intentions, with a promiſe to ſweeten his Government, with all ſorts of mildneſs and lenity; the principal men of the City tendered him their Oath of Allegiance, in behalf of the whole, and preſently after they ſent to all the neighbouring Cities to excite them by their Example to ſhake off the Roman ſervitude and acknowledge the Son of their King, who proffer'd the employment of that valour for their delivery, which in his blooming years had made him ſo famous at Rome, and carried his name to the utmoſt corners of the Empire: they needed not much ſpurring to this Enterprize, ſince all received the news with as much height, and heat of reſolution, as thoſe of Banaſa; and in leſs than eight days, the Cities of Liſſa, Tingy, Babba, and Sala, had either driven them out, or cut the throats of their Garriſons, beaten down the Roman Eagles on all ſides, and re-advanc'd the antient Standard of Mauritania: never did affair of that nature ripen ſo ſuddenly to ſucceſs, the people that were up ſtill ſwelling in their numbers, rowl'd on like a Torrent, arming all the Country as they went, and in leſs then three weeks time caus'd all the Cities upon the Atlantique Sea to declare for the Quarrel.

My Maſter perceiving this happy progreſs, was willing to make a prudent uſe of it, and judging the noiſe it made, had allarmed Voluſius and his Lieutenants to march againſt him, he formed the groſs body of an Army of ſuch Troops as flocked in to him from all quarters, voluntarily rais'd, and ſent in at their proper coſt, by the Cities of his party, expoſing their Wives Jewels to ſail, with all their richeſt furniture to relieve their Princes neceſſities: Every day contributed a large addition to his forces, till at laſt my Maſter thought himſelf ſtrong enough to take the Field, and marching out of Banaſſa, he put himſelf into the head of 15000 fighting men, thus attended, he marched up to the Gates of ſuch Cities as ſtill held for the Romans; and his fortune was ſuch, as in leſs than three weeks time, without drawing a Sword, he rang'd all that Country, that lies between the Promontory of Ampeloſa, and the Mountain Atlas under his obedience: the City of Antotole at the Entrance of Getulia, which the Romans had better fortified than the reſt, was the firſt that made reſiſtance, and my Maſter was ſet down before it, when Canidius, Lieutenant to Voluſius, with 4000 Horſe, and 12000 Foot, ſpeeded towards us by large Marches, while Voluſius was buſied in gathering of a greater body, to oppoſe the torrent of our Progreſs.

Our Regiments were already grown ſo full, as the Army marched not leſs than 20000 Combatants, the third part of which Coriolanus left before the City, to continue the Siege, under the command of Liſippus, while himſelf marched with the reſt to meet Canidius: I cannot expreſs the fierce joy that people ſhewed, as they follow'd their Prince, they went to the Combat to a certain victory, and though a great part of the Enemies they were to charge were Romans, and ſo by conſequent the moſt formidable and redoubted Souldiers upon Earth, the confidence they repoſed in their valiant Leader, taught them to diſpiſe the foe with as brave a ſcorn, as if their Army had been compoſed of Lydians, or ſome other Nation yet more ſoft and effeminate.

The Romans, as your judgment will tell you, had diſarmed the Country as they march'd, but the Cities that declar'd for us, after the defeat of their Garriſons, had ſeized all their arms, wherewith my Prince had furniſhed his Souldiers, and from the firſt day of his Command, had ever trained them to the Roman Diſcipline, taught them the Leſſons of War as perfectly as the Romans themſelves could repeat them.

It was upon the banks of the River Coſenus neer the confines of the Scelatites Country, where we encountered Canidius, and there did my Maſter range his Battalians with ſuch military method, as inſtructed his new Subjects, how well he was skilled in the trade of War, and lead them on to the combat with forward hopes of victory; to which, both as Captain and Souldier, he hewed them a paſſage by actions ſo full of wonder, as his Affricans, highly animated by his Example, powred themſelves upon the Enemy with a ſtorm too impetuous to be reſiſted; at the firſt ſhock they diſordered their battalians, and giving them no time to rally, my Maſter charged through and through with ſo much ſury, as at laſt they were forced to abandon themſelves to a general flight; the ſlaughter was very great, Canidius fighting in the head of his ranks like a valiant man, fell one of the firſt Sacrifices to my Maſters fortune, and of all that number [Page] he brought into the Field, there was not ſaved above 12 or 1500 men that were taken Priſoners.

This firſt ſucceſs ſo prided the Mauritanians Courage, as they cryed to their Prince to lead them through the world, that all ſort of Enemies ſhould find them invincible, ſo long as he fought at the head of their Troops: after this victory he returned to reinforce the Siege of Antotole, but he that commanded it for the Romans, had no ſooner underſtood the defeat of Canidius, upon whoſe fortunes his hopes depended, and diſtruſting not only his own ſtrength, but the Citizens faith, whom he knew to be his Enemies, and affectionated to the Prince, he march'd out of the Garriſon upon an Honourable Capitulation.

My Prince, contrary to the Moors advice, ſent back all his Priſoners without a Ranſome, and treated thoſe that fell into his hands with a generous humanity, of which that Country had never ſeen a Parallel; after the taking of Antotole, he over-run all Getulia; whereof the Cities, where the Garriſons were weakeſt, received him with open Gates, and the others, that the Romans had forcified to abide a Siege, were part rendered by Compoſition, and the reſt carried by Storm, with a great ſlaughter of the Souldiers that defended them, though Coriolanus did all was poſſible to ſave them from the fury of the Moor.

From Getulia we marched into the Province of the Scelatites, where my Prince continued his progreſs, and defeated (with as ſignal advantages as thoſe he carried of Canidius) Cecinna and Sillanius, two other Lieutenants to Voluſius; their Troops were all cut in pieces, and our Souldiers enriched themſelves with their Spoils: every City and all the Country as we paſſed, gladly contributed money and victuals to the entertainment of our Army, in exchange received a treatment from the Souldiers that carried a neerer reſemblance to a Brotherly Viſit, than an Invaſion.

From the Scelatites, whoſe Country was totally reduced, after we had paſſed the Rivers Darath and Palſus, we ſucceeded to the Province of the Pharuſians, on this ſide the Promontory of Barce, and there it was that Voluſius, contrary to the rules of Military Prudence, having drain'd all his Garriſons, and drawn up the forces that lay upon the Frontiers, reſolving to cruſh us in pieces with one great effort for all, came up towards us with 12000 Horſe, and above 30000 Foot, ſtrowing the way as he paſſed with proud menaces againſt us, which daily arrived at our Ears, and indeed the feeble reſiſtance, the Romans had formerly found in thoſe people my Maſter commanded, gave him ſo eaſie a Confidence of the victory, as with an unreaſonable providence he had already diſpoſed of all things that were to ſucceed it.

Our Army ſtill receiving additional numbers from every place we touched at, was then compoſed of 8000 Horſe, and 32000 Foot, which My Prince had already imbued with ſo fair a Diſcipline, as the Roman Legions could ſcarce boaſt a better order, or a more exact obedience.

You ſee Sir, I have given you this relation in as narrow precincts as poſſible, though I believe your patience had ſuffer'd in the recital of divers things whereof the knowledge may poſſible ſeem impertinent to my Maſters life.

The Army of Voluſius being now within a days journey of ours, my Maſter who till then had advanc'd to meet him, reſted his upon a fair Plain, ſome Furlongs from the City of Daridi, where he reſolv'd to expect his approaches, and prudently lay out his time in the choice of ſome local advantages: That day he received a Letter, or rather a Defiances from Voluſius, in which he proffered him to fight the following day, I think the word were theſe.

Septimus Voluſius, Praetor of the two Mauritania's, and General of the Roman, Armies, to Coriolanus, Son of Juba.

WE have underſtood that in contempt of what thou oweſt to the Roman Name, and the Sacred Authority of Auguſtus Caeſar, thy Emperour and Benefactour, thou art come upon theſe Provinces which thy Father loſt in a juſt War, to raiſe his Subjects, and trouble the repoſe of his people; and though this ingratitude againſt thy Lord and Maſter would be better requited by an ignominious puniſhment, than the glory thou maiſt reap in combating the Roman Army, yet we have not diſdain'd this imployment of our Swords againſt thee, to try if the Roman Education has rendered thee worthy to inherit thy Fathers Deſtiny, whoſe haughty attempt to ſhock our puiſſance, was rewarded by a glorious death from our hands: to morrow, if thou [Page] haſt Courage enough to attend us, we ſhall decide thy pretences by the battel we offer thee, and pay what we owe to the memory of Julius Caeſar, in aſſuring his Conqueſts by thy Defeat; ſtay for us, and by a generous reſiſtance prevent our bluſhes for the victory.

My Maſter having read this defiance of Voluſius aloud, mock'd at his arrogance, and turning towards us with a ſmile full of indignation, ‘He may chance to ſpeak in a milder Accent, ſaid he, before to morrows Sun has ended his Carreir;’ yet he would not ſend back the Meſſenger without an anſwer, and calling for Paper, he made it ſpeak in theſe terms.

Juba Coriolanus King of the two Mauritanias, Enemy to the Roman Empire, and legitimate Heir to his Fathers Crowns, to Septimus Voluſius.

THY proud threats, that have rather provok'd our deriſion, than Anger, could not diſſwade us to vouchſafe thee an anſwer, and though we owe not Juſtication, neither to thee, nor Caeſar thy Emperour, and thy Maſter, but not ours; we declare the deſire of recocovering our lawful heritage, was leſs officious to arm us in this quarrel, than that of delivering our People from the hard ſervitude, wherein thy horrible exactions, and daily repeated Cruelties do hold them: Caeſar has refus'd the Juſtice they demanded againſt thee, and they have found out their natural Prince, who, by the Gods aſſiſtance, and the Juſtice of his Cauſe, does climb the throne of his Predeceſſours, which the Roman Tyranny had injuriouſly uſurped; if my Father fell, his Fortune gave way to the greateſt man that ever was, and thou art too ſhort of his worth, upon whom Heaven beſtowed the Thapſian victory, to menace us with the ſame fate: to morrow (ſince thou wilt have it ſo) ſhall determine a part of our difference, and if thou dareſt ſpare the blood of many thouſands, who will find their Funerals in that Battel, I ſhall not ſcruple (however the diſparity of our Conditions may diſallow it, to decide our quarrel by a perſonal Combat againſt thee) if thou doſt not diſapprove, thou wilt ſignifie thy acceptance of this offer; in the mean time rectifie thy fear, and rather dread the ſhame of thy defeat, than of a victory, which will be hotly diſputed.

This was my Maſters anſwer, who employed the reſt of the day with a marvellous care and knowledge in preparing all things for the Combat, and the next day a little after Sun was riſen, our Scouts bringing intelligence that the Enemy was advanc'd within a few furlongs of our Army, he compos'd it to a fighting poſture, with an admirable method rode bareheaded through all the Squadrons, expoſing the viſage of their Prince to the Souldiers view, which they contemplated with a ſacred veneration, and ſpurring their ſpirits to the Combat with an extraordinary ardour.

There are few men endowed with an eloquence comparable to his, and that day particularly animated by the importance of the action he was to perform, the force of his Rhetorick left an impreſſion of Courage upon the coldeſt hearts; his new dignity had added Majeſty to his aſpect, and though it brought no pride along with it, yet his face ſeem'd to give new leſſons of reſpect to all thoſe that regarded him; to this every thing about him contributed, the mingled beauty of his arms glittering with Gold and Jewels, the ſtately pride of his Horſe, all things fitly ſuited to the advantages of his perſon.

He had almoſt gone through all the ranks, when Voluſius Troops began to appear, at the ſight of which our Army ſent up a loud cry to Heaven, which marvellouſly confirmed my Prince in his hopes of victory, all the Sacrifices promis'd a happy Augury, and at the Enemies approach, there remained no more but the laſt Signal, which was given by my Princes command, who advancing before the reſt, a thouſand times more fierce than Achilles himſelf, often called upon Voluſius with a loud voice, but he was then buſied in the midſt of his Battalians, with the functions of his charge, which he would not abandon, to engage with a young man in a particular Combat: but my Lord, I detain your attention too long, and my Story has inſenſibly lead me to abuſe your patience, by drawing it out at length too tedious; at the laſt ſound of the Trumpet the Armies joyned, and the Battel proved the bloodieſt that had been ſeen in that part of the world within the memory of man; my Maſter putting down the viſour of his Caſque, before he ruſh'd upon the Enemy; Cleopatra, cryed he, if this day my Sword does not purchaſe a pair of Crowns for thy Temples, I will not ſurvive it. This ſaid, he darted [Page] himſelf into the Enemies ranks with a fury, that where-ever he carried his Sword, threw down all before it: after the Combat had laſted an hour, the Army of Voluſius (compos'd either of Romans, or ſuch other as had gotten an equal animoſity from their Example) preſs'd upon ours with ſo much reſolution, as the Courage of the Moors began to ſhrink, and already their Battalians were ſo ſhaken, as my Maſter (who though in the heat of his perſonal gallantry, ſtill kept the Eye of a General upon all that paſs'd) began to dread the loſs of the Battel, that fear brought him back through a throng of his Enemies, which he had cloven with a precipitate fury, and running up to thoſe he ſaw moſt ſtagger'd, he preſented himſelf at the head of them, and galloped along the ranks without a Caeſque, that they might ſee his face, wherein Choler had lighted up it ſelf in a fiery bluſh: My friends, cry'd he, if you judge me unworthy to Command you, let me die by your hands; or if your deſire I ſhould live, do not diſhonour the Royal preſent you have newly given me, by a Cowardiſe unworthy of your ſelves and me too: what, will you quit a victory that our Enemies are now upon the point to abandon? Ah no! my valiant friends, let us either vanquiſh, or die together; there is neither ſafety for you nor me, after the loſs of this Battel; while he brought forth theſe words, his Souldiers thought they had ſeen rays of flames break away from his viſage, and to give their Courages a greater rowze, the Prince perceiving Voluſius in an eager purſuit of the victory which the valour of his men had already ſtarted, ran up to him with a rage ſo impetuous, that as well by the ſhock of his Horſe, as the mighty blow he let fall upon his head, he tumbled him in a Trance at the feet of his men: This action, joyn'd with the words of Coriolanus, gave fire to his Souldiers hearts with a reſolution ſo vigorous, as after they had firmly, for a while kept their ground, and ſuſtain'd the ſhock of their Enemies, they not only arreſted the rapid ſtream of their Fortune, but began to repulſe the forwardeſt, and by little ſo improved their advantage, as at laſt they opened their Ranks, broke their Order, and after a very obſtinate diſpute, inforced them to turn their backs and reſign the Victory: what ſhall I ſay more? the glory of that day remained as entire to my Prince, as his own wiſhes could contrive it, and the Maſſacre of the Enemies was ſo great, as Coriolanus by his orders could ſcarce ſtop the Execution at the end of the day; more than 30000 men loſt their lives upon the place, a few ſaved themſelves by flight, and the reſt, whereof the greateſt part covered with wounds, were taken Priſoners, and with them the General Voluſius: I preſented him my ſelf to my Maſter, having lighted on the fortune to ſave him from the hands of ſome Moors, who had infallibly killed him, if I had not ſeaſonably arrived to his reſcue.

Coriolanus received him with honour, bad him caſheer all his fears, and ſtrive to ſweeten the ſenſe of his diſgrace, with very affable and obliging language; he would needs have a wound, that Voluſius had raked, to be ſearched by the ſame perſons, who had newly performed that office to himſelf, in dreſſing three ſlight hurts he received in the Battel, and maugre the Menace, and words of contempt he ſent him the day before, he cauſed him to be ſerved according to his former Dignity, and forbad all his Servants, to let fall any word within the reach of his ear, that might diſpleaſe him.

After this Victory (for I ſhall not ſtay the current of my Story upon the leſs important particulars that ſucceeded it, as the order of dividing the booty, the Priſoners and interring the dead) my Maſter, ſo ſoon as the cure of his wounds would permit him, having now no more Enemies to Combat, marched with erected looks and expanded Enſigns, to Iol the Capital City of that Kingdom, ranging all the places of ſtrength as he paſſed under his Dominion, without a blow; and having given ſafe Conduct to the reſt of the Roman Garriſons, that were willing to give up the Cities they yet held, and retire to ſome place of ſecurity beyond his Dominions, in leſs than two Months time (thoſe excepted that he held his Priſoners) he had not one ſingle Enemy left in all Africa.

At laſt he arrived at that proud City where the Palace-Royal of his Anceſtors was ſeated, where having received the Oath of the Maſſeſians, the Nigrites, Bannurians, Venuſians, with other people of his Monarchy (that had not yet acknowledged him) by a general aſſembly of States, and an univerſal applauſe of his Subjects, he was ſolemnly crowned King of both the Mauritania's, under the name of Juba; for his People, Enemies to all that he held of Roman, would never endure to call him by that of Coriolanus, though he had ever preſerved it as leſs barbarous than the other, and an appellation, under which he had rendred the greateſt part of his ſervices to Cleopatra: if my relation has dwelt too long upon ſome particulars, perhaps I have made your patience a bad requital in paſſing theſe too ſuccinctly, but I aſſure my ſelf you learned at Rome all that we did of greateſt conſequence.

[Page] When my Maſter ſaw himſelf eſtabliſhed in his monarchy, he applyed his matureſt thoughts to conſider of a means to preſerve it, not doubting but Auguſtus would ſtrive to trouble him in his new Conqueſt, and puiſſantly rekindle the War; loath to be tamely ſurprized, he made grand proviſion of Souldiers, Arms, Ammunition of all ſorts, and cauſed a great number of Ships to be rigged and made ready for a mighty Army by Sea, intending to anticipate his Enemies approaches.

In the mean time Voluſius had ever been treated, and ſerved with as much reſpect as was due to the proper perſon of the King my Maſter, whoſe Authority was neceſſary to defend him againſt the hatred of the Moors, who doubtleſs would have faſtened ſome revenge upon him, to requite the Cruelties he had exerciſed in his Government, if my Maſter had not protected him: ſo ſoon as he had put on the Crown, he grew deſirous to reſtore him his liberty; and, to that purpoſe, cauſing him to be brought into his preſence: ‘I am ſorry, ſaid he, for the diſpleaſure you have received by the lot of War, and if your uſage here has been ſhort of what your quality might challenge, I muſt aſſure you my intentions have been diſhonoured in it; you may return to Rome when you pleaſe, and beſides the liberty I give you, you ſhall have Shipping to tranſport you, with all other requiſites for your voyage; but becauſe in this Action I have no deſign to oblige Auguſtus, who has treated me unworthily, you ſhall addreſs your ſelf to Marcellus, to whom I ſend you; and in requital of theſe Civilities which, for his ſake I confer upon his Country-men, you ſhall demand, if you pleaſe, in my behalf the continuation of his amity.’

Voluſius (whoſe rude deportment had pleaded no title of deſert of this generoſity of Coriolanus) gladly accepted it, and proteſting with a humility far below the haughty pitch of his former Arrogance, that he would employ his whole life to find out fit acknowledgments for the favour he had done him, he received the Shipping, the Convoy, with every thing elſe that neceſſity demanded for the Voyage, and with all the Romans that were Priſoners with him, parted from Iol, and a few days after embarquing at the next Port, took his way to Rome, full of ſhame and confuſion.

The Young King, perceiving himſelf to ſit faſt on his Throne, rewarded the ſervices he had received of his Subjects with a grand munificence, eſpecially thoſe of Hippias and Liſippus, who were raiſed to the talleſt offices in the Kingdom; and if the poſſeſſion of Riches and Honour could have rais'd my felicity, which I ever had bounded within others limits, I had there full cauſe to be ſatisfied with my Fortune: but ſcarce had the people taſted the firſt ſweets of his Government, when he was advertis'd by ſome Veſſels that return'd from ſcouring the Seas, that Auguſtus had ſent out a Fleet againſt him, under the charge of Domitius Aenobarbus, who of all the Roman Captain had the deepeſt experience in Sea Commands: at the allarm of this intelligence (which was ſo far from ſurprizing my Prince, as his expectation was ever prepared to receive it) he ramaſſed his Forces that were yet undisbanded, to which by new levies he had added great numbers, and marching down to Sea ſide, he embarqu'd in perſon with them in veſſels of War that lay there ready to receive them, and with more than 200 Sails went to meet Enobarbus, who was already come within ſight of the African ſhoar; the Enemies Army did equal, if not out number ours, commanded by a great and famous Captain, yet Coriolanus aborded it with as much confidence, as if fate it ſelf had aſſured him the Victory, and without further delay preſented, and gave him battel.

There has not poſſible been ſeen a more furious conflict upon the Sea, the advantages were hotly diſputed on both ſides for a whole day together, but at laſt the inſuperable valour of our Prince forced them to an entire ſtay upon our party; the Enemies Fleet was totally defeated, their Ships part taken, the reſt ſunk and the General Domitius, perceiving deſpair had got the aſcendant, ſaved himſelf by the courteſie of night, which began to hide the world about the end of the Combat, and doubtleſs carried news to Rome, capable to make Auguſtus repent the injuries he had done my Maſter.

After that famous victory, he triumphantly returned to ſhoar, ſuppoſing his Enemies ſo enfeebled by that laſt defeat (the Roman puiſſance ever conſiſting more in Land Forces, than the number of Ships, or experimented Sea-men) as he judged it would coſt them a long recruit, before they could recover a condition, to diſcompoſe the peace of his Dominions.

He was received like a God in all the Cities as he paſſed, and being returned to the Capitol, he ſtaid there a whole Month, which (by advice of the prudenteſt heads about him) he ſpent in rectifying and receiving the Laws of the Kingdom, which the Tyranny of Governourshad oppreſſed with grand diſorders.

But now my diſcourſe has far enough followed the War, and affairs of States; I come [Page] back to Love, which ſtrikes the greateſt ſtroke in my Story, nor could ever my Maſters ſpirit, in the throng of his greateſt employments, obtain licence to lay aſide that Paſſion for a moment: of this I am able to paſs a better account than any other, for to me alone he did the honour to communicate his thoughts of that nature, and of all men living, I was he that leaſt ignor'd them; a hundred times when involved in the greateſt preſſure of Affairs, when the threats of danger ſpoke loudeſt, has he drawn me aſide to talk of Cleopatra, that remembrance has taken the tribute of a hundred ſighs a day from his breaſt, and ſtill in occaſions the moſt important, the Idea of that Princeſs reaſſailing his ſpirit, forced him to betray continued proofs, that love was his Maſter-paſſion. ‘Emilius, would he often ſay, the Gods can atteſt, that I would not ſtruggle ſo eagerly for this Crown, had I not deſigned it an offering to Cleopatra, I am aſhamed ſo long to ſee a Princeſs that merits to wear the Diadem of the world, and a Princeſs who for my ſake refuſes the Son of Livia the greateſt match among the Romans, ſerved by a man that does not poſſeſs one Inch of Land, nor the property of ſo much as one ſingle Manſion to entertain her. Ah! could my adorable Princeſs, added he, mingling ſighs and words, but ſee, through the diſtance that divides us, what tortures her abſence has inflicted, ſure the generous inclinations ſhe has for me, would give her a ſhare in theſe ſufferings, a thouſand times worſe than any Auguſtus intended me, and were I not reſolved to inveſt my ſelf in the condition I promiſed her, to embolden demands, and raiſe me a power of obtaining by her Friends conſent that perfection of felicity, 'tis not the deſire of acquiring Empires, nor the fear of Auguſtus puiſſance, ſhould bar me longer from her preſence. There paſſed not a day wherein he did not diſcourſe with me upon the ſame ſubject, and while the night laſted, in ſpight of other thoughts, that attempted to traverſe thoſe of his Love, that adored Image could never be depoſed from the Throne of his remembrance:’ One of his greateſt perplexities was, that he could learn no news of her Affairs, nor eaſily ſend her an account of his, for the vaſt tract of Sea betwixt them, and the ceſſation of Commerce (becauſe of the War) betwixt Mauritania and Italy; however, not enduring to continue in that condition, nor be longer ignorant how Cleopatra's was ſtated; immediately after his Victory againſt Aenobarbus, he ſent his faithful Servant Strato in a veſſel that he cauſed to be rigged for the purpoſe, and, having inſtructed him in the order he was to obſerve in his addreſſes to the Princeſs and Marcellus, he delivered him Letters for both, which he did me the honour to ſhew me, that to Cleopatra ſpoke thus.

Coriolanus Juba, King of Mauritania, to the Prineſs Cleopatra.

‘I Would ſay that Fortune has been kind, had I power (while divided from you) to taſt any happineſs, and I am able to lay the oblation of a Crown at your feet, without holding it by the right of an Enemies favour; to give it a better tittle to your acceptance, could my wiſhes involve the whole worlds obedience, yet I ſhould prize it much below the value of this glorious ſervitude, which my whole life ſhall prefer to the Throne of the Univerſe. This faithful ſervant I ſend you, will ſee Rome but a few days before me, and I ſhall quickly be at your feet, not to make good my promiſe, whereof the advantages will all reſult to my ſelf, but to ſummon yours, of which, I hope, my Divine Princeſs, you will ſtill prefer the remembrance, as I ſhall guard to my Tomb, the inviolable deſign of ever continuing faithfully yours. That to Marcellus was thus indited.’

Juba Coriolanus King of Mauritania, to Prince Marcellus.

‘I Should ask your pardon, my dear Brother, for prevailing with my ſelf, to hide any thing from you, if your own knowledge did not inſtruct you, that my ſilence ſprung from the care of your ſafety; in giving my deſign to your breaſt, againſt Caeſar's Intereſts, I had either poſed your amity, by exacting too hard a proof, and if you had kept it entire, rendered you faulty to Auguſtus, to whom your reſpects and affections are the children of Juſtice. I will ſay my projections have happily ſucceeded, if, what I have gained by their event, has not loſt me your friendſhip, and if you be not ſo nearly alli'd to your Uncles reſentments, to blot out the memory of a friend, that owes you all, and from whom you may command all things; I ſhall ſuddenly be with you in perſon, to demand thoſe proofs of your affection, and really to proteſt, that the recovery of my right, and the conſervation of my life, are things a thouſands times leſs dear than your amity.’

Coriolanus had written to the Princeſs Octavia, but he feared an unhappy ſurprizal of his letters, might render her ſuſpected to Auguſtus, and only commanded Strato, to deliver [Page] her in his behalf, proteſtations of an immortal fidelity; if he made no uſe of the ſame caution for Marcellus, it was becauſe he knew Caeſar was too well inſtructed in their intimacy to believe all that was paſt had power to cancel it, and that his letter would rather juſtifie than impeach him.

Strato thus diſpatched, my Maſter, as I told you, beſtowed ſome time in the reparation of thoſe things that the wicked Governors had ruined, and in the diſpoſal of theſe cares, diſcloſed a thouſand vertues to his people that made them his Idolaters, and got him the admiration of all that knew it.

I ſhall now trace this ſubject no further, becauſe I am called to a recital of more importance, and after relating the happy events of my Maſters life, 'tis fit my Diſcourſe ſhould ſucceed to thoſe that compoſe his preſent condition.

Inſtead of eaſing the inward anguiſh, which Cleopatra's abſence had inflicted, by the lenitive of time, every day rendered it more ſenſible, and the ſame thing that to perſons leſs wounded would have proved a cure, only ſerved to redouble his malady, which got at laſt to that height, as it chaſed all things from his memory that offered comfort; the deſire of returning, as his promiſe bound him, to Cleopatra, to demand her in marriage of Octavia (as the Princeſs and he reſolved at parting) and conduct her to the poſſeſſion of thoſe Crowns, which he had acquired for her only, made him let fall the care that belonged to the conſervation of an Eſtate, but weakly aſſured from the power of his Enemies; and though thoſe to whom he communicated any part of his deſign, adviſed him not ſo ſoon to abandon a Country, wherein his preſence was very neceſſary, and repreſented the inconveniences that might enſue his departure, he was ſo tormented with the violence of his paſſion, as the preſervation of two ſuch Realms, could not prevail for the reſidence it demanded.

After the reaſons had been bandied enough on both ſides, no longer able to reſiſt the motions that enforced it, he reſolved his departure, and no ſooner reſolved it, but remmitting the Government into the hands of Cleomedes, Ariſtippus, Hippias, and Liſippus, he put himſelf upon the way, diſcovering his intentions to none but thoſe four perſons, in whom he repoſed more confidence than all the reſt; he would take no greater Equipage with him, than ſuited with a private man: and thus with no more but three Ships, we imbarqued at the Promontory of Baree, and by the help of a favourable gale, bent our courſe toward Italy. If in the voyage made the year before, my Maſter condemned the officious haſt of the winds, that poaſted us to the African ſhoar, his impatience now producing reverſed effects, made him chide their ſloath for driving our ſails with too ſoft a breath towards Italy; and in all that vaſt tract of Sea, which divides it from Africa, he ſcarce changed a word with any but my ſelf, with whom he had only power to treat on that ſubject, which had entirely ſeized all his thoughts.

Fortune that had ever favoured him, ſince he quitted Rome, lent him one ſmile more in a propitious wind for his voyage, and after a peaceable Navigation, we were already come within ken of the Italian Coaſt, when we ſpyed a Veſſel making towards us; which, becauſe the winds were leſs ſerviceable to their wiſhes than ours, came up very ſlowly, but at laſt we aborded, and preſently knew her to be the ſame that was aſſigned Strato for the Roman Voyage.

Of this Coriolanus was no ſooner advertiſed, but he mounted the hatches with a haſty impatience to ſee Strato who was indeed in the Ship, and preſently paſſing into ours, came to do his obeiſance to the King our Maſter, Coriolanus greedily demanding the ſucceſs of his Voyage: ‘Sir, ſaid he, it has proved to no purpoſe, and I found not one perſon at Rome to whom your commands directed me; Auguſtus is gone from thence with the intent of a progreſs, as report ſtrows it through all Aſia, and has taken Sicilia in his way, where the general belief ſpeaks him at preſent, all the Court Ladies follow him attending the Empreſs, and it was his will that Octavia and her Daughters with the Princeſs Cleopatra, ſhould go along in the Voyage.’

Coriolanus perceiving his expected ſatisfaction retarded by that impediment, ſtood long in a grand perplexity, and after the waſting ſome moments in a deep meditation, he enquired what was become of Tiberius: ‘Tiberius is in perfect health, replyed Strato, and gone as 'tis ſaid, from Rome with Auguſtus, with as hot a paſſion from the Princeſs Cleopatra as ever;’ that paſſion, added the King of Mauritania, ſhall at laſt coſt him that life, which I unfortunately left him, and ſince it is allotted to affront my happineſs, one of our incompatible threads ſhall quickly poſſeſs the fatal Sciſſures; after this, concluding from Strato's anſwers to divers other queſtions, that Auguſtus muſt ſtill be in Sicily, he commanded the Pilots to turn the Prows of their Ships, and we bent our courſe that way, with all the diligence the wind would let us make uſe of, but my Maſter could not defend his ſoul [Page] from the ſad thoughts that aſſaulted it, ſince his meeting with Strato, and turning his head towards me, as he leaned upon my arm: ‘Emilius, ſaid he, this unlucky beginning inſtructs me to preſage an inauſpicious augury, and my fears will deceive me, if I find that full ſatisfaction in this Voyage I propoſed at the undertaking: Sir, ſaid I, I thought you had held it indifferent, to find Cleopatra either at Rome or Siracuſa, and provided ſhe perſeveres in her firſt intentions, you may find as ſmooth a path to the execution of your deſigns in Sicilia as Italy:’ at this my Maſter ſhaked his head, and ſtood long in the poſture of a man that diſtruſted his fortune; in the mean time, we purſued our courſe without the encounter of any impediment, and becauſe of the neerneſs betwixt Sicilia and Italy, our voyage proved but a little longer than we deſigned it; after we had paſſed the famous Straight of Silla, we landed at the Promontory of Pelorus, there we learned according to our hopes, that Auguſtus was ſtill at Siracuſa, where ſome petty indiſpoſition had detained him longer than his ſtay was deſigned, and that his Shipping lay at the Promontory of Lilibeum, where he intended to reimbarque for the continuation of his Voyage.

We left our Veſſels with all our men at Pelorus, my Maſter reſolving to enter Siracuſa, with no greater attendance than Strato and my ſelf, in a condition the moſt unlikely to betray us: the ſecond days journey brought us thither; but we waited the arrival of night before we entered, and ſecured by the favour of her ſhades, ſought for a private lodging, which at laſt we found with toil enough (though Siracuſa be one of the faireſt Cities of the world) becauſe of thoſe vaſt numbers, whereof the Emperors Court is compoſed.

My Maſter paſſed the night with great inquietude, and knowing the ſame precinct of Walls, incloſed himſelf and the thing he adored, thirſted for an opportunity to ſee her with an impatience that would not ſuffer ſleep to come neer his eye-lids: The next day morning, knowing many perſons at Court were too well acquainted with my face to fit me for a day employment, he ſent Strato to ſeek Marcellus lodging, with an opportunity to ſpeak with him.

In the mean time we ſtaid in ours, which we had taken neer to one of the City Gates, in a very unfrequented quarter: my Maſter not willing to communicate with any, ſhut himſelf up in his Chamber, till Strato's return who brought him intelligence that Marcellus was lately gone from Siracuſa, meeting with none that could inform him of the way he had taken, but that Cleopatra was with Octavia, and the reſt of her family lodged in a quarter of the City that was called the Aoradine.

The abſence of Marcellus galled my Maſter with a very ſenſible diſpleaſure, from whom he expected all ſorts of conſolation and aſſiſtance, and without him knew not how to compaſs the means of ſeeing Cleopatra. ‘You ſee, ſaid he, that my fears for the bad ſucceſs of this voyage, did not want the defenſe of reaſon, nor could my aprehenſion ſhape a greater affliction than is befallen me by Marcellus abſence: Gods! purſued he walking about the room with a countenance that betrayed the marks of the diſcontent, have I thrived by your favour in thoſe occaſions that ſo little imported to my life's repoſe, to be abandoned in that that has the cuſtody of all my happineſs.’

He ſtaid in a longer controverſie of thoughts about contriving the way to gain a ſight of Cleopatra, without lighting upon any that did not threaten too much difficulty; there was not a ſingle perſon in the Court of Auguſtus that was a ſtranger to his face, nor could he ſhew himſelf by day in the City without running the danger of a diſcovery from every eye that encountred him; and conſider, if you pleaſe, what a grand hazard he attempted by truſting himſelf in a City where Caeſar was in perſon, Caeſar, to whom he had given ſo great, and ſo late provocations to purſue him to death, and Caeſar, from whom his reaſon could never allow him to hope any favour, if he once fell into his hands; indeed he had not ſo maturely ballanced that act to clear him of precipitation, and if he precontrived ſome cautions to keep himſelf concealed, they were much leſs intended as antidotes againſt his own death, to the fear of which, I never knew him let fall the leaſt reſpect, than to ſtart occaſions of promoting his amorous deſign.

In the mean time he ſent back Strato to the City, with order to walk before Octavia's Lodging, and ſtrictly obſerve, if the Princeſſes went out, what company was about them, and the way they bent at; in vain had Strato ranged to and fro, all the morning before Octavia's gate, when, after the day was half worn out, Fortune guided his eye to two Chariots that ſtood ready in the Court, and keeping neer the gate with divers others of the City that came on purpoſe to gain a ſight of thoſe perſons, that were to go in them, after half an hours waiting, he ſpyed the Princeſs Cleopatra with her two Siſters, the Daughters of Anthony and Octavia (faces that were all well acquainted with his knowledge) [Page] enter one of the Chariots, without any other company, and three or four of their Maids mount the other, taking not ſo much as a man along with them, only ſome ſlaves that followed the Chariots on foot; they no ſooner turned their backs upon the lodging, but Strato kept at their heels, till they were out of the City, and, inquiring of one of the Slaves, which way the Ladies intended, he learned that of late the Princeſs Cleopatra, went every day out but thinly accompanied, to take the air, that then they had deſigned a walk in a very delightful wood near the famous Fountain of Arethuſa; Strato well ſatisfied with this diſcovery, poſted back to the lodging, and had no ſooner accounted the ſucceſs of his endeavours to my Maſter, but full of tranſport, he haſtily commanded three horſes to be gotten ready; and, followed by Strato and my ſelf, went out of the City, by the ſame gate that was neer our lodging: the ſhortneſs of the way he was to ride in the Streets, made him a probability of paſſing without much danger, and once out of the City, he had the whole breadth of the fields, that ſurrounded the Walls, to ſhun the encounter of any that he ſaw in his paſſage; not that we were out of the ſhot of danger, but his paſſion had enfranchis'd all his fears, and to humour the motive wherewith that inſpired him, he ſlighted every thing that recommended to his care the ſafety of his life. The Fountain of Arethuſa, is ſo publickly known about Siracuſa, as we found it eaſie to get directions of the way from every perſon we met, and in a ſhort time having rounded a part of the City, we put our ſelves upon the track of the Chariots, and followed the great road the Ladies had taken: half an hours hard riding brought us within ſight of the wood, at the entrance of which we found the Chariot, whence the Ladies were allighted to walk among the trees; my Maſter forgot not to thank the Gods for the favour of this encounter, and knowing no reaſon to ſuſpect either the Siſters of Marcellus, or their Maids, he believed he might accoſt Cleopatra with the greater ſecurity, becauſe were alone, and all the Slaves ſtaid with the Chariots by their command; we paſſed a little farther by the woods ſide, till we come up to an advenue that lead our eies to the Princeſſes, who walked together hand in hand, their Maids ſeated upon a green bank, about an hundred paces diſtant: I know not what timorous preſage helped the object to ſtrike a horrour through all my Maſters joints, but he felt agitations in his ſoul that were not ordinary, and imputed them to the height and heat of his affection, that after a whole years abſence could not be temperately reſtored to the ſight of her, that had his heart in cuſtody; and having commanded me to light with himſelf and follow him, he left Strato at the woods ſide with our Horſes, and advanced with haſty ſteps towards the Ladies; when he was approached within 50 paces, the noiſe we made ſtopped their walk, and turned their faces towards us; the Princeſs Cleopatra's habit was mean, her dreſs neglected, and her face very pale, but ſtill as my Maſter leſſened the diſtance betwixt them, a wavering colour often went and came in her cheeks, and when he was come neer, I obſerved her ſtiffened with aſtoniſhment, as if ſhe had been Planetſtruck, my Maſter quickly laid himſelf at her feet, and embracing her knees with an amorous tranſport, his paſſion roſe to ſuch a tide, as it drowned the paſſage of his words not ſo much as ſuffering the eſcape of one ſingle ſyllable, but Cleopatra had no ſooner faſtned her eyes to his viſage, and taken back the aſſurance her ſudden ſuprizal had ſequeſtred, but turning towards her Siſters with an action that expoſed the ſecond part of her amazement: ‘Gods! ſaid ſhe, is this Coriolanus himſelf we ſee before us?’ My Maſter ſaved the Ladies a labour to anſwer her, and raiſing his eyes to fix them upon Cleopatra's face: ‘Yes Madam, ſaid he, 'tis Coriolanus himſelf, and if you have thought his memory worth the preſerving, he is not changed enough to poſe your knowledge.’

At this, the Princeſs diſſipated the aſtoniſhment that appeared at firſt bluſh in her viſage, but it was to plant all the marks of a violent choler in the place, and regarding my Maſter with eyes that over-flowed with rage and indignation, after ſhe had rudely thrown ope his arms, that were tyed about her knees: ‘Baſe man, ſaid he, is it poſſible thou ſhouldeſt bring a face into my preſence, and not fear to find among the many Enemies thou comeſt to ſeek, a death proportion'd to thy treacheries?’

This language ſtruck my Maſter into a deeper amazement, than if a hundred Cart-loads of Thunderbolts had fallen at his feet, and, not able to manage his reſolution in a diſaſter ſo unexpected, a hundred ſeveral changes glided over his face in a moment, which, poſſible confirmed the Princeſs in her angry error: yet preſſing his Courage upon the employment of exploring his misfortune, and unwilling to betray ſo much Innocence, by ſtanding dumb to his accuſation: ‘Is it I, Madam, cryed he, is it I that you impeach of baſeneſs and treachery?’ ‘Yes, 'tis thy ſelf, replyed the Princeſs, but ſince thy unworthineſs has appeared not only to all Rome, but to the whole Empire; beſides, 'tis to the world thou oweſt thy juſtification, and not to me, who does neither deſire, nor will accept it at thy hands; if thou thinkeſt the addition of thy new Dignity can ſet thee at a higher rate than before, [Page] thou ſhouldeſt addreſs thy ſelf to other perſons than thoſe that ſcorn thee as much, now thou art King of Mauritania, as they prized thee before, while they believed Vertue was all thy patrimony: the perſon thou loveſt requites thee with as high a contempt as thy baſe heart has juſtly merited, and if thou wilt take advice from an Enemy that does not ſeek thy death, for expiation of thy Crimes, thou ſhalt flie from this Country, that holds not a perſon that does not hate thee: Go Barbarian, purſu'd ſhe, regarding him with more flame in her Eye than before, go to the Deſarts of thy Africa, mingle with the Monſters ſhe produces, and if any revived relique of that remembrance thou once did'ſt cheriſh for Cleopatra, ſhould prevail with thy belief, there is a reparation due for the offence thou haſt committed; know thou canſt not pay it better, than by an Eternal Divorcement of thy ſelf from her preſence.’

After theſe words, which took away my Maſters ſpeech, his aſſurance, and robbed him of the very uſe of his reaſon, turning her ſelf to one of the Princeſſes; ‘Let us go, Siſter, ſaid ſhe, for Heavens ſake take me away from hence, I can ſtay no longer:’ At theſe words, propping her ſelf on either ſide with her Siſters, ſhe fled from my Maſter, as if he had been a Baſilisk or ſome other Monſter more dangerous; and running as faſt as her legs could carry her toward the Chariots, ſhe left the Prince leaning againſt a tree, without either voice to reply, or force to follow her, in a nearer reſemblance to a marble figure, than a living perſon.

'Tis here Sir, I feel my ſelf too feeble to preſent the grief that ſhot it ſelf through the Soul of my poor Prince, and ſtill my memory prompts me with the lamentable eſtate, whereto I ſaw him then reduc'd; I have a hard task to keep the marks of my affliction, from breaking at liberty, certainly woe did never ſtamp it ſelf before upon any ſpirit with ſo lively an impreſſion, and had but Cleopatra ſtaid long enough to witneſs the effects it produc'd though her anger had borrowed the reſentment and Soul it ſelf of Tiberius, it muſt have relented; the firſt thing he did after his ſenſes were once awake and he had quitted the tree that ſupported him, was to advance ſome paces forwards, as if he had intended to follow her, and crying out with a feeble voice: ‘Stay Cleopatra, ſaid he, and if thou fly'ſt my juſtification, at leaſt look back upon the ſatisfaction I prepare thee, I will not be innocent againſt thy will, it is guilt enough to be the mark of thy indignation.’

At theſe words his eyes mantled themſelves in an Eclipſe of darkneſs, his forces forſook him, and at the next ſtep he attempted to make, he fell upon the graſs without either feeling or knowledge.

I preſently flew to him all diſmay'd, and finding he was in a deep ſwoond, after I had often jogg'd and call'd him in vain, I ran to the Fountain that was not far off, and brought back water, which I threw in his face in abundance; at laſt his faculties return'd to their ſeveral functions, and perceiving himſelf between my arms; ‘Prithee let me alone Emimilius, ſaid he, I would fain die; So you ſhall Sir, ſaid I, if this miſhap that ſpurs you to it, can ſhew you a juſt cauſe to pick a quarrel with your life, but by the Gods aſſiſtance I ſhall not ſuffer it before you can make a clearer conſtruction of your misfortune; and what greater illuſtration can I ask; reply'd he in a languiſhing tone, than I have already receiv'd from Cleopatra's mouth, who in terms that needed no comment, has ſentenc'd my my life, in condemning me to ſee her no more:’ with that he looked about for his Sword, which by a timely precaution I had ſeiz'd before, and the Gods were willing his grief, aſſiſted by the malady that then began to aſſault him, ſhould ſubdue his ſtrength to ſuch an Ebb, and the tender affection I had ever for him, ſo redoubled my mind, as whatever ſtrugling he made, he could neither wreſt mine nor his own from my hands; 'tis true, his unwillingneſs to hurt me, would not let him employ all his puiſſance which I could never have reſiſted, but I would my ſelf into ſuch a poſture, as he would have found it hard to have forc'd my reſolution, unleſs he had killed me: ‘ſince thou wilt not ſuffer me, ſaid he, to fall by my own Sword, thou ſhalt ſee me run otherwiſe to my death, wherein thou canſt not ſtop me.’

At theſe words, whoſe every ſyllable was divided with ſighs, he roll'd himſelf upon the graſs, ſtill pouring forth complaints, capable to have melted the ſavageſt Hearts that ever gave a rocky reſiſtance to pity.

After I had ſuffered him to take a long tiring upon his grief without interruption; ‘Sir, ſaid I, if you humour this obſtinacy, to run ſo eagerly upon your death, for one ſingle proof of Cleopatra's anger, you will ſhew leſs Courage and Vertue, than the meaneſt Woman; had death divorc'd you from the perſon you loved, were ſhe married to Tiberius, or any other whoſe felicity had power to murder all our hopes, deſpair might then be pardoned; but for a ſingle fit of Choler, that may reſolve into the aery nothing that begot [Page] it; for the Caprichio of Spirit, who as it hath ſtrayed from Love to anger, may ſtep back again with the ſame facility from Anger to Affection, or a Malady, whoſe Cure you carry about you, for a Diſeaſe, which riſing from no other womb but Report, and foſter'd with a falſe opinion, will give way to a ſingle juſtification, and flye like a thin miſt before the beams of truth; to throw your ſelf upon Death, is a deſign unworthy of your Courage, unbecoming the luſtre of your Judgement, and diſproportion'd to thoſe great endowments the Gods have given you: I allow Queen Cleopatra, Cato, and the King your Father bravely fled the world, to flye the ſhame that was intended them, but that a petty birth, (either made by Jealouſie or any other motive) in affection, ſhould raſhly procure a ſelf-ſacrifice: Ah Sir! and where ſhould be the Judgement? where the Vertue? where the Reſolution in adverſity? and where the Conſtancy I have ſo often known you preach to others.’

Coriolanus was too great a Maſter of reaſon, not to diſcern ſome in this Diſcourſe, but ſorrow had ſo entirely prepoſſeſs'd his Soul, as reaſon and truth both loſt their influence, and had I not added the intereſt of honour, of which he had ever been more ſenſible than of all things elſe, my endeavours had doubtleſs been too weak to draw him from the precipice of Deſpair; ‘Sir, ſaid I, I know it muſt be ſome treacherous practice againſt your quiet that has rais'd this ſtorm in Cleopatra's breaſt, try to diſ-invalue the truth, which once diſcovered, will either help you to diſabuſe the Princeſs, and wipe out thoſe impreſſions have been given her of you or guide your revenge to thoſe artificial Enemies that plotted this miſchief againſt you. Sir, I aſſume the liberty to tell you, that your honour binds you to allow theſe reaſons, nor can you without ſinning againſt your Courage, reſign to Tiberius (whom I ſuſpect the Author of your diſgrace) a treaſure, which none but his ſubtility can carry from you.’

All that I ſaid to my Maſter, though ill expreſs'd, was yet ſo ſtrongly built upon truth and reaſon, as he could find but little to reſiſt it, and he liſtened ſo eagerly to the propoſal I made him, of ſeeking his revenge upon thoſe that had deſtroyed his repoſe, as at laſt he concluded to prolong his dayes only in homage to that intention; and after he had taken ſome time to ballance this reſolution in his thoughts.

‘Yes Emilius, ſaid he, I will live and but live to no other purpoſe, than to give death to thoſe whoſe perfidie has drop'd ſo many ſtains upon my innocence, yet I feel my grief grown ſtrong enough to poſt me from the world, before it lends me the leiſure to act theſe thoughts, unleſs a timely ſuccour prevents it: O Death! purſu'd he, lifting up his eyes to heaven, as they ſwam in their own tears, if by thy means Cleopatra may be ſatisfi'd, my heart ſhall receive thee with open embraces;’ and thus he went on enlarging his laments, which would never have ended, if, (perceiving the night at hand) I had not conjur'd him to remount his Horſe, and return to the City where I hoped his woes would find a lenitive: as I ſtill preſs'd him more eagerly to retire, by chance. I touch'd his arm, and found by the high diſtemper of heat, that a violent Feaver had ſeized him; this fomented a fear of his life that encreas'd my importunity, which at laſt prevailed ſo far, as he grew contented to quit that unlucky place, where he had received ſo bloody a diſpleaſure, to go learn the cauſe of his misfortune at Syracuſa, and find out Tiberius, whom we both ſuſpected guilty of laying the train: earneſtly inferring theſe hopes, I got him on horſe-back, and at laſt drew him to the City, which we entered without any precaution, becauſe the night had already ſhed her ſhades upon the earth: we had ſome trouble to find our lodging, becauſe the City was ſo every where peſtered and ſtuffed with perpetual throngs of people, we were no ſooner gotten thither, but perceiving my Princes malady encreaſe, I quickly got him to bed; he would not be perſwaded to take any thing, nor did I much preſs it, becauſe his Feaver was grown very violent, but the next day it raged to that height, as I really feared his life, and within three more it was almoſt deſpair'd by all thoſe that undertook him.

I had no eaſie Province to combat his averſion to remedies, but the deſire of ſurviving the revenge he intended, upon thoſe that had ruined him in Cleopatra's breaſt, which ſtill by perpetual urgings I remembred to imprint in his memory, contributed more to his cure than all other conſiderations; but, to exaſperate his anguiſh, the third day after he fell ſick the Emperor parted from Syracuſa, followed by the whole Court with the Princeſs Cleopatra, however I inſinuated ſome Comfort; by repreſenting, that he needed not deſire to be neer his Enemies, ſo long as his malady tyed his hands, that when the return of his health had once unbound them, it would not be hard to find them out, and follow the motives wherewith his juſt reſentments inſpired him.

The fourth day his diſeaſe roſe to the height, that he ſcarce ſpoke any more by the rule of reaſon, and was ordinarily in a high frenſie, yet in the greateſt fury of his fits, he had [Page] ever the name of Cleopatra, in his mouth, often thoſe of Tiberius and Auguſtus, but I had the hardeſt task in the world to ſeduce the attention of thoſe that ſerved him, for fear his wild diſcourſe ſhould betray us: when his ſenſes returned, and he knew there was none to over-hear him, he would break into loud complaints againſt Cleopatra's ingratitude; and, ſometimes figuring to himſelf, that the harſh uſage ſhe had given him, was the child of chance, and ſprung from no other womb than the levity of her Spirit, coloured with a pretext of imaginary offences, referred to which, his ſtricteſt examination could not find a ſpot in his Innocence, he fell into a grief that diſclaimed all comfort, and held a Diſcourſe with himſelf in the moſt paſſionate manner that ever was brought forth by the greateſt pangs of afflictions; but within one moment relapſing into his frenſie: Ah! behold Tiberius, cryed he, ſtay the Traitor, then addreſſing his language to Cleopatra, he brought forth a broken Diſcourſe without any order or method, yet mingled ſuch things in the wild compoſure, as might have given dangerous hints to the ſtanders by, had they lent attention.

When I ſaw his malady was like to grow tedious, by his Command I diſpatched Strato to Pelorus, to ſend back all the perſons that followed us in two of the Ships to Mauritania, leaving none in the third but ſuch as were neceſſary to conduct us.

The 15th day my Maſter had a favourable Criſis, from which the Phyſitians concluded the danger over-blown, and a few days after the Feaver left him, but he was ſtill ſo weak, as it was long before he could uſe his legs, and it coſt him ſix weeks time before he recovered a condition to quit his chamber; about that time demanding news of thoſe that ſerved us, we were told that fame talked of nothing elſe in Syracuſa but the Mauritanian War, that the Emperor (reſolved to pay back the affront he received in the loſs of that Realm) had not only ſent 100000 men, under command of Domitius Aenobarbus and Strato to reinvade it, but had armed all the African Countries in his quarrel under the Roman Dominion, and denounced the threat of War, in caſe they refuſed to march againſt the King of Mauritania, who in all appearance, not able to reſiſt ſo great a power, would quickly be trampled under foot.

Coriolanus rouz'd at this report with a pique of honour (for he could not bow to any other Intereſt) was ſorry Mauritania wanted his preſence in a condition to defend it, and I think the deſire to arm his againſt thoſe Enemies, that went to diſturb the Kingdom, advanced his recovery.

In effect he made ſuch haſt to be well, as in a few days he was able to ride, and diſpos'd himſelf to quit Syracuſa, when by a ſucceſſion of frowns, which as well as favours, took their ſhare in his fortune; Lucius Varus Governour of Sicilia, friend and neer Kinſman to Tiberius, having learned, by I know not what means, that my Maſter was in Siracuſa, and the houſe where he lodg'd, came with a great guard into his Chamber, and took him Priſoner in his bed for Caeſar's Intereſts.

This accident marvellouſly ſurpriz'd me, but my Maſter ſhewed not the leaſt aſtoniſhment, and regarding Varus (whom he had often ſeen at Rome, and known of Tiberius party) without Emotion: ‘Thou haſt done good ſervice for thy friend Tiberius, ſaid he, who, while I had liberty, could never have worn his life ſecurely, but now Varus thou haſt given it him entire, thou ſhalt do me a leſs injury by taking mine, than letting me live without a power to aſſiſt my Country. It is not the Intereſt of Tiberius, replyed Varus, but thoſe of Caeſar your declared Enemy, and the obligations due from my charge, that makes me ſeize your liberty.’

This ſaid, he led us to a ſtrong houſe in the City, where he ſet a ſtrict guard upon my Maſter: at the beginning, animoſity had the upper hand in that action, but he had not long frequented my Prince, whom he often viſited, before his vertues had ſubdu'd him to a kind of repentance, and ſlackened his intended haſt of giving Auguſtus an account of his ſurprizal, for fear he ſhould pronounce ſome cruel arreſt againſt him, and poſſible he could have been contented to return him his liberty, if the danger of Caeſars anger, and his own life had not diſſwaded it. However he caus'd him to be ſerved with all the reſpect his condition demanded, yet held him Priſoner three whole months, which, by the help of a greater affliction he ſupported ſo ſweetly, as all the time his Captivity laſted, he was never heard to complain of any thing elſe but Cleopatra's unkindneſs.

His reſtraint would have been longer, and doubtleſs more dangerous, if Claudius Varus Son to Lucius, a vertuous young man, that had ſerved under Coriolanus in Aſturia, and been obliged by many noble offices to his generoſity, had not returned to Syracuſa, leaving Auguſtus in Macedonia, who is ſince paſs'd into Aſia, on purpoſe to come back to us upon the invitation of a deſign.

His father aw'd by the requiſites of his charge, and the fear of puniſhment, if he longer [Page] deferred it, was at laſt conſtrained to inform Caeſar by a Meſſenger, that Coriolanus was taken; he that carried this intelligence, addreſs'd himſelf firſt to his Maſters Son to preſent him to Caeſar, but young Claudius had no ſooner learned the cauſe that conducted him thither, but calling to mind what a deep ſcore he was in to Coriolanus nobleneſs, and preſerving a marvellous eſteem of his vertues, reſolved to put by the danger that was levelled at his life, and could not have miſſed it, if once the notice of his ſurprizal had arrived at Auguſtus ear; upon theſe reflections he undertook to deliver the Meſſage himſelf, and the next day telling him that brought it, that Caeſar, already advertis'd what his buſineſs imported, had commanded him back to Sicily, with private inſtructions to his Father, he diſmiſſed him without the ſpeech of the Emperor, and preſently put himſelf upon the way to Syracuſa, where he rendered himſelf with a winged expedition; and quickly informed his Father he was ſent by Caeſar, to deliver him his imperial thanks for the affection he had witneſſed to his ſervice, with a charge to keep the Priſoner as before, till he received a new order for his diſpoſal: In all his open diſcourſes, he expreſſed but a little deſire to ſee my Maſter, and the better to diſguiſe his intentions, he hid all the high thoughts he had for him within the mask of a perſonated ſeverity againſt him: but a few days after, when we leaſt dreamed of any ſuch aſſiſtance, we ſaw him about midnight, or later, enter my Maſters Chamber.

Coriolanus preſently knew him, and raiſing himſelf up in his bed, to demand the cauſe of his coming at ſuch an hour: ‘Sir, ſaid be, I owe too much to that generous treatment I once received at your hands, and know too well what your vertues may challenge, to ſuffer your longer ſtay where danger threatens ſo loudly; riſe Sir, if you pleaſe, and follow me out from hence, I ſhall preſently ſecure you your liberty, and put you in a condition to turn your back upon Sicilia.’

My Maſter too well acquainted with the vertuous inclinations of that young man to diſtruſt him, preſently calling to Strato for his cloaths; ‘I am too unfortunate, ſaid he, imbracing his Preſerver, to hope a power of weighing my requital in an equal ballance againſt this noble office, but if the Gods lend me the uſe of my life, it ſhall ever dwell with my memory, that I hold it of your goodneſs, and will ever be ready to pay it back upon your Intereſt. The glory that ſprings from the act it ſelf, replyed young Varus, does over-pay the poor ſervice I have done you; but Sir, if you pleaſe, make haſt from hence, leſt too long a delay ſhould forfeit the occaſion:’ This ſaid, he commanded a ſlave to bring him his Arms, which, becauſe of their beauty he had taken care to preſerve, and leading us down by a little pair of Stairs into a Cave, we roſe again in the Street, at a breach made in the corner of a Wall, where we found four horſes ready to receive us (three of which were the ſame that belonged to my Maſter, and a faithful ſervant of his that had been inſtrumental to the contrivance of our liberty) which was to conduct us to the Promontory of Pachinus, where there lay a Ship ready rigged to carry us away; I ſhall forbear the repitition of my Maſters acknowledgments to Varus, which fell far ſhort of what what they would have been in another ſeaſon, when a greater eſtimation of his life might have ſet a higher price upon the benefit; but as well as his ſorrows would give him leave, he teſtified his reſentments of the generous act, and, by Varus importunity, getting on Horſe-back, upon the pawn of his word for the mans fidelity, remitting himſelf to his conduct, we quitted Siracuſa, and rode all night at a great rate towards Pachinus, where we arrived betimes the next day, and found the Ship ready to receive us: after my Maſter had rewarded the faithful guide with the gift of ſome Jewels, we preſently went aboard, and ſpread our Sails for Mauritania. Two days had we followed that courſe, but the third, meeting ſome Veſſels, known by thoſe that conducted ours for Sicilian Merchants that traſſiqued into Africa, my Maſter deſirous to know what report ſpoke of the Mauritanian War, ſtaid to ask ſome queſtions; but we no ſooner opened our mouths upon that ſubject, when the men, very forward to unlade their news; Mauritania, ſaid they is reduced under the Roman Dominion, thoſe which the King of that Country left to command in his place, have been defeated in three battels, and all the Cities frighted by this ſucceſs into their old obedience, have open'd their gates, and implored the clemency of Auguſtus. This news was confirmed the ſame day by divers other Ships we encountered, that paſſed us a more particular account; we underſtood that Hippias had been killed in a battel Liſippus taken Priſoner and carried to Rome, that the Inhabitants of the firſt Towns they ſtormed, had been all put to the Sword without diſtinction of Age or Sex, and that this politick rigour, joyn'd with the dreadful puiſſance Auguſtus had ſent to invade their Country, ſo intremidated all the reſt, as they intirely ſubmitted to what ever conditions the Conqueror was pleaſed to impoſe, that all the parts upon the Coaſt of Africk were ſeized and guarded ſo ſtrictly by the Romans, as it was impoſſible for any veſſel to put in without paſſing their [Page] examen: and in fine, we clearly and diſtinctly underſtood, that Coriolanus was a King without a Kingdom, and of all that noble conqueſt, which had coſt ſuch ſeas of blood (by a diſmal viciſſitude of Fortune) there remained no more than the naked glory of thoſe actions by which he effected it.

One thing Sir I muſt tell you, that may claim your wonder; my Maſter whoſe important loſs might well have juſtified a grand regret, let fall ſo little regard of Fortunes malice, as his face ſcarce acknowledg'd a mark of a new diſpleaſure; and indeed his thoughts were ſo ingroſs'd with the ſenſe of Cleopatra's inconſtancy, as whatever power it might have exerciz'd upon any other Spirit her Soul had no room for the later misfortune.

After he had ſtood ſome time without expreſſing his thoughts by any of his actions: Cleopatra, ſaid he, for thy ſake I only recovered a Crown, but ſince it is fallen beneath thy ſcorn, and with it, him that prided himſelf with a hope to place it upon thy head, the Gods all know I have loſt it without the allowance of a ſigh, and after the ruine of thoſe hopes that related to thee, there is not another miſchief in Fortunes power, can ſink deep enough into my breſt to find a feeling. At theſe words, he caus'd the ſhip to be ſtaid, and commanded thoſe that ſtood at the Helm, to change their courſe for Alexandria (where by report of thoſe that told us the Mauritanian ſtory, Auguſtus was ſhortly to be in perſon, and had already been expected by ſome that waited his arrival, to treat with him upon the affairs of Aſia) he reſolv'd either to periſh or kill Tiberius, whom ſuſpition could only accuſe for the late misfortune, to this he eaſily brought the Merchants conſent at the price of ſome preſents that he made them. And ſince it is now time to put a cloſe to this tedious ſtory, I ſhall only tell you, that after a happy Navigation, we landed ſafely upon this Coaſt, where our ſtay had been three days old, when we firſt encounter'd you; ſo ſoon as we were ſet aſhoar, he gave leave to the Merchants that had propriety in the ſhip to put off again to Sea, and go whither they pleaſed, never troubling his thoughts with the care of his own return, and reſerving no greater Equipage about him than Strato, my ſelf, and our Horſes: we enter'd very late and unknown into Alexandria, where we learn'd the Emperor's arrival was really expected within a few days, and that the Governour was preparing to give him a magnificent reception, but my Maſter impatient of knowing further, ſent his faithful Strato to find out Auguſtus, with order to inform himſelf, if Tiberius was at Court, and whether common diſcourſe made any mention of his Marriage with Cleopatra.

The expectation of this intelligence, which Strato was to bring us to a houſe where we lodg'd not far hence, has detained my Maſter here; who, but for that reaſon, would have made no ſtop till he had found out a fit place to be the ſcene of his tragick deſign; in the mean time not able to endure the Society of men, he daily went out to breath his woes in the ſolitarieſt walks he could light on, and ſuch a melancholly employment as this, guided him to the place you had choſen, where encountering the valiant ſtranger, you know what oblig'd him to draw his Sword.

See Sir the faithful relation you deſir'd of my Maſters life, for the vaſt extention of which, all his adventures are my advocates to plead your pardon; and now Sir, you have that confirm'd which I told you at the beginning of my ſtory, of Fortunes malitious obſtinacy in the perſecution of vertuous perſons.

‘'Tis true, ſaid the Prince Tyridates, interrupting Emilius, the world cannot boaſt a perſon that has given a fairer evidence of vertue, and grandeur of Courage, than the Prince your Maſters, and had Fortune been impartial to his deſerts,’ it would not only have reaſcended the throne of his Anceſtors, but mounted that of the whole univerſe; Thus he went on, enlarging the Character of Coriolanus merit with a greater variety of praiſes which when he had ended, no longer able to ſtay from his ſight, and perceiving the night approach, he went from his Chamber with Emilius to go viſit a gueſt of that importance; but now let us leave them a little in this Eſtate, to return to the fair Queen of Aethiopia, whom we left in the power of the Pirate Zenodorus.

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA: OR, Love's Maſter-Piece. PART III.

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LIB. I.

ARGUMENT.

The Pyrate Zenodorus, carries his fair Priſoner, with a foul purpoſe, into an adjacent Wood, the perpetration of his Luſt is prevented, and his life taken by the Sword of Cornelius Gallus, whom his ſports had invited thither, and the Queens crys directed to her reſcue. He receives ſome concealed wounds, from the firſt beams of her beauty, invites her to Alexandria, where ſhe meets with the Princeſs Eliſa, daughter to Phraates, the reſemblance of their birth, faces, and fortunes contracts an entire amity betwixt them. Candace diſcourſes to her the ſtory of her life. Caeſario ſurprizes the diſcovery of her affection, by an ambuſh in the Garden. Tirybaſus boldly diſcloſes his love to the young Princeſs, is ſcornfully repulſed, and ſeemingly gives it over. He commands the Kings Army againſt the Nubian Rebels, beats them twice, and the third time is overthrown. He falls ſick, and is call'd home by the King, who attended by Caeſario, goes in perſon to that War. The young Princes gallantry and diſcretion wins the love and admiration of all the Army. The King is mortally wounded in a battel, bequeaths Candace and his Crown to Caeſario, who after the Kings death, takes the command of the Army, deeply vows a revenge of his blood upon the Rebels, makes his Oath good in five ſignal victories, and at laſt compleats it by the death of Evander, the Enemies General whom he bravely kills in a ſingle Duel.

THe Pyrate Zenodorus, charged with his rich prey, flew from the place where he had left his men ingag'd in combat againſt the Princes, with all the ſpeed he could ſpur his horſe to. The fair Queen of Aethiopia, amaz'd with her misfortune, and almoſt intranced with the grief of her ſudden ſurprizal, was, at firſt, too feeble to retard his Carreir, nor had her Spirits recovered their uſual vigor, when the Barbarian arrived at that part of the coaſt, where he had left his veſſels riding, but when his Eyes miſs'd them there, his aſtoniſhment was matchleſs, and enlarging their Commiſſion, he perceived them afar, making off to Sea, with all advantage the wind could lend them; the ſight of this, rent ſome ſighs from the Pirates breſt, and ſuſpecting his Lieutenants infidelity, he vomited his firſt reſentments, filled with menaces and imprecations againſt heaven, yet he did not ſo abandon the care of his proper ſafety, but he reſerved ſtill judgment enough to weigh the danger, whereto his ſtay in that place was like to expoſe him, not doubting but his enemies, (whom he left in a condition to obtain a ſpeedy victory) would follow him thither, ſo ſoon as their Swords were at leiſure: not knowing what way to make choice of, nor how to preſerve his precious booty, he was ballancing his angry thoughts, how to frame a reſolution, when the fair Queen [Page] began to awake from her firſt aſtoniſhment, and her Spirits returning by degrees, to their proper imployment, ſhe fell a ſtrugling for liberty with more vigour, than ſhe had yet been able to uſe; and raiſing her hands to bid battel to his face, by the new difficulty of that ſmart War, ſhe haſtily determined his reſolution (which was little older than the firſt propoſal) to take the ſhelter of an adjacent Wood: then, in ſpite of her reſiſtance re-inforcing his hold, and turning his Horſes head to the Wood, he ſpurred him thither to the height of his ſpeed: his companion, whom Clitie (deſpiſing her ſafety ſince it only offered it ſelf upon terms of deſerting her Miſtreſs) had ſuffered to carry her away with leſs trouble, followed him ſo faſt at the heels, as, in a ſhort time, they had penetrated a great part of the Wood; but it was then no longer poſſible for Zenodorus, to command Candace's forces, and tearing his viſage with her nails, ſhe ſtrugled ſo powerfully with the Pirate, as not able to keep his hold any longer, he was forced to let her ſlide at her length, upon the graſs, and as ſhe fell, her garments giving a little way to the rudeneſs of the action, ſhe diſcovered the beauty of a Leg, that kindled freſh deſires in the Barbarians breſt, this made him haſtily throw himſelf from his Horſe, while the fair Queen aſhamed of the laſt accident, nimbly ſtarted upon her feet, and ran with all the force and ſpeed ſhe could borrow of her fears, towards a part of the Wood that was thinneſt, by her loud cries inviting the pity of Gods and Men to her ſuccour.

Clitie, perceiving ſhe had forc'd her liberty, fidelity and deſire to follow her Lady, drew up all her ſtrength to recover her own, and, being detain'd by a man, more weak and leſs intereſſed than Zenodorus, ſhe found it not hard to break the priſon of his Arms, and throwing her ſelf upon the Earth, ſhe ſwiftly purſued the ſteps of her Miſtriſs with all the ſpeed that loyalty could lend her.

Zenodorus was ſoon upon his feet, and though fear and deſire to eſcape the raviſhes, beſtowed their wings upon the Princeſſes heels, ſhe found them both too weak to maintain the ground ſhe had gotten: her purſuer had recovered the ſpace betwixt them, and already ſtretched out his Arm, to ſeize her garments behind, when ſhe firſt heard the noiſe of divers Horſes, and preſently after ſaw eight or ten Cavaliers coming up upon the ſpur, whom the Chaſe had led into that Wood, and the Queens cries conducted thither to her reſcue.

He that appear'd, and really was Maſter to the reſt, pauſing a while upon the object, and placing his eye upon the Pyrats action, ran to him with his Sword in his hand, and flew upon him with a brave anger; the Barbarian grew pale at the ſight and cry of his Enemy, and almoſt at the ſame time felt himſelf pierc'd through with his Sword, and thrown to the ground with the ſhock of his Horſe: his companion preſently turned his back upon the danger, and fled it with the ſpeed of a villains fear to be overtaken, and the fair Queen in one auſpicious moment, ſaw her ſelf, and Servant at liberty: yet her ſtriving to out-run the Raviſher, and the rude toyl ſhe ſuffered in getting looſe from his loathed embraces, had wrought her to ſo much wearineſs, as her forces fail'd juſt at the arrival of reſcue, and ſhe no ſooner ſaw her Enemy fall, but her weakneſs reduced her (a few paces from him) to make choice of the ſame poſture, whither Clitie preſently came to repoſe her ſelf at her Ladies feet.

The principal of her preſervers, whoſe face ſpake well in his behalf, and expoſed the Index of an eminent dignity, no ſooner beheld her in that condition, but he and part of his men left their horſes, and advancing towards her, his eyes accepted the invitation of her face, where he found employment for a delightful contemplation; but he had not gazed many moments before he paid the homage of aſtoniſhment and wonder to that admirable beauty; at firſt his amazement could command no better expreſſion than his ſilence, with a look that ſpoke it ſelf over the ſhoulder to his companions, but a deſire to untie the hands of his reaſon, on purpoſe to ſtudie the object better, diſſipating his firſt ſurprizal, he approached the Queen, and ſaluting her with an action full of civility: I know not your quality, ſaid he, that have forced the admiration of perſons, who thought themſelves able to ſee the faireſt things in the world without aſtoniſhment, but whoever you are, I am ſo ſenſible of the firſt encounter, and to ſee you yet in an eſtate, ſo little conformed to the judgement I have paſſed upon your perſon and condition, as if it were not in my power to offer you comfort, I would learn to think my ſelf very unfortunate.

At this diſcourſe, the fair Princeſs raiſed her eye to the viſage of him that made it, and finding ſomething there that might claim the reſpect due to an uncommon perſon, ſhe beheld him with a regard that began her acknowledgement for his protection, this double conſideration ſo far abridged her weakneſs of its due, as to raiſe her ſelf half from the earth; ‘Whatever I am,’ (replyed ſhe in the ſame language he ſpake, wherein ſhe was perfectly skilled) you ſee an unfortunate perſon that owes you her life, and poſſible, ſomething elſe more [Page] pretious; what you have done in my defence, has fairly charectered your generoſity, but there is yet ſomething more to do, that will add new graces to its beauty, and invite it to a brave employment, in carrying ſuccour to ſome perſons, whoſe worth will deſerve your aſſiſtance, which, not far from hence were baſely aſſaulted by a great number of his fellow villains, whom your Sword ſo lately puniſhed.

The Queens diſcourſe was delivered with charms too invincible to fail in the deſign that framed it, nor was the perſon that received it leſs obliged by them, than the duties of his charge to grant her deſires: but he had already ſo faſt'ned his heart to thoſe delicacies he found about her, as her face diſputed againſt her tongue, and rendered her entreaty incapable to divide him ſo ſoon from her preſence, only turning towards his followers, which by the addition of freſh commers in, were already ſwelled to the number of twenty, he commanded the better part to take the Queens inſtructions, where to find and help her diſtreſſed friends, and, keepin the reſt about his perſon. He preſented a couple of Horſes to her ſelf and Clytie, with a well-framed intreaty, to accept a more befitting and ſafer retreat, than any Aegypt could elſe afford; but, perceiving by her face, that her thoughts agreed not in their votes, to that propoſition; To clear all your ſcruples ſaid he, of receiving my ſervices, I am obliged to let you know, that I am Cornelius Gallus Praetor of Aegyt, and by Caeſar's commiſſion, abſolute Maſter of this Province, from me you are, and ought to hope all ſorts of comforts; nor can your wiſeſt fears make choiſe of more ſecurity againſt your Enemies, or the menaces of any other danger, than my Alexandria does promiſe; the City is not many furlongs hence, and, if you will give your patience the injury to wait it, I will ſend for a Chariot to conduct you thither.

The Queens inclinations intirely bent her to that place, where ſhe might examine her Caeſario's danger which yet ſhe could not reſolve to act, without too blunt a rejection of the Praetor's civilities, and the tie of ſo great an obligation, linked with the awe of his authority, ſhewed her too much reaſon in her fears to refuſe his proffer; beſides ſhe then found her ſelf no longer Miſtreſs of her own actions, nor could Cornelius be accounted a friend to his honour, by his permiſſion to humour her own deſires, in going unguarded from a danger, from which he ſo lately defended her; by the advice of theſe thoughts after ſhe had turned a glance upon Clitie, that ſignified ſhe was not yet at liberty to own her intentions, ſhe told Cornelius, that the confidence ſhe repoſed in his vertue, and the remembrance of ſo freſh an engagement, had left no ſcruple to oppoſe her conſent of encreaſing his train to Alexandria, and their accepting the retreat (for a few days) he had ſo nobly offered her; ſhe refuſed to ſtay the Chariots coming Cornelius would have ſent for, and ſuffering her ſelf to be ſet upon a Horſe, was preſented with two men to ſuſtain her on each ſide, ſhe accompanied the Troop to Alexandria, where within a quarter of an hour they arrived.

At the entrance of that proud City, Candace felt her heart grow tender at thoſe viſible hints of her Caeſario's Intereſt, but that remembrance ſtuck it ſelf there with a deep ſenſe, when ſhe ſaw her ſelf in the Palace where he was born, and had been nouriſhed.

Cornelius (who had already learn'd from his new-born paſſion, the requiſites of an extraordinary reſpect to the Lady) conducted her to a rich and pompous lodging, where the great Queen Cleopatra had paſſed a part of her days, and by fortunes contrivance, the very ſame, where ſhe had diſcloſed to the world that Son of Caeſar; her attention, to the recital was made her of that Tragedy; was mingled with a bundance of ſighs, and awaked in her ſoul a remembrance full of pity and veneration, for the Fortune of ſo great a Queen.

Cornelius was ready to leave her to her private repoſe, when he ſaw a part of thoſe enter, that by Candace's intreaty he had ſent to the Princes relief, who being demanded how they had thriven in their late employment, it was replyed, they had laid out their pains in vain, for being arrived at the place, whereto they were guided by the Ladies directions, they had only there found the marks of a great and bloudy Combat, the Earth covered with bloud, and fifteen or twenty men lay ſtretched upon the ground, among which, their endeavour to learn the truth, had found two ſtill living, who related the event of the combat, and confeſt themſelves, and all thoſe that lay dead about them, to be Souldiers belonging to the Pirate Zenodorus, that they had been brought into that condition by the invincible valour of four perſons, and that after their defeat, the Victors were gone thence upon the ſpur (as they conceived) in purſuit of a Lady, whom their Captain had carried away.

From this Diſcourſe Candace took abundance of comfort, or at leaſt her heart was eaſed of much diſquiet, by this aſſurance that her dear Caeſar was eſcaped the danger, and upon this pleaſing ſubject, her thoughts began to grow buſie, when Cornelius (unwilling to debar her that liberty) took his leave, and left her alone with Clitie in chamber.

[Page] From that day he took order ſhe ſhould be ſerved as a perſon, whoſe quality he ſuſpected, did much overtop her preſent garb and appearance, and, though he was deſirous to learn the truth, he was not willing to betray an impatient curioſity, till time ſhould offer an occaſion to do it with a more becoming pretence; but if Cornelius had a deſire to know, the Queen had as great a deſign to conceal her quality, and to that end inſtructed Clitie for her future demeanour. This caution involved no ingratitude for the ſervice Cornelius had rendered her, though ſhe could do no leſs than regard him as a perſon that uſurped the right of her dear Caeſario, and a Lieutenant to the cruel Enemy that had paſſed ſuch a bloody ſentence on his life: beſides, ſhe had diſcovered in his face and language, ſome ſigns of a budding affection, and that ſole conſideration quickly grew fruitful enough to be the Mother of thoſe twins, Diſtruſt and Secreſie. Nor was her ſuſpicion groundleſs, and that Man, who, poſſible had paſt the preceding part of his life, without feeling that the Boy had a bow, had received ſo powerful an inclination, from the firſt Rays of Candace's beauty to ſerve her, and that ſo ſenſibly augmented, by the inchanting ſweetneſs of her garb and language, as in a few days time it became ſtrong enough to leave nothing free in the ſoul of Cornelius, his firſt nights reſt was interrupted by the agreeable Idea of his fair gueſt, and almoſt wholly conſumed in the entertainment of ſuch love-ſick thoughts, and amorous muſings, as had yet been ſtrangers to his breaſt.

At firſt he made ſome attempts to defend himſelf (already taking fears from the firſt inquietudes he had ſuffered, from this incroaching malady) but in the ſequel, all their arguments ſtruck ſail to the pleaſing flatteries of ſuch hopes, as a man ſo conſiderable in perſon and quality, might properly conceive. If this Lady, ſaid he, be of an illuſtrious birth, as there is much about her to ſettle that opinion, which takes another proof from ſo many accidents and effects of Fortune, who (as we daily ſee) makes it her ſport to toſs ſuch Tennis balls, I may ſafely raiſe and own my pretences to her lawful poſſeſſion, without offending my honour: but if her veins hold no bloud that will deſerve my alliance, I will try to find another way to ſatiate my deſires; in the mean time, I ſhall leave no ſtone unrolled (by the ſafe and gentle ways of ſervice) that may win me her affections, and ſince the Gods have put her into my hands, by an adventure ſo uncommon, I will try to improve that advantage, nor ſhall any conſideration perſwade me to reſign her liberty.

This was the Praetors reſolution, whereof the Queens ignorance defended her from a ſad reſentment. In the mean time, that tedious night became a witneſs of her reſtleſs apprehenſions; and the Image of her dear Caeſario, who wounded (as her thoughts had figured him, and ranging on all ſides in queſt of her) ſtill returning to her timerous fancy, ſcarce left her one hour of ſleep that was not broken by thoſe inquietudes.

The next day ſhe was viſited by Cornelius, who endeavoured to divertiſe, by ſhewing her all the beauties of the Palace, and ſtraining his fancy to find out divers other inventions, that might offer her delight, but all had little power to diſpoſſeſs or deceive the deep melancholly that oppreſſed her ſpirit, and though by a diſcreet complaiſance, ſhe paid him her regards with a viſage ſerene enough, yet it might be eaſily obſerved, ſhe could not repulſe thoſe cruel agitations, that her heart ſent thither.

Every ſingle action of hers blew up new flames in the Praetor's breſt, but whatever violence he felt they inflicted, was all cloſe Priſoner to Candace's Majeſty, which imprinted a reſpect that impoſed his ſilence, and left him no power to ſet any of thoſe thoughts at liberty.

After he had paſſed a part of the day in her company, he was called away by ſome preſſing affairs that demanded the reſt, which the Princeſs ſpent onely with Clitie, upon the ordinary task her melancholly impoſed, ſhe thought it required of her affection and civility, to ſend ſome body to Tyridates houſe, as well to learn (if poſſible) what became of Caeſario, as receive the knowledge of that Princes condition, and render him an account of her own, to whom ſhe remembred her ſelf ſo deeply obliged; but, this reſolved, ſhe wanted a perſon proper for that imployment; and though ſhe did not doubt but Cornelius would readily furniſh her, ſhe thought there was more circumſpection due to the fear of diſcovering that, by an imprudent confidence, which both her deſire and diſcretion devoted to ſilence.

It was then the ſeaſon of the year, when the Sun over-warmed that Climate, with a prodigality of beams, and that Evening (the night being well advanced before ſleep could faſten any charm upon Candace's eyes) to take a cool refreſhment, by taſting the Evenings dewy breath, ſhe went to walk upon a Teraſſe neer her Chamber, where ſhe had already taken ſome turns before the nights arrival. This was a large open gallery, ſupported by Marble Pillars, whence the unreſtrained eye might freely gather a pleaſing variety of objects, [Page] both from the Sea, and all the adjacent places to Alexandria, her Chamber was not the onely neighbour to this Teraſſe, but (being of the ſame length with that ſide of the Palace) it ran all along by divers other Lodings near to hers; to this place, the fair Queen, clad in her night gown, attended by Clitie, was come to take in ſome freſher air, where (by the ſight of the celeſtial Tapers) ſometimes walking, ſometimes leaning upon the Baliſter, whence ſhe ſent her eye as far upon the Sea, as the dusky night would give it leave, one while parling with her own thoughts, and then diſcourſing with Clitie upon the ſad eſtate of her Fortune.

In this employment ſhe had already paſſed ſome time, when approaching to that Teraſs furtheſt from her Chamber, Clitie upon whoſe arm ſhe leaned, made a ſudden ſtop to tell her, ſhe perceived they were not alone in that place, and that ſhe had ſeen a glimpſe of ſome other perſons near it, and over-heard their diſcourſe. The Queen (who in a deep diſcourſe of her melancholly thoughts had neither eye nor ear at leiſure for ſuch a diſcovery) took ſome aſtoniſhment from Clitie's words, unwilling to be ſeen in the condition ſhe was, and deſirous to eſcape a ſurprizal at an hour ſo ſuſpected, was turning to go back to her Chamber, when her ſteps were arreſted by the ſweetneſs of a voice, which ſhe preſently knew proceeded from a perſon of her own Sex, this was mingled with many ſighs, and thoſe ſucceeded by ſome plaints, which delivered themſelves at her ear in ſo ſad, and yet ſo charming a harmony, as ſhe found it impoſſible to carry her ſelf away, ſo ſoon as ſhe reſolved it, this fixed her for a time upon the place, and giving Clitie a ſign to make no noiſe, ſhe lent attention unto the diſcourſe of ſome Ladies, whom a deſign like hers had conducted thither. Treacherous Element! ſaid a perſon, the tone of whoſe voice ſeemed the moſt delicate and agreeable to Candace that ever feaſted her ſenſe, faithleſs Element! whom I have truſted with too much indiſcretion, either reſtore what thou haſt taken, or take the miſerable remains of what thou haſt robbed me of: but why (purſued ſhe with a ſtorm of ſighs, that for a time denied a paſſage to her words) why ſhould I demand a gem of thee, which the cruelty of men and not thine has raviſhed, thoſe Monſters I ſhould charge with the greater infidelity, and may with more reaſon (though I fear in vain) call them to account for my loſſes.

This afflicted perſon pronounced theſe words with ſo ſad an accent as wroughtupon the Queen to go a ſhare in her ſufferings, but her ſtock of pity was much improved when after ſome moments of ſilence ſhe heard her go on this manner: Juſt Gods, if you have allotted a puniſhment for my diſobedience, why is not my head the only mark for your bolts of vengeance, without diſcharging your anger upon Innocence and Vertue it ſelf? and thou dear perſon, whoſe loſs I deplore, and whoſe memory I ought to embalm, with tears refined from my pureſt bloud, thou knoweſt by that unſhackled intellect, which, (Souls once ſtripped of their clay, enjoy by the right of reverſion) that I have ſtill carefully cheriſhed all reſentments due to thy dear memory; or by ſome other miracle, allyed to thoſe that have drawn thee from the precipice of ſo many perils, look upon that heart, that never op't a window to any but thee, and read over thoſe tender thoughts, that affection daily hatches in thy behalf. Ah, weak hope! purſued ſhe, fond imagination, upon what ſhallow and ſhadowy foundations do you build your ſelves? will you bely my eyes that ſaw him fall into the mercileſs waves? and in fine, would you make me believe, that by loſing what I love deareſt I have loſt my memory and judgement too? do you ſeek a ſhelter in my ſoul to excuſe the baſeneſs of ſurviving him? and can you find no colour for the cowardiſe of a feeble Maid, that might well be frighted with the ugly image of Death? The afflicted party had drawn her griefs in a larger figure, if a throng of ſobs had not cut off the current of her words, and they had ſcarce enjoyned her ſilence, when it was thus broke off by another in her company.

Madam, ſaid ſhe, if it be poſſible, receive ſome comfort, and do not throw your ſelf headlong into theſe extremities, ſo unbecoming the moderation, that hath ſate ſo long at the helm of all your actions, rather direct your addreſſes to the Gods for aſſiſtance, which you know have ever been ready to remove your misfortune, and take a pattern from that miracle which yeſterday they wrought in your behalf, of what they were able to do for his deliverance, whoſe loſs we all deplore: Madam, they do not uſe to let fall their bounties by halfs upon ſuch perſons as your ſelf, whoſe innocence and vertue frames you ſo fair a title to their intire aſſiſtance, and if yeſterday they brought you a miraculous ſuccour, when no appearance could ſhape you a poſſibility of redreſs, why ſhould you now throw away your hopes, when you know they have often ſnatched him from the jaws of dangers, that gaped as wide as this that ſeemed to ſwallow him. Ah Mother! replyed the diſconſolate perſon, how do your own thoughts bely this flattery? Gods! added ſhe preſently after, I can take no more blows at your hands. At theſe words ſhe loſt her ſpeech, [Page] and fell into a ſwoond in the arms of two women that attended her, for ſo Candace judged it by the cries came from them, often repeating the name of Madam, and reflecting by this adventure upon the ſtrangers ſufferings with a more paſſionate intereſt, than could be expected from a perſon, in whom the ſenſe of anothers miſery, might well have been cruſhed by the ſad weight of her own misfortunes, ſhe directed her ſteps that way with Clitie, with an intention to offer her ſuccour, when the women haſtily carried her into her Chamber, which was near that place, and ſhut the door after them; though the fair Queen had not yet ſeen the face of this afflicted Lady, the ſweetneſs of her voice and language had already gotten ſo much credit in her thoughts, and her Plaints (limn'd to a near reſemblance with her own misfortunes) had beſpoke ſo juſt a pity, as ſome unlicenſed tear ſtole into an expreſſion of her excellent nature into that perſons condition. Ah Clytie, cryed ſhe, I ſee we are not the only marks of Fortunes malice, nor has ſhe ſpent the ſtock of cruelty upon us, if I apprehend aright, I have found a Companion in miſery, and if I may be permitted to ſee this dejected party, we will mutually ſtrive to dull the ſenſe of each others woes, by comparing our Calamities.

At theſe words (led by a curioſity, that had no other parent but a generous commiſeration) ſhe went ſoftly to the door, where they were newly entered, with an intent to endeavour an improvement of her diſcovery, but beſides that the door was cloſe bolted, there was ſo little noiſe made in the Chamber, as, after the miſ-ſpending ſome ſerious attention, ſhe gave over the hopes of preſent ſatisfaction.

After this, ſhe took ſome turns upon the Teraſſe, diſcourſing with Clytie, upon that adventure, which had taken ſo large a poſſeſſion of her thoughts, as, for that night, it barred out the remembrance of thoſe that had a hand in her proper fortunes: after ſhe was got to bed, her cogitations ſtill glided and glanced upon this ſubject, nor could her fancy get looſe from theſe reflections, till ſleep crept upon them unawares to quiet them.

The next day, ſo ſoon as ſhe might be civilly ſeen, ſhe was viſited by Cornelius and at that time he was not unwelcome, becauſe from him ſhe hoped ſome ſatisfaction of her longing deſires to be inſtructed in the Fortunes of that deſolate Lady, (ſo much influence and intereſt have the afflictions of others upon our ſouls, when they carry a reſemblance to our own) yet finding ſome difficulty, to bring her laſt nights walk (which conducted her to that encounter) into the ſcene of their diſcourſe, ſhe was a little poſed to manage her curioſity with all the caution it required; but Cornelius eaſed her of that pain; for he had no ſooner bad her good morrow, and expreſſed ſuch other civilities, as Cuſtom and Faſhion enjoyned, which prevented the queſtion ſhe was framing in her thoughts, when believing himſelf obliged to give her the relation of that adventure. Madam, ſaid he, ſince I had the honour to ſee you laſt, there has arrived an accident worthy of your notice, which I aſſure my ſelf, when you have once underſtood it, you will take ſome intereſt. Theſe words taught the Queen to level her judgement at a part of the truth, and was well-pleaſed to be quitted of her requeſt, for what ſhe was now only to pay her acceptation.

Yeſterday, ſaid Cornelius, ſome veſſels, that I ſent out to ſcoure the ſea-coaſts, within ſight of the ſhoar encountred two Pirats ſhips, which (after they had cut in pieces the greateſt part of thoſe that defended them) they took and brought in a very rich prize, yet all the reſt but cheap and worthleſs in compariſon of a young Lady; whom they reſcued from the rude hands of thoſe cruel men, in that critical minute (as I received it from two of her Women-attendants) when they were ready and reſolv'd to offer violence to her perſon; Madam, to commend a Beauty in your preſence, for whom the Gods have ranſakt the treaſury of their skill to make the moſt accompliſhed piece that ever they put their hands to; I will onely ſay, if my Eye had not firſt encountred with your Excellencies, I ſhould have thought it impoſſible for the world to have ſhewen me any thing ſo fair; Indeed I think you would have a hard task without the aſſiſtance of your Glaſs, to ſhape an Idea ſo handſome: but the confidence I have that your own Eyes (when you ſee her will find no dotage in theſe words, puts a gap to my farther deſcription: we have lodged her in a Chamber neer to yours, where ſhe has already paſſed one night with her Woman, but if this Lady be fair, ſhe is not leſs afflicted, and though I have endeavoured to plaiſter the wounds her ſorrows have made, with as much comfort, and as fair language as the Laws of Hoſpitality and Courteſie, due to perſons of her being, could put into my mouth, we had much ado to prevail with her, to receive any nouriſhment. I gave her yeſterday a particular relation of the grand favour I received of Fortune, in being made an inſtrument of your ſafety; this onely recital had power to borrow her attention, and bow the obſtinacy of her griefs to the confeſſion of ſome reſentments: this morning one of her women asked me, if ſhe might not be permitted to ſee you, and told me ſhe hoped the tide of her Ladies griefs, would find an Ebb in the comforts of your ſociety.

[Page] The Queen (who had already taken in much affection at the ears of that accompliſhed perſon) replyed, ſhe would call it her happineſs to receive the honour of her acquaintance, and though her preſent condition ſcarce allowed her a capacity to moderate the miſeries of others, yet ſhe would take a truce with her own misfortunes, on purpoſe to leſſen the ſenſe of hers if it were poſſible.

‘Since you are ſo nobly reſolved, anſwered Cornelius, ſhe ſhall preſently know of her honour you intend her, and I aſſure my ſelf, that ſo ſoon as ſhe is dreſt, ſhe will pay you her acknowledgment in a viſit. Let her only know, if you pleaſe, ſaid Candace, if ſhe be in a condition to ſuffer the interview of a ſtranger, that I think my ſelf obliged to pay that reſpect to a perſon ſo afflicted, and poſſible indiſpoſed as her ſelf; and by the account you have paſſed of her beauty, you have already given me ſo much impatience to ſee her, as it will not permit me to ſtay for her in my Chamber.’

Clitie, who by her own deſire to know that Lady, was intereſſed in her Miſtreſſes Curioſity, readily acted her Commands, and, a ſhort time after, it was returned that the fair unknown had found a little failing in her health, by ſuffering the violence of ſome fits the night before, however ſhe would make haſte to apparel her ſelf, with a purpoſe to prevent her deſign of a viſit.

The Queen (who knew the priviledge of her Sex) allowed her the liberty to invade the Chamber before ſhe was dreſt, was deſirous to acquit that trouble to her weak eſtate, and Cornelius, to whom the requiſites of civility denyed that freedom, only contented himſelf to conduct her to the Chamber door: when Candace entred, her face carried news of a grand addition to the ſtar-light of beauty, which ſhined in that terreſtial orbe, nor could theſe two perſons encounter without the ſilent confeſſion of a mutual aſtoniſhment. Our former deſcription of Candace's beauty, diſpenſes with a farther recital, but we ſhould deal unjuſtly with the fair unknown, ſhould we hide them in ſilence, in whom the Queen found many delicacies that had a far better title to her wonder, than the Praetor's relation could challenge, the new fain ſnow was tanned in compariſon of the refined purity of that white that was the ground of her complexion, and if ſorrow had gathered the Carnations of her cheeks, ſham'd to ſee her ſelf ſurpriz'd half naked, though by perſons of her own ſex, had replanted of hers there, with ſuch freſh advantages, as any weaker eye than Candace's, would have ſhrunk at the brightneſs of that mingled luſtre; her mouth (as well for ſhape as Complexion) ſhamed the imitation of the beſt Penſils, and the livelieſt colours; and though ſome petty intervals of joy wanted the ſmiles that grief had ſequeſtred, yet ſhe never opened it, but like the Eaſt at the birth of a beautiful day, and then diſcovered Treaſures, whoſe excelling whiteneſs made the price ineſtimable; all the features of her face had ſo neer a kindred of proportion and ſymetry, as the ſevereſt Maſter of Appelles Art might have called it his glory to have copied beauties from her, as the beſt of Models. The circumference of her viſage, ſhewed the extremes of an imperfect Circle, and almoſt formed it to a perfect Oval, and this abridgement of marvels was taper'd by a pair of the brighteſt ſtars that ever were lighted up by the hand of Nature: as their luſtre might juſtly claim the title of Celeſtial, ſo their colour was the ſame with Heavens, there was a ſpherical harmony in their motion, and that mingled with a vivacity ſo penetrating, as neither the firmeſt eye, nor the ſtrongeſt ſoul could arm themſelves with a reſiſtance of proof againſt thoſe pointed glories, their very languiſhing dejection darted more charms through the clouds of griefs, that darkned their brighteſt glory, than all others could boaſt in their cleareſt Sunſhine; nor were they ever ſo dim'd with woe, but they had ſtill vigour enough left to open themſelves a paſſage to hearts defended with the greateſt inſenſibility; her head was crowned with a prodigious quantity of fair long hair, whereof the colour as fitly ſuited the beauty of her eyes, as imagination could make it. To theſe marvels of face were joyned the reſt of her neck, hands and ſhape, and there ſeemed a conteſt betwixt the form and whiteneſs of the two former, which had the larger commiſſion from Nature to work wonders; and if ſhe was not ſo tall of ſtature as Candace, in revenge of that ſhe was far more ſlender, and her face much leſs than the fair Queen of Aethiopia's. In fine, her beauty was miraculous, and though the Queen's had ſomething more majeſtick and more powerful to imprint reſpect, yet the fair ſtrangers was far more delicate, and poſſible more exactly conformed to the nice rules of proportion; the regards of theſe two fair ones were equally tyed to contemplate each others perfections by a ſerious attention; their actions quickly confeſſing their mutual aſtoniſhment, & reading over thoſe marvels in a few moments, that merited as many years for a fit peruſual, they had much ado to reſtrain their wonder from breaking out into loud interjections; the fair unknown, at firſt obliged by the Queens civility, was diſpoſing her ſelf to repay it in acknowledgement, when the Queen whoſe courage was more unſhaken, and whoſe mind and body kept a neerer degree to health, began the [Page] Complement, and accoſting her with an action that confeſſed the effects of the ſtrangers beauty, and partly accounted for the pity her Soul had already promiſed to her miſeries. ‘Cornelius, ſaid ſhe, would have given me cauſe of complaint, had he longer debarred me the view of ſo admired a perſon; I come Madam, continued ſhe (ſaluting and embracing her with an affection that ſeldom riſes to ſuch a height, at the firſt interview) I am come (if poſſible) to bring comfort to your Calamities, and either to interweave my misfortune with yours, or augment mine own, by ſuffering my ſhare of thoſe that compoſe your affliction.’ The fair unknown, whom the Majeſty of Candace's mind, and the gentle proffer of ſo much courteſie, had already touched with a deep reſpect, and a tender reſentment, received her Careſſes in as graceful a manner, as her ſad condition would ſuffer, and ſtrugling with her grief, that ſhe might not appear either ſtupid, or ingrateful, after ſhe had ſilently ſtaid ſome time in her arms, and tenderly ſtriven to pay back part of her kindneſs in the dumb Elegance of embraces; ‘Madam, ſaid ſhe, the confuſion I borrow from theſe deſerved marks of your goodneſs, has left me no liberty to expreſs, as I ought, how my Soul reſents it; and I ſhould now learn to believe my ſelf leſs unfortunate, could I find out a way to merit the Compaſſion of ſo excellent a perſon. I think the world has few, replyed the Queen, that would refuſe to bear a part in your afflictions, nor can ſuch aſpects as yours want the power to ſtamp all the paſſions, even upon thoſe hearts that are able to make the rudeſt reſiſtance, I am ſure mine cannot hide the ſenſible effects it wrought within me, ſince my memory urging ſo ample an incitement, intirely to employ all my thoughts upon the conſideration of mine own diſaſters, I have taken them from their task, to intereſs my ſelf in yours, and to offer you my promiſe, that if my power falls ſhort of a capacity to give you comfort, at leaſt my affection ſhall inable me to go halves in your ſufferings. If my miſhaps, reply'd the Stranger, were of a nature to receive what you offer, I would come to you for a cure, without the leaſt ſcruple of a doubt, but however the Gods have plac'd my deſpair beyond the reach of redreſs, I ſhould prove my ſelf very unworthy of the favours you have given me, ſhould I wreſtle with my woes, to accept, as I ought, theſe generous effects of your pity: 'tis of them, purſu'd ſhe ſighing, I implore a continuance, and I may ſafely aſſure you, for truth it ſelf avers it, (repeating her imbraces with an action capable to ſoften the rockieſt hearts) the wrath of heaven cannot point you to a ſubject that has better claim to your compaſſion, nor a Soul that can receive it with a deeper acknowledgment.’

As ſhe finiſhed theſe words, ſome unruly tears broke away from her eyes, which yet ſhe ſtrove to hide as much as poſſibly, and ſtopping the current of her diſcourſe to preſent a Chair to the Queen, ſhe ſeated her ſelf at the feet of her bed; beauty and handſomneſs had here got reaſon on their ſides to produce their uſual effects, and theſe two excellent Ladies (in whom the knowledge of each others quality was yet limited to the mutual conſtruction of their eyes, and the remembrance of their ſelves, might well have diſpenſed with all that reſpect that was not due from their grandeur to private perſons) did yet render all that concealed juſtice required to each other, and only took a mutual eſteem from view, which does not uſe to give ſuch intelligence to other perſons.

So ſoon as they had ſeated themſelves, they reaſſumed their diſcourſe, and if the fair unknown found abundance of charms in Candace's language, the Queen encountred ſo much bewitching ſweetneſs in the ſtrangers Genius, as it perfectly compleated what her beauty had begun with much advantage, and whether caus'd by the conformity of their Fortunes, or the encounter of thoſe admirable qualities they equally poſſeſſed, (which indeed, alone were capable to produce as prompt and ſudden effects) but never did new-born amity, ſhoot up to ſuch a ſtature in ſo ſhort a time.

After they had given ſome moments to the enlargement of their firſt diſcourſe, the Queen deſirous to lay the grounds of a greater confidence with the beautiful ſtranger: Think not, ‘Madam, ſaid ſhe, that Fortune has us'd me more civilly than you, the age of Time is not much increaſed, ſince with a loſs that poſſible was not deſigned in the frowns of your Fortune: I have ſighed for another that may fill the other ſcale againſt your afflictions, and if (a few days ſince) my Soul did receive ſome ſolace; there is yet a remainder left uncured, that inflicts miſery enough to juſtifie my Declaration, that there are few perſons in the world, whoſe woes are more ſtrongly woven than mine, think it not ſtrange this diſcourſe ſeems to imply ſome preintelligence of your Fortune, all I know that concern'd it, was received from your own mouth, by chance over-hearing your laſt nights complaint and diſcourſe with your women, upon the adjoyning Teraſs: This contrivance of accident, firſt begat the compaſſion, and then the affection I have for you, and from thence was born a deſire (which has ſince taken a conſiderable growth from the character was given of your beauty) to ſee and know you; be not troubled that I have diſcovered [Page] that without deſign, which I ſhould have been ſorry to have known, had I thought you could not part with the ſecret without diſpleaſure, nor will demand a greater illuſtration, till you ſhall think me worthy of a greater confidence; in the mean time, take the obligation of my promiſe, that my thoughts ſhall ſcan what I know with no other curioſity, than what may improve my power, to comfort and ſerve you,’

If the face of the fair ſtranger confeſs'd a baſhful ſurprizal, at the beginning of this Diſcourſe, the gentle cloſe of it reſtored her ſome aſſurance, yet ſhe could not ſo ſuddenly repulſe that active vermilion that had invaded her cheeks, but there ſtill ſtaid ſome behind, that dwelt not there, which endeavouring to hide with her hand; ‘You have poſſible heard enough from my mouth, ſaid ſhe, to purchaſe me a ſevere cenſure in the opinion of thoſe that are leſs indulgent, and, if not to defend my ſelf with inſenſibility againſt the aſſault of a perſons affection, that rais'd his batteries upon extraordinary merit, and not to ſupport his loſs without a violent grief, be a crime; I ſhall be doubtleſs a Delinquent in yours too: Indeed I ſhould ever be prepoſſeſſed with Caution, to hide my follies from ſuch perſons as your ſelf, poſſible they are like to find leſs favour from your ſublime vertue than others, whoſe feeble frailty may render them liable to the ſame imperfections, however ſince this miſhap has be fallen me; I will endeavour to take comfort from the opinion I have of your goodneſs, and of that I think my obſervation has already made ſuch clear diſcoveries, as I need not ſcruple to truſt your knowledge with the moſt important ſecrets of my life. No, replyed the Queen, I deſire not that, till time ſhall ripen you an occaſion to accord me your amity; nor will I abuſe that opinion you have entertained of me, by demanding the proofs of it with ſo haſty an indiſcretion. I hope you will not conſtrue this, as if the reſentments I have for you, and the Intereſt I take in your Fortunes, have not nouriſhed an ardour to underſtand you better, but I ſhall ſtay for that favour, till I can ask it with leſs indecency, after I have given you ſome experiments of the confidence I have in you; of this you will receive no contemptible mark, when I ſhall diſcover and acquaint you with ſuch things, as you will judge worthy to be lock'd up in ſecreſie, (eſpecially in this place, that has particularly deſerved my ſuſpicion) from all other perſons, but ſuch as have an invincible guard for a ſecret. I have ſo poor an evidence of deſert to ſhew for this exceſs of nobleneſs, replyed the fair unknown, as I dare not diſpoſe my ſelf to ſuffer it without prevention; Madam, this juſt civility is owing to the generous offer of your friendſhip, I will not ask, (if your leave allows it) a longer day than this, to aſſure you mine in parallel, and I beg your condeſcent to the propoſition with the greater hope, ſince my tongue in this is the faithful ſervant to my heart, you will ſoon judge by what I ſhall tell you, that I do depoſite no ſlight or trivial confidence in your breaſt, ſince, as my affairs are ballanced, there are few perſons on earth can be truſted with it without much danger. Stay then, replyed the Queen interrupting her, perhaps I may want deſcretion to preſerve your ſecret as I ought, and yet you ſhall leave off no diſguiſe, (ſince my own thoughts have already look'd through it) when I ſhall learn that your quality and mine are parallel. Your face, anſwered the unknown, with thoſe marvels I obſerve about you, have already aſſured me, there is little difference in our extraction, and this will poſſible be better confirm'd, when I have told you (continued ſhe, letting fall her voice, for fear of being underſtood by ſome perſons preſent, whoſe deſcretion had leſs credit in her thoughts than the reſt) that I am call'd Eliſa, and not only derived from the illuſtrious line of the Arſacides, but ſole Daughter, and as yet legitimate Heir to Phraates, King of Parthia, known of all the Earth, by the grandeur of his Territories,’ and the effects of his cruelty. She made a ſtop at theſe words, when the Queen reply'd; ‘Your birth, ſaid ſhe, is not more ſublime, than before I conjectur'd from thoſe viſible marks, that expreſſed your ſtrain to the high and Heroick, and ſince it is no longer juſt I ſhould keep my condition in a mask, be pleas'd to know that I am called Candace, Princeſs and lawful Queen of Aethiopia.’

At this mutual Diſcourſe, the two Princeſſes renewed the proteſtations of their promis'd amity, and that parity of deſcent kindling equal deſires of reſpect and affection, they ſweetly exchanged many tender Careſſes, and laid the foundation of ſtrong and perfect friendſhip.

After ſome diſcourſe, fram'd on purpoſe to confirm what they had ſaid, the Princeſs Eliſa thus continued; ‘know well Madam, ſaid ſhe, that to this Declaration of my Name and Quality, I ſhould adjoyn the recital of theſe ſad accidents that have perplexed my life; Madam, if you have a wiſh that deſires this obedience, I am ready to pay it, yet my memory ſtill bleeds ſo freſhly with the blows of my laſt diſaſter, as my fear that has ſcarce left me ſtrength enough to cleer that ſcore as I ought, has fram'd me a requeſt, that you will pleaſe to reſpite my relation for a day or two, till I recollect and recover as much vigour, as will carry me through ſo tedious and ſo ſad a ſtory.’

[Page] She could not bring theſe words to a period, without letting fall a chriſtal ſhour from her bright eyes, which the fairer Queen, joyning hers to Eliſia's, wiped away with her cheeks, and tenderly preſſing her in her arms,

‘Be not ſo laviſh of thoſe precious tears, my fair Princeſs, ſaid ſhe, and ſince (as I learned by your laſt nights diſcourſe) there is yet ſome incertainty left in your miſfortunes, do not daſh your hopes upon the Rock of a belief ſo deſperate; the Gods are ſometimes pleaſed to tread ſtrange paths to our deliverance, and if any example may ſerve to fortifie that opinion in you, it may poſſible ſhew you the way to recover life in your ſwoonded hopes: In the mean time, do not violence your ſelf for ſatisfaction, which I am contented to defer, till you may find your power as propenſe as your will to perform it; and ſince my preſent eſtate may ſafely allow me to venture upon a long recital, I will endeavour to divert you with the Hiſtory of my life; I ſuppoſe you will not find it amiſs to paſs away this day upon your bed, without dreſſing you further, as well becauſe your bodily weakneſs deſires repoſe, as by that means you may avoid the viſits of Cornelius, with all others that are likely to interrupt our privacy.’

The fair Princeſs of Parthia, after a reſpective conteſt and reſiſtance againſt the Queens civilities, was at laſt overcome with importunity, to accept the liberty ſhe offered, and after ſhe had ordered her woman to ſtop all viſits at the door, by acquainting the perſons with her indiſpoſition, they both ſeated themſelves upon the bed, reſpect withdrawing the reſt to ſuch a diſtance as they could not over-hear them.

The Queen began the ſtory of her life, at the time that Caeſario arrived at her Fathers Court, diſcourſes the cauſe that led him thither, recounted the bewitching gallantry of his firſt actions, the uncovering his affection, firſt by his diſcourſe in the Temple, and afterwards by many ſucceeding aſſurances that his behaviour ſtill ſilently repeated: ſhe related his his quarrel and combat with Britomarus, then ſucceeded to the ſecond diſcourſe that he made her of his paſſion, while the wounds he received of that young man, confined him to his Bed: and in fine, forgot nothing of importance, that Eteocles had before recounted to Tyridates, and when ſhe was arrived at that part of the Narration where Eteocles was interrupted, after ſhe had ſilently imployed her thoughts, for a few moments, to call home ſome particulars, which time, aſſiſted by the ſeveral accidents of her life, had a little lead aſtr [...] from her memory, ſhe thus purſu'd her ſtory.

The continuation of the Hiſtory of Caeſario and Candace.

SO ſoon as the young Caeſario, whom (as I told you) was called Cleomedon, was cured of thoſe wounds he received from the bold Britomarus, he carefully continued to render Me his obſervances and viſits, with a preciſe ſedulity, and took the tide of every occaſion, wherein he might reſpectively ſhew me ſome ſparks of his flame; but I liv'd with him in ſuch a manner, as he found it hard to faſten any judgement upon his own Intereſt in my inclinations: And though a few words I let fall, while his wounds kept him in bed, beſides the ſignal confeſſion of all my actions, that betraid a peculiar eſteem of his merits above the reſt that ſaw me) might ſhew him the dawnings of ſome hope, yet he found ſo little diſpoſition either in my language or behaviour to ſuch a particular tye of affection, which his deſires were leveled at, as he could gather no hopes from either, but ſuch as were faint and ſickly; and, to ſpeak the truth, I cannot think it ſtrange, if he were pos'd at the valuation of his own eſtate in my breaſt, for as yet my ſelf was ignorant how to rate it, and it coſt me a long time in fitting my thoughts and deſires, before I had power to diſcern in what faſhion I had received him there; my conſideration took the height of his birth at the full ſtature, and I regarded the marvellous qualities of his perſon with favour enough: I muſt ſay more, that I had a ſecret ſenſe of obligation for the affection he expreſſed: and finding nothing in it that deſerved my cenſure, I reflected on that, and the perſon that profeſs'd it, with a complacence that ſtrangely bent it ſelf to ſomething extraordinary; but I had ſuch a natural averſion, to the imbarquing my ſelf for Cupids traffick, at thoſe difficulties he had already cleared, in winning my attention and permiſſion to the ſoft language of his Love, were none of the greateſt he had to ſubdue in my diſpoſition.

Thus his condition was ſtated, when one day, with Clitie (the ſame Maid you now ſee in my company whom I ever entirely truſted) taking a walk in one of the Palace gardens, ſhe leading me along by the thread of a cunning diſcourſe (while the reſt of my Maids were diſpers'd in the ſeveral Alleys) into an unfrequented Arbor, where after ſhe had lightly touch'd ſome other ſubjects, by which, ſhe inſenſibly drew me into the Net of her deſign, to talk of Caſario.

‘[Page] Madam, do you think, ſaid ſhe, if Fortune were ſo happily unblinded, as to place her bounties right, and let fall her favours upon a juſt proportion of merit, that the Prince Cleomedon might not pretend with an unqueſtionable title to a large part of the world, and that the grandeur of his birth (which to us is no ſecret) could ever be better ſuited, than by the admirable qualities of his perſon? 'Tis confeſt, ſaid I, that Cleomedon is highly commendable in his whole compoſure, and that the skilfulleſt deſire could hardly fancy one excellent part, required in the frame of an accompliſh'd Prince, which is not to be found plentifully ſtor'd, and harmoniouſly match'd in him.’ ‘Have you obſerved, replyed Clitie, that incomparable grace that ſhines in all his actions, the ſweetneſs of his converſe, the vivacity of his wit, and thoſe thouſand marks of greatneſs that throng together without diſorder in his Face and Language? I have remark'd them all, ſaid I, with an apprehenſion as clear as thine, and I really conſider Cleomedon as a perſon extraordinary, but what doſt you ſtrike at by this confeſſion thou haſt gotten from me? I would fain induce you to confeſs, ſaid Clitie with an action leſs ſerious, that your judgment has not ſhew'd you ſo many grand qualities in a Prince, and in a Prince that dies for you, without touching your ſoul with ſome ſentiments of affection. Indeed Madam, purſu'd ſhe ſmiling, methinks you ſhould not be ſo ſenſible; and ſince, in fine, your heart is too tender to be either Stone or braſs, would you allow me the liberty to ſpeak my conjectures, I would dare to ſay that it has not ſcaped the affection and deſerts of Cleomedon without a battery.’

This diſcourſe of Clitie brought ſome blood into my face, and regarding her with an action more compos'd than hers, ‘However it happens to day, ſaid I, methinks you are not very wiſe; and I know not which of my actions could inſtruct you to raiſe theſe conjectures of me. I did not fift it from any of your actions, replyed the Maid, but my own reaſon, which to me appeared a fitter foundation for my opinion than any proofs you have yet betrayed, but in fine, ſince your illuſtrious birth does not injoyn you to ſhut your eyes upon the merit of a Prince, whoſe extraction is neither inferior to yours, nor any perſons living; and the ſeverity of your vertue cannot juſtly forbid you the reſentments that an affection ſo full of reſpect may challenge; what other conſideration can raiſe forces enough to oppoſe the thoughts I have paſs'd upon it, by the ſole aſſiſtance of an unbyaſs'd reaſon? Doſt thou not know, replyed I, that I was never prone to regard a perſon, with any other intereſt than ſuch an eſteem as we all owe to vertue where ere we find it? nay, did my inclination place a particular value upon Cleomedon's perſon, I would make it bow to that obedience is due to the King, my Fathers will, which ſhall ever be the rule of all my thoughts, and I ought to judge them very Criminal, ſhould they dare to act by any other power than his commands. I doubt not, ſaid Clitie, but your intentions are the ſame you ſpake them, but, granting that, I find no cauſe to diſapprove my opinion. The King your Father, who has long ſince perceived Cleomedon's pretences, would never have ſuffered, or at leaſt not favoured their progreſs as he has done, had he thought that alliance deſerved his rejection, his behaviour in this affair, might eaſily inſtruct you to believe that he had looked upon the prologue of his amorous deſigns with a ſerene aſpect, and finding in Cleomedon's perſon, all that his wiſhes would contrive in that of a Prince, whom his thoughts voted worthy of the honour of your Bed, you need not doubt, but he will prefer him before all his neighbour Princes, on whom, though Fortune, poſſible to ſhew her blindneſs, has beſtowed ſome Crowns, yet Heaven has neither given them a Birth ſo illuſtrious, not a Vertue ſo eminent, as its bounty has conferred on this brave Son of Caeſar; beſides, Madam, you being his legitimate and only heir, 'tis vain to think he will fix his deſires upon any addition to your grand inheritance, and 'tis the opinion of perſons far more prudent and politick than I, that he will rather fear than deſire the alliance of a ſtranger King, and deem it far more requiſite to give a Prince intirely to his People, than tranſport their ſubjection to a forreign Scepter. When it once arrives at that point, replyed I, I can do no leſs than avow unto thee, though poſſible not without a bluſh, that I will receive Cleomedon from his hands, with leſs repugnance, than if he had rifled the whole ſtock of mankind for another choice; and, indeed I confeſs, thou were not wholly deceived by thoughts that concluded me neither blind nor inſenſible to the merit of his perſon, nor the proofs of his affection.’

I had thus no ſooner diſplaid my hidden thoughts when I beheld Caeſario, (whoſe approach I then leaſt expected) enter the Arbour, and throw himſelf at my feet, with a face that boaſted ſuch a complement of joy, and ſatisfaction, as I timerouſly concluded he had heard all thoſe words, I ſo lately let fall to his advantage: this called a fiery bluſh into my cheeks, and I was at firſt ſurpris'd with ſo much ſhame, as wanting the confidence to look him in the face, I covered mine own with my hand, on purpoſe to hide a part of my confuſion: [Page] the Prince, who conſtrued the cauſe of it right, was ready to borrow repentance of his tender affection, for the perplexity he had given me, and left the exceſs of his joy, corrected to a ſober moderation, by a belief that I was not ſatisfied with this paſſage, however (loath to forfeit ſo fair an occaſion) he began to rally his ſcattered ſpirits, and imbracing my knees with a tender, and yet a paſſionate ardour: ‘Madam, ſaid he, do not grudge me the Fortune that Heaven has given me without your conſent, and be not troubled that I am indebted for a happineſs to this encounter, for which I might long have waited (ſtill the companion of my own woes) before I had obtain'd it of your goodneſs: Madam, what I learn'd from your fair mouth, has taught me to believe my ſelf the happieſt, and the moſt glorious Prince in the world, but all that you have ſaid, has given you no juſt cauſe of ſhame or repentance, unleſs you draw it from the choice you have made of a man ſo unworthy of that precious priviledge you have given him in your breaſt, your intentions are ſo nicely wrapt within the ſtrict rules of Duty and Vertue, as when the King your Father (though advis'd by the ſevereſt perſons upon Earth) ſhall underſtand them, they cannot ſcan this act with Juſtice, and paſs any thoughts upon it to your diſadvantage; for my ſelf Madam, I receive this knowledge with a reſpect ſo profound, and ſo perfectly conform'd to the devout veneration I have for you, as you ſhall ever find a greater encreaſe in my ſubmiſſions to your will, than in thoſe hopes you permit me to conceive.’

While he ſpake in this manner, I recover'd ſome confidence to diſparkle the aſtoniſhment had ſeiz'd me, and whether my opinion of his diſcretion, or the Innocence of my intentions, pleaded beſt to my ſelf in my own behalf, in effect; I was prompted to believe, I had not laviſh'd any language that left ſuch a ſpot upon me, as ſhame firſt taught me to imagine, with this perſwaſion, taking my hand from my face, and licenſing my Eye to regard him with more aſſurance than before. ‘How Cleomedon, ſaid I, are theſe the proofs of your reſpect, do you think you have not forgotten what you owe me, thus by an ambuſh to intrap my ſecrets, before you knew how I would reliſh or receive the freedom? I had rather dye, anſwer'd Cleomedon, than give you any juſt cauſe of diſpleaſure, but if you find it in this encounter, believe it, Madam it was only accident, and not deſign that plotted the offence. Let it be deſign or hazard, reply'd I, I do not think you can conſtrue my words to that advantage you pretend, nor can believe you could find out reaſon enough to beget a doubt of my obedience, which was ever taught to bow it ſelf to the Kings command, nor of that deſire, which I ever tenderly preſerv'd of a total ſubmiſſion to his will, not only in what regards the great ſacrifice to Hymen, but the entire diſpoſal of all my actions, ſo long as the thred of my life is uncut: No Madam, reply'd Caeſario, I never doubted it, but I was uncertain whether your inclination would declare with your obedience in my behalf, and prevail to let affection go a ſhare in that, which Duty has only power to exact at your hands; 'tis that, Madam, is the baſis on which I build all my glory, and if I may have leave to mingle a litttle Intereſt with it, will ſay, that (if my opinion does not abuſe me) your own inclinations will have all the power to compleat our deſtiny, ſince the Kings have ever ſo tenderly comply'd with yours as they can never permit him to offer any force in the choice of a Husband. I confeſs my hopes look the ſame way, ſaid I, and ſince (though againſt my will) you have gotten ſo large an acquaintance in my thoughts upon the confidence I repoſe in your vertue, and the reſpect which can never give you leave to abuſe that intelligence you have got in the breaſt of a Princeſs, not unworthy of your affection, I ſhall not ſcruple to confirm, what you have already learn'd from my mouth, but will repeat you my purpoſe, that if you can oblige the King to approve your deſign, I will ſubmit my ſelf to his command, without the leaſt repugnance to receive you.’

Caeſario did not throw himſelf at my feet to thank me for this promis'd favour, for he had not ſtirr'd from thence ſince he enter'd the Arbour, but my words had committed ſuch a rape of joy upon his ſenſes, as it was long before he could get any language at liberty to expreſs it, yet at laſt it brake looſe, though much out of joint with exceſs of paſſion, which yet me thought told the tale of his affection better in that diſorder'd Elegance, than I ever underſtood it before from its untroubled compoſure, and confirm'd my reſolution to prefer him (if ever my diſpoſal were releaſed to my ſelf) above all the perſons in the world.

Since that day he lived with me, not uſurping Licence from Succeſs, to enlarge his liberty of behaviour, for he ſtill kept himſelf exactly within the bounds of that reſpect, which was born a twinn, and had ever ſince grown up with his paſſion, and had he chanc'd to break beyond them, I knew how to reduce him ſo handſomly, as I could leave him more confidence of his happineſs, a ſweeter repoſe, and riper hopes than ever. Being yet too young to [Page] do it with Decorum, he thought it not fit to truſt his intentions to the King till ſome important ſervice might ſtate him ſo powerfully in his breſt, to repair the defect of thoſe Crowns he had loſt, and help him up to that pitch in his opinion which he might have flown at, before the diſaſtrous fall of Anthony and Cleopatra.

In this expectation he paſſed above a year in our Court, and thrived ſo happily in his deſign to indear himſelf to the King, as he could not have received more indulgence, though all the blood in his Veins had ſtream'd from no other Fountain but Hydaſpes, and with me his lovely qualities prevailed ſo ſucceſsfully, as at laſt he had got as large a poſſeſſion in my heart, as he could fancy in his forwardeſt wiſhes: indeed it was no eaſie task to defend my ſelf from him, for Caeſario is ſtruck ſo full of incomparable graces, in both the faces and features of body and mind, as it is impoſſible for the ſevereſt Judge of worth to ſee and frequent him, and not quickly confeſs him a perſon, in whom the Divine bounty has treaſur'd the marks of an extraordinary grandeur; and to theſe rare endowments were added a complacence, and aſſiduity, and a diſcretion ſo uncommon, as by a ſweet violence were able to enforce affection, even in thoſe Cynical Souls, that are moſt incapable to take the true height of merit; of me he received all the ſpotleſs teſtimonies of affection, that innocence would avow, and though they were preciſely confin'd within the limits of ſeverity enough, yet his knowledge of my humour, ſhew'd him cauſe to content himſelf, with what I was willing to allow him: he would ſometimes grow very melancholly, when his thoughts chanc'd to reflect upon his battered Fortunes, and, I remember, when I asked him the cauſe of his indiſpoſition, he has often anſwered me to this purpoſe: ‘Madam, would he ſay, it does not trouble me to be in debt for all I have to you and yours, nor would I lay out one ſingle wiſh for a fortune that comes not either from you, or for you, but when I look upon my ſelf as I am diſpoil'd by that giddy Deity of all thoſe Grandeurs and Dignities, that inviron'd me at my birth, and find that I am ſtript of all at a time, when their ſervice was ſo neceſſary to prefer me to yours, I cannot diſſemble my diſpleaſure, nor lift my Eyes to you with any aſſurance, when my memory wakes thoſe cruel thoughts that tell me, if your generous Father had not given me a Sanctuary, I ſhould now be deſtitute of a retreat among men, that I have now no proper eſtate, no rank, nor any of thoſe Scepters left me, my Anceſtors poſſeſſed, that he who has rob'd me of all, that uſurps the throne of my Father, and the ſame that took away the Crown and Life from the unfortunate Cleopatra, does proudly brood our ſpoils, and peceably ſway the better part of the Univerſe, while Fortune faſtens me to ſuch a feeble condition, as denys me the power of recovering my ſwoonded honour, or my loſt eſtate, in revenging my friends by the ruine of my enemies. In fine, Madam, I cannot ſee you ſerv'd by a Man whom Fortune has tumbled to ſo low a condition, without bluſhing with the blood that is neareſt my heart, and if I had not ſome ſparks of hope in the King your Fathers aſſiſtance, that are yet unquench'd, and a little confidence in the courage of a Prince (who cannot want it, and be ſtill the Son of Caeſar) to repair the ſhame of my life, I ſhould deſpair of comfort.’

Such Diſcourſes as theſe my Caeſar often made me upon this ſubject, but I rais'd all the power of my reaſon to combat thoſe melancholy thoughts, as well becauſe they afflicted him, as that they drove him upon the dangerous rock of a reſolution, which my judgment told me, he would never have power to conduct to a happy period.

‘Think not, ſaid I, that the loſs of your Crowns has made you leſs conſiderable, than if you were ſtill veſted in that purpl'd proſperity of your Royal houſe, your Vertue may reſtore you, what your blind Enemy has taken, nor has ſhe power enough, in her whole ſtock of malice, to blot out thoſe Characters, which in your perſon are far more remarkable, than all the glittering Crowns, whereof ſhe has plunder'd you. So long as there are ſtore of thoſe to be adquir'd among men, you have ſtill the ſame right, to aſſert and arm your juſt pretences, but if you only level yours deſires at thoſe, on purpoſe to ennoble your amorous claim, know, you need not the addition of thoſe fading glories, ſince I find that in your ſelf alone, which will give you the upper hand in my thoughts, of him that commands the Univerſe: beſides, your Honours has no Intereſt in your misfortunes, for you ſuffered them at an age ſo helpleſs and inſenſible, as allows you no right to go any ſhare in the ſhame, or the glory of good or bad ſucceſs: if the Gods ſhall one day furniſh you with forces to receive the quarrel, you may yet diſpute the Empire of the world with that Uſurper of your right, and Perſecutor of your life, and if they refuſe you the means, and break down the ſtairs by which you ſhould remount the throne of your Fathers, you may poſſible aſcend another, that is large enough to bound a reaſonable ambition.’

The Son of Caeſar, received ſome comfort from this diſcourſe, yet not ſo clear a ſatisfaction, to hinder him from perplexing me with his daily proteſtations, that none were fit [Page] to ſerve me but the Maſters of the world, and that ſole conſideration made him Envy their condition. In the mean time, he ſaw and diſcours'd me without the leaſt reſtraint, with all ſorts of vertuous liberty, and the King, who without a purblind underſtanding (could do no leſs than diſcover a part of the truth, was ſo far from diſapproving, as the ſatisfaction expreſt in his face and actions, was a main fortification to Caeſario's hopes; when Fortune, after ſhe had ſhin'd with an unclouded flattery, upon the morning of my age, began to make faces, and raiſe ſtorms, which have ſince toſs'd me to that condition, wherein you encountred me. Tiribaſus, whom I mentioned in the beginning of my Diſcourſe, was liſted by the Royal favour, not only to the talleſt advancement among the Aethiopians, but was little ſhort of the King himſelf, either in Credit, or Authority; never did favorite fly at ſo high a pitch in the ſphere of his Maſters love, and Hydaſpes, had not only depoſited to his truſt, all the places of importance in the Kingdom, and left the management of his Revenue with all other charges to his diſcretion, and diſpoſal, but given him an abſolute power, both in the heart and frontiers of his Dominion, to command the Soldiery; and in fine, had mounted him to that pitch of greatneſs and glory, as though he had deſir'd, it was now no longer in the power of the ſame hand that rais'd to ruine him. 'Tis true, Tiribaſus, had never given him cauſe to repent his bounty, and having climb'd to that ſublimity of power by the ſole aſſiſtance of his own vertue, he had kept himſelf there with ſuch an evenneſs of diſcretion as the Kings own deſires could not mend any thing in his Vigilance, Courage, or Fidelity: He was a man of extraordinary Gallantry, his perſon happily compos'd with all thoſe features and proportions the Ethiopians accounted handſome, and indeed worthy to top that dignity, if he could have taught his ambition to ſtop there and ſtep no higher; whether that, or Love, or both conjoyn'd, directed his ayms at me, I know not, but whatever ſpur'd him to thoſe undertakings, it was much about the time that I was upon the ſame terms with Caeſario, which I laſt related, when the ſpeech of his behaviour began at firſt to ſtammer his ſaucy intentions to a diſcoverry. He had already betrai'd a more ſtudied and particular reſpect unto me than formerly he had uſed, but ſtill I referr'd them to other cauſes, being very remote from the leaſt imaginations thát a man, who apparently before had never aſpir'd at any thing but great and glorious actions, ſhould now lean to ſigh for a ſofter paſſion: and that a man, who could prove no diſcent from a Royal ſtem, ſhould lift his deſires to the only Daughter of his King. If my dull apprehenſion had conſtru'd them right, thoſe fi [...] Eſſays of his bold paſſion had been receiv'd in another manner, but at laſt the repetition of thoſe half diſcoveries inſenſible remov'd the cloud from my eyes, and I began to take inſtruction from divers marks, which till then he had carefully conceal'd.

I was yet got no farther than an uncertain ſuſpition could inform me, when he had adventured to clear all my doubts; I remember the firſt time he ſhew'd me the face of his paſſion without a Mask, we were in one of thoſe beautiful Gardens of Meroe, that are delightfully folded within the ſilver Arms of Nilus, and delicately imbeliſh'd with the faireſt treaſure that Art and Nature could bring to adorn them; I was then upon the bank of the channel with a great number of the chief Court Ladies, ſporting our ſelves with every one an angle in our hands, a divertiſement we often uſed, by reaſon of the great number of Fiſh that frequented that place; but that day I had no luck at ſport, and had often caſt in my Line without getting a bite, when Tiribaſus, who had been long walking with the King in the ſame Garden, came to me, and perceiving ſome petty diſcontent in my viſage, demanded the cauſe: ‘Do you not ſee Tiribaſus, ſaid I ſmiling, how fortune lowers upon my ſports to day? And while ſhe hangs a fiſh upon every one's hook, ſhe partially paſſes mine, and ſuffers not one ſo much as to taſt my bait: Ah Madam (replyed Tiribaſus, who found thoſe words had hinted a favourable occaſion, to conduct his thoughts into the ſcene) how little reaſon you have to envy this trivial hap to your maids, who while they amuſe themſelves with captiving a few feeble and innocent creatures, your hooks are much more dangerous, and you take prizes of far greater importance. When people take what they angle for, replyed I, their deſires are ſatisfied, in being arrived at the end they aim'd at; but when with the ſame thing they aim at, ſaid he, they take ſomething that increaſes the quarry they are fortunate beyond intention. Madam your Highneſs, ſaid he, is of that number, ſince with thoſe nets your innocence ſpreads without any deſign for Priſoners, you take all that ſtaies, and all that are deſirous to fly you, even when you neglect the pains of purſuing the game, nothing can eſcape you, or if any does, they are ſuch poor irrational Creatures as theſe who run away from the Glory of dying in your fair hands for want of underſtanding it.’

Tiribaſus brought forth theſe words with a ſigh, and I was not ſo innocent, (eſpecially being prepoſſeſs'd with a former ſuſpition) as not readily to perceive what mark he ſhot at, and deſirous to let him ſee this kind of diſcourſe did not pleaſe me, I darted at him a diſdainful [Page] look, and then preſently retiring my eyes from his viſage, I thought, ſaid I, you had a mind to make your ſelf merry, and perhaps you think you have choſen a ſubject very fit for your purpoſe: Alaſs Madam, anſwered Tiribaſus, my reaſon cannot be ſo blind to ſeek here for divertiſement, where I have found my ruine, and how ill would ſuch lightheel'd thoughts ſuit with his ſad condition, from whom you have already taken his repoſe and his liberty.

Theſe words, which I did not expect would have been ſo clear and intellible, lighted up ſo fierce an anger in my ſoul, as a part of the heat flew with a deep die from the waters to faſten them on his: To me, Tiribaſus, ſaid I, is it to me you direct tkis language? It would highly concern my life, anſwered he, that I had power enough left ſtill to make my addreſſes to any but your ſelf; nor am I blind or deaf to any of thoſe reaſons, that would diſſwade my bold thoughts from the Daughter of my King, but it is the invincible force of my Deſtiny, or rather yours that decrees it, againſt which, all humane reſiſtance will fight, but with a feeble arm.

Theſe audacious words, wound up my reſentment to the higheſt extremity, and no longèr able to diſſemble it. I ſhall know hereafter, ſaid I, with an action full of the marks of an extraordinary motion, how to cut off all thoſe weakneſſes from my life, that have thus encourag'd you to offend me, and if that fails, to reduce you to your duty, I'le trie whether that exceſs of favour the King your Maſters bounty does allow you, will prove too ſtrong for his affection to his Daughter.

Tiribaſus who had already foreſeen how his firſt anſwer would be received, was but little aſtoniſh'd at this angry repulſe, and having hardened his reſolution to ſtand the firſt ſhock with an undaunted obſtinacy, he was preparing to reply, when turning his head, he perceived the company ſo near us, as he durſt not purſue his deſign for fear of over-hearers; this made him change the ſubject, and find out ſome other diſcourſe to entertain me; but I was ſo ſtung with that he had already, as I vouchſafed not ſo much as one ſingle word to all that he ſpake beſides.

From that day I began to hate him heartily, though till then I had found out nothing in his perſon that I could juſtly ſay was odious, but my belief that the pride of his heart (which ſprung from the Kings indulgence) had rais'd him the confidence to lay his paſſion ſo naked, provoked me more fiercely againſt him, than I ſhould have been to other perſons, though they had been his inferiors.

He thinks, ſaid I, that without raiſing himſelf, he may lawfully flie his aſpiring pretences at the Daughter of his King, and by the help of that inſolence, to which his Maſters unmerited ſmiles have tranſported him, he does doubtleſs imagine, that he can love nothing below me, without offending his upſtart honour; but I'le take care to cure him of that Errour, if he ſtill continues to ſhew me the Symptoms, and poſſibly throw him as much beneath his preſent condition, as his effronted ambition would raiſe him above it.

In the mean time, he took no deſpair from this firſt repulſe I had given him, and if he cunningly kept his paſſion under hatches to the whole Court, he loſt no occaſion wherein he might ſhew it to me in particular; I carefully avoided all thoſe that might probably betray me to a ſecond ſurprizal by him in private, and inſtructed all my actions to aſſure him, that the farther he ſtep'd in purſuit of his ambitious flames, the deeper he engag'd himſelf in my mortal hatred; all the reflections I could make upon it, ſtill added freſh fuel to the flame of my choler, and being born to ſo lofty a Courage, as could hardly judge the Son of Caeſar worthy to ſerve me, I could not ſuffer the thought that one of my Father's and a man that was no Prince, ſhould openly preſume to diſcourſe me his affection, without letting my ſelf be carried with impatience to the extreams of a hatred againſt him: I had no power to preſerve the truth of this accident in diſguiſe from Caeſario, and his Jealouſie (which was ſtarted up to a ſtrange height in the very day of it's birth,) made him receive this intelligence ſo impatiently, as had I conſented to looſen the Rains, which I ever kept upon his will, he would have doubtleſs endeavoured to puniſh the preſumption with too loud a fury, which my own quality and credit obliged me to hide from the whole world, but my commands (by the Authority he had given me in his heart) held him back ſo ſtrictly from any angry attempt upon his Rival as he durſt not ſuffer the leaſt ſign to appear in any of his actions that he knew it.

Tiribaſus often laid wait in vain for an occaſion that might help him to the privacy of a ſecond parly, but I ſtill countermined his cunning ſo carefully, as in more than three months time, he never lighted upon the liberty to ſpeak with me, but ſtill ſome company were by to intercept him, which I ſuppoſe gave him a reſolution to turn the courſe of his deſign another way, and refer that to the mediation of time, and the lucky emergencies of ſome future occaſions, which (as his condition was then ſtated) he had little hope to obtain.

[Page] In purſuit of this reſolve, he waited one day (as he had often done at ſeveral other times) at the foot of thoſe ſtairs that lead to my lodging, upon the point of my return from the City, and advancing with a number of Courtiers, that fawn'd upon his fortune, to the boot of my Chariot, he offered me his hand to help me out, and lead me up the ſtairs; what ever repugnance I had to receive that office at his hands, I could not handſomely refuſe him in the preſence of ſo many witneſſes, beſides perceiving the King with his face towards me, looking out of a window, and my Eſquire being reſpectively retired to give him that honour of precedency, I found my ſelf oblidged to lend him a hand, and being deſcended from the Chariot, I began to mount the ſtairs with him.

Tiribaſus turning his eyes round to ſee if any followed us neer, and perceiving Reſpect had kept all thoſe that came after at a becoming diſtance: Madam, ſaid he, (letting fall his voice as low as it might well be underſtood) had I been born among the Enemies of your Royal houſe, and with a Native Enimity, hatched deſigns againſt the Intereſt of your Eſtates, and the King your Fathers Service, you could not employ a more ſcornful care to flie and avoid me, than we have done already: the reaſon, replyed I, interrupting him, is eaſily apprehended, ſince if you had facted all that you have urged for the cauſes of averſion, your offence had been ſhort of that which your tongues indiſcretion did ſo lately betray. I did not think, replyed Tyribaſus, that any conſtruction could draw the proofs of an obſequious and reſpective poſſion, within the number of offences, and if we flie from thoſe that love us, me-thinks we ſhould ſeek out puniſhments for thoſe that do not ſo. Tyribaſus, ſaid I, to evade Diſcourſes of this nature, is the reaſon that I ſeek to eſcape you, as I would do Plagues or Death; and if ever you adventure again to offend me with the like, I'le tell your ſtory to the King in ſuch a manner, as all the intereſt and affection you have in him, perhaps may prove too weak to defend you from his indignation: No Madam, anſwered Tiribaſus with a ſerious and compos'd action, do not accuſe me to the King, if you pleaſe, for a fault my fate inforced me to commit, which I am reſolved ſhall no more be repeated, ſince you forbid it, if there be a poſſibility to avoid it, I would neither diſpleaſe the King my Maſter, nor my Soveraign Princeſs, and if I cannot ſuddenly exile the unlucky paſſion from my heart, which has rendered me worthy of your anger, at leaſt I will take ſuch care to govern and correct it, as it ſhall never noiſe it ſelf any more in your ears, nor make a ſecond purchaſe of your diſpleaſure.

As he finiſhed theſe words, he found himſelf neer my chamber door, and without ſtaying for an anſwer, he made me a very low reverence, and ſo retired, leaving more ſatisfaction behind him, by the promiſe he had made, than I thought he had brought.

Indeed he began to be a very ſtrict obſervatour of his word, and confined his behaviour to terms that were very remote, and almoſt aliens to the former teſtimonies of his love; ſo that in five or ſix months time, not ſo much as perceiving one ſpark of his flame, brake out words; at firſt I believed his Diſcretion had kept his Paſſion priſoner, on purpoſe to pleaſe me; and in ſequel I thought he had intirely driven it from his heart. Caeſario himſelf was of the ſame opinion, and all thoſe (who from ſeveral ſigns had received a glimmering intelligence of his love, perceiving the feaveriſh heat of his officious behaviour towards me, retire to ſuch a moderate temper, as implied no particular deſign) concluded with us, that the difficulties he encountered in my ſpirit, had doubtleſs beaten off his batteries, and obliged him to raiſe the Siege; for my ſelf I, was grown ſo confident, I had not miſtaken him, as, by little and little, I had almoſt quitted all my reſentment againſt him, and perceiving what ſtrict rules he ſtill obſerved in his carriage towards me, I began to regard him with almoſt as ſmooth an aſpect, as before the abortive birth of his affection.

But it ſeems I had rowed long enough in a calm, and my fate thought it time to acquaint me with thoſe cruel ſtorms of misfortunes, that have ſince coſt me ſo many ſighs.

At that time, Nubia, which had heretofore been a puiſſant Realm of it ſelf, and was then ranged as a Province under the King my Fathers Dominion, by the ſecret practiſes and inſtigations of our neighbors the Aethiopians, or rather the Romans, who had newly uſurped their Empire, univerſally roſe in Rebellion with ſo unbelieved an expedition and promptitude, as before the certain intelligence of it could arrive at Meroe, the infection was ſpread through all the Provinces of that Country; thoſe that had expreſt any fidelity to their Prince, were all inhumanly murthered, and the Nubians, having Crown'd a King of their own, called Evander, derived, as they pretended, from the ſleeping pedigree of their ancient Princes, were already grown to an apparent condition of maintaining their new Monarchy againſt all the force Ethiopia could make. Their Commander (who was brave among the harveſt, and known by a thouſand actions of valour, which had gotten him a high repute) did not promiſe himſelf leſs than the conqueſt of all thoſe Countrys that obeyed my Father, and not only thought he ſate ſure in the poſſeſſion of that he had already uſurp'd, but prepared to invade ours with a very formidable puiſſance.

[Page] The arrival of this ſtrange news, ſpread a general amazement through the whole Court; but the King, who had ever prov'd himſelf a couragious and magnanimous Prince, quickly took care to ſtifle the aſtoniſhment, and dexterouſly rallying his diſperſed forces he diſpatcht a puiſſant Army againſt the Rebels, under the conduct of Tyribaſus, as he of all his Nobility, on whoſe valour and experience, his expectations lean'd with the greateſt confidence.

Cleomedon, like a young Lion fiercely leap'd at this Allarm, and though he could not think of marching under the command of Tiribaſus without ſome reluctance, yet with a warlike ardour, preferring his intended purchaſe of glory, before the ſhame of obeying a Man, whoſe birth had made him his inferior, he reſolv'd to go that expedition; but the King (whoſe head was hatching other deſigns for him) would not ſuffer him to march with that firſt Campania, and (though with much ado) at laſt he moderated the impatience of his eager ſpirit with a promiſe to give him command in the next employment, wherein he might ſignalize himſelf to a greater advantage of glory: to the Kings Authority I added mine, which prov'd not too feeble to arreſt him; and in fine, over-power'd by the double obedience, which he ever divided betwixt the Father and the Daughter, grew contented to ſtay with us at Meroe, though ſtill expreſſing his generous impatience, with all the ſigns of an illuſtrious courage that could be deſired in the Son of Caeſar.

In the mean time, Tiribaſus marched againſt the Nubians, and, not to trouble you with a vain recital of his particular actions, I will only tell you, that he did a great many brave feats, both as Commander and Souldier, that were worthy to be rang'd in the number of thoſe that compoſe his haughty renown: he defeated the Enemy in two great Battels, but unfortunately engaging in a third, about the end of the Summer, at a place where our Army could not fight, without much diſadvantage, he loſt the day by ſo conſiderable a defeat of his Troops, as that ſingle misfortune pluck'd all the fruit of his former ſucceſſes, and ſo ſtrangely altered the face of our affairs in that Country, as all we could do for the reſt of that Campania, was to quit the offenſive part, preſerve what he had gotten, and ſtop the torrent of our Enemies progreſs; he might yet have probably recovered his advantages by a large recruit the King was ready to ſend him, when, to double the diſaſter, having ſtood the ſhock of many a cruel ſtorm, and expos'd himſelf to exceſſive toyl while the Winter laſted, he fell ſick of a deſperate malady, that led him to the very extreams of his life; in that interim, while his diſeaſe detained him Priſoner, the Evening had almoſt finiſhed the ruine of our affairs, and when his greateſt danger was over-blown, his health made her approaches with ſuch languiſhing and ſtaggering ſteps, as all his Phyſicians aſſur'd him, that if he chang'd not the Air, they had little hope to compleat his cure.

The King ſadly received this news, not doubting but the return of Tyribaſus would leave all things there involv'd in a very hopeleſs confuſion; but as he ever tenderly lov'd his perſon, and paſſing his thoughts upon the inconſiderable ſervice he was able to do him in the Army, while his indiſpoſition laſted, he reſolv'd to call him home, and preſently ſent him Orders to return to Meroe, with all the expedition that his health would permit. He ſent him not this Command, before he had reſolv'd to go fill up his empty place with his own perſon, and to that end haſting thoſe levies were pre-deſign'd for Nubia, his preparations for the voyage went forward with ſo dexterous a diligence, as when Tyribaſus enter'd Meroe, the King was ready to march out.

Tyribaſus appear'd at the Court with a very pale viſage, that ſtill ſhew'd the footſteps of his ſcarce departed malady, and the King receiv'd him, not only as the worthieſt of all his Subjects, but as his own, and only Son, or (if any fanſie can find out ſuch a perſon) as ſomething yet more deeply indear'd.

Before his departure, he left the government intirely in his hands, declar'd him preſident of the Council in his abſence, and committed his Kingdom, his Daughter, and all his affairs with an entire confidence, and an abſolute power to the diſpoſal and management of his care.

If Tyribaſus, by the cunning continuance of his diſſimulation, had not already ſtrangled all the ſuſpicions I had of him, I had oppoſed all my power againſt that abſolute Authority the King left him, and Cleomedon would never have ſuffered me to ſtay under the guard of a perſon ſo ſuſpected; but in all his actions, both before his Nubian expedition, in his departure, and at his return, he treated me with a coldneſs ſo incompatible with affection, as I eaſily believed there was not ſo much as one ſingle root of it left alive in his Spirit. The King having left this order at Meroe, diſpoſed himſelf to depart with Caeſario in his company, whom neither he nor I were then any longer willing to detain from the war, not that his abſence (ſince I lov'd him as dearly as decency would allow) did not deeply perplex me: but ſeeing the King my Father was going to expoſe his own perſon to the hazards [Page] of the War, I thought I ſhould ſin too much againſt Caeſario's vertue, to keep the paſſage 'gainſt him in his way to glory, or detain him with me, where now he could not ſtay with any ſafety to his credit; he waſted divers whole days in the repetition of his paſſionate adiews, and if he made me a thouſand vows of preſerving an invincible and immortal fidelity, I requited him with a thouſand aſſurances, that I would ever prefer him (till death divorced us) before all the reſt of mankind.

The day of that cruel ſeparation being arrived, I took leave of the King, and Cleomedon of me, with all the ſincerity and tendereſt proofs that were ever expreſt by affection, and the parting with both, aſſaulted my Soul in ſeveral places, with a grief ſo violent, as receiving the Kings laſt embraces, I was like to fall at his feet in a ſwoond, timerouſly gathering an unlucky Augury from the exquiſite ſenſe of thoſe redoublings of affection; the King who perceiving it, endeavoured to ſweeten my apprehenſions with ſome comfortable words, but they were not ſtrong enough to put my griefs to flight, nor baniſh thoſe prophetick fears from my Soul, which ſtaid there by the Authority, not only of known, but undiſcovered cauſes.

Cleomedon gave me the firſt adiew, and perceiving the reſt of the company (while he was taking his leave) to be all ſo buſied about the King, as none were near enough to over-hear him: It's impoſſible Madam, ſaid he, I ſhould carry my ſelf away from your preſence, without a torment too violent for my face to diſſemble, but I will learn to caſhier a large part of my woes, if your compaſſion gives comfort, and allows me to hope, that neither time, abſence, nor any of thoſe accidents that may croſs our Fortune, ſhall ever have power to exerciſe your tyranny, upon that priviledge I hold of your bounty. For that, ſaid I, you have my promiſe, and ſhall ever know me as inviolable in the obſervance of it, as I hope to find you Loyal and Religious in performing the Vows you have made. That confidence, ſaid he, creates me happineſs that infinitely tranſcends my merit, and I hope to carry your beautiful Image into places where it muſt infallibly gather the bays of a glorious victory: I cannot borrow meaner hopes, ſaid I, from my opinion of valour; but among all thoſe dangers you intend to brave, do not tye your ſelf ſo ſtrictly to the thoughts that you are Caeſar's Son, to forget the propriety Candace has in you.

After theſe words he kiſſed my hand, and having taken his laſt leave, he left me to the King, who came with open arms to bid me farewel: I had a face overflow'd with tears, which might well fetch their pedigree (in the common opinion from no other fountain than the Kings departure, and thoſe that ſtole into the flood for Cleomedon's ſake, ran along with the reſt, as if they had ſtarted from the ſame ſource, though (if I may ſay it without offending the Laws of a filial piety) they out-ſwelled the reſt in number.

I ſaw them both mount their horſes, and really Cleomedon (for in that my opinion was the legitimate child of truth, and no Way led aſtray by the Bias of affection) appeared in a poſture ſo Heroick, as might kindle envy even in thoſe ſouls to whom nature had laviſhed the greateſt advantages. He was that day covered with arms, that were rather deſigned for Parade than ſervice, and that was the firſt time the Roman Eagle was ſeen to diſplay her wings, and proudly erect her two heads amidſt the Gold and Jewels that adorned his Caſque and Shield. Near the imperial Eagle appeared a young one, that with a bold wing and open eyes, ſeemed to ſtrain his pinions againſt the Sun to prove his deſcent legitimate, with theſe words, The worthy Son of ſuch a Father. Caeſario had only added the Eaglet and Motto to the ancient deviſe, having received thoſe fair Arms at his departure from Alexandria, as a gift from the Queen his Mother, in whoſe cuſtody they were left by Julius Caeſar, after they had faithfully ſerved him in moſt of thoſe dangerous battels that got him the greateſt name among men.

Under theſe beautiful Arms the young Warrior advantagiouſly mounted, appeared ſo fierce and yet ſo noble, as endeared him to the affection and reſpect of every ſoul that beheld him; but I doat too much upon his Deſcription, and indeed, Madam, to comprehend it right, 'tis but fit his Pourtraiture ſhould be limned as well to the life in your imagination, as my heart has drawn it upon it ſelf.

This young Heroe marching by the Kings ſide, and circled with the general applauſe of all the Ethiopians, went out of the City, and left me half buſied in a cloud of ſad and fearful apprehenſions behind him.

Tyribaſus whom the Phyſitians had forbidden to ride, ſtaid ſome time with me in the City, and implored a great part of it, in ſtriving to confute and divert my melancholly thoughts, with a face ſo ſeriouſly honeſt, that none could ever think it belonged to a man that was linked to any other intereſt than the ſervice of his Maſter.

I did not then refuſe his Converſe, in which he was ſo far from uttering a word, as he did not ſo much as mingle one look of love, and I was grown ſo confident in a blind opinion, that he had totally disbanded all his paſſionate follies that diſpleaſed me, as I began to intereſs [Page] my ſelf in the return of his health, and was glad to ſee his colour and ſtrength coming to their uſual vivacity.

In the mean time you need not doubt but my thoughts were entirely tyed to the remembrance of what I loved, and if I ſent any vows to Heaven for the King my Fathers ſafety, you will eaſily believe I forgot not to mention Caeſario's, whoſe image was pourtraid ſo lively in my heart by the innocent skill of a chaſt affection, as the vaſt diſtance betwixt us, was utterly uncapable to blot or blemiſh it: There were few hours in the day, that, I did not dedicate to his memory, and few days wherein I did not often tremble at the thoughts of thoſe dangers he was going to encounter, when I chanced to hear thoſe that returned with Tyribaſus, diſcourſe of the Nubians valour, and their Commanders gallantry: Ah! they are too too valiant, would I ſay, for my dear Caeſar, and their mercileſs Swords will poſſible divide the thread of his life, with which mine is inſeparably twiſted.

I had more reaſon to credit my fears for him, than the King, well knowing that his boiling youth would hurry him to a precipice of perils, to which the ſolidity of my Fathers maturer age, and the care that guarded his Office, would rarely expoſe him.

I unladed all my thoughts of this alliance into the breaſts of Clitie, who was ſtill the partner of my ſolitary walks, both in the Gardens and other parts of the Iſland, that were fitteſt to flatter melancholly, where we ſtill entertained the time with diſcourſing upon the ſubject of my apprehenſions; but we were often interrupted by Tyribaſus, who cunningly forbearing ſuch language as might probably unrake the Embers of his paſſion, did yet ſtrive with an active induſtry to prefer himſelf to ſome credit in my thoughts, and eagerly faſtned his endeavours upon every occaſion that might give me a good opinion of his perſon, and advertiſe my apprehenſion how much he had obliged me.

And it is time to leave talking of my ſelf, and acquaint you how our Warriours behaved themſelves in Nubia, which I intend as ſuccinctly as poſſible, as well becauſe the ſex excuſes my ignorance in military matters, as that I am loath, with a long diſcourſe to be uncivil with your patience.

Before the King ſet forward in perſon, he had ſent 30000 Horſe, and 50000 Foot upon their march towards Nubia, raiſed out of thoſe Provinces that were adjacent to Meroe, as the Troglodites, Attatales, Memnonians, and divers others, which after (in a few days journey) he had overtaken, and Randezvouz'd, he marched at their head againſt the Nubians, who (having defeated thoſe Reliques of a ſhattered Army that Tiribaſus had left in their Country) proudly creſted with ſucceſs, had already left their own limits behind them, and begun to wave their Enſigns upon our Territories.

At firſt, Caeſario excuſing his refuſal of Command, with the incapacity of his youth, would needs combat without any charge, but at thoſe firſt encounters that offered him occaſion to ſignalize himſelf, the King perceiving that with his admirable valour there was linked a prudence little ſhort of his ſageſt and moſt experienced Captains, would needs (without admitting any more of his modeſt denials) inforce the command of his Vauntguard upon him, and was infinitely pleaſed to ſee him daily draw out Parties from the Troops of his Cavalry, and charge others that were ſent out by the Enemy ſo bravely, as he ſtill brought away moſt remarkable advantages: all thoſe that ſaw him ſight, ſpread reports of his valour, that poſed the belief of the reſt that had not yet beheld it, and the meaneſt Elogie they could give him, was, that he broke through the ranks of his Enemies like a whirlwind, with a brave diſdain of danger, darted himſelf into the thickeſt throngs, throwing down all that oppoſed his paſſage, and that he alone by the prodigious effects of his valour, and the example he gave to thoſe few that followed him, often routed whole Squadrons.

The King who daily ſaw him come home, charged with the ſpoil, and covered with the blood of his Enemies, grew inflamed with love and wonder at his incomparable gallantry, which haſtned the compleating of thoſe deſigns he had long been framing to his advantage: thus they waſted more than three months in Facings and Skirmiſhes, before they could draw the Enemy to a general battel, & their Commander, who was wiſe, as well as valiant, conſidering he was then in an Enemies Country, prudently concluded, he could not hazard a deciding blow, without venturing more upon the game than we; beſides, he had a hope, by his temporiſing delays (while he ſtill inforced his own by continual ſupplies) to deſtroy our Army by a lingring diſeaſe, ſtill charging our Troop, when any advantage invited, either in ſtraits or difficult paſſes; yet at laſt marching up to a place that the King had beſieged, with intent to put in a ſupply of men, he was inſenſibly engaged to a Combat, (though the greater part of both Armies ſtruck not a blow) and in fine, the victory declared for us, by the loſs of more than 15000 of his men.

The King preſently ſent us this news to Meroe, and I received by the ſame perſon that [Page] brought it, who was one of Cleomedon's ſervants, two letters together that were both infinitely welcome, my memory has loſt the words, but if that which came from the King was ſtufft with Cleomedon's praiſes, to whom he almoſt attributed all the glory of the victory, the other that ſpoke from Caeſario's hand, contained nothing but deep vows (put into very paſſionate terms) of an immortal fidelity: he ſince ſent me divers others, by which he powerfully confirmed himſelf in the poſſeſſion of my heart, nor did I make any ſcruple to aſſure him of it by two of mine, which (encouraged by a confidence that the King would not take it ill) I adventured to write to him.

After this advantage our Army had gotten, Evander taking advice of neceſſity, retired a little and gave the King liberty to ſit down before divers places that ſtood in his way which becauſe they had to time to fortifie themſelves were eaſily carried; but in that interim there paſſed many memorable encounters, of which I ſtill received a clear account by divers letters from Cleomedon: But why ſhould I longer defer the ſad recital of my misfortune? ſince my relation cannot paſs to a period, without touching that by the way, what pleaſure can I take to retard it? Six full months were already run through the glaſs of time ſince the King entered Nubia, and our Army had already cut off in divers Combats above 40000 of the Rebels, and loſt at leaſt half that number of our own men, when about three days journey from Tenopſis, the Metropolis of Nubia upon the banks of Nilus, that travels with his ſilver ſtreams through that Country, as well a Ethiopia, Evander having reinforced his Army with very numerous ſupplies, preſented him battel.

The King (though his forces were far ſhort of the Enemies number) accepted the offer, and drawing up his Squadrons into the form that he judged moſt advantagious, he reſolved to lead them on to the Combat in his own perſon, though much againſt the mind of Cleomedon, and the advice of all thoſe whoſe loyal care kept a ſtrict Centinel upon his ſafety; never was there ſeen (as I heard from very intelligent perſons in the trade of war) a more beautiful order obſerved in the ranking of men on both ſides, nor ever did two Armies diſpute a bloudy difference with a greater overflow of courage and obſtinacy than thoſe; the Nubians behaved themſelves that day more like invincible Warriors than barbarous Rebels, and the Ethiopians animated by the preſence of their King, did fears worthy to be liſted in ſtory as a pattern for ſurviving ages. The unfortunate Hidaſpes led on by the cruelty of his fate with all ſorts of unlucky preſages, hotly charged into the Enemies rank, and forgot the Generals part ſo unhappily, as engaging his perſon too far within a throng of his Enemies, he was twice beaten from his horſe, but as if thoſe two falls had been given him on purpoſe to raiſe Caeſario's valour to a ſublimer pitch of glory, the young Prince ſtill keeping a careful eye upon his perſon, flew in ſo happily to his reſcue, as he both times drew him from the jaws of danger, bravely mounted him again, and cut him a large paſſage, at the infinite expence of Nubian bloud, through a numerous preſs of his Enemies, whoſe blind ſwords would have made no diſtinction betwixt his and common lives. Caeſario often earneſtly intreated him to ſet a greater price upon his ſafety, and retire beyond the reach of thoſe dangers that loudly threatned him; but he ſeemed offended at that requeſt, and greedily deſirous to open himſelf a way to Victory with his own hand, he ruſhed in the third time among the ranks of his foes ſo unfortunately, as receiving two deep wounds in his body, he fell from his horſe half dead to the ground.

Cleomedon (whom exceſs of courage had carried a little too far before him) chancing to turn his head, and perceiving how hotly it was fought on both ſides about the King, who was then newly beaten from his Horſe, came back like a tempeſt upon his Enemies with a rage ſo irreſiſtable, as all thoſe that ſtood in his way, received diſpatch for the other world, and never needed to trouble a Chirurgion, if any of his blows hit right upon them; and thus his ſword, having made him a lane large enough to get up to the dying King, with a loud interjection of grief, he threw himſelf from his Horſe, catched up the King in his arms, & with a prodigious force, which the diſtraction of his ſorrow had much augmented, laid him upon his ſhoulders; by that great act ſtriking ſuch terrour through all thoſe Enemies that ſtood in his paſſage, as not one had the daring to oppoſe the piety of his deſign. 'Tis true, that ſome of the faithfulleſt among the Ethiopians, came in to the aſſiſtance of his generous intention, and (ſpur'd by grief and anger, then the twins of Loyalty) they fiercely flew among the thickeſt of their Enemies, and ſcattered their throng ſo happily, as Caeſario had liberty to carry the King out of the Fight to his Chariot, which was left near that place at the beginning of the Combat.

Immediately after the night arrived clad in her deepeſt black, and parted both the [Page] Armies, before the Signal of retreat could be given by the Trumpets of either party; and though our Enemies loſt more men than we, yet when the Armies fell off from each other, the Victory betwixt them, as yet irreſolute to which party ſhe ſhould ſhew partiality.

In the mean time the ſad Cleomedon put himſelf into the Chariot with the King, and while he made it gently towards his Tent, with inconceivable grief, he perceived that poor Prince draw near his end; but when they were come thither, the King laid in his bed, and the Chirurgeons that ſearched his wounds had pronounced them mortal, the deſolation was great, as if all Aethiopia had periſhed with him, and received an arreſt from death, to go and pay him their old allegiance in the other world.

Hidaſpes was only he that appeared untroubled, and perceiving Cleomedon (whom he tendered with an affection that might well have ſerved for an only Son) to weep, tear his hair, and torment himſelf in a deſperate manner, he fell a ſtrugling with his own weakneſs to give him comfort, and forced his Soul to ſtay her flight for a while, till he had reaſoned againſt Caeſario's affliction, with ſuch a gravity of ſtile, as turned all the aſſiſtance into wonder it ſelf at the grandeur of his Courage.

In fine, perceiving the glaſs of his life was turned for the laſt hour, and by the help of many Torches that were lighted up in his Tent, ſeeing the principal Commanders in his Army ſtand round his bed, after he had regarded them with a ſerious and aſſured aſpect; ‘My friends, ſaid he, do not ſo tamely lament the deſtiny of a Prince, wherein there is nothing calls for ſo weak a paſſion as pity, I die like a King while I thus march off the worlds Theatre in the field of honour, and by the laſt actions of my life, I leave no ſpot o [...] ſhame upon my memory, if you have any love ſtill alive in your breaſt for your dying Maſter, give me the proof of it, when I am aſhes, in your obedience to what I ask at your hands, and ſuffer me to die in hopes that my laſt commands ſhall be accompliſhed: you know I leave no other heir behind me than my Daughter, the Princeſs Candace, ſhe is now to ſucceed to my Scepter as your lawful Queen, and poſſible ſuch a one as will not prove unworthy to command you: I thank the Gods that they have given me time before my Soul turns her back upon the world, to chuſe her ſuch a husband, as without fear or ſhame ſhe may receive by my orders and a general approbation; Cleomedon, who though a ſtranger among us, is he of all men whoſe alliance is deareſt to my wiſhes, and whoſe Government will be ſweeteſt to you, his perſon is known to you, his birth to ſome among you, and of thoſe the reſt may eaſily be enformed, that there is none upon earth can juſtly boaſt ſo ſublime an extraction, and therefore none likely to leave a more illuſtrious Race of Kings to Aethiopia than he; Receive him after me both for Candaces husband, and a King to thoſe people which I am forced to abandon, and with him this promiſe from your dying King, that the gods never gave you a happineſs parallel to that you will enjoy under the ſway of his Scepter.’

Hidaſpes ſpake in this manner, while all the aſſiſtants almoſt ſwam in their own tears to hear him, and though they highly approved his generous and yet prudent choice of Cleomedon for a Succeſſour, yet exceſs of grief, ſo overflowed the paſſage of their words, as they were poſed for the preſent to expreſs their reſentments; and well might be, ſince he, who alone had more intereſt than all the reſt, even Cleomedon himſelf, inſtead of paying his acknowledgment for a favour that topped his talleſt wiſhes, appeared in a more dejected and dying poſture than the King himſelf.

At laſt my Father ſtretching out his hand, and calling him by his name: Cleomedon, ſaid he, I leave thee my Daughter and my Crown, accept the preſent my Son, ſince I have nothing more pretious to beſtow upon thee: Cleomedon putting one knee to the ground took the Kings hand and kiſſed it, but he had not the power to bring forth one ſingle word, and the King after a few other ſhort breathed Diſcourſes, wherein among other things, he commended Tiribaſus to him, as a man very capable of State-employment, his Spirits waſted themſelves by degrees to that low Ebb, as in fine he loſt his ſpeech, and within an hour after his Life.

Pardon me, Madam, purſu'd Candace, with a face cover'd with tears, if I cannot paſs this Tragick part of my ſtory, without paying this watry tribute (demanded by Nature and reaſon) to the memory of ſo ſad a loſs; Madam I loſt a Father, to whom I was very dear, and a Father whoſe vertues merited the eſteem and love of all that knew him; he remain'd cold and pale in Caeſario's arms, and that Prince whoſe former affection to Hidaſpes, as his Protector, his Benefactor, and the Father of Candace, was paſſionately increas'd by his laſt ſcene of kindneſs, after his death appear'd in a condition little differing from his, as if one Soul had animated both their Bodies, and the ſame time forſook [Page] and unfurniſhed her double manſion: from this profound aſtoniſhment he ſucceeded to ſighs, and then by degrees found a tongue of his griefs, which delivered themſelves in ſuch doleful accents, as wrought as much pity from the company, as the loſs of their King that caus'd them. All the credit that his Governour Eteocles had with him was then grown very neceſſary, and after he had ſuffer'd him to waſt that whole night in Sighs, Tears and Plaints, whereof I ſuppoſe you willing to bate me the recital, he could find no other way to reduce him to himſelf, than by preſenting me to his memory; that proved the ſtrongeſt bridle, to retire the overflowing of his woes, and began to lead his thoughts aſide from the loſs, to a reflection upon the Legacy; the day following he grew more flexible to thoſe reaſons that aſſaulted his melancholly, and at laſt knocking off the Manacles of his grief, and reſtoring his courage to a perfect liberty, which indeed (as the general intereſt of Aethiopia was then tempered) neceſſity enjoyned, after he had caus'd the Kings body to be embalmed, with an intent to lay him at Meroe, with the Aſhes of his Anceſtors, and remembring the Enemy was near, by a general conſent, he took the command of the Army, with a ſolemn Oath, in preſence of all the Officers, that he would never turn his back upon Nubia, till he had bath'd his revenge of their Kings death, in whole Rivers of the Rebels blood.

This promiſe was fortunately followed by effect, and the next day having taken a general Muſter of his Army, and finding it ſtill conſiſted of more than 10000 Horſe, and 35000 Foot, he put himſelf in the head of it, and marched directly to Tenupſis, whither, the Enemies Army was newly retir'd. It yet amounted to more than 50000 Combatants, and their General Evander (who had already been advertis'd of the Kings Death, with which he fed the faireſt hopes of his ſucceſs, and diſdaining to fear a Man whoſe unpractiſed youth he cond [...] ded incapable to manage ſo great a Command) marched up to him with a confidence full of pride, and offered him battel.

Caeſario accepted this defiance with a fierce joy, and actively appeared at the heal of his Troops, in an Armour, whoſe deep black repreſented the ſadneſs of his So [...]l, though now half turned into a noble anger; he led them on the Combat with ſuch a daring and undaunted reſolution, animated the coldeſt courages, with Examples ſo brave and beautiful, and ſpy'd them out advantages by ſuch a prudent and quick-ſighted conduct, as the victory, long diſputed by hot arguments on both ſides, liſted her [...] on our party, but ſhe came in Scarlet, for the greedy fury both of General and Souldier, ſtill hunting for blood to quench the thirſt of the revenge for the Kings death; did that d [...] ſacrifice to his Ghoſt above 40000 Nubians and compell'd the reſt that eſcap'd the ſlaughter, to ſeek their ſafety within the walls of Tenupſis, which open'd its gates to favo [...] their retreat.

Three days after, the victorious Cleomedon (though he had taken ſome ſlight wounds [...] the Battel) ſate down with his Army before it, but becauſe the City was ſtrongly fortifi [...] ▪ and now defended by above 10000 Men, it held his whole Army play for at leaſt the Months time, during which, Evander, who diſdained to ſhut himſelf up within the walls of a Town, dexterouſly poſting in perſon from place to place, where he had his greateſt reſources was grown as ſtrong in number as before, and had once more received a condition to ſpin on the War to a tedious length.

At laſt the beſieged City was carried by Storm, and all Cleomedon's authority could not hinder the Aethiopians from cutting the greateſt part of the Souldiers that defended it, in pieces and leaving very cruel marks of their vengeance in that deſolate City.

After Tenupſis, Cleomedon beſieged it, and with leſs pain took in divers other Cities, that were ſeated upon the banks of Nilus, and, when he had totally ranged that Country under his obedience, he advanced to meet Evander, who (once more deſirous to try his Fortune) came up the third time to give him battel. Caeſario proved again victorious, and not to amplifie my ſtory with needleſs circumſtances or over-lade this relation with things that paſs my experience, in one years time, which he ſpent in recovering Nubia, he defeated the Enemies in five ſignal Battels, took ten or twelve of their Cities by force, reduc'd all the reſt by the terrour of his Arms, and for a concluſion of his glorious exploit, accepting a defiance from Evander (now brought to the brink of his laſt extremity) that challenged him to a ſingle Combat, he fought with him in view of both Armies, bravely ſlew him upon the ſpot, and by his death, cut up the laſt root of that Rebellion.

I have ſuffered my contracted recital to go down the ſtream of Cleomedon's actions, without touching ſome other things that paſs'd in the interim of much greater concernment to my ſelf, than any I have yet mentioned; but I trac'd theſe paſſages as far [Page] as they would reach, that I might not diſtract the method of my ſtory, and now I ſhall ſtep back to ſome accidents that befel my ſelf, whereof the recital will doubtleſs be leſs offenſive, than my late diſcourſe of War, which yet I drew within as narrow, a compaſs as my skill would give leave. ‘Think it not poſſible, Madam, reply'd the Princeſs Eliſa, that I can taſt any trouble in your narration, you tell your ſtory ſo gracefully, and I already feel my ſelf ſo deeply intereſſed, both in what regards your own perſon, and concerns the adventures of a Prince ſo accompliſhed as Caeſario, as it is only a divertiſment of this nature, that has power to conclude a ſhort truce betwixt my griefs and I. The Gods grant, reply'd Candace embracing her, you may receive as happy a releaſe of all your ſorrows, as my wiſh can contrive for my own misfortune; In the mean time ſince you have reliſhed ſome pleaſure in the beginning of my ſtory, I hope the part untold will much improve it, becauſe it contains adventures of more importance, and much more worthy of your attention.’

HYMENS PRAELUDIA: OR, Love's Maſter-Piece. PART III.
LIB. II.

[Page]

ARGUMENT.

The politick practiſes of Tyribaſus, to play the double game of his Love and ambition. He ſeizes the ſinews of the Kingdom, ſurprizes Meroe, and ſecures Candace's perſon. Caeſario haſtily advances with his thin Army, to pluck the prey out of his hands: defeats Antenor's forces by the way, and kills him. Fights the groſs body of Tyribaſus Army, with his handful of wounded men, which is all cut off, and himſelf (after he had deeply hurt and unhors'd the Tyrant) thrown to the ground among the dead. The unhop'd intelligence of his miraculous eſcape, ſtops the ſourſe of Candace's tears for his loſs; by a ſecret combination, he plots her liberty, and the Tyrants ruine. Surprizes the Pallace by night with 4000 Men, and ſends her down the Nilus to the City of Baſſa; She is taken in the way, by the Pyrate Zenodorus. Her ſtrange delivery from the rage of his brutiſh luſt, by the ſucceſſive aſſiſtance of Eteocles and Tyridates.

WHile Caeſario reveng'd the King my Fathers death, by ſpilling deluges of the Faithleſs Nubian's blood, and by ſo many memorable victories, was raiſing his renown to the higheſt ſphere of Glory, I ſtaid at Meroe under the guard of Tyribaſus, and was long kept ignorant of my deplorable loſs, 'tis true, an extraordinary ſadneſs that ſat heavy upon my heart, might well have hinted ſomething to my fears, but I ſtill imputed all to the abſence of what I lov'd, and eaſily taught my ſelf to believe, that to be barred by ſo vaſt a diſtance from the company and comforts of a Father and a Lover, was capable enough to wrap my Soul in the dull clouds of as deep a melancholly; at firſt indeed I confeſs it was often intermitted by the frequent intelligence of their happy progreſs in the War, nor could I receive young Caeſar's letters, or liſten to the language of ſome that rung the report of his gallant actions through the City, with a mean or trivial delight, and yet that ſatisfaction, was ſtill ſubject to the checks of thoſe continual fears, that tendered his life, and I never underſtood how bravely he had beat off the foregoing dangers, without trembling at the thoughts of thoſe that were were likely to follow.

At laſt neceſſity became my intelligencer of this fatal diſaſter, and the arrival of the Kings body conducted with a ſolemn funeral pomp to Meroe left them no poſſibility to keep the mask any longer upon the face of truth. Tyribaſus whoſe authority allowed him the freeſt acceſs to my perſon, was he that firſt undertook to break the ice and acquaint me with it, & his recital of that lamentable Tragedy brought me to the ſaddeſt eſtate, that any affliction of that nature was ever capable to reduce the weakeſt & moſt womaniſh reſiſtance, beſides the impreſſions of [Page] blood that ſtill ſink themſelves very deep in a tender heart, the memory of thoſe particular indulgences, and Careſſes I receiv'd from the beſt Father in the world, produc'd ſuch doleful and almoſt deadly effects within me, as begot a ſad ſuſpition in all thoſe that came on purpoſe to bring me comfort, that I would hardly be ever won to receive it; complaints, tears, and ſighs, from which nothing was capable to divert me, were the only company I was willing to keep and converſe with, for many whole dayes together, and thoſe that ſaw me aſſiſt at the Funeral obſequies of that great Prince, with a face that gave colours of death, law, ſome reaſon for their fears, that the Daughter would follow her Father too faſt to the other world to charge the Court with a ſecond mourning; and yet I muſt avow that in my hotteſt fit of affliction, I could not be inſenſible at a letter I receiv'd from Caeſario, ſince a ſweeter Solace for my ſorrows was wrap'd up in that papper, than all other remedies were capable of giving; it was put into my hands, the next day after the Kings obſequies by a man of his, whom he had commanded to ſtay the delivery, till I had receiv'd the ſad news from ſome other hand; not willing that the firſt meſſage of my misfortunes ſhould come from him; I read it ſo often over as my memory has kept the words, ever ſince in the ſame order they were written, and I think they were theſe, or very little different.

Cleomedon to the Queen of Aethiopia.

‘MAdam, the Gods have thought it fit to call away the King your Father from the ſociety of men, to ſhew them by your Example, that even thoſe perſons that neareſt approach their nature are not exempted from adverſity, and they permitted me not, without the ſhame of ſurviving him to render you this feeble proof of the deep ſhare I go in your affliction, yet they are all my witneſſes, that if I had not endur'd my life for your ſake, I ſhould ſcarce have ſuffer'd him to reſign his Being, from whom you had yours, and dye alone without my attendance to the other world, nor can I ſtay my thoughts upon the ſad condition, to which this deplorable news will bring you, without relapſing into thoſe woes, that are little ſhort of yours. I dare not Madam, diſpute againſt the expence of ſome tears, your piety will doubtleſs pay to ſo dear a loſs, which your intereſts here will not ſuffer me to come and wipe away before I have finiſhed the ſacrifice of that revenge I owe to my Maſters Ghoſt, and tam'd your diſloyal people to an incapacity of raiſing new ſtorms in the haven of your Government: but my affection calls to your grief for a little moderation, and alarms your High-born heart to arm it ſelf in its own greatneſs, for the encounter of theſe croſſes that heaven prepar'd on purpoſe to try its Courage; they are thoſe that may raiſe you trophees upon fate it ſelf, who has only forc'd a misfortune to leap over ſome few years, which at laſt you could never have avoided, and they are only thoſe (if that conſideration deſerves the weighing) that have power to appeaſe the perturbations of a Spirit, which muſt ſtill be torn with mortal inquietudes, ſo long as you are afflicted.’

This letter did really ſweeten my diſpleaſures more, than all the arguments of comfort could be rais'd by the whole company about me, and ſince 'tis but fit that I paſs by thoſe paſſionate and vain diſcourſes, which flow'd beyond all rule and meaſure from my head long grief, I will refer them to the judgement of your excellent nature, and only tell you that after I had render'd to the death and memory of my Father all that might well be expected from a child that honored him as ſhe ought, at length, Time, Reaſon and Caeſario's remembrance, began to tame the tempeſt of my griefs and render me capable of Converſation.

I was then ſolemnly crown'd Queen of Aethiopia, and receiv'd all the Oaths of fidelity and allegiance with the ordinary formalities that were anciently us'd to my Predeceſſors: but Tiribaſus ſtill kept the power the King had left in his hands, as well over the Militia, as the cuſtoms and places of greateſt importance in the Kingdom, nor did I trouble my thoughts in hatching any deſign to eclipſe his authority, ſince I ſaw no reaſon to ſuſpect he would abuſe it, and indeed had I levell'd my intentions at any ſuch thing, I ſhould not have found it a facil enterpriſe, for the King had mounted him to ſuch a degree of puiſſance; as he left himſelf no poſſibility to ruine the works of his own hands, though he had liv'd to deſire it; in all the diſcourſes he now made me, he never mentioned the Kings laſt words, that refer'd to his choice of Cleomedon for a Son-in-law and Succeſſor, but I had underſtood from divers other perſons, and found it ſo fitly ſuited with mine own inclinations, as I felt not the leaſt averſion in my Soul againſt it, and preſerv'd no other thoughts of that brave Prince, (the intelligence of whoſe freſh victories, was ſtill daily brought us upon the wings of fame) than as he, whom the Divine concurrence with my Fathers Will, and mine own wiſhes reſerv'd for a partner of my Crown and Bed; theſe hopes were more and more confirm'd by the ſtill ſwelling report of his [Page] great actions, which guided him to a glory that might one day meaſure with that immortal renown, his Fathers Sword had reap'd: I impatiently expected the end of that civil War, that ſhould bring him home to my embraces, when thoſe deſigns were croſs'd by a ſad revolution of my affairs, and ſome ſtrange accidents that muſt ſucceed to the next place in my ſtory.

Tiribaſus had ſo cunningly cover'd his ambitious ayms, not only before, but for three Months after the Kings death, as I could take no hold upon him with the leaſt ſuſpition, and I ſaw he ſtill deported himſelf with ſuch an even indifferency, and an equal proportion of reſpect, as betraid not the leaſt ſign in all his behaviour that would give my heart any hold of a revenging paſſion.

In the mean time, he form'd parties, fortified places, rais'd money, endeavour'd to gain the hearts of the People and Soldiery, and ſecretly fram'd all the Engines of a formidable puiſſance, that was ready for motion, when his affairs ſhould invite to a publick appearance, then by degrees did his pride grow up to the ſame ſtature of his power, and began to hatch me a jealouſie, which already whiſpered me ſome fears, that his greatneſs would declare againſt Caeſario's intereſt, and openly oppoſe my deſigns in his favour: I would then have been glad of a power to have pull'd him lower, but I ſaw my own weakneſs in the large glaſs of his puiſſance, and I could not inform my ſelf of any ſtate affair, without plainly perceiving that all the ſtrength of Aethiopia was lodg'd in the head and hands of Tiribaſus. However, he was now reſolv'd to tread another path to his ends, than what he had formerly choſen, and in ſtead of expreſſing his love (if it were true that he did not put on a counterfeit paſſion on purpoſe, to play the game of his ambition better, as ſome after paſſages did ſeem to infer) by ſighs, glances, interrupted words, with other ordinary marks of affection, he ſtill hid the face of his affection within the vizard of a cold reſpect, while he tri'd to mine the Fort by other Engins, even the moſt conſiderable perſons of my counſel, who often repreſented how much the neceſſity of my affair did urge me to chuſe a Husband, and give a King to my people, that might prop and aſſiſt my feeble ſex, in the ſway of ſo weighty a Scepter.

Caeſario's abſence made me diſreliſh all diſcourſes of this nature, and endeavour to ſpin out the time till he might probably return victorious, by urging an excuſe from my late diſaſter, whoſe unclos'd wounds ſtill bled too freſhly, ſo ſoon to licence any thoughts that could lend an ear to their propoſitions.

Tiribaſus having thus begun by his agents was reſolv'd to act the next part in his own perſon, and now thinking nothing too high and hard for his power to enterpriſe, he reſolv'd to ſet his intentions at liberty, and once more bring his paſſion into the liſts againſt me. To that purpoſe, one day after he had entertain'd me a while with ſome State affairs, inſenſibly letting fall his diſcourſe where he deſign'd it, and in ſpite of all the reſolution that fortifi'd his natural boldneſs, changing pale at the thought of his undertakings. ‘Madam, ſaid he, though your ſubjects, find nothing in your Government that is not infinitely above your Sex, yet if you ſcan your intereſts aright, you cannot but deem it requiſite to beſtow a King upon the univerſal vote of Aethiopia, as well to ſatisfie the ardent deſire of your people, as to find a ſweeter repoſe upon your own pillow; reaſon arms it ſelf at all points to ſubdue your conſent to this propoſition, and urges the neceſſity of a Maſculine head and hand, to defend your territories from the inchroachments of neighbour Princes, and keep your warlike people (apt enough for inſurrection) in a happy and calm obedience. He let fall his eyes when he came at this period, and by that action taught me to divine a part of his intentions, this thought ſtruck my ſoul with a very ſenſible diſpleaſure, and deſirous not only to check, but if poſſible to blaſt his hopes.’ ‘I have yet ſeen Tyribaſus, ſaid I, no ſuch preſſing neceſſity as you ſeem to imply in your propoſal, ſince if they rightly ballance your wiſdome, ſtill ſeconded by thoſe prudent heads that aſſiſt you in the management of Stateaffairs, the Aethiopians need not to be haſty for a King to rule them; however when I find my own and the general intereſt requires it, I ſhall not refuſe, according to your good advice, the alliance of a Prince, whoſe Government may prove agreeable, and protection advantageous to our people. I cannot think, Madam, reply'd the intereſſed Tyribaſus, you can promiſe your ſelf any ſafety in going beyond your own Confines for the choice of a Husband, ſince if you once impower a ſtranger King to carry the Crown of Aethiopia into a foraign Dominion, beſides that your Peoples liberty muſt follow it, which in ſuch an election will doubtleſs find an inevitable ruint, your own condition will miſs much of that ſweetneſs and content you may enjoy with a perſon below your dignity, who can never be ſo ingrateful to forget that you ſtoop'd to take him up to a Soveraign authority. No Tyribaſus, reply'd I, I ſhall hardly bow my Spirit to look beneath my own birth among an inferiour rank of mortals for the choice of a husband; and though I were willing to lean to ſuch low [Page] thoughts, you know, Tyribaſus I could never juſtly act them, ſince all the right I might have had in my own diſpoſal, was cut off by the Kings laſt will, who nam'd the perſon at his death he had deſign'd to eſpouſe me.’

Tyribaſus diſcovering much trouble at theſe words, by the often changes of his colour; ‘When the King named you that husband, ſaid he, (by report of thoſe that ſaw him) he had loſt the greateſt part of his reaſon, and I know you are too well advis'd, to caſt your eyes upon a man that is no better than a fugitive, diſpoil'd of goods, friends, revenue, and all that ſhould ſupport him, and one that could not have another Aſylum in the whole world, but what your Father gave him; beſides he is Caeſars enemy, to whom (after the narrow eſcape of his purſuit by diſguiſing his name and condition) he will be no ſooner known for what he is, but he will draw the whole Roman Puiſſance upon himſelf and all thoſe that ſupport him; his birth (ſince we only take his own word for it) is uncertain enough, and ſuppoſe I grant him born of Caeſar and Cleopatra, I ſhall yet hold him inferior to the meaneſt Prince in the world, if the iſſue of a lawful bed.’

I was deeply incens'd at this rude language of Tyribaſus, in contempt of Caeſario; and had I let fall the reins of my reſentment, I had doubtleſs ſhown him the ſaucy and uncivil injurie he offered me at the perfect magnitude, but I was fearful to exceed the decorum of modeſty, by patronizing what I lov'd, with too much ardour, and from that conſideration, not without uſing ſome violence to bind my ſpirit, I was content to return him this anſwer.

‘The dying King declar'd no intention in Cleomedon's favour, that the dimmeſt eye about him might not eaſily diſcover, had been long deſigned in his perfect health, and therefore it was rather an effect than a diſeaſe of his reaſon, that made him publiquely avow that eſteem at his death, which had dwelt very long in his breaſt before, his birth is ſuch as he need not envy the higheſt extraction upon Earth, if he be a fugitive, deſpoil'd of goods and friends, it is only the default of his fortune, which yet he advantagiouſly repairs by his vertue; and if Caeſar ſtill hunts his life, we have power enough to oppoſe his perſecution, to which we are deeply obliged, by the grandeur of his daily actions, and the glorious victories he ſtill ſtains for our ſervice.’

‘What Madam, reply'd Tiribaſus, wholly tranſported, is it then true that you prefer Cleomedon before ſo many conſiderable men among your Aethiopians, that are a thouſand time more capable to command them, and more worthy to obey you than that ſtranger? and where are thoſe men, reply'd I, among the Aethiopians, that are worthier to command than Caeſario? See Madam, anſwer'd the audacious Tyribaſus, clapping his hand upon his breaſt, Tiribaſus alone not only by his vertue, but all ſorts of other advantages, carries a better title than Caeſario, to every thing that may be call'd the reward of merit; it is my love, Madam, and not my ambition that compoſes this language, or if there be a little tincture of ambition in it, it is only to poſſeſs Candace, and not her Crown, this paſſion, that has ſo long been the Priſoner of my fear to diſpleaſe you was never extinguiſhed, and if it once more adventures to break from its melancholly Cell, and invade the light, 'tis becauſe you have brought it to ſuch extremities, as it could no longer endure to be led in ſo ſhort a chain, while I thought it could not appear without the ſin of offending you, ſhe never ſo much as help up her dejected head, but now in avowing Cleomedon's, you authoriſe her liberty and 'tis from his fortune that he borrows her boldneſs, if he be worthy to ſerve you, I may challenge preheminence by the right of a thouſand reaſons known to the whole State, and if the Aethiopians muſt ſubmit to the dominion of one of us, ſure they will ſooner chuſe to obey one that was born in the boſom of their Country, than put on the ſhameful yoak of him that is an alien.’

He would doubtleſs have gone on in this peremptory language, if grief and anger ſtrained to their higheſt extream, by his unparalleled rudeneſs, had not provoked me thus to intercept him.

‘Inſolent man, ſaid I, (darting a look at him, compos'd of ſcorn and anger) if my indulgence has fed thy pride ſo high to ſtarve thy duty, I will make thee know thou haſt plaied the fool to abuſe it, and inſtead of making thy ſelf a Soveraign to thy fellow-ſubjects, thou ſhalt ſoon feel that thou art ſtill my vaſſal. I will never diſpute, reply'd Tyribaſus, the command you have over me, but Cleomedon ſhall always find my pretences are neither inferior to his in power or merit.’

‘I had certainly loſt all thoughts of patience, if after theſe audacious words he had ſtayed longer in my preſence;’ but, willing to avoid the firſt bolts of my choler, he withdrew himſelf without ſtaying for an anſwer, and left me liberty to converſe with the anxious thoughts, and digeſt the cholerick humour he had ſtirred within me.

I ſhould find it a hard task to repreſent my ſelf, as my reſentments had then render'd me, [Page] and the agitations of grief and anger ſtill kept ſo ſtrong a pulſe at my heart, as made me that whole day incapable of any company; Oh! how did I accuſe the King my Fathers memory, for lifting one of his Subjects to ſo prodigious a height, as gave him commiſſion to offend me with impunity! what vain and airy inventions did my fancy frame, to ruine the power of that man, and ſtay the execution of his wicked inventions! but alas, which of theſe thoughts could lead me the way to a probability of proſpering in ſuch deſigns! I then conſidered I was young, a Maid, and Queen to a People, whoſe whole herd afforded not a Man that durſt ſhock with Tyribaſus puiſſance, without the ſupport and aſſiſtance of ſome faithful perſons, I found it impoſſible to ſhape any Engine or Enterpriſe againſt him; nay had I encountred ſome loyalty among my own, they would ſtill have wanted ſtrength to manage ſo haughty a deſign. Only Cleomedon (and he divided from me by the large Tract of Provinces betwixt us) was the ſole perſon, upon whom I could faſten any rational hope of reſcue; for beſides, what the high reputation that his vertue, his grand ſervices, and the King my Fathers laſt will had won him among the Aethiopians, might promiſe me, I expected all things from the greatneſs of his courage, and I knew his proper intereſt would engage him to the conſervation of what another would unjuſtly deprive him.

I reſolved then to call him home from Nubia, without conſidering how much his preſence might ſtill be neceſſary among thoſe faithleſs people, from whom he had already gained three Battels, and taken in a great part of their ſtrongeſt Garriſons, and without ſtaying the reſult of a farther deliberation, or asking the advice of any perſon, I wrote to him in theſe terms.

Candace Queen of Aethiopia to Prince Cleomedon.

‘THE victory that inſeparably waites upon your Sword, to thoſe places where occaſion invites you to draw it, cannot defend you at this diſtance from that injuſtice your Enemies and mine are plotting againſt you; Tiribaſus would rob you of what is due by the triple title of the Kings laſt will, your ſervices, and my inclinations, and I find my ſelf too weak to reſiſt a puiſſance he has injuriouſly wreſted from me by uſurpation. Come away then my dear Caeſario, with all the Forces are left you, to diſpute pretences of more importance, than the recovery of Nubia, againſt Enemies more cruel than any you have there to encounter. I had rather looſe that part of my Dominion, than prove a ſad witneſs to the loſs of thoſe hopes you have juſt conceived of Candace's affection.’

I truſted this Letter to the carriage of one of my own Servants, whoſe fidelity I knew deſerved no ſuſpition, but it never arrived at Cleomedon's hands, and underſtood a long time after, that not only my firſt meſſenger had been intercepted and impriſoned by Tiribaſus, but all the reſt that I ſent beſides, which denied me a poſſibility of receiving any news from Nubia.

In the mean time Tyribaſus was not ready to improve theſe beginnings to a progreſs, and ſince the laſt undiſguiſing of his ayms, pretermitted no occaſion that might openly ſhew his deſigns, and acquaint every common eye with his amorous addreſſes, as if he had entered the liſts of Love upon equal terms, and borrowed his boldneſs from a parity of condition. I had almoſt dyed with deſpight at his effrontrey, and he no ſooner opened his mouth to reſolicite his ſuit, but I ſtill gave him a rude repulſe in terms ſo ſharp and galling, as would have infallibly urged any ſpirit but his, to have raiſed his Siege, as doubtleſs himſelf had done, if his Love and Ambition had not drawn in the ſame yoak, and his deſire of poſſeſſing me, been freſhly ſupplyed with new heats from his aſpiring deſign, to ſet a proud Crown upon his head.

One day offering me his hand to lead me to the Temple, and perceiving that after a diſdainful rejection of his, I had taken my Squire, ‘I ſee my ſervices, ſaid he, are very diſtaſtful, though I know no other reaſon, than becauſe they are offer'd with more zeal and ardour, than all you receive beſide from the reſt of mankind, and poſſible the ſame reaſon that your Majeſty takes for a juſt incitement of your cenſure, would prefer them to eſtimation and acceptance in another Spirit; I ſhould not refuſe to receive them of you, reply'd I, as they are due from my Subject, if you would only pay them upon that ſcore; but if they are brought to back any other ayms, I know you not, becauſe you have forgot to know me as you ought. It ſhall be the leſſon of my whole life, anſwered he, to know you as my Soveraign Queen, at whoſe feet my Soul lyes proſtrate by the command of a double authority, nor will I ever entertain one ſingle wiſh to get a diſpenſation of that homage. I here freely quit you, reply'd I, of all you owe me, provided you will ſee me no more, and 'tis that Tyribaſus, the beſt and moſt agreeable ſervice I ſhall ever receive at your hands.’

[Page] Tyribaſus perceiving I began to kindle at this diſcourſe, would preſs it no further, but, loſing all hope in his deſigns to vanquiſh my averſions in theſe weapons, he reſolved to work his ends with ruder inſtruments than Love and Sweetneſs, which he plainly ſaw had done him no ſervice: ſuſpecting the prejudice Delay might produce, and fearing that Cleomedon returning from Nubia, and winning all the honeſt party to eſpouſe his quarrel, might give a dangerous ſhock to his ill-gotten authority, he concluded from the arguments of an impulſive neceſſity to defer the blow no longer.

He was ready aſſured of all the ſtrong places in the Kingdom, to the command of which, he had ſtill obſerved the caution to prefer no others but ſuch as were all at his own devotion, the treaſure was wholly in his hands, or in thoſe of his creatures, and without his order neither Garriſons nor ſtanding Troops could receive any payment, he had ſo perfectly brought the Officers hearts with his liberalities that ſtill came from my Coffers, as they were all at his diſpoſal, and when he flew at the higheſt pitch of his Maſters favour, having made it his care to gain himſelf a popular eſteem, by procuring ſome royal grants, that carried the face of a publick good, he thrived ſo ſtrangely by thoſe ſly inſinuations, as there were few perſons among the Aethiopians (and thoſe of the beſt quality, who becauſe of their Birth and Vertue, would not be corrupted by his Gifts and Flatteries) that he had not engaged to favour his ambition: beſides, finding a pretext of making grand Levies to ſend into Nubia, where Cleomedon's forces by fighting ſo often were much enfeebled, he had raiſed in divers parts of the Kingdom above ſix ſcore thouſand men, which diſpoſed into ſeveral bodies, inſtead of marching towards Nubia, he had lodged in Garriſons, and cauſed them to be exactly paid; by which mean; he made himſelf ſure of their hearts, and held them readily diſpoſed to act his commands, without ballancing any thoughts upon the cauſe or quarrel.

Theſe traiterous practiſes were not ſo ſecretly carried, but I had notice of them, from ſome that ſuſpected his drift, and ſtill preſerved his unpoiſoned fidelity; yet I found my condition too weak to countermine his plots, beſides I had cauſe to fear that if I firſt declared, I ſhould but ſpur him with a greater ſpeed to his haughty Enterprize, from which a little patience might poſſible divert him till Cleomedon's arrival, in whom I had circled all my hopes; But I received not one anſwer to all the letters I had written, and, then ignorant how the treachery of Tyribaſus had uſed them; I injuſtly accuſed my dear Caeſario, for taking ſo ſlight and ſupine a notice of my affairs and his own.

When Tyribaſus had ripened all his Contrivances for the purpoſe he intended, he reſolved to ſtay the execution no longer, and one morning before the birth of day, there entered, there by his Orders into Meroe, at ſeven or eight ſeveral gates about 30000 Souldiers under the Command of his brother Antenor and two other of his friends, and preſently ſeized upon the croſs ways; the ends of ſtreets, and all other places that were moſt fortificable in the City, to prevert or oppoſe the peoples riſing, if any ſuch thing ſhould happen.

The City was no ſooner reduced to this condition, when Tyribaſus appeared in the ſtreets, with a throng at his heels of his chiefeſt Partiſans, whereof the greateſt number were of the moſt conſiderable perſons among the Aethiopians, whoſe abject diſpoſitions had liſted themſelves ſo many fawning ſlaves to his fortune, and ſhewing himſelf in publick places, he made Orations to the Soldiers and people (which the Novelty had drawn from their houſes) interlarded with many artificial reaſons: he repreſented that he had taken inſtructions from the common intereſt, and not his own, to contrive and hatch that deſign for publick ſafety, that though his breaſt had long incloſed a paſſion for me, yet he would never have lifted his pretences to an honour, he confeſſed was much above him, if I had not obliged him to it, by the diſcovery of a reſolution, to ſet the Crown of Aethiopia upon the head of young Stranger, a Fugitive, abandoned of God and men, without either ſupport or refuge, but what he had borrowed of us: In fine, a man to whoſe Regency he knew the Aethiopian Nobility would never ſubmit, and one they could ſuffer to ſhare the Soveraignty, without provoking Auguſtus their mortal Enemy, and the whole puiſſance of the Roman Empire againſt them, he then inſinuated they might make a fitter choice Prince in their own Country, whoſe inclinations and integrity they had known by a long tract of experience, and a man that neither wanted wiſdom and clemency to Govern, nor valour to defend them from all ſorts of Enemies; that the Queen though prepoſſeſſed with ſome partiality to the young Stranger, would in time be reduced to do homage to Reaſon, when once ſhe ſaw her ſelf obliged by the univerſal votes of her people, and underſtood by the advertiſement of time, that this petty violence was offered her to no other end, than her own advantage. He larded this diſcourſe with other likely arguments to take with a people that were generally inclined to wiſh him well, and then ſupported by force, and aſſiſted by fear (which of all the paſſions has the greateſt operations upon baſe and vulgar Spirits) he obtained all his wiſhes of an intimidated people.

[Page] The honeſt Party ſighed among themſelves, at the injuries were offered to their afflicted Princeſs, and the King their Maſters memory, but they were too feeble both in force and number to divulge their dicontents, and the Soldiers firſt beginning to cry, Let Tyribaſus be our King, let him eſpouſe our Queen Candace, which was ſeconded ſo loudly by the general acclamation of thoſe that favoured his ambitious Intereſt, as by little and little that beaſt the multitude (ever a friend to novelty and diſorder) and now flattered by Tyribaſus promiſes, took example by his friends and Soldiers to ſing their parts to the ſame tune through all the ſtreets: Let Tyribaſus be our King, let him eſpouſe our Queen Candace.

The principal Inhabitants of Meroe that would not conſent to this baſeneſs and were not ſtrong enough to oppoſe it, either kept themſelves cloſe in their Houſes, or forſook the City, that they might eſcape the guilt of being ſufferers or fautors of ſo black a Treaſon; and there wanted not ſome among them that ſecretly ſtole into Nubia, with a purpoſe to find out Cleomedon, and bely him to vindicate the quarrel of their injured Queen, or fall a ſacrifice to loyalty.

After the conſent and acclamation of the people, Tyribaſus called a Council that conſiſted of a few principal perſons about him, he cauſed himſelf to be voted Prince of the Aethiopians, not ſuppoſing it ſafe (for fear of growing odious by too manifeſt an uſurpation) to aſſume the quality of King before he had eſpouſed their Princeſs.

You may eaſily judge that all theſe things (though begun in the firſt infancy of day) could not paſs without any knowledge, yet the intelligence came late to my ear, and I firſt received it with ſuch a troubled apprehenſion, as it was long before my aſtoniſhed reaſon could come to it ſelf, or put any thoughts in order to compoſe a reſolution; at laſt calling for my cloaths (for I was ſtill in bed) I went out of my Chamber only followed by my women, with a few of my faithfulleſt Officers, that had taken an allarm from the noiſe to attend my perſon; I went haſtily down the ſtairs, with a purpoſe to ſhew my ſelf to the people, and, if poſſible, by my preſence put a ſtop to the progreſs of that miſchief; but croſſing the Pallace-Court, inſtead of my ordinary Guards, I found at the great Gate two battalions of Soldiers with unknown faces that defended it, and inſolently laid hold of my Chariot Horſes as they were paſſing through, and when I was lighted and come on foot to the Gate, reſolving to ſhew my ſelf in the ſtreets in that condition, thoſe that guarded it, not daring to oppoſe my paſſage with the points of their Halberts, ſhut the Gate in my preſence, which at that inſtance gave me intelligence, that together with my Crown, I had loſt my liberty.

I ſhall forbear to repeat the paſſionate complaints my reſentments ſent to Heaven, againſt the injuries of fortune, ſince to allow them a place in my ſtory, would be as uſeleſs, as themſelves were vain: yet I ſtruggled very hard to keep a little moderation ſtill at the helm of my behaviour, and ſerving my ſelf with ſome courage that Heaven had naturally given me, I turned back to my Chamber, betraying leſs apprehenſion in my looks, words and actions, than would poſſible have been confeſſed by other perſons of my age and ſex, in a like diſorder.

When I was entered my Chamber, all my Maids throwing themſelves at my feet, fell a bewailing with bitter ſobs, tears, and lamentable complaints the calamitous condition an captivity of their Miſtreſs, but inſtead of bearing my part, I fell a chiding the extreams of their affliction, and ſo ſtrongly over ruled my own griefs, with ſuch a conſtancy and aſſured aſpect and geſture, as my Enemies could not ſo much as find a footſtep of a tear upon my viſage: I would needs have all the reſt to compoſe their looks by my model, and to diſpoſe them to it; Comfort your ſelves my friends, ſaid I, with this belief, that Tyrihaſus may be your Tyrant, but he ſhall never be your King, if he muſt firſt be Candaces Husband.

After theſe words, with the addition of a few others to the ſame purpoſe, I laid my ſelf down upon my Bed, where I reſolved to expect my Deſtiny with patience. I had continued in that poſture a good part of the day, when (after he had brought his ambitious ends to the paſs I related) Tyribaſus came into my Chamber, followed by a part of thoſe Traitors that favoured his deſign, who now no longer treated him as a particular Man, but a lawful King: as he entred my Chamber, and approached my Bed, he ſtill affected ſome form of reſpect; and, inſtead of doing honour to his new dignity, I received him without ſo much as ſtirring from my place, or almoſt vouchſafing to turn an Eye upon his Viſage: this coldneſs ſtrangely ſurprized him, being doubtleſs prepared to receive the ſhock of ſomething more violent and impetuous, and this unexpected encounter ſtruck him dumb for a ſeaſon, and ſet his thoughts on work to find out ſome other diſcourſe than what he had premeditated to comfort me, but I gave them no time to finiſh it, and throwing a contemptuous look or two at him: ‘You have done a brave and gallant act, ſaid I, in deſpoiling a young Princeſs and your lawful Queen (committed to your guard, by her Father your King and Maſter) [Page] of her Crown and Liberty, repaid that condence with a grand fidelity, and made a geneous uſe of your Maſters favour, whoſe inconſiderable bounty raiſed your crawling fortunes to this proud height and greatneſs, wherewith you have ruined his onely Daughter.’

Tyribaſus was deeper galled with ſhame at this calm reproach, than if I had edged it with ſharper language and more vehemence, nor could he cover it ſo quaintly that it was not eaſily perceived by thoſe were near him, but as he had dexterouſly learned to remove all the oppoſition that ſhame or remorſe could plant in the way to his ends, he quickly recovered himſelf, and regarding me with more aſſurance, than the ſenſe of his Crime might well have left him: ‘You have ſome cauſe to accuſe me, ſaid he, for countervening your inclinations, and taking part with your Subjects to oppoſe your deſign in the choice of a Stranger, whom you could not have married without the ruine of your people, my endeavours are dedicated to the preſervation and not the robbery of your birth-right, and you have too long been miſtreſs of my liberty, for me to attempt any thing againſt yours: You are ſtill Queen of the Aethiopians, and ſhall ever be ſo, ſince Tyribaſus will rather die than divorce you from that dignity: But ſince neceſſity requires that a man ſhould ſhare it with you, and with it obtain another a thouſand times more deſirable, and as much more glorious, you need not think it ſtrange that the deſire of acquiring you rather than that of reigning, ſhould wing my purſuit of a fortune in that Path where poſſibility was my guide, after I had trod all others that did but lead me aſtray. That fortune thou talkeſt of, reply'd I, half mad with ſpight, is neither thine by birth nor merit, ſince there is too much baſeneſs in the one, and too little worth in the other; and ſhould I ever prove ſo degenerate, to think a ſubject might deſerve my choice, ſure I ſhould not loſe ſo much as a glance upon him, that ſeeks no other way to prefer himſelf, but by violence and treaſon. What ever thou doſt by the licence of a vile uſurpation, neither thy plundered authority, nor my weakneſs can diſguiſe our conditions, and in ſpight of both, I ſhall always be the Queen, and thou ſhalt ever be my Subject. You ſhould always have been my Queen (replyed Tyribaſus, diſſembling the pique he received at my words) though Heaven had not given you a Crown, and I ſhould ever have been your Subject, though the greateſt Monarch upon Earth; but in your Authority and my ſubmiſſion, I ſhall not loſe a grain of the glory I pretend to; and when Time and Reaſon (which I hope will quickly uncloud your Majeſties eyes) ſhall raiſe a power by degrees, to diſſipate your firſt reſentments, I know they muſt be ſucceeded by others of a gentler ſtrain, that will no longer ſuffer you to regard him as an Enemy, a Traitor, and Uſurper, that adores you with ſo powerful a paſſion, and ſo perfect a reſpect, and a man whoſe onely zeal for your intereſts, has compelled him to diſpleaſe you.’

He had ſaid more in his own deſence, if, after commanding him to leave me to my repoſe, I had not actually aſſured him, by turning away to the other ſide, that I was then reſolved to exchange no more ſyllables with him. He thought it not fit to importune me further, and after he had ſtrictly charged thoſe perſons about me to ſerve me with the ſame care and diligence as before, he quitted the Chamber.

He ſtill left me the whole Palace to my ſelf, with ſome ſhadow of reſpect, and a guard for my perſon, little different in number to thoſe that formerly waited, but they ſtill followed me, not ſo much for honour and defence, as to abridge me of my liberty, and though with their attendance I was allowed to viſit any part of the City, yet I never eſſayed to ſhew my ſelf in publick, but I ſtill found all the paſſages ſtopped, and the Gates ſhut upon me: the ſenſe of my captivity gall'd me more than the loſs of my Kingdom, but I endeavoured to ſupport both with an invincible conſtancy, till the hand of Heaven ſhould ſet a date to my afflictions, which I had little reaſon to hope from the help of a humane arm.

In the mean time Tyribaſus appeared with all the diſplayed Enſigns of Royalty, kept the ſame number of Guards and Officers about him, that always belonged to the Kings of Aethiopia preſided in State-affairs, with an abſolute authority, and though he placed my name with his in ſuch Diſpatches and Commiſſions, as carried the Royal ſignature, yet I was never called to their Councils, nor my conſent or advice demanded in any affair of importance.

The Tyrant perplexed me with his daily viſits, and ſtill diſcourſed me his paſſion, I confeſs with little alteration of reſpect, but he did ſo plague me with his own, and the ſollicitations of others to eſpouſe him, as his cruel perſecution often drove me beyond the bounds of that moderation I had propoſed to my ſelf.

One day by an exceſſive redoubling theſe kind of torments, he had put me paſt all my leſſons of patience, and after I had ſuffered him a while, not without conſtraint, to talk me his amorous traſh.

‘[Page] Tyribaſus, ſaid I, hold your ſelf to your firſt intention, which is to Reign, or (to name it better) to tyrannize over my Aethiopians, and trouble your ſelf no more with the other, on which you would have never beſtowed a thought, if your ends had not led you to dreſs Ambition in the cloaths of Love; had you loved the Perſon, and not the Crown of Candace, you would have ſought out ſome other way to expreſs it than by uſurping her Eſtate, and detaining her perſon in cruel captivity, and if you cannot make that Crown ſit ſure upon your head, without eſpouſing the legitimate Heir, know you ſhall never be lawful King of Aethiopia; the ſhorteſt way for you had been to cut me off from the world; and though I now knew you reſolved to be my Executioner, that full aſſurance could not render me more your Enemy, than thoſe hateful injuries you have already offered me.’

He ſeldom got better language than this at my hands, which yet he received with an unmoved aſpect, expreſſing by all his words and actions, that he fixed his faireſt hopes upon time, for the change of my humour.

In the mean time I ſighed away my ſad hours, in this deplorable Captivity, while the King, my neighbors, my allies, and moſt of them my near kindred, were all ſo baſe as to let me lie in my Chains, without attempting my liberty, ſo ſtrangely had the puiſſance of Tyribaſus affrighted them; yet I ſtrove to ſupport their unkind, or rather cowardly oblivion, with a calm reſentment, but I could not paſs a thought upon Cleomedon, that was not the child of comfortleſs grief, nor find out the ſhadow of a reaſon, why he ſhould be ſo ardent for my Intereſts in the Nubian War, and ſet ſo ſlight an eſteem upon my Letters, which me thought was but too plainly proved, by the ſloath of his obedience to come away at my command: ‘What, would I ſometimes ſay, with a ſtorm of ſighs and ſobs, can he, for whom alone I ſuffer ſo many diſgraces, appear ſo inſenſible, as not to vouchſafe one line in anſwer to my Letters, and am I ſtill ſuch a fool to link my ſoul to an affection, with ſo much obſtinacy that has made me miſerable, while he, diſ-eſteeming my repoſe, runs hotly on his chaſe of glory, perhaps not allowing one light reflection upon thoſe torments I ſuffer for his ſake, Ah Son of Caeſar! is it poſſible, that among ſo many grand qualities, which inhabit thy ſoul, ingratitude ſhould find a harbour? haſt thou tied thy heart ſo blindly to the dotage of a vain reputation, to caſhier the remembrance of a Princeſs thou didſt once love, and a Princeſs that has loſt her Crown and Liberty, only becauſe ſhe would not loſe her intereſt in thee.’

Sometimes this thought would put me into very violent reſentments againſt him, and might have poſſible produced ſomething to his diſadvantage in my breaſt, if Tyribaſus himſelf had not ſerved for his juſtification; one day (to convince my affection to Cleomedon) upbraiding me with ſome words he had ſeen in the Letters I wrote him, and this heedleſs confeſſion of his fraud, by the help of a queſtion or two ſuddenly asked him to that purpoſe, intangled him in ſuch a Dilemma, as he could neither diſavow their ſurprizal, nor deny that he had ever ſince detained my meſſegners in Priſon: I received no ſlight comfort from the knowledge I took of Caeſario's Innocence, and though I now deſpaired of conveying a Letter to his hands, ſince I miſſed that mark ſo unexpectedly, while I had my liberty, yet I cheriſhed a hope, that the loud noiſe of my misfortunes would quickly travel with ſuch an alarm to his Ears, as would infallibly bring him home to my ſuccour.

This hope was credited with a great deal of reaſon, and to ſeat every thing with a juſt method, in its own place that relates to my ſtory, you are now to know, that while I languiſhed in Priſon, the victorious Cleomedon, had compleated his conqueſts in Nubia, gained the laſt battel, and with his own hand killed Evander, the Enemies General in a ſingle Combat, when thoſe faithful Ethiopians, that forſook Meroe, the ſame day my misfortunes began to appear in publick, with divers others that followed him that way from ſeveral places arrived at his Camp, and brought the ſad news of all that had happened: He received and reſented it (as I ſince heard) with ſuch apprehenſions as became his affection, and after he had openly profeſſed the deteſtation of Tyribaſus treachery, in terms that expreſſed a noble indignation; in a few days time he ſetled the Nubian affairs, with as much prudence and precaution, as his impatience to be gone would permit him, and leaving that people no power to re-attempt ſuch actions of a long time after, nor will to exchange the bleſſings of a quiet life, for the troops of miſeries that march with an inteſtine war (after he had rewarded their Rebellion, with the death of 200000 of their men, the taking in of all their Cities, and ſix ſignal overthrows in the field) he put himſelf upon the way to Meroe, in the head of his victorious, though ſhattered Army, which now ſcarce amounted to more than 20000 men, the remains of ſo many Combats, where their Companions periſhed, but they were ſo entirely affected to Cleomedon's Intereſts, as they all took a ſolemn Oath, either to die with him in the quarrel, or revenge and re-ſeat their Queen in the throne of her Anceſtors.

In this confidence they had given him, without informing himſelf of the Enemies ſtrength, [Page] he marched towards Meroe with an admirable expedition. Thoſe places in his way that held for Tyribaſus, did but vainly oppoſe his paſſage, for he made all fly before him, with a marvellous facility, and his Army was now encreaſed by the coming in of ſome faithful Subjects, that liſted themſelves in his Troops with the additional number of four or 5000 men; yet he could not make ſo much ſpeed in his march, but Tyribaſus had notice of it before he had left half the way behind him; the news made him haſt away diſpatches on all ſides, to rally his Forces that lay ſcattered in their ſeveral quarters, into one groſs body; and while this was doing, he ſent his Brother Antenor, a brave and valiant Captain, with 30000 Combatants, that were then ready for a march to go meet Cleomedon. Antenor advanced towards him with great expedition, nor did Cleomedon make leſs haſte to come to the encounter, the two Armies faced one another about ſix days journey from Meroe, that of Antenor's conſiſted of freſh and tried men, better Armed and appointed than Caeſario's, and much the ſtronger in number, however Caeſario (perceiving he could not ſafely allow himſelf the leiſure to ſtay the ballancing of thoſe diſadvantages) preſented him battel, and fought it ſo fiercely as there had never before been acted ſo bloudy a Tragedy upon the Stage of Aethiopia; I know not how to give you the particulars, but ſome that were Actors there, have ſince related me things that were altogether prodigious; Caeſario flew upon his Enemies like a furious Lion, and ſought more like an enraged Hercules, than a valiant Warriour; and after he had done things which would never have found belief among men, if the uncorrupted truth had not been brought away by ſo many Witneſſes, he ſought out the Brother of Tybribaſus, killed him in the very middle of his Squadrons with his own hand, and that day ſuffering an exceſs of choler to trample upon the natural ſweetneſs of his inclinations to pity, he animated his men with ſo many bloudy examples from his invincible arm, as Antenor's whole Army were cut in pieces with their Captain, and there was ſcarce one man that eſcaped their fury: but to qualifie this fortune, there were five or 6000 ſlain on Caeſario's party, many of the reſt hurt, and himſelf had received two or three deep wounds, that in ſpight of his ſpirit forced him for divers days to be a Priſoner to his Bed, not without ſome danger of his Life.

He was ready to die with diſpleaſure at this confinement, and as his own reaſon did aſſure him that the ſucceſs of his affairs depended upon his perſonal diligence, ſo he might eaſily foreſee a part of his following misfortunes through the preſent prohibition of his liberty by thoſe unlucky wounds.

The news of Antenor's total defeat quickly flew to Meroe, and if Tyribaſus was torn with grief and rage for the death of a Brother, whom he highly eſteemed, I did not celebrate my Caeſar's ſucceſs with a mediocrity of joy, nor offer the Gods any cold or ſluggiſh vows for a continuation of their aſſiſtance.

Tyribaſus, half diſtracted with fury, and deeply vowing his brothers revenge, made ſuch impatient haſt to draw up all his Forces to a general Rendezvouz, as before Caeſario could quit his bed and march from the place where his wounds had arreſted him, we beheld above 100000 Combatants drawn together before the Gates of Meroe; and Tyribaſus, after he had ſet a ſtrong guard upon my perſon, and left another in the City, put himſelf into the head of them and marched againſt Cleomedon. But firſt, he came armed at all points to take his leave of me, and methoughts I ſaw his anger ſparkle in his eyes, however he ſtruggled with himſelf in my preſence, to ſweeten the fierceneſs of his looks. ‘Madam, ſaid he, till now I have ſpared Clemedon's life, becauſe you loved him but the death of a dear Brother hath ſtrangled all the pity I had for him, and I am now going to ſacrifice him to the ghoſt of Antenor and mine own repoſe, to which he would be a perpetual trouble, ſhould I ſtill ſuffer him to ſtay in the world;’ the Tyrants numerous Army, and Caeſario's weakneſs, of which I was aſſured by a certain intelligence, had already filled me with fear of a ſad event, that was founded upon too much reaſon, but this laſt threat that Tyribaſus uttered with ſo proud a confidence, froze my ſoul with a mortal apprehenſion, and regarding him with an eye that could not ſtay ſome diſobedient tears, which crept away upon my cheeks: ‘Didſt thou go againſt Cleomedon, ſaid I, with forces equal to his, I would not harbour the leaſt doubt of a certain victory, but feeble as he is, I hope the Gods in fighting for him, will ſtrike in my quarrel with the Sword of Juſtice: Tyribaſus quitted my Chamber without a reply, and in a ſhort time after the City.’

Cleomedon ſtill kept his bed in a very weak condition near the place where he defeated Antenor's Army, when he learned that Tyribaſus was coming to fight him in the van of 100000 men, his Army ſcarce conſiſting of 16000, and of thoſe 10000 wounded, beſides his own three hurts ſo exceſſively pained him, as they might well have diſabled any other perſon of a more delicate Complexion to fit on horſeback; but all theſe reaſons could not oblige him to fly the Combat, nor lend any credit to the Counſel of [Page] his Governour and Friends, who earneſtly preſſed him to retire, as it was yet time enough if he had been willing: Were there but the leaſt appearance of a poſſibility, ſaid he, to re inforce our Army with any freſh ſupplies for the Queens ſervice, I would providently reſerve my life for her intereſts, but ſince all my hopes are dead, onely a few excepted that ſtill breath in your valour, I had rather die generouſly with you, than take my life upon ſhameful terms, and carry it where it cannot be uſeful. I ſhall not blame any for retiring that can be affrighted with death, and with the help of thoſe undaunted courages that dare ſtay with me and affront it, I may poſſibly ſtrike ſome fear through the Soul of Tyribaſus, in the very Centre of his Army.

With this reſolution he called for his Arms, and mounted on horſeback, he advanced with that handful of men to meet his Enemies, who were all reſolved to die in his Company.

The next day he came in view of Tyribaſus Army that covered all the Campania, and ſtretched it ſelf out on either ſide, with two long half Moons to environ him, but he took not the leaſt aſtoniſhment from that object, and turning towards his valiant Companions with as much vivacity and aſſurance in his looks, as if he had gone to triumph: My Friends, ſaid he, we muſt all die to day for the ſervice of our Queen, but in our death find a glory preferrable to the condition of our Enemies, and offer Candace as fair a Sacrifice as ſhe ought to hope from her faithful Subjects.

At theſe words he charged in through a world of his Enemies, who not acquainted with his deſign to die, ſtood amazed at the prodigality of his Valour; they were all preſently encompaſſed by the Tyrants command, which they never ſo much as endeavoured to hinder, and Caeſario ſeeking none but Tyribaſus, made his name ſound on all ſides, and loudly called him to Combat where-ever he addreſſed his ſteps or blows, Yet he had found it impoſſible to aboard him, by reaſon of thoſe vaſt numbers that defended his perſon, if Tyribaſus (who indeed was a valiant man) had refuſed the challenge. In fine, Caeſario throwing down all before him, with blows that might better be called the effects of a deſperate rage than a humane valour, (Tyribaſus preſſing towards him to facilitate his Enterpriſe) buckled with his Rival in the midſt of his men, gave him two deep wounds in the body, and threw him from his horſe to the earth in a ſwoond; but Tyribaſus was quickly relieved by a great number of his own men that flew in to his reſcue, and took him up from the place where he lay, and Caeſario (conſtrained by the throng to turn his Sword another way) received ſo many blows from his Enemies on all ſides, as at laſt by the great effuſion of his bloud, and the loſs of all his forces, he fell from his Horſe among the dead without either ſenſe or knowledge: Scarce one man of his little Army eſcaped the ſlaughter, but they did things before they died, that may juſtly claim a preheminence in the ſtory of thoſe brave Lacedemonians, that acquired ſo beautiful a reputation, by periſhing with their valiant King at the battel of Thermopyle. Tyribaſus loſt twice that number of his own men that compoſed their Army, and himſelf ran a greater riſque of his life, than ever he encountred in all his former dangers.

In the mean time I ſtayed at Meroe buſied with fears, tears, and prayers, wherewith I inceſſantly ſolicited Heaven for Caeſario's ſafety, every thing my thoughts could glance at, ſerved to feed thoſe apprehenſions that deſtroyed my repoſe, and I had already worn out many tedious nights, without ſo much as cloſing my Eye-lids, when to redouble my cruel inquietudes, the day before I learned the ſad news, my fears had ſo often foretold; Clitie delivered me a Letter ſhe had newly received from an unknown Souldier, as ſhe came back from the Temple; ſuſpecting the truth, I opened it with a trembling haſt, and met with theſe words which the poor Prince had wrote, hazarded to that Souldiers fidelity ſome few hours before he had charged his Enemy.

Cleomedon to the Queen Candace.

IF any reaſon could inſtruct me how to render my life ſtill ſerviceable to your intereſts, I would not ſtock it upon ſo deſperate a caſt in this unequal Combat; whereto I am now marching without any hope of Victory, and this incertainty might happily induce me to preſerve it, if ſomething did noe prompt me with a probability in this attempt, of tumbling Tyribaſus from the top of his plundered honour. Madam, if I can ſacrifice him to your juſt reſentments, and redeem you that pretious liberty and repoſe (of which he has ſo barbarouſly bereaved you) at the price of his blood and mine, I will ſpill them both to a drop, and periſh without reluctance; but if death cuts me off before I execute the Traitor, pardon the failing to my weakneſs, and let pity preſerve ſome remembrance of him, who could not part with his life upon terms of more happineſs and glory, than to die for the rights of his Royal Miſtreſs.

[Page] The peruſal of theſe words laid a greater weight of woe upon my Soul, than ever yet it ſupported, and though of late it had been argued with many anxious perplexities, yet I now reſented ſo cruel an encreaſe of my miſery, as rendered me incapable of company and comfort; I ſpent that day in Tears and Sighs, but the next that ſucceeded it was yet more dolefully employed, ſince it brought me the accompliſhment of all my fears, in the ſad news of Caeſario's bloudy defeat, with the loſs of his whole Army, all thoſe that had made me the recital, aſſured me he was ſeen fall dead from his Horſe, after he had left ſome impreſſion of revenge upon his Rival in two dangerous wounds he had given him, and done actions beſides of ſo ſtupendious a nature, that they ſeemed to hold as great a diſproportion to Truth, as thoſe fictious tales of our ancient Heroes.

Madam, you will eaſily judge, how cruelly the ſenſe of this diſaſter ſtretched my heartſtrings, and to confirm that thought, you may pleaſe to know that I ſunk dead in my womans arms, and lay a long time in that condition, before the remedies they applyed, could bring back my ſenſes that were all fled away from their uſual offices; and when at laſt they waked me from my trance, I fell a wailing my loſs in the dolefulleſt accents, that were ever expreſſed by the lawfulleſt and moſt impetuous grief: and all my actions perſwaded thoſe about me, that I was become an Enemy to my Life. My woman durſt not ſtir from me in that eſtate wherein they ſaw cauſe enough to fear, that my own hands would diſpatch the buſineſs of my deſpair, and all that day I was ſtrictly guarded, rather as a diſtracted perſon, than a Princeſs, that in the preceding accidents of her life, had given the world ſo far a Sample of her conſtancy.

When my ſighs had left me ſome liberty to ſpeak: My dear Caeſar, cry'd I, ſince thy ſoul is driven from her ſweet habitation for my Intereſt, 'tis but reaſon mine ſhould follow her to the other world, and I am very willing to go keep thee Company by reſigning that life, which thou haſt bought too dear at the price of thine; would to heaven I could have condition'd with the deſtinies aforehand to excuſe thy thred for mine, thou ſhould'ſt have ſeen me run into the arms of my pale Executioner, with as great a greedineſs as hurry'd thee to this unequal Combat; but ſince the Deities deny'd me that favour, believe it I will do that without repugnance to follow thee, which I would have done with joy to ſave thee; there is nothing left upon Earth that has power to ſtay me here now when thou art gone, and my laſt Act ſhall tell that monſter, who thinks he has ſecurely ſeated his fortunes upon thy ruine, that all thoſe flattering hopes will prove Impoſtours.

To theſe ſucceeded a world of other words to the ſame purpoſe, and as the kindneſs I ſhew'd Cleomedon, had been publiquely Authoris'd by the King my Fathers will, ſo I made no ſcruple to avow the inclinations I had for him to all thoſe that overheard me; the force of my imagination ſtill kept his lovely image before my eyes both day and night, and my reaſon was ſometimes ſo giddied with the violence of my grief, as talk'd to my poor Prince in ſuch diſcourſive terms, as if I had ſeen him there in a condition to return me an anſwer.

My ſorrows were riſen to this degree, when Tyribaſus came back to Meroe, or was rather brought back in a Litter, with the marks of Cleomedon's valour ſtill about him, which had made him run ſuch a manifeſt hazard of his life. He ſaw me not of divers days after his arrival, as well becauſe his wounds confin'd him to his Bed, as that he yet fear'd (underſtanding to what deſperate eſtate the violence of my grief had brought me) to appear in my preſence; but ſo ſoon as the ſucceſs of his cure would give him leave to take the air, he came to my Chamber. My paſſionate deteſtation of his laſt act, had ſtill held it ſelf up at the ſame impetuous height whereto it was riſen at his firſt conception, and I no ſooner ſaw him that was the cruel cauſe of it ſet his foot in my Chamber, but breaking into a furious out-cry againſt him; ‘Barbarous man, cry'd I, doſt thou come to ſhew me the bloody ſpoils of Cleomedon? and could'ſt thou not content thy ſelf to rob the world and me of ſo great a treaſure, without increaſing my horrour, by bringing the face of this inhumane butcher in my ſight? com'ſt thou to inſult upon the miſeries of a wretch, that is taking care to die, ſince thy cruelty has bereav'd her of him for whoſe onely ſake ſhe lov'd her life; and can'ſt thou not think thy revenge compleat in the murder of him that merited my affection, to the prejudice of the unjuſt pretences but thou muſt rudely preſs into my preſence, to aggravate the weight of woe thou haſt to my ſoul for ever?’ Tyribaſus gave way to this Torrent of words, which was violently followed by divers others of the ſame ſtamp, till they had wearied out my weakneſs to admit, from a tumult of ſighs and ſobs, the ſhort interruption of ſome moments ſilence, in which vacancy, ſtriving againſt the ſtream of his own thoughts, to expreſs ſome ſorrow for what he had done: I am too deeply concern'd in your diſpleaſure, ſaid he, to ſing any Io Paean's in your preſence, for a thing [Page] that immoderately afflicts you; and though the death of my Brother, with divers of my friends beſides, the dangerous impediments he ſtrewed in the path of my intentions, and his particular deſign againſt my life, might leave me little cauſe of regret for the loſs of Cleomedon; yet truth her ſelf is my witneſs, that his death cannot ſink ſo deep an impreſſion of grief in your ſpirit, without ſtamping ſome ſenſibility of the ſame nature in mine; and were it now in my power to give him his life, though I knew it would prove yet a greater foe to my repoſe, believe it Madam, he ſhould live again upon your ſcore; but ſince the Gods have neither left it in my diſpoſal, nor your power, by thus tormenting your ſelf to change his condition, whoſe obſequies you honour with the laviſh expence of ſuch a treaſure of tears, chuſe a reſolution worthy of your ſelf, and leſſon your griefs for him the Deſtinies have raviſh'd, with the conſideration of what they have ſtill left you, when you have once put all things in the ſcale of your judgement, you will not find your misfortunes weigh ſo heavy as you thought them; and time may poſſibly convince you to a belief, that your repoſe could never be better eſtabliſh'd, than upon this loſs, to which your Eyes have paid ſo rich a Tribute.

He had further purſu'd this diſcourſe, if (no longer able to endure it) I had not thus paſſionately intercepted the progreſs: Ceaſe wicked man, cry'd I, ceaſe to exaſperate my ſorrows by thy baſe diſſimulation, and injurious comfort, I do not expect thou ſhould'ſt drop any of thy Crocadile tears upon the grave of Cleomedon, nor ought I to take advice from thee how to temper my ſorrows, thou haſt not gorg'd thy cruelty enough with Cleomedon's blood, and the game of thy ambition is but half play'd out, nor canſt thou perfect thy revenge upon ſuch an Enemy, unleſs thou diſpatcheſt this other half of himſelf that he left behind him: thou haſt no other way to fix the Crown upon thy head, which ſo long as thou letteſt me live will ſit but tottering, and when thou haſt once re-united me to that part of my ſelf from which I cannot long be ſeparated, I will forgive all the bloody injuries thou haſt done me.

To theſe words I added many others with ſuch an exceſs of vehemence, and ſo large a quantity of tears, as Tyribaſus (not able to reſiſt ſome riſings of pity in his breſt) quitted my chamber, and left me a little comfort behind him in his abſence. Madam, it would ask too long a time to repeat all the paſſionate complaints that confuſedly bubled up from the ſource of my exceſſive ſorrow: my afflictions were ſtrong enough to block up all the paſſages of nature; and the contempt of life would infallibly have laid me in the duſt, ſince grief alone had ſtrength enough to drag me to my tomb, if the tender care of my attendants had not half compelled me by perpetual ſollicitations to receive ſome nouriſhment, or rather the Gods to whom the ſtate of my condition was better known than my ſelf, had not decreed me a longer life, I think on purpoſe to make it the mark of more misfortunes: and thus by their ſecret order, I drew out my languiſhing days in ſo lamentable a manner, as doubtleſs might have furniſhed the rockieſt ſouls with a ſenſe of pity. The Name of Cleomedon was eternally in my mouth, and his Idea inceſſantly in my memory; the continual torments I inflicted upon my ſelf had already frighted the freſh colour from my cheeks, and that ſlender ſtock of beauty, wherewith the general opinion till then had flattered me, began to ſhrink it ſelf behind a cloud, and ſuffer ſo ſickly an Eclipſe, as thoſe perſons that were moſt familiar with my face, had much ado to know me.

I would now no longer look upon Tyribaſus, but as a Monſter that was ever ready to devour me, and when ever he approached my preſence, I ſtill fled from him if it were poſſible, as I would have done from a Tigre or ſome other Beaſt moe ſavage.

After having ſuffered for a time (I confeſs with ſome patience) this rigorous uſage at my hands, he began at laſt to change the face of his behaviour towards me, and he now ſought at ſeveral encounters to make me underſtand, that ſince ſweetneſs and reſpect had failed to win me, he would ſerve himſelf in a ſeverer manner, with the power he had in his hands to ſubdue me; but I held my life at ſo poor a rate, as it eaſily gave me a contempt of all his menaces, and the deep vows I often took in his preſence to be my own Executioner, when ever he attempted any thing upon me by violence, arreſted the effects (for a time) of his wicked reſolutions. Thus had I lived neer two months time ſince the loſs of Caeſario, and now I had quitted my Chamber, and begun to walk in the Palace-gardens, a liberty was allowed me in the preſence of my guards, who ſtrictly obſerving their Maſters command, attended all my motions, only when I walked the Allies with my woman, they kept themſelves at a diſtance, and provided I was within a reach of the Eye, they took ſo little care to be neerer my Perſon, as ſometime they ſuffered me to be two or three hundred paces from them: at the beginning of my reſtraint, they were much more exact, but Tyribaſus was willing to lengthen my chain a little, with deſign to ſoften my heart, and ſweeten my rigours againſt him, ſecuring himſelf with a confidence, that ſince he had laid Caeſario in the duſt, he had no more enemies left, that were capable to enterprize any thing for my deliverance.

[Page] For the moſt part I ſuffer'd no man to come neer me in thoſe walks, and my Eſquires, with the reſt of my other Servants in ordinary, whoſe offices injoyned them to be neer my perſon, ſtaid by my order with them that guarded me, while I admitted no other attendants but thoſe of my own ſex, nay I often commanded my women too to ſtay behind me at a diſtance, while propping my ſelf upon Clitie's arm, I ſought out the ſolitarieſt places to entertain my ſad thoughts with Caeſario's memory.

One day I was buſied in this melancholly employment, and (ſupported on either ſide by Clitie, and my Governeſs Eurinoe, in whom I repos'd an equal confidence) was walking in an Alley, about 200 paces from my Women, and more than twice that diſtance from my Guards and Officers, when at the corner an of Alley that led to the ſame Arbor, where Caeſario ſurpriz'd the ſecret darling of my heart, I ſpied two men coming towards us very faſt; they were black as the greateſt part of the Aethiopians are, but methought I obſerved ſomething in the ſhape and garb of one of them that invited my eye to a particular attention: as they made their approach neerer, I read ſome aſtoniſhment in their looks and geſture, and well they might borrow it from the change they encountered in my viſage; they made a ſtop right againſt us upon Clitie's ſide, and giving me a low reverence as I paſs'd, according to the Country mode, one of them called Clitie by her name pretty loud. Clitie turned her head towards them; but ſuppoſing the men had only named her in their diſcourſe without particular deſign, went on with me in her talk, without any further glance at their meaning, when the ſame man that had named her, advanced ſome paces after us, Clitie, (ſaid he, with a voice as loud as we might well underſtand him) Clitie, contrive it ſo that I may ſpeak with you; and after he had utter'd theſe words, he turned his back upon us, and ſoftly retired with his companion towards another Alley, that they might avoid the encounter of thoſe that followed us.

If Clitie was aſtoniſhed, my ſelf was not leſs ſurprized at this adventure; and methought I apprehended ſomething in the tone of that voice, that carried through my ear an extraordinary allarm to my heart. Clitie regarding me wholly irreſolute, Madam, ſaid ſhe, what do you pleaſe I ſhall do? My thoughts would not let me obſerve her queſtion, ſo well to anſwer her, when Eurinoe taking the word; ‘Madam, ſaid ſhe, me thinks 'tis very fit that Clitie ſhould go ſpeak with this Man, who knows but he may have ſomething to impart of a deep concernment, and as your condition is now temper'd, ſuch overtures cannot be diſpiſed with a ſafety of diſcretion.’

Clitie perceiving that I did not oppoſe this advice, ſtaid for no further Commiſſion: but obſerving to what part of the Garden thoſe two Men bent their ſteps, ſhe feigned an intent to cull ſome flowers for a Noſegay, and cunningly wandring that way, ſhe inſenſibly transferred her ſelf from flower to flower, till ſhe arrived at that part of the Garden where ſhe ſaw them take Covert, without giving the leaſt ſhadow of ſuſpition to thoſe that followed us.

In the mean time I entered that Arbour with Eurinoe, and the reſt of my train, which becauſe it freſhly hinted Caeſario's memory to my thoughts, preſented many pleaſing paſſages of our innocent affection, and had been the Scene of ſo many delightful Dialogues between that Prince and I, was particularly indear'd to my choice above all the reſt; but a ſad reflection upon thoſe ſurvived felicities, could not chuſe but ſet ſome tears at liberty, which troubled my good Governeſs to wipe away, as they crept along upon my cheeks, after I had ſpent half an hour upon this employment, propped with Eurinoe's arm as before; I went out again to repeat my walk, when I ſaw Clitie coming back with a face that carried all the marks of a grand aſtoniſhment, and as great an impatience; her approach in that manner ſhook my ſoul with an extraordinary emotion, and judging ſhe had ſomething to ſay, that requir'd no witneſſes, I doubled my pace to go meet her with a pretence to give her my other hand that was free, ſhe tenderly preſſed it with an action full of tranſport, and I ſaw ſhe was in combat with her own amazement, and had offered twice or thrice to ſpeak, without being able to get out any more words than Madam. Every thing confirmed my opinion, that ſhe had ſome ſtrange things to tell me, and feeling ſome ſecret preſſures in my Soul, that gave me no leſs impatience to learn her diſcoveries, I walked ſo faſt with the help of my ſupports, as we had quickly left my followers at a pretty diſtance; and Clitie, after ſhe had turned her head to ſee if any were neer enough to over-hear us: ‘Madam, ſaid ſhe, Madam, call home your baniſh'd joys, Caeſario is alive, Caeſario is in the Garden, and it was Caeſario you ſaw, the ſame whoſe voice you heard, and with whom I juſt now broke off in diſcourſe.’

Theſe words ſeized upon my ſoul with ſo ſtrong and ſudden a ſurprizal, as they wanted but little of making me fall in a ſwoond between my womens arms, and if they had not ſtrongly held me up, I ſhould doubtleſs have betrayed more weakneſs than I was [Page] willing to make known to the reſt of my Company: for a time I ſtood both mute and motionleſs, regarding Clitie with a languiſhing eye that ſeemed to lend but little credit to her words, and the violent agitations of my ſpirit had put me into a cold ſweat and ſo great a trembling, as no longer able to continue my walk, I was forc'd to ſit down upon a bank that was neer us. Experience had acquainted the reſt of my women, with the pleaſure I took to entertain my ſelf alone with my two favourites, and perceiving me ſet, they made a ſtop at the place where they were, without approaching further; in the mean time, with much pain, I diſpel'd the force of my aſtoniſhment, and once more turning my eyes upon the face of Clitie; ‘Ah! Clitie, ſaid I, doſt thou abuſe me, or art thou abuſed thy ſelf? no Madam, replyed Clitie, I am not abus'd, I ſaw Caeſario, I touched him, I ſpoke with him, I learn'd from his own mouth the particular of his ſtrange eſcape, and if you pleaſe Madam, your ſelf ſhall ſee and underſtand as much before you quit the Garden: But Clitie ſaid I, thoſe two men we ſaw are black as any of the Aethiopians, and thou know'ſt Caeſario is fairer than thou or any other of the white women that ſerve me. That ſooty complexion, anſwered Clitie, is onely artificial, and Caeſario with the help of a little water will quickly take off all your doubts with the black mask from his face in your preſence, as he lately waſhed the colour from one of his hands to cure my incredulity; he and his Governour Eteocles are both ſabled with the ſame liquor, which is very common among the Aethiopians, that take a pride to be blacker than the hand of nature painted them, and he could not ſhrow'd himſelf in a ſecurer diſguiſe from the knowledge of his enemies, who (prepoſſeſs'd with a general opinion of his death, and blinded with his falſe complexion) have often paſs'd by him it the very face of the Sun without the leaſt ſuſpition.’ Ah Clitie, cry'd I, letting my ſelf fall upon her with open arms, ‘I begin to find a likelihood of truth in thy relation, and indeed when that man called thee in my preſence, I diſtinguiſhed the true tone of Caeſario's voice: Great Gods, continued I, lifting my hands and eyes to Heaven, great Gods, how abundant is your goodneſs!’

I made a ſtop at theſe words, ſo diſtracted, and transported with wonder, ſo divided betwin joy and aſtoniſhment, as my reſentments were ſtopped up with their own tumult in my heart for want of power to expreſs them.

Madam, I need not ſtrain my weak reaſon to deſcribe the exceſs of gladneſs that confuſedly floated in my ſoul; for ſince you have loved as well as I, and the powers above have parallel'd our misfortunes ſo exactly, the cauſe of your preſent ſorrows carrying ſo neer a congruity to the ſame I ſuffered for two months time, your own apprehenſions will better inform you than any expreſſions of mine, how I reliſhed this change of fortune.

The Princeſs Eliza fetcht a deep ſigh, accompanied with ſome tears at this paſſage of Candace's relation, and lifting her watry eyes to Heaven, with a look that ſpoke for pity, with the beſt elegance of grief; ‘Immortal Gods, ſaid ſhe, how deeply ſhould I be indebted to your Divine bounties, had they ſuch another favour to beſtow on me! Me-thinks my example, ſaid the Queen, ſhould have ſtrength enough to confute your diſpair, and ſhould dee [...] my ſelf infinitely happy, to be the inſtrument of giving a new birth to your hopes: Alaſs, reply'd the Parthian Prineeſs, I have little reaſon to ripen any ſuch conception, ſuch events as thoſe are too too rare to be expected by miſerable perſons.’ At theſe words ſhe fell to wipe away her tears, and after the Queen had aſſiſted her in that employment, ſhe thus went on with the thred of her diſcourſe.

When I had recover'd judgment enough to ſettle my diſordered apprehenſions in a better method, I think I ask'd Clitie a hundred queſtions at a time, and with too much haſte to procure my ſatisfaction, retarded it. ‘Madam, ſaid ſhe at laſt, I paſs'd the greateſt part of my time that I ſtaid with the Prince in an aſtoniſhment equal to yours, before I could clear my doubts that he was really living, but when my Eies and Ears had ſufficiently confirmed it, I had not the conſcience to keep the happy news any longer from your knowledge; to you he will doubtleſs render a larger account how he came by his life, if your Majeſty now thinks fit to admit it, and I left him with his Governour Eteocles in the Alley that runs along by the branch of Nilus, that borders the Garden, I believe you may paſs that way with ſecreſie enough, and ſpeak to him without any danger, provided your diſcourſe be not long, and you talk at a diſtance, forbearing ſuch paſſionate geſtures, as may give ſuſpition to thoſe that follow us.’

My haſty joy would allow me but little time to conſider Clitie's proportion, & my Soul was ready flown before me to meet Caeſario, but my fear for his ſafety repreſented the danger in a greater figure than it really carried, and ſhew'd me ſome difficulties in that action, that made me tremble; In fine, I reſolved to run the hazard, and after I had ardently recommended my ſelf to the conduct of Heaven, and commanded Clitie to ſtay with the reſt of my train, and hinder their neerer approach while I talk'd with Caeſario, I advanc'd alone with my Governeſs to that alley upon the banks of Nilus.

[Page] My timerous apprehenſion ſcarce left me ſtrength enough to guide my ſteps to the place was deſign'd for the interview: but when I was come ſo neer to diſcern him, as he walked with Eteocles, a chill ſtuddering crept through all my body; affection, joy, and fear ſeizing my ſoul at the ſame time, with effects ſo violent, as they wanted but little of betraying themſelves and me with too great a noiſe.

'Twas well Clitie prepar'd me for this encounter; for had I met Caeſario alive in the hight of my deſpair, it was much to be feared that ſudden ſurprizal would either have forced my weakneſs, or tranſport, to have blab'd the truth. As I made my approaches neerer (in ſpight of his artificial complexion) I eaſily reviv'd my acquaintance with the lovely features, with the face, motions of his eyes, his ſhape and port, wherein there was ſomething ſo noble as none could imitate. Nor had he an eaſier task to contain himſelf from falling at my feet to expreſs what he felt, in the proper Dialect of paſſion, which doubtleſs was as head-ſtrong and hard to be kept within the reigns of moderation as mine: but underſtanding the language of a ſigne I made him with my hand, he kept himſelf ſtill in his place, and when I was come upon the other ſide the Alley right againſt him, I took up my ſtation about ſix or ſeven paces from his; in the mean time Clitie ſtaid thoſe that were coming after above two hundred paces behind us, telling them that I was in ſuch a meloncholly mood that day, as I could not endure any company about me, and to that purpoſe had commanded her to leave me alone with my Governeſs Eurinoe.

I had now fixt attentive regard upon my oppoſite object, and curiouſly ſeeking Caeſario through his dusky diſguiſe, by the help of thoſe directions my heart had given me, I eaſily found him; but all I could yet ſay to congratulate his ſafety, was told him by my Eyes, was non-pluſt, when the Prince, who had more courage than I, to command ſuch diſturbances, expreſſing that preface of reſpect in the Prologue of his looks, which he durſt not adventure to act in the ſight of ſo many obſervers: ‘You doubt Madam, ſaid he, you ſtill doubt for the true Caeſario, yes Madam I am Caeſario, and ſtill alive for you and your royal intereſts, Caeſario drawn by the hand of a miraculous providence, from the brink of his tomb, that he might draw you from Captivity and oppreſſion; this life which the arms of ſo many Enemies could not cut away from your ſervice, is come again to your feet to re-dedicate it at your Altar, and contrive the faccrifice to more advantage, than it did in the raſh aſſault of that laſt danger, from which the Gods ſo ſtrangely retreated it, and Caeſario appears before you in a diſguiſe that is poſſible unworthy of his courage, but very neceſſary to hide and hatch his deſign for your ſervice.’

So ſoon as Caeſario began to ſpeak, his voice compleated my diſcovery of his perſon; and now diſcarding every little ſcruple that my fearful diſtruſt had entertained, after I had beheld him with an eye, that in part repreſented the paſſionate motions within me: ‘Caeſario, ſaid I, my dear Caeſario, if I have coſt you too much blood, I have paid you in tears, and your eye will eaſily trace the markes of a true grief in my face, which are all coppied from thoſe deeper impreſſions that your falſe death hath made in my heart. I have already learned too much of that from Clitie, reply'd Caeſario, and though theſe pale proofs of your incomparable goodneſs are a thouſand times dearer to me, than that life which the hand of Heaven ſnatch'd back from the jaws of Ruine; yet I cannot receive this glorious effect of my fortune by ſuch an intelligence, nor look upon the injuries have been offer'd to thoſe divine beauties without a parallell grief to the ſame that inflicted them; fear not my dear Coeſar, I ſhall quickly clear up theſe clouds again, ſaid I, ſince your life is reſtored me, and after the recovery of you, the looſs of my Crown is no longer capable to afflict me; all that now lies heavy at my heart, Is the fear I have for you, and I cannot conſider you ſo neer your cruelleſt enemies without feeling an inforcement from my apprehenſions to moderate the ſenſe of my happineſs. For the Gods ſake Caeſario, be dearer to your ſelf; and ſince by the help of Heaven you have pull'd the oppreſſion of a mortal grief from my ſoul, that had buried all my joys in your ſuppoſed grave; as you love me and my life, let not the neglect of your ſafety, relapſe me to my former miſeries. Madam, I am now reſolv'd for your ſake, reply'd Caeſario, ſince you are pleaſed to ordain it, to ſet the guard of greater care upon my life than ever, and I beg your pardon for forcing it to leape ſuch a precipice of danger to ſo little purpoſe, at a time when poſſible it would not have ſtood idle or uſeleſs in your ſervice. Indeed Caeſario you have reaſon, ſaid I, to plead pardon for this offence; for though you had ſtudied all your life to diſoblige me, you could not have found out any other way to hurt my heart with ſo deep a diſpleaſure: but tell me now how Fortune contriv'd it to keep you ſtill in the world, and in what manner you deceiv'd the eies of ſo many thouſands that ſaw you fall off your Horſe without life, among thoſe Carkaſſes that ſtrewed the Field. If you pleaſe, Madam, reply'd Caeſario, we will rather reſerve that ſtory for a time when you may have libertie to allow me a longer audience, and I cannot now [Page] contract it in ſo narrow a volume, as not to give your followers cauſe to paſs a dangerous interception upon your ſtay in this place; I will only tell you, that the Plot is laid, and the Engines all at work for the dilivery and re-eſtabliſhment of your Perſon and Fortunes, that four or five of your beſt Cities are already at our devotion, that we keep an intelligence in Meroe it ſelf, and in ſhort time (if heaven do's not frown upon our Enterpriſe) I ſhall be able to knock off all your chains, and mount you the lofty throne of your Anceſtors by breaking the cruel uſurpers neck from thence. If that hope, ſaid I, can endow my joyes with any capacity of addition, after the aſſurance of your ſafety, it muſt be only for your intereſts, and then my content will reach perfection, when I ſhall have power with my ſelf to beſtow a Crown upon you, which my Fathers intentions, and my own inclinations had alwaies aſſign'd you.’

In all probability, Caeſario had fram'd a becoming reply to this obliging language, when turning my eye aſide, I ſaw Tyribaſus appear at the Alleys end, in the head of a numerous train, coming towards us: I was ſtartled at this ſight with the extreams of fear and averſion: and no longer daring to venture my Caeſario neer me, See ſaid I haſtily, Tyribaſus is coming hither, retire in time and let me ſee you here again three days hence. He made me no other anſwer than a low inclination with his head, and ſeeing me purſue my walk, he turn'd with Eteocles into another Alley to avoid the encounter of Tyribaſus, and thoſe that followed me.

The contentment of my ſoul (which breaking through the diſguiſe I intruded it) was leaped up from thence into my looks, made me then ſuffer the ſight of Tyribaſus with a calmer temper than at other times; and though he could conſtrue no kindneſs to himſelf in my face, yet I remember that I treated him with leſs impatience than ordinary, and my Caeſar reviving killed the greateſt cauſe of my hatred, I reſtrained that day a part of thoſe reproaches with which I uſually entertained him.

When I was retired to my apartment, all the perſons that ſerved me might eaſily perceive the ſudden change of my humour, and though my experience could point at none that deſerved my ſuſpicion, yet I ſtrictly forbad my Governeſs and Clitie to impart a ſyllable of what they knew to any, for fear the weakneſs of ſome among them ſhould betray the ſecret, and indeed it carried too geeat an importance to be ſafely truſted in many breaſts; for thoſe two that were partners in it, I knew they had diſcretion and fidelity enough to keep it againſt the cruelleſt menaces of death, and they managed it ſo prudently, as none of their words or actions ever left any hold for the leaſt ſuſpition to faſten on.

Having thus recovered my gaſping joyes by ſuch an unexpected kindneſs of fortune, I had much ado to moderate their exceſs, and I paſs'd a large part of the firſt night and the following day with my two confidents, in an entertainment very different from thoſe lamentable diſcourſes and complaints that had ſwallowed ſo many of their Predeceſſors. Now my Caeſario is not dead, ſaid I, I will not beſtow one ſingle ſigh upon the loſs of my Crown, ſince my hopes are ſtill alive to recover it, ſo long as my Caeſar is ſo. I had conſigned him the third day to meet me in the garden; though I made it my daily walk, but I durſt not ſee him too often, for fear our frequent interviews ſhould direct my ſervants to a dangerous curioſity.

He came according to appointment: our diſcourſe was very ſhort, but filled with interchanged vows of a never-dying affection, and during one month and a half I thus ſtill ſaw him twice a week. He alwaies croſs'd the Nilus to the Garden in a little boat, and very ſecurely; for though he had been taken in the matter, that walk upon the bank was ſo common, as none would have thought it ſtrange.

He employed all the times I told you of in the conduct of his ſecret practices for my deliverance, at firſt being utterly deſtitute of men, victuals, monie, every thing that neceſſity required for the owning of an open war againſt Tyribaſus; at every viſit he rendered me a ſhort account of what had paſſed, and by this means I underſtood the intelligence he kept with all the honeſt party of the Kingdom, by the agency of Telemachus and Oriſthenes, with whom he had ſeveral meetings by night, and by whoſe means he had drawn five or ſix of the beſt Cities in Aethiopia to his party, every day was witneſs to a hopeful encreaſe of his petty numbers, and he now ſtaid the ſtriking of a conſiderable blow, but for a little better condition to make it hit the ſurer.

In the mean time the conſolation I received from theſe hopes, called back the baniſhed blood into my cheeks, and I appeared to every eye in as perfect a poſſeſſion of health and colour, as ever my life had been acquainted with.

Caeſario ſaw this change with unexpreſſable contentment, but the return of this little beauty that kindled them, did now more than ever enrage the flames of Tyribaſus, and ſtill as he [Page] felt his paſſion grow more unruly, ſo he preſſed me to eſpouſe him, with a more imperious importunity than before he had practiſed. I defended my ſelf from his batteries with the ſame diſdain of his perſon that had ſo often repuls'd him: but now he began to aſſault me with an invincible obſtinacy, and in fine, became ſo inſolent, as one day after he had treated me very rudely: ‘Madam, ſaid he, ſince I ſee you ſtill take a tyrannous pride to abuſe the reſpect I have ſhewn you, and provoke me to deſtroy all the conſiderations that flowed from that Fountain, I muſt take leave to tell you, that I will now rouze and arm that power in my own behalf, that has ſlumber'd ſo long in the arms of my injur'd patience: You ſhall only have eight days more to obtain a reſolution of your ſelf to eſpouſe me; and if in that time you fail to overcome your obſtinacy, I ſhall know well enough how to oblige you to it in ſpight of your averſion.’

Before he departed my Chamber, he openly confirmed this menace with deep Oaths in the preſence of all his followers, which on the ſudden ſo decreſted my ſpirit as I could not command courage enough to return him a ſyllable.

The very ſame day I met Caeſario in the Garden, who flew into ſuch a fury at the relation I gave him of this laſt paſſage, as he had much ado to reſtrain himſelf from going to give the Tyrant death in the midſt of a thouſand ſwords, where infallibly he would have found his own; but his paſſion (in homage to the reaſons I urged) fell at laſt by degrees to a cooler temper, and after he had taken ſome time to ſcan the advice of every thought; ‘Tyribaſus, ſaid he, has forced me by his violence to precipitate a deſign, which is not yet ready to diſcloſe, and whereof the ſucceſs will not probably be ſuch as I might have promis'd my ſelf, had it ſtaid for a maturer birth, but of this he ſhall be ſure, that I will either periſh with many partners in my quarrel, or ſtain the ſaffron robes of his expected Hymen, with the black blood that is neereſt his perfidious heart.’

He ſaid no more, but preſently after parted from me without prefixing either time or place for our next meeting, I retired to my Chamber trembling at the threats of both the Rivals, and if on one ſide I feared the violence of Tiribaſus, on the other I could do no leſs than ſhudder at the thoughts of thoſe grinning dangers which Caeſario was going to attempt for my relief.

This aguiſh fit of fear held me divers daies without intermiſſion; during which Tiribaſus redoubled my terrours by many evident proofs that he meant his menaces, and the publick preparations he made for his marriage would not let me find the leaſt flaw in his reſolution, I ſhould ſooner have choſen to have lain alone in my grave, than received ſuch a partner in my bed, but I was then reduced to ſuch a wretched condition, as my fancy could glide at no particular that lay in the way to my wiſhes, which did not repreſent the face of terror, and I ſaw my ſelf beſieged with ſo many pregnant cauſes of fear, as I found it utterly impoſſible to calm my inquietudes.

I detain your attention too long in this troubleſome paſſage, and 'tis now time to lead it to the lateſt accidents of my life.

The ſixth day was already paſs'd, with a great part of the ſucceeding night, ſince Tyribaſus dated my ſad expectations, when we were waked with a thundring noiſe which we heard in the ſtreets of Meroe, that principally bent the loudeſt clamour at the Pallace-gates, where there was fought a very great and furious Combat. Caeſario by means unknown to me, was come that night into the City, after he had cunningly, by degrees, ſlipt in 4000 valiant men before him at ſeveral gates, by the help of a ſpreading intelligence that he kept in all parts of the City, and marching in their van directly to the Palace, he had attacked the out-guards, and fought it ſo ſucceſsfully, as all thoſe that defended the firſt Gates were cut in pieces, and the furious Caeſario was already broke into the Court, where he made whole brooks of Rebels bloud on all ſides.

Tyribaſus, whom the loud alarm had wakened, was quickly got upon his feet, and cauſing arms arms to be cryed in every quarter, by that means he called all the Guard that belonged to his perſon about him; a hundred Torches were lighted up in an inſtant, and being got by their direction out of his Chamber, he would fain have run where the noiſe called him, but the confuſion diſtracted his thoughts, and by this time he heard it was come round about him; for at the ſame time that Caeſario with 2000 men, had opened himſelf a paſſage at the great Gate, his two friends, Telimachus and Oriſthenes, each with a thouſand at his heels, had broke in at two other Gates behind, that were but ſlightly guarded, and by three ſeveral ways Tyribaſus ſaw his Enemies enter the Palace, putting all to the ſword they encountred, and ſending up a loud cry where ever they came Long live our Queen Candace, and let the Tyrant of Aethiopia die, kill the Tyrant.

Tyribaſus in ſpight of all his courage, could not chuſe but tremble at this ſurprizal, but endeavouring to diſpell his amazement with as much promptitude as poſſible, he ran with his [Page] ſword in his hand with all thoſe that had taken the alarm, to the head of the great ſtairs, and had begun to deſcend ſome of the firſt ſteps, when he ſaw the valiant Caeſario all covered with bloud, coming up to encounter him, and having left off his black Mask, Tyribaſus by Torchlight preſently knew him: his aſtoniſhment was ſtrangely redoubled to ſee the dead come back from their Graves to procure his ruine, but his reaſon had no time to track that adventure to the Fountain, and Caeſario no ſooner ſpyed him, but fiercely ſpringing towards him with nought but terrour in his looks and actions, Thou muſt dye Tyribaſus, ſaid he, Tyrant thou muſt dye. Tyribaſus was affrighted at the Menace, and though perhaps at another time he would not have refuſed Combat againſt Cleomedon, yet than finding his forces too feeble to maintain it, and knowing beſides if he could but avoid that encounter, and recover the City, his party would ſoon be the ſtrongeſt, he turned his back upon his Rival, and thruſting himſelf among his men, he ran with all the haſt he could make towards a door that he ſpyed open: Caeſario furiouſly purſued him with his ſword at his Reins, and divers of his men (deſperately pawning their lives to preſerve their Maſters) oppoſed his paſſage and if they were unfortunate enough to fall under the ſteel and rage of Caeſar's Son, at leaſt they gave Tirybaſus time to gain the door, and from thence croſſing the next Chamber, by a little pair of ſtairs (wherewith he was well acquainted) ſlipping down without the leaſt reſiſtance in the Court, and there mingled himſelf with the tumultuous throng he paſſed undiſcovered from thence into the ſtreets.

In the mean time you may eaſily judge how ſtrongly my Soul was alarm'd, the noiſe had waked me at the firſt irruption, and my imagination quickly conſtruing the cauſe, I ſtarted out of my Bed, and ran to the window that looked into the Court, from whence, by the light of divers Torches, I beheld a part of the ſlaughter. I had heard as well the cries of dying men, as of thoſe that cauſed them, among which I often diſtinguiſhed the voice of Caeſario, after I ſaw he had made himſelf Maſter of the Court, I loſt ſight of him when he mounted the great ſtairs, and I was painfully ſuffering the ignorance of what had befallen him there, when I heard the Soldiers cry out in ſeveral quarters of the Palace, that the Tyrant had ſaved himſelf.

So ſoon as Caeſario knew Tyribaſus was got into the City, he did not doubt but he would quickly raiſe a party beſides his ſtanding Militia that would out-number the Soldiers he had with him, and from thence concluding his Forces incapable to reſiſt him upon equal terms: after he had cleared the Palace by the death and defeat of all thoſe that kept it, he cauſed the Gates to be ſhut, and ſet guards upon every paſſage, reſolving to defend himſelf there, till the arrival of ſome ſupplies that he took but a few moments to range his men in the ſame order they were to obſerve for defenſe of the Horſe, and when he had put every requiſite in its due place, as well as that ſhort time would permit him, he came to my Chamber, followed by his Governour Eteocles, and twenty or thirty Soldiers beſides, I trembled in every part when I ſaw him come towards me covered with bloud, and was utterly unable to bring forth one word, when throwing himſelf at my feet, and embracing my knees with an action wholly paſſionate, he ſtayed a little while in that poſture, and then riſing again from thence; ‘Madam, ſaid he, we have done but half our work, the Tyrant is not dead, but we are able to put your perſon beyond the reach of his power, he is now doubtleſs raiſing Forces in the City to come back and aſſault us; I cannot Madam, abandon thoſe loyal Souls, whom I have engaged in this Enterprize for your ſervice, without a baſeneſs that I dare not be guilty of; and my honour enjoyns me, ſince I have led them to this Labyrinth of danger, to run their fortune: but for you we have contrived a ſafe retreat, if your Majeſty aproves it; I ſhall only lead you through the Garden, to a Veſſel that waits there, by the banks of Nilus, which (fortified with a ſufficient number of men) under the conduct of my Governour Eteocles and Telimachus, the faithfulleſt of all your Subjects, will carry you to the City of Baſſa, which is totally at your devotion; it will coſt you but ſix hours time to go thither, where I hope to kiſs your hands before to morrows Sun ſhall hide his head in the Weſtern Ocean: beſides, what I owe to my honour, and my friends, the conſideration of your Intereſts will detain me here, whereby the ſuccour of ſome additional numbers, whoſe coming up is expected every hour, I hope to determine all your affairs, and though the event of this deſign ſhould fall ſhort of what my expectations promiſe me, I ſhall ſtill have left me an infallible way to preſerve my life, and ſafely conduct my ſelf before tomorrow night, to the City I named you.’

This was Caeſario's propoſition, which I combated with all the arguments could be raiſed from my indiſpoſition to deſert him in ſo manifeſt a danger, but he proteſted ſo ſolemnly that he had an aſſured means to ſlipp the peril when he pleaſed, and ſave himſelf, and often falling at my feet, conjured me to grant his requeſt with ſuch undeniable reaſons, as at laſt my aver [...] ſlow loſt the victory; however I told him, that if I found him a deceiver in the promiſe he had [Page] made me to ſecure himſelf, he ſhould carry the guilt of my death to the other world without my pardon. He lead me over a great number of dead bodies, that the ſlaughter had ſtrewed about the Garden, from the ſight of which I took much horrour, and from thence to the bank of Nilus, where we found a boat guarded with three or four men, ready to receive us: I ſtept into it with Eteocles and Telimachus, and a dozen of the Soldiers, which were all the boat could well contain, being only deſigned for our conduct to a greater Veſſel, that waited our coming at the mouth of the River: Of all my Maids only Clitie and two of her Companions attended me, the reſt had been driven by fear to hide themſelves in ſeveral corners, ſo that we had not ſeen any of them ſince the firſt alarm, and of my officers there were only three or four that followed me; when I came to ſet my foot into the boat, and divide my ſelf from my dear Cleomedon, I could not forbear to embrace him before ſo many witneſſes, and when I gave him my laſt adieu, the tears ſtarted from my eyes in great abundance: ‘Cleomedon, ſaid I, be ſure you remember my abode upon earth has the ſame date with yours, and that cannot laviſhly neglect your own life, without a careleſſe contempt of mine.’

Upon theſe words the boat went off from the bank, and immediately we heard a horrid noiſe in the Palace, from thence concluding, Tyribaſus returned with forces from the City, had renewed the Combat: Gods! what exceſſive torture did I ſuffer from my timerous apprehenſions, how laviſh were my vows, and what coſtly ſacrifices did I promiſe Heaven for Caeſario's ſafety! Eteocles, who ever kept himſelf near me, ſtrove with all the ſtrength of his reaſon to tame the tempeſts of my inquietudes, and to leſſen the credit of my fears, he aſſured me, that 15000 armed men, drawn from thoſe Cities, that Caeſario had ſecretly reconciled to their old obedience, would at break of day be ready to force the Gates of Meroe, and ſtrike a conſiderable blow, for my ſervice, and his Princes ſafety.

My knowledge that Eteocles was ever juſtly accounted preciſely honeſt, ſhould not let me refuſe ſome faith to his words; in the mean time under the conduct of him and Telemachus (a perſon very eminent among the Aethiopians for birth and vertue) we gently glided down that arm of Nilus, till we arrived at the main channel where the Veſſel waited us. The Nile brings up ſhips to that place, of as great a bulk and burden, as any that ride the Ocean. We found the Veſſel manned with two hundred Soldiers, and going aboard about the birth of day, we followed the current with all the haſte we could make, by the help of Oar and Canvas.

It was no ordinary example of Caprichio, to ſee the lawful Queen to one of the greateſt and moſt puiſſant Kingdoms in the world, expoſed in one ſingle bottom to the mercy of ſuch men as ſhe never knew, though beſides Eteocles, they were all born my ſubjects; yet this condition, narrow as it was, to me was far ſweeter, and more ſupportable, than to ſtay ſtill in the power of Tyribaſus, at a time when he was ready to abuſe it in ſo barbarous a manner, by the violence he intended to my perſon; but Heavens! how remote was I to that Port of repoſe which I thought ſo near me! and how unfortunately did I break away from one danger to ſtep into the jaws of another, that was far greater and more mercileſs! We had now two hours work to reach the City we bent at, which was ſeated about 10 or 12 furlongs from the bank of Nilus, when we deſerved four ſhips of War very near us, that not only oppoſed our paſſage, but ſurrounded our Veſſel on all ſides, before we had time to think of a retreat, commanded us to throw down our Arms, and yield our ſelves upon pain of death.

Eteocles and Telemachus (both very ſtout and couragious) ſuppoſing thoſe Ships were ſent in purſuit of ours by Tyribaſus, reſolved to periſh in defence of that dear pawn Caeſario had truſted to their hands, and without regard to the number of their Enemies, began to repulſe them very valiantly; their reſiſtance procured their ruine, and thoſe cruel men with whom we diſputed our liberty, after a very obſtinate and bloudy conteſt, which coſt the lives of many of their Companions, at laſt they overflowed us with an inundation of number, and boarding our veſſel on every ſide, put all to the ſword without diſtinction, the valiant Telemachus, whoſe fidelity deſerved a better deſtiny, was killed with the firſt, all our Soldiers cut in pieces after him, only Eteocles ſtill defended himſelf (being recoiled with his back againſt the top of the Deck) though with no other hope than to ſell his life ſomething dearer than the reſt of his Companions, when animated with an extraordinary courage, and an eager deſire to preſerve a man, whoſe grand ſervices had rendered him ſo dear to Caeſario, I boldly ſtept into that ſcene of danger, and demanded his life of him I took for the Captain of our Enemies.

The barbarous Zenodorus, for ſo the Pirate was called, having coſt his eyes upon my viſage, and found ſomething there that obliged him to accord me the life of Eteocles, called off his men from the Combat, and gave him his life juſt when the danger was ready to enroll him [Page] among Death's Captives; he preſently took me out of that Veſſel defiled with carcaſſes and blood, and cauſed me to paſs into another of his that was next it, with all the perſons that were now left, which were only Eteocles and my three women.

At theſe words Eliſa regarding the Queen with a fixed eye; ‘How Madam, ſaid ſhe, was it then by the Pirate Zenodorus you were taken; The very ſame reply'd Candace, and that famous Rober not content to make his depradations by Sea, was come up the Nilus very far into our Provinces, where he had taken ſome rich prizes, and rendered himſelf the moſt redoubled of all thoſe that ever skimmed this Ocean; Alas! added the fair Eliſa, what an infinite of tears has that Monſter coſt me? But Madam, purſued ſhe, do not interrupt your diſcourſe, you ſhall underſtand when my ſtory comes to tread the Stage, by what ſad mark I know the Pirate Zenodorus, and how near a conformity and alliance the hand of providence has made between our laſt adventure.’

You may judge Madam, continued the fair Queen, to what a lamentable condition I found my ſelf reduced by this ſtrange diſaſter, from the hands of an ambitious, and amorous man that I fled, I ſaw my ſelf fallen into the power of a pitileſs wretch, that knew neither Faith nor Honour, of a Barbarian known upon all the Sea by his cruelty; and in fine, of a Monſter, from whom I could not expect leſs than all the inhumanities I was capable of reſenting: this horrid ſpectacle crimſoned with the vital blood of all my men, ſtruck freſh Ideas of terrour in my memory, and the preſence of thoſe Tygres that breathed nothing but murder and maſſacre, might well have wrought the ſame frightful effects upon any other ſpirit, though better fortified than mine to reſiſt them; and indeed my courage was brought ſo low, as I let my ſelf fall half dead upon the Deck when the conſideration of this laſt calamity, almoſt ſet me a ſwimming in my own tears.

Eteocles, though he had received ſome ſlight wounds in ſeveral places, kept himſelf near my perſon, and kneeling by me, ſupported my head upon his boſom, while Clitie with her two companions, were all fallen at my feet, and become partners of my woe, then it was that all my conſtancy forſook the Liſts, I deteſted my unfortunate birth, and upbraided Heaven it ſelf with the cruel ſeries of my miſeries, a thouſand times did I call death to my reſcue, and condemned my cowardiſe, that I did not firſt tender my throat to the ſteel of thoſe Barbarians that butchered our Souldiers.

The Pirates that had long been habituated to ſuch ſpectacles of pity, melted no more than rocks at my deſolation, but their Captain found ſome beauty in my face that a little ſoftned his ſavage humours, and made him capable of ſome ſentiments of humanity: at firſt my ſorrow had his ſilent attention, and whether he was not yet moved enough to expreſs any ſigns of Compaſſion, or thought thoſe firſt exceſſes of my grief would ſtrike me deaf to his diſcourſe, he ſat a pretty while upon a ſeat he had choſen, and ſaw my tears run from me without ſo much as offering to come nearer, but a little after he came towards me, and taking ſome time to contemplate my face before he ſpoke, and endeavouring to ſend away as much fierceneſs from his looks as poſſible: Fair Lady, ſaid he, do not afflict thy ſelf ſo exceedingly, thy beauty has found favour amongſt us, and perhaps thou art not ſo unhappy as thou thinkeſt thy ſelf.

I was buried ſo deep in the conſideration of my miſery, as it would not let me have leiſure to regard the Pirates words that carried ſo little proportion to my dignity, and he received neither anſwer, nor ſo much as one ſingle look, that could let him know he was underſtood. This gave him a belief that I had no skill in the Greek Tongue, in which he ſpoke, and therefore tranſlating his words into the Aethiopan language; ‘I tell thee, ſaid he, with a look that had put on more mildneſs than before, you may ceaſe your laments, and dimiſſe all your fears, ſince you are in a place where your beauty has given you much power.’ I knew not how to ſhape an anſwer to this diſcourſe; but Eteocles, who was leſs troubled than I, and therefore had more judgement at the helm, perceiving my perplexity was willing to ſpare me the pains, and taking his eyes from my viſage where they had been long faſtned, to place them upon the Pirates. ‘My Lord, ſaid he, if you uſe theſe advantages you have gotten upon us with moderation, the Gods will be engaged to reward your generoſity: This Lady whom you ſee is my Daughter, we were retiring into Egypt (whence we took our firſt Original) from the Civil Wars that troubled Aethiopia, when we fell into your hands, and if we receive ſuch a treatment as our hopes encourage us to expect from your goodneſs, we are not of ſo baſe an extraction, nor yet ſo deſpoiled of Fortunes favours, but we may find a way to acknowledge your courteſie, and redeem our Liberties at a conſiderable ranſom.’

Zenodorus ſmiled at Eteocles words, and regarding him with a diſdainful look: For thy Ranſom, ſaid he, we ſhall talk at leiſure, but for thy Daughters, thou wilt hardly find treaſure enough to pay the price of her liberty.

[Page] If I took ſome ſatisfaction from Eteocles words, wherein he had cunningly diſguiſed my condition, I received no leſs diſpleaſure at the Pirates, which preſently taught me to divine a large part of that miſchief that ſuddenly ſucceeded. Gods! what ſad reflections did I then make upon the miſeries of my life; what a languiſhing defect of courage did I feel to ſuppoſe the diſcovery of this approaching danger.

The Pirate cauſed me to be taken from that place, and laid upon a bed, when ſeating himſelf at my bolſter, he ſtrove with his natural rudeneſs for the ſweeteſt words he could find to comfort me, but he found me ſo unapt to reſent his officious care, as judging, it would ask ſome time to compoſe my inquietudes, he releaſed me to the advice of my pillow for the reſt of that day: he was contented my Chamber ſhould be free to my ſelf, to Eteocles and my Maids, and when I ſaw my ſelf alone, with only thoſe confidents about me, I took a greater liberty than before to pour out my complaints and ſcan my deplorable condition.

Eteocles endeavoured to deceive my ſorrows, and charm their bittereſt pangs with all the comfort thathis reaſon could urge, telling me that there was hope left that a ranſome might procure my freedom of thoſe perſons, whoſe ſwords had only been drawn by a greedineſs of getting but an indiſpenſible neceſſity of concealing my name and condition, for fear, when he knew me, the hope of a conſiderable gain, might oblige the Pirate to put me once more into the hands of Tyribaſus. I ſaw much probability in Eteocles words, and ſtriving to confirm the Pirates opinion, that I was his daughter, in his preſence I ever paid him a filial reſpect, and to make the diſguiſe ſit ſurer, he alwaies aſſumed ſome authority over me.

In the mean time the Ships that carried us, as if the winds had become confederates with Fortune's malice, went away with an admirable diligence, and I ſaw my ſelf ſtill father recoil, not only from the hopes of liberty, but all poſſibility of ſeeing Caeſario for a long time, nay probably my whole life, whom I had abandoned in ſo manifeſt a danger: the remembrance of him threw down all the fortifications my conſtancy could raiſe to reſiſt my anguiſh, and when we had left the Nilus at our backs, and began to ride the open Ocean at the will of our Maſters, who rejected all the propoſitions Eteocles had made them to ſell us our liberties, I was ready to reſign the remains of all my courage, and commit my miſeries to the fatal cure of thoſe waters, to which I had my ſelf ſo lately condemn'd; but I then receiv'd a freſh addition to my grief, that diſplaid a greater horror in the face of my misfortune than ever, and the cruelty of my deſtiny deſired it, that the perfidious Zenodorus ſhould in effect reſent ſomething in my face which was capable to kindle his reflection, it was that taught him to miſprize the offers of Eteocles, and poiſing the unbridled power he had over me, reſpect was too weak to reſiſt the rudeneſs of his nature, and conceal his paſſion, yet he ſtruggled with himſelf to poliſh his behaviour in my preſence as much as poſſible, and aboarding me one day, with more humility in his mind than ordinary: ‘Madam, ſaid he, my loſſes do much outweigh my gains in this adventure, and you are not ſo much our priſoner by the right of arms, as I am yours by that invincible authority, your beauty exerciſes upon me, we have now changed our condition, and I feel my ſelf reduced to implore your pity inſtead of that neceſſity your thoughts may create you of mine.’

Theſe words aſſaulted my Soul with a very ſenſible diſpleaſure, but by the moderation of my outward deportment, reſolving to make the advice of Eteocles my leſſon, for fear of exaſperating that brutiſh ſpirit to extremities againſt me, I kept my indignation in a ſhorter chain, than I had otherwiſe done, had I ſimply followed the motives of my own diſpoſition: ‘Zenodorus, ſaid I, it poſes me to conceive how my beauty ſhould keep any power in this Eſtate to which you have reduced me, ſince if it were true that it had produced ſuch effects upon your ſpirit as you ſpeak of, you would ſhew the proofs of your affection in the reſtauration of my liberty, upon thoſe conditions my Father has propos'd, which would eternally oblige me to you, abate but our ſeparation, reply'd the Pyrate, and your deſires cannot name another thing that ſhall meet my refuſal; and indeed I did not think you could have demanded your liberty, in a place where you are not only free, but ſoveraign and abſolute Miſtreſs: I cannot conceive dearer teſtimonies of affection, anſwered I, than ſuch as will impower me to do that of my own free choice, which you can only attribute to captivity and conſtraint.’

Zenodorus made me no other anſwer to theſe words, than a nod with his head, which was eaſie to be conſtrued in a right ſenſe; that he was far from condeſcending to what I requeſted.

This was the firſt open diſcovery that he made me of his paſſion, but after he had broke the Ice, he plagued me with perpetual importunities; I forbore to treat him harſhly, as much as poſſible, that I might ſtill keep him in terms of reſpect, and put by thoſe violences I had cauſe to fear from a man of his condition, but ſometimes I could not ſo nicely obſerve [Page] the ſtrict rules my caution had impoſed, nor keep on the mask ſo cunningly, as not to betray my contempt of his perſon, with ſuch a repugnance, as ſtrangled all the hopes he had foſtered.

Ten or twelve dayes had added themſelves to the age of time, before we returned to tranſpaſſe the bounds of modeſty, he tells me, that though he might ſerve himſelf of all thoſe advantages the right of arms had given him over me, yet he loved me with too much ardour and eſtimation to ſeek any other than the legitimate way of Marriage to enjoy me, then to entice me to this alliance, he would fall a diſplaying his puiſſance, and vantingly tell me, that he was not only the mightieſt of all the Rovers that ranged thoſe Seas, in the number of Ships that ſailed in ſeveral Squadrons, under the command of him and his Lieutenants, but that the world had many Soveraign Princes (which if the competition were fairly decided) would prove his inferiors for ſtrength and riches.

I ſometimes made ſemblance to lend attention and obſervance to his words, but I could not long belie my ſelf, and if in ſome one day in my actions he found complaiſance, he could not chuſe but mark my true born thoughts in a thouſand others, which I had no power to diſſemble. At laſt he peceived I had abuſed him, and that thoſe flexures of Civility which all this time he had forced to ſwim againſt the ſtream of his natural rudeneſs, on purpoſe to gain my heart, had been laid out in vain; this diſcovery urged him to chooſe a more uneven path to his ends; and one day after he had waſted ſome hours in my company, perceiving his deſigns to advance but ſlowly: ‘Madam, ſaid he, ſince I ſee all my Civilities have been loſt upon you, I have henceforth decreed it to ſeek ſome other means for my own ſatisfaction, I muſt now therefore tell you, that if you diſpoſe not your ſelf to let me have it by frre vote of your own conſent, you muſt reſolve to ſee me ſtruggle for it with more ſucceſs than I have done formerly.’

He accompanied this firſt menace with divers others of the ſame mo [...]d, that almoſt ſtruck me dead with apprehenſion, and after that day he began to treat me with an air more imperious and abſolute, than ever his looks had put on before.

Then did I ſee my ſad condition wound up to the very extreams of miſery, and I fearfully expected every moment when the Barbarians violence ſhould aſſay to bereave me of that which was a thouſand times dearer than my life, and had never been attacqu'd in all my former misfortunes.

So ſoon as I ſaw my ſelf at liberty to talk with my maids, without being over-heard by the Pirates: ‘Come ſaid I, my dear Companions in miſery, 'tis time to think of dying, Fortune had not haraſſed us all this time with ſupportable calamities, but to obſerve a method in her miſchiefs, and at laſt compleat the tragedy ſhe intended: this honour which we prize above our lives, is now ready to become a prey to Barbarians, if a generous reſolution do's not reſcue it by the hand of death from the ſhame it prepared us; let us diſpoſe our ſelves to take this only antidote that is left to preſerve it, and fear not to make uſe of Waters or Steel to void an ignominy, which is a thouſand times worſe than thoſe tortures that carry the greateſt horrour.’

To theſe words ſucceeded many others that diſplaid the unquiet agitations of my ſpirit, and ſometimes (though abſent and remote as he was) addreſſing my ſpeech to Caeſario. ‘Ah Son of Caeſar, would I ſay, how welcome would thy ſuccour arrive to ſilence the threats, and ſtop the mouth of this danger! how deeply mighteſt thou oblige me in neglecting the intereſts of my ſtate, to run to the defence of my honour? but oh Gods! continued I, how vainly do I call thee to my aſſiſtance? poſſible thou art no more in the number of mankind, but haſt rendered thy ſpirit under the arms of the treacherous Tyribaſus, and the Gods have laid this puniſhment upon me with the hand of Juſtice, for leaving thee ſo cowardly in the mouth of a devouring danger for my intereſts.’

Theſe words were ſucceeded with ſeveral actions of the ſame ſtrain: but if my grief received a violent encreaſe from this laſt intelligence of my fears, it quickckly mounted by large ſtrides to a greater height when I ſaw the Pirate perſevere in his deſign, and paſs to the cruel execution of his menaces; from hour to hour he ſtill became more fierce and terrible, and ceaſing thoſe entreaties, that were the firſt factors of his paſſion, he now diſcourſed it in a more imperious ſtile, deeply proteſting, if I ſtill refuſed to render the fort by treaty, he would take it by aſſault; this extremity provoked me to tear off my diſguiſe and regarding him with an eye that ſpoke the ſpirit of anger. ‘Barbarian, ſaid I, thou maiſt kill me if thou wilt, but thy threats ſhall never fright my conſent to the leaſt ſatisfaction of thy brutiſh appetite: No, no, replyed the cruel Zenodorus, you ſhall not dye: but ſince there is no other way to obtain my wiſhes, but by putting violence in the place of ſweetneſs, my reſolution is irrevocable; when the thing is done, I ſhall eaſily gain your pardon, ſince I ſhall only have your anger for taking that by conqueſt, which ſhould have been mine by conſent. Well [Page] wicked man, ſaid I, this unjuſt power thou uſurpeſt, is yet inferior to that which arms the hand of divinity and if thou continueſt thy deteſtable intentions, believe it, the Gods will want no thunderbolts to cruſh thee.’ The impious wretch derided my hopes of divine aſſiſtance; and repeating his own wicked reſolutions, backed with deep Oaths to confirm it, he ſwore I ſhould have but three days more to reſolve his contentment, and the next day to prove his words and intentions grew up from the ſame root, he licenſed himſelf to take the liberties, which he had not preſumed before, and after ſome obſcene expreſſions which pudicity forbids me to mention, he would have raviſhed a kiſs from my mouth, but at that rude attack, I forgot the weakneſs of my Sex, and furiouſly flew at his face with ſo much violence, as I left the characters there of my ſcorn and anger, in a deep impreſſion. This provoked him to caſhier all thoughts of patience, and deſperately ſwearing he would no longer delay to execute the effects of my fears, he had already called for ſome of his men to pull my Maids out of the Chamber, when by a manifeſt ſuccour from Heaven, which then armed it ſelf in my defence, he heard the Pilot cry out there was a furious tempeſt coming.

The terrour he took from this alarm, put a ſudden ſtop to his deſign, and running up upon the Deck to know the truth, he ſaw the enraging waves begin to raiſe a battery againſt his floating fortreſs, and Heaven prepare to pour its Artillery upon him with ſo black a defiance, as all thoſe foul thoughts that luſt had ſtirred, grew cold and did homage to the apprehenſions of death, which hurried from a place, where his preſence might animate his men, to employ all their force and induſtry againſt the choler of the winds. I may ſafely avow, that at that time the particular intereſt of my honour made me rejoyce at the common calamity, and I ſcarce liſtned to the language of fear for my own, or the ruine of thoſe about me, ſince (either by his death or mine) it promiſed me a reſcue from the brutiſh fury of Zenodorus; this made me only appear with a tranquil and untroubled aſpect amidſt the diſorder of all the reſt, and when the natural horrour of death had it ſelf painted in its uſual Palour upon the face of all the Pirates, mine (by report of thoſe that ſaw me) ſtill kept its ordinary colour and compoſure.

The ſtorm laſted two entire days with a great deal of violence: but as Zenodorus and his men had gained the skill from a large experience how to make uſe of all advantages when they wreſtled with that angry Element, ſo they received not all the loſs that would doubtleſs have befallen others leſs practiſed in that exerciſe; of four Veſſels they loſt but one, and after they had diſcharged the other three (to the Pirates grand regret) of ſuch lading as was moſt weighty, they ſaved themſelves from Ship-wrack without diſ-uniting; and when the ſtorm had ſpent its greateſt fury, they diſcryed the Egyptian ſhore, with the ſtately walls of Alexandria.

As yet none of them knew upon what climate the winds had toſſed them; for though they were very near the ſhore, yet the nights arrival, which had already begun to blot the departing day with her purblind ſhades, would not ſuffer their eyes to take the objects with diſtinction.

Zenodorus, though ignorant whether this Country held his Friends or Enemies, was yet unwilling to continue his courſe in that obſcurity, before he had reaccommoded his ſhattered Veſſels which drank water in divers places, and by other harms they had ſuffered from the Tempeſt, were then become incapable to maintain a farther Navigation, he therefore ordered his men to let fall their Anchors about a mile from the ſhore, & while every one plyed their proper task for a part of the night, as his commands directed them, he came into my Chamber, where he had not been ſince the beginning of the Tempeſt. My blood roſe at the ſight of him, and not without too much reaſon, ſince he came with a black purpoſe, to employ all his laſt ſatiſfaction, I preſently diſcovered this foul deſign in his viſage: and approaching to me with a face that confeſſed the ſtings of a furious luſt: ‘Madam, ſaid he, 'tis now no time to keep your Conſent in a longer ſuſpence, and I come to quench the thirſt of my deſires, from which nothing can have power to divert me, the danger we lately eſcaped, for a time retarded the execution of my wiſhes, but I muſt now tell you, that all thoſe which heaven has power to throw head-long upon me, ſhall not ſtop my paſſage to your enjoyment.’

Theſe affrighting words ſtruck a horrour through me from head to foot, and wanted but little of ſnatching all that aſſurance from me, which neceſſity lays claim to in ſuch an occaſion; however in that extremity I called back my courage to the Combat, and judging the danger I ſhould run, in being returned to the hands of Tyribaſus, when the Pirate once knew my quality, could not inſult ſo cruelly upon my fears, as that which now menaced me; I deemed it no longer requiſite to hide a truth from Zenodorus, which in ſome probability might divert him from his villanous reſolution; this concluded, regarding him with a borrowed boldneſs in my looks: ‘Zenedorus, ſaid I, conſider well this wicked enterpriſe of thine, and remember that I tell thee, it is not the daughter of Eteocles thou would diſhonour, [Page] but the Queen of the Aethiopians, who will all be obliged to hunt thee through the world, and write their revenge in thy ruine for the infamous violence thou offereſt to their Princeſs.’

Theſe words, which (in reaſon might promiſe their wicked effect) made not ſo much as the leaſt dint in the Barbarians rocky heart, and whether he ſuſpected it a fiction, or that the known truth (in the bruitiſh tranſport that then poſſeſt him) was neither capable, to change nor defer his deſign, he expreſſed no ſemblance of underſtanding what I ſaid and in obedience to a ſign he made them, his men ſeizing upon Eteocles and my Maids to drag them out of the Chamber, without farther delay he aſſaulted my honour with all the forces he could make; my Maids and Eteocles made a long reſiſtance, with their loud cries ſtriving to rouze the ſleeping pity of Heaven, and ſuffering themſelves to be dragged along upon the Earth, ſtill catching at every thing they encountred, as if they rather deſired to be drawn in pieces by thoſe wild beaſts than abandon their Miſtreſs in that ſad extremity; and I defended my ſelf ſo ſtoutly againſt Zenodorus as his face (in divers places) quickly put on the bloudy marks of my reſiſtance: but at laſt our defence proved all too weak, my Servants reduced to that extremity, in ſpight of all their oppugnation, were ready to be forced from the chamber, and my ſelf was now grown ſo weak and weary, as all my forces were ready to quit the liſts, when the Gods ſprang a ſudden thought in my breſt that ſav'd me: I began to regard Zenodorus, whom I ſtill held by the hair, with a milder eye, and ſhutting a part of my anger from view: ‘Zenodorus, ſaid I, you will reap but little ſatisfaction in rending that from me by violence, which you ought to ſeek by ſofter addreſſes, I feel muſt reſign my ſelf to your mercy, ſince all the ſtrength the Gods have lent me is too weak to defend my honour, and I make you a promiſe, if you will but quietly allow me this nights repoſe, you ſhall find no farther repugnance in my will.’ Zenodorus ſtaid his rude hands at theſe words, and leaving me ſome leiſure to take breath: ‘Had you ſpoke in this manner, ſaid he, before we came to thoſe terms, I had granted more than you demand, nor will I now refuſe this ſhort time to your deſires, but be ſure you employ it ſo well to ſubdue your a verſion, as to morrow I may have nothing to combat.’ I confirmed the promiſe I had made him, and immediately after he commanded thoſe that tormented my Servants, to ſet them at liberty, when taking his leave for the reſt of the night, he and his men departed my Chamber.

He was no ſooner gone, but I barred the door, and turning towards Eteocles and my Women that lay weeping at my feet, ‘Come come, ſaid I, my dear Companions, no more of thoſe fruitleſs tears, 'tis time to think of dying, I have tamely taken too many blows at the rude hands of Fortune, while the means to free my ſelf from her cruelties were ſo out within my reach, I fooled my ſelf with a hope that death would ever be ready at my beck, with an infallible cure for my miſeries, when all other remedies had loſt their vertue, but of late I ſadly felt, that ſhe cannot be always at my diſpoſal, nor take every allarm to come in to my reſcue; now we have her again at command, without farther delay let us lay hold of the ſuccours ſhe offers us, and ſtay no longer to ſee our ſelves again reduced to call in vain for her aſſiſtance.’

My Maids, wholly feeble as they were, did not ſtrive to bandy one ſingle argument againſt my intentions, and Clitie (as ſhe that had moſt courage, and indeed moſt affection) undertaking to ſpeak for the reſt: Let us die then Madam, ſaid ſhe, we are ready to wait upon you to the other world, yet ſhould learn to think our lives much better ſpent, if by the ſhipwark of them we could ſee yours ſafe a ſhoar.

I tenderly embrac'd her and her two Companions at this generous proof of their affection, and no longer willing to keep my tears in hold: ‘I can do no leſs than weep your deſtiny, ſaid I, though I know you cannot but think it more pain to live at the mercy of theſe Pirates, than die with your Miſtreſs in defence of your honour, which would infallibly run the ſame fortune with mine: Then turning towards Eteocles, who ſilently regarded me with a look in which grief and pity conteſted for the upper hand.’ ‘Eteocles, ſaid I, if you ever ſee Caeſario again, pray tell him I preſerv'd my ſelf pure and ſpotleſs to my death, and do me the courteſie to carry him this meſſage, that it was my laſt care to keep his name in my memory in my heart. No Madam, reply'd Eteocles, I ſhall never ſee Caeſario more; and though I have ever ty'd my ſtrongeſt paſſions to his ſight and ſervice, yet I know how to uſe, as I ought, the honour he has done me in committing you to my cuſtody and conduct: Let us die then Madam, ſince the Gods will have it ſo, I dare not counſel you to buy your life at the price is demanded, and I know well enough how to die with you, ſince I cannot pay back that ſacred pawn to my Prince he unluckily truſted to my hands.’

I did not much ſtrain for argument to combat the reſolution of Eteocles, but began to joyn my invention with his how to find out the prompteſt and moſt commodious way to die, they had left nothing in the chamber that was fit to do the ſeat, only the windows [Page] were ſo wide as we might throw our ſelves through them into the Sea, and that was the way we made choice of, to apply the fatal relief to our miſeries; but before we were to act this laſt Scene, I felt a natural reluctance ſtart ſome thoughts of revenge in my ſoul againſt thoſe curſed miſcreants, whoſe crueltie had led us to the brink of that Precipice; and knowing Zenodorus chamber was neer to mine, I took a fanſie that in putting fire to ſome combuſtible thing in my lodging, it might probably cauſe him and his deteſtable inſtruments to run ſome hazard of their lives; at its firſt conception I imparted this thought to Eteocles, who taking ſome time to ſcan it before he would render his opinion: ‘Madam, ſaid he at laſt, I approve your deſign; for beſide that it ſuits with the juſt hatred we owe to the humane wretches, it may direct us a way to free our ſelves with the greater facility from their impious hands: we may eaſily ſet fire on our bed with the candle which will quickly diſtribute flames to all parts of the veſſel, and by the courteſie of this diſorder, which will doubtleſs ſurprize the Guards with fear and amazement, with the help of a ſheet I intend to tie to the Window, you will have leiſure enough to get down to the water, and ſeat your ſelf upon ſome of thoſe looſe planks I ſee in your chamber, where poſſible the Gods plac'd them on purpoſe for your deliverance: I am ſure they are ſtrong enough to bear your weight upon the water, and I intend to ſwim behind you, and drive it towards the ſhoar with all the forces I can raiſe; if my eye has not cozen'd me we are not far from thence, and who knows but Heaven may ſtretch out an extraordinary arm to ſuccour you, and double my ſtrength to that meaſure, as you may find it a ſafe Convoy to the firmer Element?’

I was contented to give this propoſition the hearing, though I ſcarce deſcryed the apparition of a hope to diſprove the threats of that imminent danger, however I could not reſiſt his intreaty to try the courſe he had contrived, nor refuſe the reſignation of my ſelf to his Conduct, at a time when I thought it impoſſible for fate it ſelf to reprive me.

The fear leaſt time ſhould betray our plot and us, to a ſudden ſurpriſal, made us haſten the execution; and Eteocles preſently faſtened the ſheet to the window, and with two planks he deſign'd for our ſafety, let himſelf gently ſlide downwards, till he came at the water; when I thought he was got down, I reſolved to follow him: but before I quitted the Ship, with the Candles that were in my Chamber, I ſet fire to the Bed in ſeveral places, which conſiſting of a matter that was greedy of flame, diſpers'd it in a moment through all the veſſel: I no ſooner ſaw it was fully lighted, but catching hold of the ſheet, I nimbly threw my ſelf out at the window, and was preſently followed the ſame way by Clitie. Eteocles catch'd me in his arms, and giving me faſt hold at the end of the planks, received Clitie that was newly deſcended in the ſame manner, & ſwiming round about us, ſecurely placed us together upon our floating ſeat; he would have rendered the fame office to my two other Maids, but whether the flame (that had already begun to devour the veſſel) had affrighted their feminine hearts, the ſmoak ſtifled them, or poſſible the circumſpection of his care for my ſafety, had ſlackned his regard of theirs, we ſaw them no more, and I am ſtill ignorant, whether they remained in the power of the Pirates, or periſhed by fire and water.

Eteocles guiding his Eye and Voice by the light of the inflamed veſſel towards the Chamber, had often call'd them to come away: but when he ſaw his pains were loſt, he reconverted his care upon me, and ſwimming behind our plank, drove it forward ſo ſtrongly, as in a ſhort time we had left a large diſtance between us and the burning veſſel.

In the poſture I us'd to ſecure my hold upon the planck, I was up to the ſhoulders in water, and though the heat of the ſeaſon did us the ſervice, ſo to moderate the rigours of the liquid Element, as we ſcarce felt any cold, and my Garments aſſiſted me to bear my ſelf up with the greater eaſe in the water; yet death in all appearance was ſo ready to ſtrike the blow, as if the miſeries of my life had not leſſened my deſires to preſerve it, I think that hideous image of ruine would have needed no other weapon than mine own apprehenſion to diſpatch me.

Candace was arriv'd at this part of her ſtory when the fair Princeſs, who had heard it with a ſerious attention, could not chuſe but interrupt her; ‘Ah Madam, ſaid ſhe, what is it you tell me? is it poſſible ſuch a Princeſs as your ſelf ſhould be led to the extreams of ſo deep a miſfortune, and the Gods ſhould ſubmit one of the moſt accompliſhed, and the greateſt Queens upon Earth to Perils and Calamities of this Nature?’

Candace modeſtly replyed to theſe words, and reſuming her narration, ſhe recounted how nobly ſhe had been ſuccoured by Tyridates, whoſe name ſhe yet forbore to mention, cautious of betraying a Princes ſecret, whoſe generoſity had ſo much obliged her: the continuance of her ſtory leads her from the ſhoar of Alexandria to the houſe of her preſerver, ſucceeds in ſequel to her meeting the Prince of Mauritania, his Combat with the ſtranger that purſued Zenodorus, the arrival and her diſcovery of Caeſario, her ſecond ſurprizal by the Pirate; and [Page] in fine, all that had arrived her, ſince ſhe entered Alexandria, and accepted the Pretors invitation and entertainment in the Palace.

At this period of her ſtory, the Parthian Princeſs, after ſhe had witneſſed by many ſweet expreſſes of affection, how ſenſibly ſhe felt the blows of Candace's fortune in the bare recital. ‘Madam, ſaid ſhe, as much work as my thoughts have at home, in toiling themſelves upon my own diſaſters, my tender reſentments of yours has called them away from their proper task, and while your language gave me the lively draught of thoſe perils and afflictions you ſo oft encountred, I ſighed and trembled, as if I had been preſently condemned to react them in my own perſon; but Gods! though our miſhaps do carry a reſemblance in ſome particulars, how vaſtly different is my deſtiny to yours? how is the tempeſt of your woes allay'd with Comfort, while my hopes are ſplit upon a mercileſs rock? you may (and poſſible with leſs difficulty than your incredulous fears can allow it) recover that Crown Uſurpation has raviſhed; the Prince you love is living too, living beyond the reach of that danger you dreaded, and you ſeek one another with a probable ſucceſs in the ſame Country; but pitileſs Heavens you call'd away the Darling of my Soul from the World, and it is not permitted me to doubt a misfortune, for which the Gods have not left one ſingle remedy.’

The fair Eliſa bath'd theſe laſt words in a brook of tears, and the Queen, who was tenderly touch'd at the tender melting Rhetorick of grief, joyning her check to one of hers; ‘Come come, my lovely Princeſs, ſaid ſhe, let me perſwade you to collect ſome comfort from my Example, do but ſeriouſly examine thoſe dangers in your thoughts, that Caeſario and I have eſcaped, and they will tell you the Gods have not put the power out of their hands, to reſtore you your loſſes, in ſaving that perſon you deplore: he cannot be more dead in your opinion, than Caeſario was formerly in mine; and the ſame Heavens that gave him me again, when I thought they had placed him among the Stars, may have ſuch another favour in ſtore for you, if you calmly wait it from their bounties. Alas! reply'd Eliſa, how little reaſon have I to expect the kindneſs of ſuch a miracle? No Madam, when I ſhall once have guided your attention, through the labyrinth of my miſerable life, I cannot doubt but your judgment will tell you, that I have taken the opinion of my own incurable calamity from ſuch clear appearances as are ſtampt with an impoſſibility of deceiving. To morrow, if you pleaſe, Madam, I will give the copy of my misfortunes, for after theſe deep engagements to your generous compaſſion, I have neither grief nor weakneſs that can oblige me to hide them longer from you.’

Candace retorted theſe civilities with a comparative affection, and they had longer continued this exchange of kindneſs, if the Days departure had not cloſed the Dialogue, and the conſcience Candace made of Eliza's indiſpoſition had not haſtned the Good-night; but they parted with a mutual promiſe to meet again the next morning, and not to ſuffer a ſeparation by a larger diſtance of time, ſo long as they might be permitted to enjoy each other.

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA: OR, Love's Maſter-Piece. PART III.
LIB. III.

[Page]

ARGUMENT.

The Princeſs Eliſa repays Candace with the Hiſtory of her life. The varieties of good and bad ſucceſs, that befel Phraates in the Median War. He is twice beaten in the Field by Artaban his Enemies General, and his Queen and daughter both taken in a City upon the frontiers: left there till he returned with new Levies. Artaban falls in love with his fair Captive, and obtains permiſſion of his Maſter to ſet them both at liberty. Tigranes inforc'd by affection to countermand his grant, is deſerted by Artaban, who revolts to the Parthian party. Phraates makes him General of his Army, and he marches in the head of it againſt Tigranes.

THE fair Queen of Aethiopia paſſed that night with ſome comfort, drawn from thoſe hopes ſhe had to recover her beloved Caeſario, though her apprehenſion (after having ſeen his ſafety at the ſtake in ſo dangerous a Combat, whence ſhe knew he could not ſcape without wounds) rais'd ſome rational arguments to diſquiet her repoſe. But when her memory repreſented the deſperate extremes, whereto the unbridled violence of Zenodorus had a few days ſince reduc'd her, and the fears that fed upon her quiet, ſince ſhe left him involved at Meroe in that manifeſt danger, the over blowing of thoſe black clouds could not chooſe but ſhew her a very favourable change in her condition, and taught her for a time to ſit quietly down with her other loſſes, ſince ſhe had expelled the weightieſt miſchiefs from the ſcale of her fortunes.

The next day, ſo ſoon as ſhe was dreſs'd, ſhe ſent a viſit to the fair Princeſs of Parthia: but while ſhe ſtaid in expectation of an anſwer, ſhe ſaw the bright Eliſa was come her ſelf to deliver it, and in ſuch a poſture as proved all her griefs too weak to dim the luſtre of her admirable beauty. Candace ran to meet her with open arms, and theſe two beautious Princeſſes exchang'd their kind enquiries of each others health, with a parallel of grace and Majeſty; but they had not worn out many minutes in their firſt entertainment, when Cornelius Gallus enter'd the Chamber to bid them good-morrow; they both received him with a great deal of Civility, and that man prepoſſeſs'd as he was already, with the excellencies of one, could not ſo ſhut his eyes upon the beauties of the other, as not equally to divide his Elegy betwixt them, in very paſſionate language: he dined that day in their Company, and after their requeſt, retired to execute ſome important orders he had received from Auguſtus: the two Ladies gladly welcomed that occaſion, to paſs away the reſt of that day together without interruption, and Candace preſs'd with an impatient deſire to learn Eliſa's adventures, could no longer keep her curioſity ſpeechleſs, but willing to wake the remembrance [Page] of her promiſe: ‘I may probably forfeit my diſcretion, ſaid ſhe, by deſiring to put you to the pain of a relation, in an eſtate ſo little capable to perform it: but the paſſion I preſerve for your intereſts, I hope may juſtifie my importunity, eſpecially ſince you may ſafely claim the ſame liberty to refuſe the trouble, as I have done to demand it. I know no poſſibility, reply'd Eliſa, of being importuned by any employment that may divertiſe you, and my inclinations have already voted me yours, with too true a paſſion to eſtrange the particulars of my life any longer from your knowledge.’

At theſe words they ſeated themſelves by the Beds ſide, and the Princeſs perceiving there were none in the Chamber but her two women and Clitie, after ſhe had ſet one of them Sentinel at the door, with the ſame caution was us'd the day before, to prevent viſits, ſhe thus began her diſcourſe.

The History of the Princeſs Eliſa.

INgratitude and Cruelty are the blackeſt of all vices, and ſo ſoon as the Soul of a Prince has once taken their indelible ſtains, all that he had before of great and good, is put to flight by that ſtrong poiſon which intirely ſeizes his inclinations, and ſcarce leaves him any ſhade or trace of vertue. The former is oft the Child of that Pride, which is the tumour of proſperity; and if the latter does not riſe from a root in our nature, it often ſprings from the womb of an irregular ambition, which uſurping the throne of the will, excites all thoughts that are the legitimate race of Reaſon, and ſhuts the eyes of thoſe that are poſſeſſed with this Devil, upon every conſideration, that Piety, Juſtice, and Honour it ſelf can repreſent to their intoxicated judgement: the proofs of the truth are but too conſpicuous in our Family, and if I derive ſome glory from a birth that has few equals in the world, I have received ſhame enough from the cruelties of him that gave it, to convince me, that he has left me no cauſe to boaſt my extraction.

The King Phraates my Father, was born with qualities great enough, and in the firſt bloomings of his youth, and given ſuch hopes of his future bravery, as made him paſs in the opinion of men for an equal to his generous brother, the Prince Pacorus, who fell in the flower of his age, under the Roman arms, after he had made them know by divers memorable advantages, that they were not invincible.

The old King Orodes my Grandfather, after the death of Pacorus, ignorant of his deſtiny, had tranſplanted his chief affection upon Phraates (then the eldeſt of divers Brothers) and with it reſign'd the entire management of all State-affairs to his diſpoſal; he had been married ſome years before, and I had already liv'd about ſix or ſeven, when his greedy deſire to Reign alone, and remove that fear of a Rival in ambition, tranſported him to that horrible piece of cruelty; which report has told to the whole world; you know it but too well, Madam, that the cruel Phraates, to make the Crown ſit faſt, which his bloody jealouſie told him did but tremble upon his head, while ſo many of his Brothers lived, put them all to death; only Tyridates the youngeſt, then abſent from court, who being ſpared by the miſtaken piety of him that was ſent to be his aſſaſſin, has ſince wandered from Court to court begging ſanctuary againſt the inhumane perſecutions of his Brother.

The Queen who had received this truth from the mouth of Tyridates, was yet reſolved not to trouble the ſtream of her relation by interpoſing what ſhe knew, and deeming it requiſite to keep the news of her Unkle, till the cloſure of her ſtory, and then impart or reſerve it as diſcretion counſelled, ſhe lent a ſilent attention to the ſequel.

The cruelty of Phraates purſu'd Eliſa, could not ſo quench its thirſt with the blood of his Brothers, but the old King Orodes (whoſe long life ſeem'd to tire the expectation of his heir) compleated the Sacrifice to his jealous ambition, and loſt it by the horrid command of his own Son; I confeſs I am willing to contract the relation of this unnatural act, in as few words as will barely ſerve to tell it, and indeed could be content to leave it intirely out, if my deſign to draw you the perfect pourtraiture of my life could allow it.

Phraates having thus ſecur'd his Throne, by hewing down the ſtock with all the royal branches that grew near it, began to play the Prudent, as well as the Paricide to preſerve his acqueſt; the terrour of his arms made a quick diſtribution of its ſelf among his Neighbour Princes, and the bad ſucceſs of Anthony, who with a part of the Roman puiſſance brought the War into our Country, where he loſt his whole Army, and with much ado ſav'd himſelf by a ſhameful retreat, ſtruck a general fear through all thoſe that probably might nurſe any thoughts of attempting the Crown of Parthia.

In the mean time I was trained up by the Queen my Mother, whoſe inclinations were ever ſweet and vertuous, with a very diſcreet care; and that good Princeſs perceiving docility [Page] enough in my Spirit, forgot not to ſeaſon my education with all other ſage leſſons, that might frame me a diſpoſition ſuitable to her intentions; her affections told her that I had not played the truant in the School of Vertue, and by the help of that blindneſs, which is the uſual diſeaſe of a Parents indulgence, fancying ſome qualities within me, which I dare not pretend to, in me ſhe ſtored up all her love, all her delight.

After me that was the Eldeſt of all her Children, ſhe had divers others of both ſexes; but the Gods (perhaps to puniſh Phraates by the misfortunes of his Fathers family) cut them all off in the dawning of their infancy, and of five or ſix Brothers that ſucceeded me at ſeveral births, ſcarce one of them attain'd to a full years age, before they were laid in their little Sepulchres.

This miſhap of our houſe rendered me more conſiderable, and a ſhort time after the Queen, though ſtill in the flower of her age, going over child-bearing, I was regarded by the Parthians as the preſumptive Inheritrix of that weighty Crown: 'Tis true, the King had a Baſtard Son, that was called Vonones, but he did not behold him with an eye that deſigned his ſucceſſion; and though he fail'd not to endeavour the gaining of a faction that might prop his pretences, he was generally known to be born within the Marriage of the King, and could therefore hatch no apparent hope of being declared legitimate.

I will not trifle with your patience ſo much to give you the account of my Infancy, but ſtepping over the Prologue of my life, wherein there befel me nothing memorable, I ſhall only tell you I had worn out fourteen years of it, when my Father invaded Media: the hatred had been long hereditary betwixt the Kings of that Country, and thoſe that wore the Crown of Parthia: and though they had taken breath in ſome intervals of Peace, ſince the fall of the unfortunate Anthony, and the coming of Auguſtus to the Empire, they were ſtill ready to obey the beck of every trivial occaſion to pick a new quarrel, which they both embraced with their old animoſity.

Phraates complained that at the Median Kings ſolicitation, Cleopatra had murthered his Ally, the King of Armenia; and though he that did it was ſince dead, and his Heir ſucceeded to the Throne, he thought he might juſtly entail his revenge upon the Son, ſince Fate would not ſuffer the Father to ſtand the ſhock of it, and the new King of Media not leſs eager than he to revive the quarrel, whereto his young courage was whetted, by divers reaſons on his ſide, there broke out a cruel and bloody War betwixt them.

The beginnings were very doubtful, much blood ſpilt on both ſides in divers Encounters, and ſome Battels, wherein Fortune ſeemed to ſtand in a ſtudy on which ſide ſhe ſhould liſt her ſmiles. At length after a years uncertainty, wherein ſhe had kept the ballance equal, ſhe apparently lean'd to the Parthian party, and the King my Father ſwollen with ſome late ſucceſſes, began to advance towards the heart of Media, carrying ruine and deſolation to all places where he waved his Enſigns; divers blows had been given to his advantage, the whole frontier ſack'd and devaſted by his Army, and ſeveral places with their unfortunate Inhabitants, were made either Carkaſſes or Cinders by his Fire and Sword.

In fine, the affairs of Media were reduc'd to a very drooping condition, and Phraates hotly purſuing his Fortune, eſpecially after the gaining one ſignal Victory (almoſt in the boſome of their Country) did now more than hope to lay them as low as the hand of an entire ruine could throw them.

But at that time the King of Media having taken ſome wounds in the laſt Fight, was forced to retire, with little hope of repairing his broken fortunes, to his Capital City, and leave the Command of his ſhattered Army to a young Captain called Artaban, who (if the common report may be truſted) from an obſcure birth, in a few years, by the conduct of his proper vertue, was riſen to the talleſt dignities, and by that time the down appeared upon his chin, had acquired a high reputation among the Medians.

By this change of a Commander, Fortune revolted to the other ſide, and Artaban ramaſſing ſome Troops with a marvellous diligence that were rais'd to re-inforce his Army, and having weakned that of the Parthians, by ſeveral ſurprizes and divers Combats upon parties, wherein he always carried the advantage, in a ſhort time he found himſelf able to offer Phraates Battel, who but a little before had made himſelf believe the Medians would never recover ſtrength, nor courage enough to give him another meeting in the Field.

Phraates, miſpriſing thoſe Enemies he had ſo often beaten, and now not fearing to draw a blank in the Lottery of War, (eſpecially ſince his oppoſers Army was commanded by a young man without a name in War, which he had ſo frequently vanquiſhed, when their own King lead them on in perſon) march'd to the Battel, as to a certain victory: but the event confuted his confidence, and that young Captain, whoſe reſiſtance he had ſo lately deſpis'd, diſputed the victory ſo luckily, or rather (as they reported [Page] that ſaw his behaviour in the functions of his Charge) with ſo much gallantry of perſon, and prudence of Conduct, as after he had bravely tug'd with many glorious dangers and difficulties, at laſt he broke the Parthian Ranks, killed a great number upon the place, and put the reſt to a total rout.

My want of skill in the art Military, has obliged me to ſhrink this relation to ſo narrow a Continent; for ſhould I adventure to diſcourſe the particulars, 'twere to ingage in a Labyrinth without a Clue.

Phraates thus beaten to the opinion that he was not invincible, began to conſult his Intereſt with more circumſpection, and rallying his ſcattered forces, and remanding thoſe to his Army he had left upon the Frontiers, he put himſelf again in a condition to make good his ſtake, and throw the dice once more in a ſecond battel.

He had no more time for this preparation, than Neceſſity exacted; and his gallant Enemy hotly ſpurring on his victory, appeared a few days after within view of his Camp: Phraates by this time had perfectly unlearned the contempt of his young oppoſer, and with a preciſer caution ſtudied all the probabilities that might direct his aym to the event of the ſecond Combat. He might have made uſe of ſome local advantages, had he pleas'd to defer the battel; but his judgement ſcanning the difference of retreat, told him there was more fear that his Parthians would run upon his Enemies ground, than his owns beſides, his heart was too great to refuſe the encounter of an Army that did not outnumber his, which conſiſted of a people that he had formerly ſo often beaten, and ſo little redoubted.

The Battel was fought with a great deal of cruelty and blood-ſhed, and the victory obſtinately diſputed on both ſides, but at laſt ſhe declared for the Medes; the Parthians were defeated with a far greater loſs than before, and the King himſelf very thinly attended, had much ado to make good his perſonal retreat to a place of ſafety.

This unlucky blow unravel'd all his former ſucceſs, and recoyl'd the progreſs he had made in Media, which he was now forced to abandon in a diſordered haſt, for fear the active Enemy ſhould get before him, and cut off his retreat, by blocking up the paſſages to his own Kingdom.

Of the numerous Army that followed him into Media, he brought home but a very pittiful remainder, and by this ſudden viciſſitude might eaſily diſcern the injuſtice of that pride which the timpanous womb of proſperity diſcloſes.

When he invaded Media, he had left my Mother and me in a City upon our Frontier, the ſtrongeſt of all the Kingdom, and there it was we received him with all the regret that was due to the ſaid ſucceſs of his affairs; but his ſtay there was not long, and finding neceſſity preſs his ſudden retreat to the heart of his Kingdom, as well to make new Levies there, as prevent the palpitation of ſuch diſorders, as might either be ſtirred (now Fortune wrinkled her brow) by the ſecret intelligence of his Enemies, or the infidelity of his own Subjects, he left us in that City, and with us the greateſt part of thoſe Forces that remained of his laſt defeat for our guard.

The reaſon that we marched not with him, was deduced from his hope of a ſudden return with a freſh Army, and the opinion he had that his Enemies were too much enfeebled in the laſt battel, (wherein they did not buy their advantage at a cheaper rate, than the loſs of a great many men) to be either in Caſe or Courage to invade his Territories; but that thought deceived him, and he had marched but a few days from us, when the victorious Artaban, ſtrengthned with ſome Troops the King his Maſter had ſent him, appeared upon the Frontier, and brought a fear into the hearts of our Parthians, who had already learned from his laſt actions, to liſten to his name with terrour.

We had yet time enough to retire, but the Queen my Mother, a Princeſs of a great heart, truſting to the ſtrength of the City, and the number of the men that defended it, thought ſhe might do the King a conſiderable Service, by ſtaying upon the Frontier where her preſence might preſerve an untainted fidelity in the Parthians breaſts, whom the fear of our Enemies, and the change of our Fortune might probably fright into diſloyalty. This conſideration made us ſtay the coming up of the Medes, who a few days after ſhewed themſelves at our Gates, and took away the hope of retreat, when we began to deſire it.

There paſſed many memorable actions in that Siege, which my ignorance in the trade of War condemns to ſilence, and the Parthians, whoſe courage took a kneener edge from the preſence of the Queen and Princeſs than ordinary, behaved themſelves in their defence with an uncommon bravery.

The King too late repenting his inconſiderate deſertion of us to the mercy of that ſtranger, beſtirred his induſtry to ſend us a timely ſuccour, as well as the diligence of his [Page] active Enemy would permit him; but the narrow time they allowed him to perform it, enforced the loſs of all his endeavours, and thoſe weak ſupplies he ſent to our reſcue being cut in pieces, Artaban, after he had often ſummoned the City in vain, reſolved upon a general aſſault, the Queen my Mother perceiving her own liberty, and probably a large part of her Husbands Dominions, depended upon the preſervation of that place, appeared in perſon at all the Poſts of the City, exhorting the Commanders, Souldiers, and Inhabitants to fight in defenſe of their lives and liberties, with all the moving language wherewith her proper intereſt linked with the Kings could inſpire her; by her command I ſtayed behind in the lodging, where half dead with fear, I expected the event of that threatning ſtorm, which indeed ſplit our hopes upon a Rock; for though the City was couragiouſly defended, yet it was far more gallantly aſſaulted, and from the top of a Tower, where I was got up, to ſee how the trial for my Liberty was like to be decided at the bar of Fortune, with my own eyes I ſaw the Enemies General, with his Sword in his hand firſt mount our walls, and by his brave example, inviting thoſe he led on to follow him, the Courtine was quickly covered with his men, and himſelf become abſolute Maſter, with the City, of our Lives and Liberties.

At the firſt noiſe of this diſaſter, the Queen came to me, and endeavouring to moderate my fears, as well as the diſorder that had then a little dazled her own courage, would ſuffer her, after ſhe had lent an ear to that horrid noiſe that ran round her lodging, compoſed of ſuch lamentable cries and ſhrieks as uſually eccho in the ſtreets of ſtormed Cities, where cruelty and diſorder reign with unbridled Licenſe, ſhe ſent divers of her ſervants ſucceſſively to the Enemies General, with her entreaty to uſe his Victory with a milder temper, ſpare the bloud of many innocent perſons that begged their lives by her interceſſion, deſiring they might hold them of his clemency; the firſt of theſe Meſſengers periſhed by the indiſtinguiſhing ſwords of our Enemies, but ſome of thoſe that followed, proving ſo lucky to reach the Generals preſence, and deliver their humble Embaſſy, found him ready to accord more than they demanded.

He preſently diſpatched his Orders through all the quarters of the City to ceaſe the ſlaughter, and ſent back the Queens Meſſengers with two of his principal Officers, to aſſure us in his behalf, that we might ſafely diſmiſs our fears, and expect to be treated with all the reſpect that was due to our condition.

Theſe two Officers in obeiſance to their Generals Order, ſtaid to guard us from the Souldiers inſolence, and we found their authority ſo prevalent, as the common people of their Army did not attempt ſo much as to peep within our lodging.

Artaban carried ſo great a ſway among the Medes, as after he had tugged with ſome petty difficulties, to lay the Demon of their fury, he ſubdued them to a perfect obedience, and quietly retreated their precipitate ardour from the ſpoil and pillage; but it coſt him a large part of the day in reducing all thoſe diſordes to the form he intended, and we paſſed away the ſame time in ſuch a condition as your thoughts might eaſily figure.

By a ſudden revolution of our Fortune, we ſaw our ſelves Priſoners to a barbarous people, whoſe inclinations taught us to apprehend all that might ſhake the ſtouteſt courages; and though the courteſie of our Vanquiſher had already overcome the fear of our lives, Captivity drags other miſeries along with her, that are ſo hardly ſupported by perſons of our condition, as we would make no reflection, level no glance at our wretched eſtate, that enforced not our Souls to ſhrink under the oppreſſion of too juſt grief.

I wept exceſſively upon the boſom of my indulgent Mother, who keeping more conſtancy and courage at the helm, endeavoured to dry up my tears, and ſtrive with all the ſtrength of her reaſon, to give me comfort at the ſame time, when her ſelf ſo ſadly needed it.

Thus we paſſed away that whole day, and the following night, without finding any change in the order and ceremony that was uſually obſerved in our ſervice, without ſo much as deſcrying the leaſt action, or over-hearing one ſillable that ſignified the loſs of our liberty.

Before the Queen went to bed, there came one from the General, to demand her permiſſion for his Maſter to come and wait upon her on the morrow, not daring to aſſume that liberty the ſame day, in ſo unbeſeeming a condition to appear in her preſence, nor willing before he knew whether ſhe would ſuffer the viſit of a perſon, whom the due obedience to the King his Maſter had inforced to diſoblige her.

The Queen gathered a propitious Augury from the continuation of her Enemies civilities, and not willing to abuſe them, ſhe returned him this anſwer, that he might come and ſee her when he pleaſed, who would be ready to receive his viſit, as a worthy ſucceſſor of thoſe preceeding bounties, that he had much more obliged, than all the proofs and effects of his incomparaple valour (which carried their own juſtification along with them) could offend her.

[Page] The next day ſo ſoon as we were dreſs'd, after a ſecond meſſage from Artaban; that enquired if the Queen might be then ſeen without importunity, he entered the Chamber, where I then attended my mother, followed by the principal Commanders in his Army, for whom he had begged the ſame permiſſion to ſee us.

In that abaſement of our Fortune, I appeared with a negligence of dreſs and geſture, that baſely ſuffered me to regard that man, as the fruit of his vertue obliged me; but ſo ſoon as I reached him with my eye, at the ſame moment I felt my ſelf engaged to a more particular attention.

Madam, I may ſafely ſay that I never had ſeen any thing till then, nor indeed ever ſince that could boaſt a parity to him in the meaneſt part; and I confeſs at the firſt view my expectation was ſo ſtrangely deceived as I look'd like a Statue, with a face the perfect picture of ſurprizal and confuſion; his viſage and port ſhewed the evidence of ſomething ſo great and noble, as in ſpite of the malicious noiſe that ran about the world of his obſcure birth, I could not conſider him at a leſs rate, than if his Temples had been impaled with a regal Diadem: he was then without arms, and his head uncovered, which gave me the greater licence to remark, as well the ſparkling vivacity in his eyes, the perfect proportion and kindred of all the featues in his viſage; his complexion was neither white nor brown, and his hair neither fair nor black, (but of a colour compoſed of both) fell in long rings of Natures curling upon his ſhoulders, with a marvellous decorum; in all the regards and lineaments of his face, there appeared a natural fierceneſs, which though he then endeavoured in our preſence to keep withen a cover of reſpect, yet he could not hide it ſo handſomely, but we ſaw ſomething through thoſe ſtoopings of his ſpirit that ſpake him born to command others, born to diſ-eſteem the whole world, and think it held none fit to be his Rival in glory: his ſtature was tall, but ſhaped to a perfect harmony, his geſture noble, every action becoming, and all majeſtick.

With theſe advantages of perſon that at firſt bluſh ſurprized our reſpect, he approached the Queen, and putting one knee to the ground, with all the ſubmiſſions ſhe could hope, not only from her Conquerer, but the meaneſt of her Subjects, he kiſſed the loweſt part of her Garment; he accoſted me in the ſame manner: though we both oppoſed that exceſs of humility, when riſing from his knee, and adreſſing his words to the Queen with an in comparable grace:

‘Madam, ſaid be, If I were not before a great Queen, and a wiſe miſtreſs, that exactly knows the duty of a ſervant, I would ſtrive to excuſe what fidelity has enforced me to do againſt your ſubjects, and againſt a City made ſacred by your preſence, in obedience to the expreſs orders of a Royal Maſter, that has honoured me with employment above my merit; but ſince your Majeſty is ſo well acquainted with the reaſons that plead my Juſtification, I have learned to hope that you will reject the offer of thoſe reſpects that are due from a man, whom Fortune has compelled to diſoblige you, and whom a juſt knowledge of what your quality has right to, readily diſpoſes to render you all the ſervices you can challenge from the moſt zealous, and the faithfulleſt of your own Subjects. Madam, I ſhould believe my ſelf infinitely happy in a power to make you fairer offers; but ſince your own knowledge tells you, how far that way I may juſtly reach my endeavours, be pleaſed Madam, to beſtow ſome Faith upon the proteſtation I make you, to employ all the credit my ſervices have given me in my Maſters breaſt, to reconcile you to your Fortune, he knows very well what is due to your perſon and dignity, and ſhall find us all ſo ready to ſecond him in his deſign to clear that ſcore, as in a ſhort time I hope you will find it no eaſie task to diſcern thoſe you now hold for Enemies, from others that Heaven obliged to a natural ſubjection, by being born within the limits of your Dominion.’

Artaban ſpake in this manner, but with a faſhion ſo noble and ſo agreeable, as the Queen, while his diſcourſe laſted, abſented for ſome moments her misfortunes from her memory, that ſhe might lend him a more untroubled attention; but when ſhe ſaw him arrived at a period, and ſilently ſtand in expectation of her anſwer, making a freſh aſſault upon her grief to receive his civilities becomingly: ‘Geneous warrior, ſaid ſhe, you cannot think it ſtrange, if we have taken ſome ſad apprehenſions from an accident ſo rarely exampled by perſons of our extraction, to paſs from a Throne to a Priſon without reluctance eſpecially in thoſe of our Sex, that are better acquainted with the effects of Faith than Courage, were to forfeit the very faculty of reſenting, yet truth obliges me to tell you, that the knowledge we have of your vertue, has already drawn the ſharpeſt ſting from our miſeries, and if your Maſter be truely worthy of ſo brave a Servant, I think we ſhall have little reaſon to afflict our ſelves, or fall out with Fortune for this diſgrace. Sir, upon the entire confidence, juſtly repoſed in your gallantry, I reſign my daughter and my ſelf into your hands, in a firm belief you will ſtill treat us with the ſame generoſity, which your experience has [Page] already taſted. Since your admirable valour did not add more beams to the beauty of your glory, by defeating our Troops, than your courteſie may reap in the temperate uſe of your victory.’

This was the Queens anſwer, to which Artaban replyed with a great deal of reſpect, and contenting himſelf to repeat his offers, he deemed it not ſit at the firſt time to take the liberty of engaging in a longer diſcourſe, and after he had made me ſome proteſtations little different from thoſe the Queen had received, with a grace that gave me a marvellous eſteem of his perſon, he left the Chamber, not without civilly asking my Mothers conſent, that he might have leave to frequent her preſence at ſuch times, when the tender of his reſpects would not incommode her.

I cannot but avow that the garb and aſpect of that great man did much ſurprize me, and my eyes read him over in ſo advantagious a Character, as I thought the world ſcarce able to ſhew his parallel; nor did the Queens opinion fall much ſhort of mine, and he was no ſooner gone from us when ſhe fell upon his praiſes, ſpeaking all to his applauſes that Truth and Gratitude injoined her, and a thouſand times wiſhing, that the King my Father could purchaſe ſuch a Servant, with a part of his dominions; but if we were well pleaſed at his firſt viſit, he took the hint of every opportunity in thoſe that followed to heighten our content, and ſtarted no occaſion that he did not embrace with a perfect ſatisfaction to oblige us.

He had reſided but a few days in the City, when he received intelligence, that the King my Father had ſent an Army againſt him, under the conduct of Vologeſes, and diſdaining to give his Enemy time to come up and brave him in his trenches, he drew out his Forces, and went to meet him.

But why ſhould I train my diſcourſe to an unneceſſary length? Artaban, after he had taken his leave of the Queen and me for a few daies, quitted the City, where he left a ſtrong Garriſon, marched towards Vologeſes, preſented him battel, and fought it ſo advantagiouſly for his, and unluckily for the Parthian party, as Vologeſes with 20000 of his men, were ſlain upon the place, and the reſt ſaved themſelves with much ado, in ſome neighbouring Woods and Mountains that favoured their flight.

This laſt blow ſtaggered the Parthian Empire, and had not Artaban's deſign been oppoſed by the ſharpneſs of the ſeaſon, and weakneſs of his Forces, enfeebled with ſo many Combats, he might have marched, without reſiſtance to the Capital City of that Kingdom, which the noiſe of his Fortune had filled with a pannick terrour; but then in too weak a condition to purſue his Victory, the Winter's rigour, that already began to diſtreſs his Army, and his Maſters orders, who was unwilling he ſhould ingage further, before he received ſome ſupplies he intended to ſend him, obliged his return to the City where he left us.

Never did man bring back a modeſty comparable to his, from ſo great a victory; he gave us an account of what had paſt, with abundance of affliction in his looks, and excuſed the miſchiefs his honour had inforced him to do us, in ſuch winning language as we found it impoſſible to hate him.

A few daies after I began to perceive he regarded me with an eye no longer indifferent, his words were ranged with more care and leſs confidence than before, and in all his actions he eſſai'd to beſpeak me an opinion, that the world could not offer him an employment which was not leſs important and conſiderable in his thoughts, than the pettieſt occaſion to ſerve and pleaſe me: had I commented upon this carriage of his with intereſt, my conjectures could not have miſſed the mark he aimed at, but as I was then young, and my ſpirit untrained to thoſe diſcoveries, and my thoughts prepoſſeſſed with the ſenſe of our Captivity, in which (though ſweetned with his civilities) I could not chuſe but taſte the reſtraint, I did not level my regards at a man ſo vaſtly below me, to tie any particular remark upon his behaviour, which in all probability would have made me flie his converſation.

One day he came into the Queen's Chamber, and entertaining me, while my Mother was buſied about ſome diſpatches ſhe was to ſend to the King (for that liberty was allowed her) after the exchange of ſome other diſcourſe that begun the Dialogue. ‘Madam, ſaid ſhe, you would have great cauſe to hate me, if I did not ſtrive with all the ſtrength of induſtry to remove it, and to the prejudice of what (my honour excepted) is the deareſt thing in the world to my wiſhes, I did not endeavour to give you ſome ſervice, which you could never receive by the ſingle ſuffrage of my will, if that pretious liberty, which for my misfortune more than yours, our ſucceſs in war has raviſhed from you, depended upon my reſignation, it would not remain ſo long in anothers cuſtody,’ as that—He ſtopt ſhort at theſe words, and confeſſed by a change of a look a confuſion in his thoughts, which I was then too innocent to obſerve, (though I had better intelligence from ſome reflections ſince upon that paſſage) [Page] and after ſome moments of ſilence, recovering his ſpeech, ‘I ſay Madam, purſued he, had it been in my power to finiſh this reſtraint of yours, that throws me at the feet of your mercy for a gentle conſtruction, the very ſame day I was ſo unlucky to begin it, you ſhould not now regard me, as the man that has done you the rudeſt injury, but as he that would gladly ſprinkle the pureſt bloud about his heart, upon your Altar, to expiate his crime. It is my misfortune, that I cannot crave that liberty to my ſelf, without deceiving a Maſter, to whom I owe all, and betraying the truſt he has depoſited in me, beyond the juſt claim of my deſerts; nor would thoſe Forces, that obey me by his order, do leſs than openly oppoſe a deſign of that nature; and in fine, Madam, my thoughts can plot no ſafer contrivance to releaſe you from this eſtate, which I cannot look upon without ſighs and bluſhes, than the ſame I had choſen to ſerve you.’

I was glad to hear theſe words, that put me in ſome hope of liberty, and regarding Artaban with an aſpect that told him as much: ‘And upon what projection, ſaid I, have you faſtened to reſtore us our freedom? have you ſent propoſitions to the King my Father, and does he offer Provinces or Treaſures for the price of our liberties? No Madam, replyed Artaban, I ſhall only direct my addreſſes to the King my Maſter, and 'tis from the affection he bears me, and that promiſed recompence, which his goodneſs deems a juſt debt to the ſervices I have done him, that I derive a hope of means to releaſe you: vouchſafe, Madam, if you pleaſe, purſued he, drawing out a letter from his pocket, and preſenting it open to my hands, to read here what he has done me the honour to write me, and Judge if this bounty does not juſtly embolden me to demand ſomething of a grand value at his royal hands.’ At theſe words he gave me the letter, wherein I read what follows.

Tigranes King of the Medes, to the invincible Artaban.

‘I Should be the moſt ingrateful of Princes, ſhould I withold the confeſſion that I owe you all, and I do not debaſe my dignity in publiſhing, that I hold my Crown of you, ſince your admirable valour catched it when it was falling from my head, and replanted it there by the entire ruine of mine Enemies: I ſee the bounty of Heaven that preſented you to me, as the tutelary Demon of Media ſtill ſhowers the ſame ſucceſs upon you in the Parthians Country, as when you firſt beat them from our threſholds, and it is now groundleſs hope that bids me expect a more puiſſant Crown from your victorious Sword than my Predeceſſors left me. But dear Artaban, what can I do to be quit with your deſerts: and what reward will be high enough to meaſure with your ſervices? With a part of thoſe Territories your invincible arm has reſtored me, demand ſomething elſe that carries a greater value, and though your deſires include a large ſhare of my proper blood, do not feat the refuſal of a King, whom the unparallel'd effects of your vertue has rendered inviolably yours.’

‘I avow, ſaid I, to Artaban, after I had read this letter, that the Median King does ingenuouſly acknowledge what he owes you, yet I muſt ſay too, there was little reaſon he ſhould have ſpoke leſs to that purpoſe: and ſhould he ſtick at the price of any recompence, he would prove himſelf unworthy of thoſe important ſervices you have done him. Would to Heavens, replyed Artaban with a ſigh, that all perſons to whom I have vowed ſervice, would accept and own it as your judgement directs them, and that you your ſelf (when I ſhall once be ſo happy to make good my intentions) would ſuit your reſentments to your own language. You would wrong us to doubt, replyed I, that either the Queen or my ſelf do not think our ſelves highly obliged to your noble offices, or ſhall ever be tardy in her wills to expreſs, though at the rate of ſomething that is deareſt, that our apprehenſions are neither ſlow nor inſenſible to your generoſity. No Madam, added he, in lieu of thoſe promiſes you offer ſo freely, I expect a loſs that in all appearance my whole life will hardly repair, however that cold fear ſhall not paſs my deſign to pleaſe you, and in a few daies you ſhall know what I ſhall be able to do for your ſervice.’

He then ſaid no more, being obliged to join with the Queen, who had newly finiſhed her diſpatches, and begin another diſcourſe.

After his departure I acquainted the Queen with the hopes he had given me, and as ſhe had cauſe to credit the parole of ſo brave a man, ſhe began to take out ſome leſſons of comfort, from the opinion of his vertue, and ſolemnly wait the effects of promiſe. Nor did our expectations abuſe us, and ſince I cannot be civil with your patience, unleſs I abridge a diſcourſe, that if I untwiſted every particular, would reach [...]o an inſufferable length, be pleaſed to know that a few dayes after, Artaban entred the Queens Chamber, with the Characters of a grand ſatisfaction in his face, though a little interlin'd with ſome petty diſpleaſure, [Page] and when he had accoſted us, Madam, ſaid he to the Queen, ‘I am come to tender the performance of a Promiſe, that I lately paſſed to the Princeſs your Daughter, and to let you know that I am now the happy Maſter of ſome power to ſerve you, vouchſafe, purſued he, preſenting a letter to the Queen to peruſe this Commiſſion, I lately received from the King my Maſter. The Queen took the letter from his hands, and having opened it, read theſe words.’

Tigranes King of the Medes to General Artaban.

‘I Am aſhamed, my dear Artaban, you ſhould undervalue the meed of your ineſtimable valour, at the poor price of two womens ranſom; and I wiſh with paſſion your demand had taken a larger compaſſe, and included a part of my Province: Time will not be much older before I ſhall ſee you upon the Theatre of your conqueſt, where I intend to wrangle with your modeſty, for the offence it hath given to my affection: In the mean time, diſpoſe of theſe two Princeſſes, of all the Booty, and Priſoners that are in your hands, with an abſolue authority: This is my earneſt deſire, and when I come I ſhall complain of your nicety, if I find you have ſcrupled to perform it.’

‘The Queen was infinitely pleaſed in reading this letter, and not able to diſſemble it, I never doubted, ſaid ſhe to Artaban, that the Median King could ſtumble at the deſires of a man, to whoſe Heroick acts he owes the preſervation of his own, and the advantage he has gotten upon our territories; had the King my Husband ſo brave a Servant as Artaban, I am confident he would think all the riches and honour in his power to cheap to reward him; I ſee our liberty is an entire dependent upon your will, and though your deportment has infinitely ſweetned the loſſe of it, the deſire to unte rieſtraint is ſo natural, eſpecially in perſons of our ſex and rank, as I hope you will not think it ſtrange, if we ask it of you, offering ſuch a price to redeem it, as your eſtimation ſhall appoint. Would I ſet your liberties to ſale, reply'd Artaban, the King your Husbands Crown were too little to pay the ranſom: but Madam, I do not value the poſſeſſion of provinces at that hight, to compare with the glory I ſhal reap in rendring you a ſervice, that may in ſome manner repair the diſpleaſures you have received by our arms. Madam, you are free, your liberty had the ſame date with my power to pronounce it; and you are in Suit of a ranſom, which you cannot offer again, without diſobliging a man, to whom, if Heaven has not given the birth of a Prince, perhaps it has not refuſed the courage. There's none can raiſe a doubt againſt it (reply'd the Queen, tenderly touched with a graceful wonder, at Artaban's nobleneſs) and if the Gods have not yet reached a Scepter to your hands, they have given you a vertue preferrable to the Roman Empire: we do not bluſh to receive the gift you offer us from ſo great a man, and our judgements ſhall take advice from the vaſt difference betwixthim and others, to ſhape our recompence well by the model of his vertue as his obligation. I ſhall only deſire, reply'd Artaban, three three daies more of your Majeſties reſidence in the City, a ſpace required by neceſſity, for the preparation of an equipage worthy to attend you, and not irrequiſite to lengthen the comfort of a man, who to ſerve you, does poſſibly divorce his eyes from their deareſt object for ever.’

While he was uttering theſe words, I perceived his face was ſuddenly overcaſt with the cloud of grief, but I then only apprehended it as a Character of his excellent nature and the Queen deceived as well as I, with the ſame opinion, only ſuffered it to improve her eſtimation, and augment her acknowledgment of his goodneſſe.

We prepared for our departure, with a great deal of contentment, but the Gods otherwiſe diſpoſed of our affairs, and for the firſt Remora to retard our wiſhes, the next morning my Mother was arreſted with a furious Feaver, the following daies it ſucceſſively encreaſed with much violence, and in a few others grew enraged to ſuch a height, as ſhewed an paparent danger of her life. I will not ſad you Madam, with the recital of my grief, nor repeat the regrets I uttered to ſee her ſo cruelly handled by her malady, at that point of time when her health was ſo neceſſary.

I ſtirred not from her pillow, where the tender affection due to ſo dear a Mother, almoſt melted me into tears for her danger.

Artaban, whoſe affliction appeared little ſhort of mine, forgot not to urge every ſhadow of a reaſon, that might contribute to my comfort, and cauſed the Queen to be ſerved with as ſpecious a care, as if ſhe had been in Phraates Palace.

The King my Father, with Artaban's permiſſion, often ſent to underſtand her condition, and I wrote him a perfect account of all the paſſages and gave him every ſingle particular, how the generous Artaban had obliged us.

In the mean time, Heaven was pleaſed to take away all the danger, but her half conquered malady proved ſo obſtinate a reſiſtance of nature, as it coſt her more than fifteen daies after the [Page] Feaver had left her, before ſhe could recover ſtrength enough to quit her bed. When my fears were once over-blown, Artaban reſumed his uſual parley, with more facility, than when my grief forbad that freedom; but he ſtill framed his diſcourſes to ſuch a faſhion, as I perceived he eclipſed part of his thoughts, and was forced to do violence upon himſelf to keep his heart from his tongue.

I then began to entertain ſome little ſuſpitions of the truth, but the freſh ſenſe of our obligation to that man, made me flie all occaſions to confirm them, for fear of learning ſomething that might urge me to treat him with an uneven brow; and indeed himſelf ſought them ſo coldly, as I found no neceſſity to disfigure the face of my behaviour towards him.

At laſt the Queens approaches to health renewed the aſſurance of our departure; but our deſtiny diſpoſed it ſo, that the ſame day ſhe left her bed, Artaban received intelligence that Tigranes was upon his march to the City with freſh ſupplies for his Army, and three or four daies after we ſaw him arrived with a pompous and magnificent equipage.

I know not what Prophetick Demon taught us to look upon his coming at a point of time, as an unlucky Omen: but the Queen was troubled at it, and Artaban himſelf (though his Maſter received him with all the careſſes that his ſervice and deſerts could teach him to expect) appeared but little ſatisfied. However we diſpoſed our ſelves to receive him as became us, and his viſit was no longer deferred than till the ſecond day after his arrival.

The Queen had then ſtrength enough to walk about the Chamber, and hoped in a ſhort time to endure a Litter which enabled her with a little help, to give him the Complement of a meeting at the Chamber door; he entered it leaning upon Artaban's Arm, with a very plauſible deportment, thts Prince had a handſome aſpect, his years were about ſix or ſeven and twenty, his accoſt very civil, and the converſe agreeable. He treated us with a great deal of reſpect, told the Queen he was come to confirm the promiſe Artaban had made her, that he was ſorry her malady had hindred her from gathering the fruits of it, and that the ſatisfaction he reſented, to ſee her in a place, where he might offer her ſome acceptable ſervice, was moderated by the diſpleaſure he took from her indiſpoſition.

The Queen replyed to this diſcourſe with a great deal of acknowledgment, aſſured him in behalf of the King her Husband, that his Generoſity would gain a greater conqueſt upon him than his Arms, and forgot nothing that a dextrous and diſcreet Princeſs might ſpeak to purpoſe, at ſuch an encounter.

Tigranes ſtaid and entertained us that whole day; but at the next interview, he directed his language and behaviour to me with a partitular addreſſe, and by the cruelty of my deſtiny, miſtook ſomething in my face that he thought was amiable.

His firſt expreſſions were ſeaſoned with nought but common civility, and he contented himſelf to make me a diſcourſe that might paſſe for a piece of gallantry among perſons of any equal condition; the ſecond day he made my beauty his Theme, and ſpent ſome Rhetorick in praiſes upon it, though he let fall no language that imported it had made any Sculpture upon his heart; but at the third, he explained himſelf more openly, and approaching to me near a window, while Artaban entertained the Queen by his command: ‘Madam, ſaid ſhe, ſuch Priſoners as you are very dangerous, and I fear Artaban has done me a diſſervice in detaining you here ſo long, to make an unhappy paſſe of my condition into the ſame with yours.’

Theſe words, which I was not accuſtomed to hear, diſcompoſed me ſo ſtrangely, as I wanted aſſurance on the ſudden to ſhape him an anſwer, only in letting fall my looks to the ground, I endeavoured to give him notice that I was uterly unprepared for diſcourſes of that nature. ‘Do Madam, added he, remarking my action, do, turn aſide thoſe bright eies, perhaps for ſhame of your laſt conqueſt, the wounds they made are deeper and more mortal than any of thoſe ſwords can give that are drawn to decide our quarrel, and believe it the King of Parthia has nothing ſo powerful as they to diſarm us, or make me do homage to his Empire.’

He ſaid no more, and the intelligence he took from my face, that his words had refuſed me, made him preſerve the reſt till ſome other time, and addreſs his diſcourſe to my Mother; but that Evening retiring with Artaban (as I ſince underſtood) ‘Ah Artaban, ſaid he, what a milky path of beauty is this Parthian Princeſs, and how over-ſeen were you, that you did not forewarn me of the danger to behold her!’

Artaban was troubled to hear theſe words, and the jealous conjectures he drew from theſe beginnings, taught him too well to preſage a part of the ſequel, but if he was nettled with thoſe thoughts, I was not leſs perplexed, at the diſcourſe his Maſter had made me, and the Queen taking notice of ſome ſtings of diſcontent, that ſtuck in my viſage, [Page] preſſed me ſo earneſtly to reveal the cauſe, as I was conſtrained to ſtrip the truth of it to her knolwedge.

The next day my anxieties were very ſenſibly redoubled, and Tigranes repeating his viſit, having once more engaged the Queen in a diſcourſe with two Princes of his lineage; accoſted me with more confidence than before, and anticipating of a part of what he had to ſay by his looks; ‘I know not, Madam, ſaid ſhe, whether the King your, Father makes uſe of you to revenge his quarrel, but I am ſure he could not impoſe a harder condition upon his cruelleſt Enemy,’ than the ſad Eſtate whereto your beauty has reduced me, and if I did not hope ſome redreſſe from your pity I ſhould think my ſelf the moſt unfortunate and loſt Prince that ever felt a paſſion.

The cloſe of this diſcourſe was as unwelcome to myear as the Prologue, and now no longer willing to perſonate a ſtupid inſenſibility, ‘I ſtrugled with my ſelf to return him this anſwer;’ ‘The King of Parthia's reſentments, ſaid I, are enjoyned by Juſtice, to deſign a large part of their animoſity, to thoſe noble offices we have received from you and yours, and I cannot comprehend how you ſhould be reduced to a condition worthy of pity either by his arms or mine; I know not, Tigranes, whether to die daily for you will give me a good title to your companion; but of this I am aſſured that the charity of it can never expend it ſelf upon a greater neceſſity, and if pains and ſufferings can attract it, never had any torment a better claim than mine.’ This hardy diſcourſe (which implyed but little reſpect to a Princeſſe, with whom the King's acquaintance was not above four daies old) did a little anger me, and not able to diſſemble it. ‘My preſent condition, ſaid I, enforces me to that from you which perhaps your own diſcretion would make ſome conſcience to ſuffer diſpenſe with at another ſeaſon.’

Tigranes was guided by theſe words, to obſerve ſuch a diſcontent upon my brow, as perſwaded him then to give over the purſuit of that ſubject, but a few daies after he renewed the chaſe, and in fine, gaveme plainly to underſtand that I was reduced to endure his perfecutions.

Artaban, who drove a greater intereſt in his Maſters new-born paſſion that we conjectured, perceived it with a very ſenſible diſpleaſure, and reſolved to employ all his power to cut it off in its infancy: the Queen quickly found her ſelf able to endure a Little, and perceiving it high time to challenge the promiſe of her liberty, gave notice to Artaban that health would not permit her to accept his offer.

Artaban, who knew he had no leſs reaſon to expedite the performance than ſhe to demand it, and who could not ſee us in the power of Tygranes, without ſuch diſquiets as reſult from a timerous jealouſie, readily diſpos'd himſelf to render us that office, and the ſame day moved the King to confirm his grant, whereof the effects had only been retarded by the Queens indiſpoſition. Tygranes received this propoſition from Artaban, with a face full of trouble, and after he had taken ſome time to return his anſwer: ‘Artaban, ſaid he, what need you make ſuch haſt to precipitate a buſineſs, that does not demand it? the Queen of Parthia has not been ill treated among us, and we ſhall have time enough to talk of her departure, when we may agree to it with more civility.’

Artaban heard theſe words with a mortal diſpleaſure, but knowing the prompt and impatient humour of Tygranes, he thought it not then fit to preſs him farther.

After this he ſtayed ſome daies before he renewed his requeſt, and the King knowing his intention, and how his honour was engaged, grew cautions to envade all occaſions, that might again betray his ear to ſuch addreſſes, and by putting on a more ſerious and cold aſpect than ordinary, endeavours to rebate the edge of his importunity; but he dealt with a ſpirit, which neither fear, nor all the conſiderations of Intereſt and Fortune, had power to ſtagger in the proſecution of what ſo weightily concerned his word and honour, for which he had no ſooner ſeconded our ſolicitations, but with a firm reſolve, to expoſe himſelf to all the hazard and danger that could menace his enterpriſe, he went to find the King in his Cabinet, and with a brave aſſurance, in his looks demanded the performanc of his promiſe, that referred to our releaſe: Tygranes took theſe words very ill at his hands, and he ſaw himſelf obliged to reply, ‘Ah Artaban, ſaid he, turning his head aſide, how little care you keep to pleaſe your friends! How Sir, ſaid Artaban, would you approve my complacence, ſhould I counſel you to violate the royal word you have paſſ'd, and I too in your behalf, to the greateſt Princeſſes in the world. The word you have given (reply'd the King, who began to kindle at the liberty of his language) does not engage you at all, ſince the execution depends not on you, and you ſhall fairly excuſe and acquit your ſelves when you tell them, that I have changed my intention. Though that were enough to diſengage me, anſwered Artaban, yet Sir, it leaves the debt of your promiſe unpaid, and I am tenderly enough concerned in what touches your honour to oppoſe my ſelf, with all the credit I ever gained in your [Page] thoughts, to an action that expoſes you to eternal reproaches. It was only to you, reply'd Tigranes, that I paſſed my promiſe, and the knowledge of your ſelf and me, will not let you be ignorant; that I have power to revoke it when I pleaſe.’

Artaban, whoſe courage could never bow to any baſe conſideration, could not tamely pocket diſcourſe ſo full of an angry ſcorn, and regarding the King with a haughty eye, and with that natural fierceneſs, that was ready to ſtart into his looks and actions, when his courage wak'd it. ‘Sir, ſaid he, I am not born your Subject, and it was only my unconſtrained will, that brought me to unſheath my Sword in your ſervice, where-with you have reaped too fruitful a harveſt of profit and glory, to treat me juſtly with ſo much contempt and indignity; if you think the paſſive obedience that may be required by a Soveraign from a Subject, will ſerve to acquit you of your promiſe, your plea is not good againſt a man that owes you no allegiance, and one that has done more for you than all your Medians at a lump together; Sir, if you have any room left in your ſoul for the conſideration of ſervices, thoſe I have rendered you may poſſible be found important enough to merit ſomething more than what you have accorded. The ſervices you have done me, replyed the King, inflam'd with choler, have all been prerequited by degrees of honour, miſplaced by my bounty upon you, to the prejudice of many perſons, that had a juſter title than you to their poſſeſſion; and though your ſervices be already overpaid, know I am willing to add another recompence, in ſuffering your inſolent language to paſs without a puniſhment; which I can as eaſily inflict, as you have ſaucily deſerved it.’

Theſe words ſtrangled all the conſideration of patience and reſpect in Artaban, and as his rage had then rendered him utterly incapable of fear, regarding the King with an action full of diſdain: ‘think not King of the Medes, ſaid he, that I can either ſhrink at your threats, or be bought with thoſe benefits wherewith you upbraid me: No, both the one and the other are too much below me, and ſo long as I carried this ſword about me (that put the Crown upon your head, and cut you out a condition to talk like a Maſter upon the King of Parthia's Territories, that a few months ſince had ſcarce a corner of your own to ſecure you) I ſhall teach it to defend me againſt all my Enemies; and gather fairer Flowers of Dignity and Honour in the wide field of the World, than any I can hope from ſuch a King as You, perhaps I may carry it into places, where it may prove as it has been ſerviceable to you; and by the aſſiſtance of my abuſed ſpirit, I may one day compel You to keep your word, or at leaſt diſengage me of mine.’

At the cloſe of theſe words he turned his back upon the King, without paying the leaſt reverence to his perſon, and holding his hand upon the guard of his ſword, went out of the Chamber with an action ſo terrible, as of all thoſe that were near the King, there was not a man ſo hardy to oppoſe his paſſage, or had courage enough to come near him.

Tigranes remained ſo aſtoniſhed and confus'd at this adventure, as he knew not where he was, nor had he then the aſſurance to reply one word, or call to his guard to arreſt him; he might eaſily have taken his Life, and thoſe thoughts that were the eldeſt children of his anger did vote it ſo, but ſome of the chief Nobility then about him, that held Artaban's vertue in a great veneration, ſtep'd ſo readily in to mediate in his behalf, by inſinuating the memory of thoſe grand things he had done in his ſervice, as believing he could not put him to death, without a barbarous ingratitude, that would render him odious and deteſtable to all the Earth, he contented himſelf to ſend him a Command by the Captain of his guards, to get him out of the City the ſame day, and appear no more in his Dominions upon forfeiture of his life.

This ſentence of Artaban's baniſhment was perfectly ſuperfluous, ſince if the King had offered to have bought his reſidence with a large reward, he would have ſtayed no longer in his ſervice; he had no ſooner left the preſence, but he came to our lodging, with all the haſte he could make, for fear delay ſhould give Tigranes leiſure to cut off his paſſage to that viſit with a prohibition.

He ſtrugled with himſelf before he came at us, to ſweeten and ſuppreſs all that was terrible in his looks, yet he could not do it ſo ſmoothly, but we obſerved ſome alteration there, which neither the grandeur of his courage, or reſpect had power to diſguiſe; he had no ſooner aborded us, but addreſſing himſelf to the Queen; ‘Madam, ſaid he, I am come, with unſpeakable regret, to avow my impuiſſance, and ungrateful King, a Prince that violates his word, and a Man unworthy to wear a Crown, has rob'd me of the means to reſtore you your liberty, and by the help of an injurious diſ-eſteem of my ſervices, and his own honour, has unworthily decreed, that You remain his Priſoners, and that I muſt live with the ſhame of that affront he has given me, and the ſorrow of failing to redeem the reputation that was pawn'd in my promiſe to releaſe you; Madam I muſt leave you in the power of a King, that (baſely ingrateful as he is) I know will not dare to forget the reſpect that is [Page] due to you, and I am going to make his Enemies amends, for the wrongs I have unluckily done them in my ſervices to him, for which I carry away with me no other regard than ſhame and repentance: if the King your Husband will now accept the ſervice of this ſword which I drew againſt him and his with too much ſucceſs, peradventure it may heal the wounds it has given, in taking back what it took away, and by this very ſword I engage my ſelf once more before the Gods and you, to reſtore your liberty: Madam, if my Soul ſtayes in this clay, you need not fear a ſecond failing of my promiſe, I am confident I ſhall draw you from the hands of Tigranes, though deprived of all human aſſiſtance, and if the King of Parthia judges me worthy of any eminent employment in his Army, I do not queſtion but quickly to ſend back that ingrateful man, to ſeek a refuge in the limits that his Father left him: I confeſs, Madam, I muſt ask ſome time to confirm you this aſſurance, and to demand your pardon as I ought, for the offences I have committed by this unwilling abuſe of your expectation, in a promiſe that I had not power enough to make good.’

Artaban, after theſe words, prepared himſelf to take his leave of us, when the Queen (who had heard his diſcourſe) with aſtoniſhment and ſurprizal ſtaying him by his arm, ‘Think not generous Artaban, ſaid ſhe, that becauſe we ſee our ſelves deprived of the hopes you have given us, we can find any cauſe of complaint againſt you, 'twas my indiſpoſition that only hindred the effects of your goodneſs, and we are ſtill tyed in obligation to that noble intent, as all the power the King my Husband has left him, is too weak to requite it: indeed we ſhall ſtay here with too much regret, in being deprived of that ſupport and comfort we received in you, but the profit we are like to reap, by gaining ſo brave a man to our party, whom victory waits upon like a Page, gives a pleaſing reliſh to this ſecond loſs of our liberties: the King of Parthia knows your vertue to his coſt, and he is not ignorant how deeply you have put us in your debt: if you draw your ſword in his quarral, you will doubtleſs find from his juſt reſentments, all that you loſt by Tygranes ingratitude, and if, as I hope it is, your valour be allotted to cut our chains aſunder, we ſhall then ſee you in ſome other places, where we can better accknowledge what we owe to your generoſity.’

At theſe words, ſeeing he only returned her the anſwer of a low reverence, ſhe embraced him as her Benefactor, and after he had taken his leave of her, approaching to me; ‘Madam, ſaid he, be pleaſed to allow this ambition of mine to ſerve you and yours, till the laſt moment of my life, and if the Gods permit that I thrive in this deſign, do me the grace to regard the ſucceſs with ſome bounty; but if they decree that I periſh in the enterprize, I hope you will honour the memory of a man, with a little place in your thoughts, to whom the occaſion to dye for your intereſt, was far dearer and more glorious than the poſſeſſion of Empires.’

There was two much paſſion betrayed in theſe words, and the manner wherewith he pronounced them accuſed his diſcretion too openly; however, (as our condition and his kindneſs was then ballanced) I was loath to underſtand them in a criminal ſenſe, but regarding him with a viſage, that ſpoke a great deal of good will: ‘Go generous Artaban, ſaid I, obey the motions wherewith your good Fortune inſpires you, and do not doubt but I ſhall ever cheriſh as great an eſteem of your perſon, and as grateful a reſentment of your actions, as your own deſires can frame you.’

Artaban's face confeſſed a great deal of ſatisfaction from theſe few words, and having kiſſed my hand by the Queens conſent, who, made me a ſign to give it him, he took his leave and retired to the Chamber, where all things were prepared for his departure, and delayed his ſtay no longer, than the time it would coſt him to mount himſelf and ſome of his Servants on Horſeback, giving order to the reſt of his Equipage, to follow him to the place where he intended to lodge; he was ſo paſſionately loved by the Officers of the Army, as a great part of them offered to run his Fortune, but they could not gain his conſent ſo much as to ſuffer one ſingle man to go with him beſides his Domeſticks.

Really we ſhould have ſtayed behind him with no mediocrity of grief for his departure, if it had not been ſweetned by the cognizance we took of that conſiderable ſuccour he carried to our Army in his ſingle perſon; the grandeur of his actions, that had got him a loud fame among all thoſe that loved and knew how to uſe a ſword, and the things he had done and was like to do to our advantage: from the advice of theſe experiments we took an opinion that taught us to conſider him as a man that was wholly extraordinary; and ſince tis but fit I ſhould give you my thoughts in their naked innocence, I cannot but confeſs to you that the marvellous qualities of his perſon, and the grand obligations wherewith his vertuehad tied us to him, had fetched him ſome wiſhes in my breaſt, that had more warmththan uſually tempers common good will, and could I have judged his birth but approaching to any [Page] equality with mine, I think my ſoul had preferred him before all the men in the world: this was all the advantage he had gain'd upon me, and perhaps it was not ſo cheap in a perſon of my humour, but it might have given him content enough had he known it.

The next day after his departure, the King of the Medes made us a viſit, and accoſted us with as great a confidence as if he had given us no cauſe of complaint againſt him; he made the Queen very bad excuſes for what he had done, and told her that ſome important reaſons had perſwaded him to defer thoſe intents that were proportioned to our wiſhes, that ſo ſoon as he had ranged his affairs in the order he aimed at, he would render a fairer ſatisfaction to our deſires, than Artaban could teach us to hope for. The Queen replyed, that ſhe never had any other pretence to that favour, than by ſuch ways as the world had tracked before her, and though Artaban with an acceſs of generoſity, had refus'd the ranſom ſhe had offered, ſhe had ever perſiſted in her deſign to ſend it him, and ſhe knew the King of Parthia's diſpoſition too well, to believe he would receive a preſent from his Enemies, unleſs reaſon made the conditions: Tigranes returned an anſwer that was near a kin to his former diſcourſe: but a little after accoſting me: ‘Think not Madam, ſaid he, that any other reaſon could oblige me to an action, which (if you place rigour in your judgement-ſear) I know undergoes a heavy Cenſure, but the impoſſibility that I feel to rend my ſelf from you ſo ſuddenly: no Madam, either conſent to ſtay with us, or carry me with you among the Parthians; for believe it, the ſeparation from my Court and liberty, will be leſs inſupportable than to part with you; nor need you afflict your ſelf to ſtay with a King that is more your Priſoner than you are his, with a King that will ſooner give up the propriety in his Crown and life, than ruffle the ſmooth harmony of your thoughts with the leaſt diſpleaſure: where will you reign with a more abſolute Soveraignty, than in a place where Kings are your Subjects? and what condition can your expectation frame among the Parthians, that is more advantageous than to have a Crowned ſlave to atend you?’

He vexed me with a multitude of hotter words to this purpoſe, which I ſtill replyed to, in termes that were little obliging. The following dayes were imployed in this manner to prolong my affliction, but he alwaies ſweetned his perſecutions with reſpect, and indeed not only himſelf, but his whole Court (by his example and Command) behaved themſelves to us with ſuch a ſtudied civility, as I could accuſe him for nothing elſe but the refuſal of our liberty, and the importunity of his love.

In the mean time Artaban advanced by great Journies to the place where the King my Father reſided, and though he paſſed through an Enemies Countrey that he had handled very harſhly, he carried ſuch confidence in himſelf, as he never ſo much as demanded a Convoy, nor ſought any Caution for the ſafety of his perſon; nevertheleſs as his train was very great and magnifique for a private man, he was oft examined about the cauſe of his voyage, but ſo ſoon as he declared that he went to find out the King of Parthia, all the paſſages flew open to receive him, and the general belief that he was going with propoſitions of peace, got him divers offers of a ſafe conduct and guard to the Court.

In fine, he arrived at Hecatompolis, where the King was then making new Leavies on all ſides, to regain a condition once more to take the Field, and march in perſon to the place, where we were, ſo ſoon as the ſeaſon would ſuffer him.

Artaban was not ſo preciſe as to obſerve the ordinary formalities, that uſually precede the admiſſion of a ſtranger to a Royal preſence: but having only demanded permiſſion to ſpeak with the King, he entred the great Chamber where he ſaw him invironed with the principal perſons of his Court. The Nobility of his aſpect and garb, preſently drew the eyes of all the aſſiſtants upon him, and while they were gathering freſh cauſes of wonder about him, he made his approaches to the King with a moſt becoming confidence, and having paid him the reverence that he believed was due: Sir ſaid he, ‘I am Artaban, that name is probably known to you by the damage it has done you, and by ſome advantages in War, that Fortune has given me upon your ſubjects, I have quitted the Service of an ungrateful King, to come and enroll my ſelf in yours, if you be willing to receive me: the diſhonour he has done me (in refuſing liberty to the Queen your Wife, the Princeſs your Daughter) by an infamous breach of promiſe, has made me reſolve to abandon him, and bring that Sword to his Enemies, which has been drawn with too much ſucceſs in his quarrel: Sir, if you dare adventure a Commiſſion to unſheath it in your ſervice, I ſhall forfeit a great deal of confidence, if it does not unravel all his victories, and do the ſame things for you againſt him; thus repairing your loſſes, I ſhall take hold of occaſion to revenge my particular injury: if you regard me as an enemy that retarded your conqueſts, and deſtroyed ſo many thouſands of your ſubjects, you have now the power in your hands to puniſh the outrage it has done you; but if you can bend any thought to conſider me as a man that may [Page] be uſeful to advance your intereſts, poſſible there wants no more than your own conſent to re-aſſure your eſtate, and revenge your ſelves upon your Enemies.’

Thus did the undaunted Artaban diſcourſe the intent of his coming, and the King whoſe wonder at the firſt gaze had done homage to the haughty and handſome charms of his viſage, and then improved his ſurprizal at the name of Artaban, which he had too much cauſe to remember, could liſten to ſo bold a ſpeech, and ſo conformed to the greatneſs of his actions that pronounced it, without a marvellous aſtoniſhment; he often travel'd his eye upon him from head to foot, and incountred nothing but freſh excuſes of his admiration in his perſon, diſcourſe and action:

At firſt the name of that Artaban, that had ſnatch'd the Median Crown out of his hands, and ſhaken his own ſo rudely, as he already apprehended the fall of it, began to kindle ſome reſentments, and for a few moments he regarded him as an Enemy that had blaſted the fruit and glory of his Actions, by the gaining of three great battels, the taking of his Towns, and the death of 100000 Parthians; but at the ſame time he remembred, what the Queens Letters and mine had mine had mentioned of his treatment, and the noble deſign he had to ſet us at liberty; in ſequel he conſidered the franchiſe of his action, and the grand confidence expreſt by the expoſure of his ſafety, unforced by neceſſity, to an uncertain and dangerous trial; and in fine, he fell to examine his own intereſt which he found was highly concerned in the gaining of a man that drag'd victory after him, and who alone was able to change his deſtiny.

This laſt thought got the victory of all the reſt, and when he had caſhiered the former, and cleared up thoſe clouds that ſeemed to preſage a ſtorm in his viſage, while he was yet irreſolute, he approach'd Artaban with open arms, and giving him his hand with an affable and obliging look; ‘Gallant man, ſaid he, you are welcome, the memory of your laſt actions has wiped out all the injuries you have done us, and the knowledge I have of your valour will not let me diſdain your aſſiſtance, which I receive as a certain Omen of my victory, and my enemies ruine; you may ſafely aſſure your ſelf of all thoſe advantages with us that you forſook in Media, and poſſible you ſhall find we know better than they, how to render what is due to your vertue.’

At theſe words he imbrac'd him, and by his example oblig'd all thoſe in his preſence to proportion their reſpect to his high reputation, nor needed he take much pains to diſpoſe them to it, for they were all ſo prepoſſeſſed with the noiſe that ran about the world of the vertue, and the proofs of his gallantry which ſome of them had left to their coſt, that they look'd upon him as a perſon whom the Gods had raiſed above mortality; it then happened contrary to the uſual cuſtome, that thoſe whoſe birth or deſert might feed up an ambition in their ſouls to pretend to the higheſt charges, were all willing to releaſe their claims to him, and calmly ſubmitted to the Kings will without repining, when he gave him the command of his Army.

In the ſoul of Phraates, with many bad qualities, there is a mixture of ſome that are good, and as the natural channel of his inclinations ſtill carried him to warlike deſignes, he alwaies ſet a marvellous price upon valiant men, and ever gave them the upper hand of others in his eſteem, that were only indebted for dignities to their birth or fortune, which they could not merit by their vertue. Of this he gave a clear teſtimony in his treatment of Artaban, whom he preſently placed in the higheſt rank of his men of War, and a while after in preſence of his oldeſt Captain, gave a Commiſſion to command his Army, at the age of 22 years, for he had lived no longer.

There wanted not ſome that Criticis'd upon the Kings facility, becauſe he did not ſtay for ſome experience, before he truſted ſo weighty a charge (that imported no leſs than the conſervation, or utter ruine of his eſtate) to a young man bred up among his Enemies, whom only a Capricious humour had caus'd him to abandon, and with whom he was not aſſured that he did not yet hold intelligence: but Phraates had ſo ſeriouſly ſtudied the generoſity, that ſhined with an equal and continued luſtre in all Artaban's actions, as none of thoſe detracting objections could penetrate his belief or leſſen his confidence in him. Artaban was very joyful to ſee himſelf inveſted with a power to act his revenge upon the Median King, and believed the promiſes of his own great heart, that before a year was run through the glaſs of time he ſhould reduce him to terms of repentance for the affront he had offered.

The winters rigour did yet oblige him to make ſome ſtay with the King, which he entirely employed in preparations neceſſary for his warlike expedition: but ſo ſoon as the ſeaſon grew milder at the Sun's approaches, his Troops compleat, his Companions full, and all things fitted for a march, he put himſelf in the head of 20000 Horſe, and 30000 Foot, and advanced againſt Tigranes with an order, that made the moſt experienced Captains admire him.

[Page] In the mean time Tigranes had not ſtir'd from Niſa (that was the Cities name where we were) and judging his preſence more neceſſary in a Conquer'd Countrey than his own, where all things were calm and aſſured, or rather not willing to abandon us, and indeed not daring to commit ſuch a ſin againſt the reſpect and complacence of his affection, as to draw us after him like ſlaves into his own Provinces, he diſperſed his orders through all parts of his Dominions, to the troops that lay ſcattered in their ſeveral Quarters, to draw up thither, and with intention to advance his conqueſts nearer the heart of Parthia, he had formed the body of an Army conſiſting of 60000 Combatants; he ſpake no more of our enlargement, and hath already rejected all the King my Fathers propoſitions for our ranſom, though they proſtituted very advantagious offers to his refuſal, for which he pleaded to me no other excuſe, than that a ſeparation from me would be far more inſupportable than the fatal divorce of ſoul and body: he paid me his viſits but with too much aſſiduity, and (bating his condeſcent to our enlargement) forgot nothing either in language or deportment that might make him nearer approaches in his ſiege of my affection, but inſtead of a ſucceſſive progreſs in his induſtry, every day was witneſs to a more obſtinate reſiſtance againſt his batteries, and though his perſon was handſome, and his qualities very commendable, yet the falſhood he ſhewed (as my opinion told me) in ſo baſe a revolt from his word, had given me ſuch a perfect diſguſt of all his endeavours to pleaſe me, as rendred every thing diſagreeable about him; the efforts he made to combat my averſion, were alwaies beaten off with the loſs of labour, and though the Queen my Mother often commanded me to humour the neceſſity of our affairs, with a moderation of my rigour, and ſometimes to regard him with a gentler viſage, on purpoſe to ſecure his reſpect towards us, from the violence of deſpair, I found it very difficult to ſubdue my reluctance, and my obedience was never upon harder ſervice than in this obſtinate quarrel with my obſtinacy; we had the ſame Officers and Servants, that the King my Father left to attend us, and Tigranes had diminiſhed nothing in our houſe, nor altered any thing in tenour of our ſervice, only he placed a very ſtrict guard upon us, eſpecially ſince. Artabans departure, fearing (for he knew his daring ſpirit was apt to climb over the greateſt difficulties) he would make ſome attempts to deliver us.

Thsu did the pulſe of our condition beat, when fame brought him news of the Parthian armies advance, and told him that Artaban their new General marched at the head of it, and was then coming up to meet him with diſplayed Enſigns: Tygranes, who knew Artaban too well to diſpleaſe him, was a little troubled at this intelligence, but as indeed to give him his due, he was a man of courage, he quickly recovered the uſe of his diſcretion, and truſting in the number and valour of his men, which had been accuſtomed to overcome, he drew his Army together to meet his Enemies, and reſolved to lead them on in perſon, apprehending it no ſafety to truſt the abilities of any of his Commanders, to cope with ſuch a General as Artaban: he then ſaw himſelf conſtrained to quit us, and believing our perſons more ſecure in that place, than if he took us into the body of his Army, he left us there with a ſtrong Garriſon, as well to guard us, as defend the place.

In the mean time our languiſhing thoughts began to hold up their heads with more vivacity than ordinary, and by the lucky ſucceſs of Artaban's voyage, and the hope that was repoſed in his vertue, you may eaſily judge that our wiſhes were mingled but with little good meaning to the King of Media, and this was the ſubject of the Queens diſcourſe and mine, when Tygranes entered our Chamber to take his leave of us: he was then in a habit of War, and truly became it ſo well, as doubtleſs the Decorum of his mind and deportment might well be conſiderable to all ſuch perſons as were not prepoſſes'd with diſlike and reſentment againſt him: I remember he made a thouſand bravado's in our preſence, and denounced as many menaces againſt Artaban, whom he call'd the contemptible revolted, and with too confident a cruelty deſigned him for an exemplary puniſhment: he held us in too long a diſcourſe to perplex your patience with the repetition, and a few months before he parted from our preſence, directing his particular addreſſes to me: ‘Madam, ſaid he, if your ſolicitations of Heaven did not bandy againſt me, I ſhould think my ſelf already in a poſſeſſion of a certain victory; but ſure the Gods will not hear them, becauſe they are unjuſt, and I ſhall quickly return with Bays in my hand, from the conqueſt of a man that will not dare to look upon the face of his offended Maſter; I know I ſhall bring home that Inſolent in chains, that would have killed me with a cruel ſeparation from you, but for your ſake I ſhall make it my care to get a gentle victory upon your Fathers Subjects, and endeavour to ſpare their blood, becauſe I adore her that muſt be their Miſtreſs. I am obliged, reply'd I, to your good intentions, but ſucceſs is not alwaies ſuited to our expectations, and victory (till their bounty removes her) lives rather in the Gods hands, than in mans diſpoſal. Ah! might it pleaſe the ſame Gods, anſwered Tigranes, that the conqueſt I pretend to upon your rigour, might not prove more difficult to obtain, that I had no more to do, than [Page] to vanquiſh the Parthians, with their new General, to compleat my victory upon your ſpirit, which my fears tell me will coſt me many combats, that include far more dangers and difficulties, than I am able to encounter, among your Fathers Subjects.’

He ſtaid not for an anſwer to this diſcourſe, but taking his leave of us he went out of the Chamber and departed the City the ſame day: he only advanced ſome two dayes march towards Artaban, ſpoiling and devaſting the Countrey as he went, and at the two dayes end, having found an advantagious paſt to encamp his Army, he reſolved to ſtay the coming up of his Enemy, and take that time to reſt his men and horſes, which he martiall'd for the battle in a very beautiful order.

He waited not long for the approach of his Rival, for the third day afer Artaban (who becauſe he was loath to haraſs his Army, had cauſed it to march but ſlowly) appeared, encamped in view, and the next day preſented him battle.

Tigranes accepted his offer with all ſorts of advantages, his Army was much the ſtronger in number, far leſs weary than the Parthians, and his ſtation much more commodious: but all theſe conſiderations were in capable to unbend the reſolution of his Rival to fight him, and after he had ranged his Troops with a military method, that got him the admiration of all that beheld it, he gave the ſignal to begin the Combat, and fought it with ſuch a mingled skil and bravery of Captain and Souldier, as after ſix hours bloody diſpute, wherein Tygranes (by the confuſion of his very Enemies) behaved himſelf in his Office like a gallant Gentleman, and a good Commander, victory voted for the Parthian party, and declared her ſelf ſo entirely for them, as after they had dyed all the Field in the Crimſon Livery of death, and ſtrewed it with the greateſt part of the Median Army, there remained but a few miſerable reliques that eſcaped the tired gluttony of their Enemies Swords, and their King, who ſtayed to ſee ſome of the lateſt Scenes of that deplorable Tragedy, had ſcarce time to ſecure his perſon by a retreat with 5 or 600 horſe) which he had gleaned from the ſeveral ſcattered Troops) to the City where he left us. The victorious Artaban, who after he ſaw his Enemies backs, did all that was poſſible to manage his Victory with moderation, and ſpare the Median blood, marched after Tigranes with ſuch a winged expedition, as he appeared within view of the Walls, almoſt aſſoon as the King of Media entered them, and eagerly deſirous to block up the paſſages, and ſo deprive him of the means to carry us away, he made his Circumvallations the ſame day, and ſtopped up the advenues on all ſides.

Tigranes then too late ſaw the Rock againſt which his precipitate Pride had daſhed him, & deduced his repentance for what had paſſed, as well from the change of his Fortune, as ſome ſad reflections that almoſt broke him upon the wheel of deſpair; the loſſe of that battel juſtified his affliction, but when he ſaw himſelf beſieged and ſhut up in a City, whence all the hope of retreat was cut off by his own imprudence, and theſe things done by a man, whoſe reſiſtance he had ſcorned, and by a man who a few days before had taken pay in his ſervice, he was ſtruck with ſo violent a grief as all the courage he could make had ſcarce force enough to reſiſt it.

You need not doubt but the frowns of his Fortune, and the view of his Enemies, which we diſcovered from our Chamber-windows, began to get life again in our ſwoonded hopes and call home our baniſhed Joys; however the Queen deemed it fit we ſhould viſit him in his affliction; he had not ſeen us ſince he took his leave when he went the expedition, but full of rage and confuſion, had confined himſelf to his Chamber, where maugre all the comfors his Servants could alledge, from what his hopes might yet lay hold of, he abandoned himſelf to a very deſolate condition, nevertheleſs he knew that ſo long as he had us in his power, he might capitulate when he pleaſed, and obtain a free paſſage to retreat into his own Countrey; but he looked upon that as a cruel remedy, and he could not conſider Artaban as the man that had reduced him to it, without a whirl-wind of furious thoughts that threw down all his patience.

After the Queen had ſent him notice that ſhe intended him a viſit, we went at laſt to his lodging (for we had liberty to walk the City through, with a great number of men at our heels, which under the honourable vizard of a train to attend us, were no other than a guard to prevent the ſtealth of our liberty) we took care in the compoſure of our looks to ſet a modeſt face upon our Fortune, and found his in too deep a melancholly die to diſſemble it; he had no ſooner paid his ſalutes to the Queen, but addreſſing himſelf to me; ‘Your wiſhes, Madam, ſaid he, have been more prevalent than our armes, they have given the victory to mine Enemies, and Gods as well as men believed it unlawful to croſſe your will; 'tis you alone that have been the fountain of my misfortunes, and if that affection which can never be ſhut out from hence, unleſs my ſoul keep it company, had not dazled my judgement, I had ordered my affairs with a greater caution, and the faithleſs Artaban had never forſaken my Colours to go ſerve my Enemies. I will not ſay, reply'd I, that we have made any vows in your favour, ſince all ſorts of reaſons forbid it; but I ſhall [Page] not injure truth to aſſure you, that with this victory the Gods have beſtowed upon our Parthians, we did not demand your ruine at their hands, and the change of our fortune ſhall not forbid us the practice of all the credit we have in the King my Father, to moderate his animoſity, and prevail for his condeſcent to as gentle conditions of Peace, as your own deſires can juſtly aim at: I know not how to believe, Madam, anſwered he, that you ſhould take ſuch a task upon you for a Prince, in whom you never underſtood any thing but ſubjects of ſcorn and contempt: no Madam, you have been too reguardleſs of my ſpirits repoſe, to perplex your ſelf with the care of my eſtate; perhaps my Fortunes are not ſo low and crawling as you apprehend them, and I have yet force and courage enough leſt to raiſe the creſt of this condition, to which the infidelity of my ſervant, and the love of my Princeſs has reduced me.’

We exchanged ſome other diſcourſe, at the end of which we left him. The next day Artaban ſent him a ſummon, to deliver us into his hands, with the offer of a ſafe retreat into his own territories, but he diſdainfully rejected his propoſitions, and ſent back the Trumpeter with a contumelious anſwer, that provoked him to prepare for a general aſſault.

Tigranes was deſirous by a ſtout reſiſtance to redeem the credit his Error had loſt, in ſuffering himſelf to be ſhut up ſo imprudently, and his Deſtiny (or ours if you will) decree his fall into the trap of a piece of indiſcretion grotſſer than the forme the third day after the ſiege beganhaving learned that Artaban, was buſie in contriving ſome Enemies for the aſſault, and believing he ſhould take him unprovided, he ſallied out in perſon with 7 or 800 Horſe that he had in the City, backed with 1200 Foot, which he cauſed to advance ſome Furlongs from the Gates for a reſerve; this attempt was ſo little expected, as they eaſily ſurprized the Parthian out-guards, quickly charged through thoſe that made a diſorderly oppoſition to their paſſage, and Tygranes, prided with that ſucceſsful beginning, blindly ſpurred on through all where he found the way unguarded; but Artaban no ſooner received intelligence of what had paſſed, which ran from mouth to mouth till it arrived at his ear, but he mounted himſelf with an admirable diligence, and taking ſome Troops of Horſe with him, that he ſaw redieſt for the purpoſe, in ſtead of oppoſing Tigranes fury, he left him an eaſiy paſſage to a farther engagement within his Trenches, and in the mean time with his horſe too a little compas to get between him and the City; and leaving a part of his men engaged in Combat againſt Tigranes Infantry, he went to charge the rear of his Horſe with the reſt, but firſt he drew a circle of a man about him, that cut off all poſſibility of retreat.

The King of Media turning his eye toward the City, perceived the folly he had committed, but finding too late that the malady raged beyond the help a of medicine, he deſperately threw himſelf into the midſt of his Enemies, and had there doubtleſs loſt his life in the throng if Artaban who knew him by divers marks, had not cryed to his men to ſpare the King; at his voice they drew off, and only contented themſelves to ſurround him, and their General advancing towards him with his viſor half up, Render your ſelf King of the Medes, cryed he, Fortune is your Enemy.

Tigranes preſently knew Artaban, and inſtead of replying, with a fury full of the ſtings of deſpair, made his ſword anſwer with a blow upon his head, given with all the force that hatred and anguiſh could leavy.

The excellent temper of the Caſque reſiſted the blow, and the gallant Artaban's moderation was ſo great as he would neither ſtrike hi enemy again, nor ſo much as permit any of his men to totouch but oppoſing his ſhield to Tigranes ſword, and preſenting the point of his own toward him either render thy ſelf King of the Medes, ſaid he, or thou art a dead man.

Tigranes, as hotly as his fit of deſpair held him, took ſome fear from this menace, and perceiving himſelf in no poſſibility to vanquiſh, thought it no ſhame to give way to the malice of his Fortune; and ſadly perceiving all remedies beyond his reach, after he had taken ſome moments to ponder the neceſſity of yielding, at laſt he preſented the pummel of his ſword to Artaban.

Artaban received it with a grand ſubmiſſion, but it was only to return it back to the ſcabberd, not deeming it fit to diſarm a King, to whom he been ſo lately tied in the chains of reſpect & affection; and marching by his ſide through the middle of his men, he conducted the King to his own Tent, where he treated him, as if he had never been ingrateful, alwayes kept himſelf bare in his preſence, and paid him his perſonal attendance as well at meals as in his Bed-Chamber, as if Juſtice had made him a Title to that obſervance by a lawful Soveraingty.

The next day, ſo ſoon as the King was awaked, he came to his beds ſide, and demanding permiſſion to ſpeak his intentions; ‘Sir, ſaid he, without perplexing your memory with what is paſt, or explaining the juſt reaſon I had to ſerve your Enemies againſt you, I ſhall content my ſelf to tell you, that you are now the King of Parthia's Priſoner, if with [Page] ſafety of honour I could aſſume the power, without betraying that important truſt he has ventured upon me, perhaps I ſhould quickly releaſe you of this diſpleaſure, but you are not the firſt King that has been a Captive; and to improve your comfort, this misfortune has arrived you at ſuch a point of time, as it ſhall depend upon your will to accept of an eaſie remedy; you cannot hope that the City can hold out many daies, eſpecially being deprived of your Majeſties preſence, that might encourage and oblige your men to a longer reſiſtance: by this reducement the Queen of Parthia and the Princeſs her Daughter, will infallibly fall into our hands, yet what ever blame I may contract from a King that has leaned the whole weight of his Crown upon my loyalty, and for whoſe intereſt I could doubtleſs make conditions more advantagious; I demand no other ranſom for your perſon, than the liberty of theſe two Princeſſes, command that they be rendered us to day with the place that holds them, and you with all your men ſhall have a ſafe retreat granted you, and if you think their guard inſufficient, I will ſend a Convoy with you to the Confines of your Kingdom.’

Tigranes who could not rationally hope for ſuch gentle conditions, and who ſaw that by an extrordinary deferrence, Artaban demanded no more for his ranſom than what a few days would impower him to take in ſpight of all reſiſtance, fearing the arrival of ſome order from the King of Parthia, that might probably countermand theſe favourable intentions; preſently accepted the propoſition, and though his affection hotly diſputed againſt the neceſſity of reſigning me into anothers hands, the impoſſibility to cloſe the wounds of his broken eſtate, and buy his liberty at a lower value, confuted all the arguments it could urge, and he immediately ſent order to his Commanders in the City to draw out the Garriſon, and leave us as abſolute Miſtreſſes there, as when it was firſt taken.

His orders were punctually obeyed, the Medians quitted, the Parthians entered the place, and we ſaw our ſelves at the ſame moment free, and reigning where we had ſo lately and ſo long been captives.

Tigranes had likewiſe his liberty reſtored him, and retired with his men towards the frontiers of Media, upon the Parole, and with the Convoy that Artaban had given him, to clear his paſſage through thoſe parts of the Parthian Dominion, that lay between him and his Medians.

After his departure, the Triumphant Artaban, whoſe valour had un [...]inion'd our liberty, quitted his Camp to give us a viſit in the City, and his preſence was then far dearer and more agreeable than when we firſt ſaw him the year before.

The Queen believing ſhe ſhould not offend her dignity, by ſtooping it with a juſt acknowledgment to her Protector, embraced him with tears of joy, and if I made him Careſſes that were leſſe familiar at leaſt I endeavoured to ſpread my face with as pleaſing looks, and put as obliging words into my mouth, as might ſerve to let him ſee, that my apprehenſion was in no arrears to his merit: the Queen and I fell both upon the ſubject of his admirable valour, and the exact obſervance of his word, with Elogies that proved oppreſſions to his modeſty; the firſt part of our diſcourſe was woven of nought but Praiſes and thanks on our part, of Reſpect and Submiſſion on Artaban's; and after the Queen had amply declared him her reſentments, and was turned from him to receive ſome of the principal Commanders among the Parthians that were come with Artaban to render their dutious reſpects to her Majeſty, taking hold of that occaſion: ‘You have entirely captived our Faith, Generous Artaban ſaid I, to your future promiſes, and taught us to believe, that the world has not difficulty capable to retard their effects: but if we be indebted to the brave performance of your word, the King of Media's violation of his has more obliged us, ſince if he had ſtrictly obſerved his engagement to you in our behalf, we only ſhould then have thanked him for our liberty, and his ingratitude had not blindly given us Artaban with it. Artaban, ſaid I, whoſe valour diſpoſes the deſtiny of Empires, and who from that groveling and deplorable eſtate to which he had once reduced it, has lifted that of the Parthians to its proper ſphere, and made it ſhine again with the ſame luſtre, which his invincible arm had once ſequeſtred.’ Artaban returned an anſwer to theſe words with a flexure of his body as low as my foot, and methought received them with a peculiar air in his looks, that would not have worn that deſtruction to any other perſon, making ſo many witneſſes of all the actions and ſyllables that parted from him, that the glories he had gathered from the honour of his employment in our ſervice, did far out-value all thoſe advantages we had reaped from the effects of his valour. ‘Madam, ſaid he, I could not miſs of ſucceſs in ſo juſt an enterpriſe, and the intereſts of ſo divine a perſon as your ſelf, were too dear to the Gods to be left to the diſpoſition of men; by theſe inviſible blows they ſtruck in your quarrel, the King your Fathers arms have obtained the victory, upon the injurious detainer of ſo [Page] precious a liberty, and 'tis your intereſt in heaven that rebated the points and edges of your Enemies Swords againſt which no humane power is capable of reſiſtance: 'tis to thoſe Madam, (if the gain be eſtimable) and not the fault of Tigranes, that you owe your Artaban, and ſuch as he is, you are more indebted to him for your ſelf, than all reaſons and reſentments that anger, ambition, or any other motion could infer to arm in the quarrel.’

He broke off at theſe words, with a fear that his tongue had been too liviſh, and indeed had I ſeriouſly examined them, I ſhould doubtleſs have found out ſomething that taſted of too much boldneſs.

From that day he ſcarce ever diſcontinued his attendance upon us, at ſuch hours as modeſty might admit him; and his expectation of ſome farther orders from the King, to whom he had ſent an expreſs of what had paſſed, with a deſire to know how he would have him to ſteer his courſe, made him a plauſible pretence for his aſſiduity.

In the mean time the Convoy came back that he had ſent to guard the King of Media, and the Gentleman that Commanded it, preſented me a letter that Tigranes had given him at their parting, which the Queen beckned to me to receive, and having opened it in the preſence of her and Artaban, who was then in our Chamber, I read theſe words:

TIGRANES King of the Medes to Eliſa Princeſs of Parthia

‘I Have paid for your liberty to the double loſs of mine own; and the ſame deſtiny that made you my Priſoner for a time decreed me yours for ever: The rigour of my fate has rent me from you, but I ſhall quickly ſupercede the decree, and vanquiſh the diſtance betwixt us, and you ſhall ſee me return in the Van of 100000 men, tod emand you of my cruel Enemies that made the divorce betwixt us. I ſhall not enter your Fathers Territories to ſuch an Enemy as an injured Lover, in that quality, they that hide you behind their bucklers will not find it an eaſie task to reſiſt me, and thoſe powers that might poſſibly retard others, will prove too feeble to oppoſe my deſign of your repriſal.’

The Queen liſtened to this language without Emotion, nor did it much uncalm the quiet of my thoughts: but Artaban heard it with a grand impatience, and gave me notice by the blood that haſtily leaped into his face, how deeply he thought himſelf concerned in the Menaces and deſign of Tigranes, as well in the quality of a lover as an Enemy. ‘Perhaps, ſaid he, with an action that expreſſed a great deal of anger, he may invade your Dominions to his own confuſion, and the two qualities he ſpeaks of may prove equally fatal to his Life and Love: that I think we ſhall be able to ſecure our ſelves from the angrieſt part of his Menaces, and if the Kings orders do but hold proportion to my hopes, it may be we ſhall give him ſo hard a task to defend his own Country, as will ſave him the labour of bringing the Oar into yours.’

After this day we tracked more reſentment and animoſity againſt Tigranes than we had formerly diſcovered, and methought I read a kind of impatience in all his actions to ſtrangle his Rivals deſign of my repriſal: his behaviour was ſuperſcribed with ſuch viſible contents of meaning, as my ſuſpition could no way have wanted nouriſhment, but by the blindneſſe of my underſtanding; and though the memory of my debt to what he had done for us, ſhut my eyes upon a part, yet I found it impoſſible to learn an intire ignorance of what his ill-aſſured and diſtempered regards, his frequent ſighs and diſcourſes, mingled with a fear that nature never planted in his heart, would have forced upon an intellect, though ſhorter and ſhallower than mine; this imperfect knowledge gave me a real diſpleaſure, and though Criticiſm it ſelf could have found out nothing in the perſon of Artaban that was not very amiable, and the importance of his ſervice had made him yet a better title to my eſteem, than his outward accompliſhments could challenge; my haughty opinion, that as that Man whoſe birth was ſo vaſtly below mine own, could not make me the mark of his amorous ambition, without the ſin of preſumption againſt my quality, nor make me fear to be offended in that nature, that I could not glance a thought upon his boldneſs without much diſquiet.

while I floted in theſe uncertainties inſtead of theſe orders we expected from the King, he came himſef to Niſa, in part perſwaded to that voyage by the neceſſity of his affairs which called him upon the Frontier, and partly by the deſire he had to ſee us after ſo [Page] long a Captivity; I need not relate the order of his arrival, nor trouble you with the account of every ſingle paſſage to our interview, let it ſuffice you Madam to know, that we found in his Careſſes, all that we could hope from a better nature than his, that all his actions and diſcourſe aſſured us of as much tenderneſs as a Wife and Daughter could expect: but if a Husband and a Fathers love made the apparent impreſſion of themſelves in his behaviour, he forgot not what he thought was due to the grand ſervice that Artaban had done him, and after he had treated him in the preſence of his chief Nobility, as a perſon of extraordinary merit, as the Tutelar Genius of Parthia, and as a young Mars, whoſe unlimitable valour had propped and recruited his reeling Empire, he openly proteſted that he had not a recompence within reach of his power, was fit to meaſure with his merit, that the gift of a great part of his Eſtate would ſatisfie but a part of the debt that was owing to his admirable vertue; with ſuch profeſſions as theſe, he dayly made him the ſubject of his diſcourſe in our preſence, and during his reſidence there, he heaped more honours upon him, than either he was accuſtomed to render to the moſt conſiderable perſons of his Court, or the neereſt Princes of his blood; but he was loth to ſtop the current and career of his Victories, and receiving intelligence that the King of Media, was raiſing Forces with a haſty diligence to re invade his Dominions, he gave a looſe to the fierce impatience of Artaban, and adding a better part of thoſe Troops to his Army that had followed him to Niſa, he commiſſioned him to invade Media, openly declaring that he hoped for that Crown by his valour.

Artaban, whoſe particular intereſts daily whetted his aſperity againſt Tigranes, gladly received this order, and prepared for his ſpeedy departure, while we did the ſame for ours, to return with the King to the Capital City of Parthia.

The day of our ſeparation arrived, and with it the aſſurance of what I had ſo carefully fled the knowledge. Artaban, who had all this time kept his tongue from blabbing the ſecrets of his heart, was now reſolved to throw away the mask, and caſt the dye; his great heart had hatched an opinion of himſelf, that made him believe he needed neither ſhake nor bluſh at the declaration; however, he rouzed all the courage that nature had given him to back his attempt, and preparing himſelf (as he ſince confeſſed) with more reſolution than ever he called to his aſſiſtance, at the aſſault of the greateſt danger, he came to take his leave of me, with a face that ſhewed me the contents of ſomething extraordinary,

I gave him a particular audience in my Chamber, and when he ſaw my Woman withdrawn to ſuch diſtance, as they could not over-hear his diſcourſe: ‘Madam ſaid he, if I were not now to part upon an expedition, from which my return is yet in the boſom of the Deity, wherein I ſhall poſſible encounter dangers, with jaws wide enough to ſwallow me, I would ſtill make the conſideration of what you are, and my fear to diſoblige you (a paſſion that I never felt from any but you) to keep thoſe thoughts at home, that now are about to break their bridles; had I ventured to give them this liberty, while yours was under ſtraint, you might have conjectured that I borrowed the boldneſs from your bowed conditino, and apprehend, that I treated her in ſome kind like a Captive, to whom I ought not to have ſuffered the eſcape of one ſingle regard, that was not tempered with a profound ſubmiſſion; but now (Madam) that you are free re-inſtated by the bounty of Heaven, in your birth-right glorious, ſafe within the arms of your great Father, and that I muſt leave you in a ſad uncertainty of ever ſeeing you again, think it not ſtrange, if by a power which I find it impoſſible to diſobey, I am forced to declare that,—Hold Artaban, ſaid I, intercepting his progreſs, hold, for heavens ſake, hold, and do not give me cauſe to complain againſt you, after the injunction of ſo many reaſons to commend your ſervices; I would not prevent you in this manner, if I were not prepoſſeſſed with a high eſteem of your merit, and therefore fearful to impair it by any provocation of reſentment againſt you. If the preſumption of my language, ſaid he, has made me criminal, I will ſtrive to waſh away my fault with the blood that I am going to ſhed for your intereſt; and when I ſee that proves too little to take out the ſtain, I will amend my enemies defect with my proper hand, if there cleaves ſo great a guilt to my offence in profeſſing my ſelf yours, to demand that reparation; do not arm your ſelf at this declaration with an anger that cannot be leſs than fatal to me; I know 'tis faulty, but I know 'tis only made ſo by the meanneſs of my birth, and the weak eſtate of my fortune. Madam, my birth is noble, 'tis all I can ſay of it, and my fortunes are now ſo low, but I hope my ſword may one day raiſe them to an equal pitch with theirs that openly pretend to the glory of your ſervice: Firſt Courage and Vertue ſhould lead the way, then Crowns muſt follow to deſerve you; and Madam I will ſeek for Crowns before I vow the boldneſs to demand you; To that of Parthia which you are born to, I'le join the Median Diadem, and then the acceſſion of others ſhall [Page] ſtrengthen my claim, which perhaps may obtain my pardon of the King himſelf, ſince he cannot chooſe but conſider, that to adore Beauty and Vertue in their ſupremeſt degree, is univerſally common to Mankind. I ſhall only then profels my boldneſs, when my ſervice ſhall diſpoſe the King to ſuffer it; and I will never plead my cauſe at the tribunal of your bounty, before I have made them my powerful Advocates; with this deſign Madam I leave you, but whether criminal or innocent in your thoughts I dare not know, for becauſe the execution depends upon my life, I will not ſtay for my ſentence from your mouth, ſince if you doom me to die, it will take away the glory of my future ſervices.’

Artaban was as good as his word, and finiſhing his diſcourſe with a profound reverence; he acquitted my Chamber without ſtaying for an anſwer; indeed he might eaſily do it, for the confuſion I took from his words had rendered me ſo unreſolved how to ſhape him a reply, as it gave him more time than he needed to avoid the ſtorm by a timely retiring.

I ſtayed in the place where he left me, ſtrangely ſtung with the words he had uttered' and I know not how to repreſent you my condition, ſince I was never ſo poſed with my ſelf as at that preſent.

The difference between Artaban and I, made me receive this hardy addreſs as a mortal offence, and regarding my ſelf as a Princeſs that with reaſon enough (as well in reſpect of my great and illuſtrious Anceſtors, as the puiſſance and vaſt extent of the King my fathers Dominions) might diſpute place with the greateſt Ladies upon earth, I could not endure the thought that a man of ſo mean a deſcent, who had no other dignities but what he held by the tenour of his Sword, would dare to paint me his paſſion, without reſigning the regency of my ſelf ſome angry thoughts, that made me regard him as an Enemy: And yet the obſcurity of Artaban's extraction, could not ſo darken the remembrance of what he had done for the King my father and me, nor divert my remark of his marvellous qualities that ſhined in their double ſphere of mind and body, without confeſſing to my ſelf, that if I weighed him without partiality againſt any Sceptered Heir, and put all his great acts into the ballance, he would be found but a few grains the lighter: and I will not ſcruple to confeſs, ſince to you Madam, I am this day reſolved none of my thoughts ſhall wear a cover, that a perſon ſo refined from the common mettal of mankind as Artaban, had produced ſomething extraordinary within me; and though truth will allow me to ſay, that I had yet defended my ſelf from what you ſhall love, yet I could not hold up my heart from leaning to ſomething beyond good will. The ſenſe of his preſumption, the memory of his ſervices, and the kindlings of a little inclinations to his perſon, filled the ſcales on both ſides, and ſubjected my ſpirit to the viciſſitude of ſeveral paſſions and motives that ſometimes blew up the flames of anger, and ſometimes put them out again as they were ſwayed by the ſucceſſive uſurpations, and indeed I found my ſelf too weak to ſettle any thing in my ſoul with ſtability.

Theſe reſolutions might eaſily be read in my viſage, and my Governeſs Urinoe (who by the diſcreet care ſhe had taken of my education, and the affection I had alwaies born her from my infancy, had gotten a very great influence upon my ſpirit) approaching to me, and perceiving me ſit as it I had loſt all motion, with my head leaning upon one of my hands, and my face covered with the other, with all the ſigns of a melancholly war in my thoughts, and having before preciſely obſerved both mine and the actions of Artaban at his parting, ſhe quickly found the diſeaſe by comparing the Symptoms, however deſirous by the help of that liberty and priviledge I uſed to allow her, to draw a clearer diſcovery from mine own confeſſion. ‘Is it not true Madam, ſaid ſhe, that you are now a little in Choler, and that Artaban upon the brink of his departure, has broken the ſeals of ſome ſecret thoughts that till then were wrapped up in ſilence? 'Tis true ſaid I, he has boldly thrown down the pale of that reſpect which was due from him to his Maſters daughter, and by this piece of inſolence has put me into ſuch an angry humour againſt him as you would do me a pleaſure to go carry him a Command in my behalf to come no more in my preſence. If I commit that fault, replyed Urinoe, may the Gods never pardon me: no Madam, I am to reduable to the brave Artaban for the bloud he has ventured for you and yours to receive a Commiſſion ſo deſtructive to his quiet, and let me die preſently at your foot, if inſtead of affronting his felicity, I do not raiſe all the power I have in the world to procure it. Is it ſo Mother, replyed I, with an air that expreſſed more anger, is it after this manner that you take my part? I do not think Madam, anſwered Urinoe, that there is any ſuch vaſt difference betwixt Artaban's party and yours, as paſſion would imply, and I cannot believe I ſhall incur the crime of diſobedience by endeavouring to diſarm that indignation you have conceived againſt him. How, Urinoe ſaid I, will your diſcretion give [Page] you leave to diſpute the juſtice of my anger, when you conſider that he he is Artaban, and I am the Princeſs Eliſa? His vertue and deſert, replyed Urinoe, ought to place him better in your eſtimation, than if his veins were channels to the moſt illuſtrious bloud in the world: and I cannot chooſe but avow, that they have wrought ſo powerfully upon me, as I am leſs repugnant to ſerve him in what relates to you, than the greateſt Prince upon earth.’

After this ſhe ran head-long upon the praiſes of Artaban, from thence amplified the excuſes of her own offence, and took ſuch perſwaſive ſtrains in his behalf, as a dimmer Intellect than mine, might eaſily have perceived, how deep a character the qualities of that man had made in her opinion. ‘I cannot think it ſtrange, (ſaid the Queen Candace, interrupting her) ſince the deſcription you have made of Artaban, has drawn me ſo powerfully to his party, as I muſt ever conclude my beſt arguments well ſpent to excuſe the faults of ſo brave a man. If your eyes, as well as mine, had been witneſſes to his worth, replyed Eliſa with a ſigh, you would ſee more cauſe to defend his attempt: but I am well pleaſed to find you of his opinion, and I ſhall need a large part of this indulgence you have inſtructed me to hope for, when you have once underſtood the ſequel of my ſtory.’

HYMENS PRAELUDIA: OR Love's Maſter-Piece. PART III.
LIB. IV.

[Page]

ARGUMENT.

Artaban overthrows Tigranes, and beſieges him in the ſame City, where the Queen and Princeſs were Priſoners. The King of Media is taken by his Rival, and releaſed again in exchange for Eliſa and her Mothers liberty. He gains two ſignal Victories beſide. Makes an entire conqueſt of Media, and drives Tigranes to ſeek refuge, and beg aid in the Courts of Cappadocia and Cilicia. He is triumphantly received by Phraates. Boldly ſolicites his love ſuit to Ehſa. Is abetted by Urinoe, and at laſt wins her conſent to demand her of her Father. He receives a rude repulſe from Phraates, which provokes hot words, and they procure his baniſhment Media is invaded, and re-conquered by Tigranes aſſiſtants. Peace concluded upon his marriage with the Princeſs Eliſa. Artaban loſes his labour and liberty by endeavouring to hinder it. His ſtrange adventures upon the Sea. Eliſa is delivered from the Pirates, and brought to Alexandria.

ARtaban, having taken his leave of the King, began to march towards Media, and the next day we parted from Niſa to remove to Caſſi [...]pe, where the King frequently paſſed his Summer, and where the Court was commonly the faireſt, and better accommodated than in any other City of the Kingdom.

The Image of Artaban, as well in our Voyage, as after our arrival, was perpetually before my eyes; but my fancy, according to the alternate rule of anger and affection, received it in very different forms, and the pique I took againſt him for a crime, whereof my haughty ſpirit at leaſt pretended him guilty, had no ſuch abſolute authority in my ſoul, but it ſtill had a loving enemy to combat; I could not wake the remembrance of the declaration he had made me, without a flat falling out with his audacious enterpriſe; and yet when I called to mind the grandeur of his actions, the importance of his ſervices, and the conſtellation of his excellent qualities both of mind and body, it abated the ſwellings of my heart, and ſoftned my reſentments,

‘Can I do leſſe than hate that arrogant wretch, would I ſay, that flies at an Eagles pitch from a common neſt; that unknown thing, nay poſſibly that Cottage Creature, who becauſe he has borrowed greatneſs from his Maſters bounty, thinks he may juſtifie his ambition in taking his aim at me; Taking his aim did I ſay? he is yet a thouſand times more criminal; had he only ſinned in thought, and covered his paſſion with a reſpective ſilence, it had been pardonable; but to breath his fancies flames at the mouth, to declare his love in clear and intelligble terms, and all this to the Princeſs of Parthia; 'tis a boldneſs, 'tis an inſolence that cannot be juſtified. Diſcretion and Honour require it, that I baniſh [Page] the preſumptuous and inconſiderable man from my ſight and memory for ever; and if he crouds into my preſence againſt my will, that he be received as an idle inſolent, who by his fooliſh ambition has made himſelf worthy of my eternal ſcorn and enmity.’

Such thoughts and words as theſe, were the eldeſt Children of my anger; and at firſt they had the upper hand of all others that conteſted againſt them for whole dayes together; but in ſequel, the ſofter paſſion got the victory, and ſome favourable Demon to Artaban overthrew all the breaſt-works that my reſentments had raiſed againſt him. ‘And yet that audacious Wretch, would I ſay, that bird of a common neſt, that borrows his greatneſs from his Maſter's bounties, is the very ſame that reſcued the Crown of Media from the King my Father's hand, and ſince ſaved that of Parthia, from an evident ruine, 'tis he who ſcarce arrived at ſo many years as (upon the common account) would ſtile him Man, has already travelled in his fame to the remoteſt parts of the World, by the death of 20000 and the winning of four or five ſignal Battels; and in fine, both by the throwing down and ſupporting of Empires, as if the Gods had only commiſſioned his ſword to cut out their deſtiny: Say more Eliſa, 'tis the ſame that ſaved thee from the violence of the Medes, to whoſe victorious Fortune thy Life and honour might have proved a double ſacrifice; 'tis he that made thee the generous offer of thy liberty, to give it thee, expoſed himſelf to all the darts that one great danger could throw at him, braved the indignation and puiſſance of a King, that then had all his fears and hopes in his cuſtody; forſook his party to fight for thine; and after having re-aſſured thy Father in his tottering Throne, and untied the bands at the price of his blood, and the peril of his life, 'tis ſtill the very ſame that is gone again to repeat his dangers, and improve the number of his victories for thy intereſts; nay, poſſible to make a Province of Media to the Parthian Crown, and after all this, 'tis he that may promiſe Empires to himſelf from his own valour that may lift him to an equal dignity with thine: to theſe conſiderations, Eliſa, thou maiſt add that he is a man in whoſe mind and body are jewelled all the admirable qualities that the skil and bounty of Heaven can inchaſe in a mortal perſon, a man whom to know and not to love is half a miracle, and a man in fine, to whom, in ſpite of thy ſelf thou doſt already feel in thy ſelf, an extraordinary inclination.’

My reviſal of this laſt thought brought forth a bluſh, and the ſhame of being conquered at theſe weapons, often called in choler again to take my part againſt him.

While I was toſſed upon the ſtream of theſe irreſolutions that regarded Artaban, we received intelligence of the ſudden and marvellous ſucceſs of his arms, and had ſcarce heard that he was entered Media, when there came an expreſs that told us, he had taken two of the ſtrongeſt places upon the Frontier by aſſault, and juſt as he was ſetting down before the third, having learned that Phraates, one of Tigranes Lieutenants, was coming up with a puiſſant Army to relieve it, he had drawn off to go meet him, and ſince overthrown him in a battel with ſo great a ſlaughter of the Medes, as gave the reſt cauſe to fear that the entire loſs of their Country would ſucceed it. The King received this news with a marvellous ſatisfaction publiſhed his deſire of an univerſal joy by all the exterior marks of his own, and powered out Artaban's praiſe, in the preſence of all men with a greedineſs of gratitude: But in ſpight of all my arguments of anger againſt him, I could not chuſe but own a particular concernment in his happy ſucceſs, and then it was that I clearly diſcovered to my own ſhame and conſuſion, that this man, with whom I thought I had been angry, inſtead of holding the place of an Enemy in my thoughts, had gotten poſſeſſion of the deareſt and moſt reſerved hold about my heart, and I think the Gods themſelves favoured his incroachment; for the ſame night that this news arrived, after I was gotten to bed, my Governeſs faining ſome pretence to ſtay in the Chamber when the reſt were retir'd, and coming to my beds ſide when the Coaſt was clear with a wax Taper in her hand; ‘Well Madam, ſaid ſhe, what reception have you given the news from Artaban, and how do you reliſh that ſucceſs which conducts you to the Crown of Media? I can do no leſs than rejoyce as I ought, ſaid I, at ſuch events as advance the fortune of our family, and I quadrate mine with the King my fathers reſentments, who from Artabans victory reaps a grand aſſurance of his own eſtate, and growing hope to increaſe it by the ſpoils of his Enemies: and do you not feel, replyed Urinoe, (you that are the great wheel of all actions, for whom alone he laviſhes his blood and life) a gladneſs that intirely depends upon it ſelf, and ſingly grows up from its own root? Ah Mother, ſaid I, turning away my head to the other ſide with a troubled look, will you eternally torment me with the memory of that man whoſe ambitious flames have kindled my diſdain and anger? And inſtead of helping me to diſdain againſt his preſumption, muſt I ever be perſecuted with the grandeut of his ſervices, and the merit of his perſon? If I could hold my peace, reply'd Urinoe, without ingratitude and injuſtice, I would leave him out of my diſcourſe to pleaſe you, but all the care and complacence requir'd in a ſervants fidelity, cannot make [Page] me blot out the remembrance of a man to whom I owe all for the love of you, and whom I would not love, but becauſe you ought to do ſo. Sure Urinoe ſaid I, you have loſt a large part of your diſcretion, and I find of late ſo little reaſon in your words, as I know not whether innocence will allow me to liſten any longer to them: You may paſs what judgment you pleaſe upon me, reply'd Urinoe, with a ſerious viſage, but if you tax me with imprudence for ſo ſlight a cauſe, I fear you will judge me à convicted fool, when I have told you that I lately receiv'd a Letter from Artaban directed to your hands, with an ingagement of all the credit, that my care and your goodneſs has given me in your thoughts to perſwade your peruſal. Be not aſtoniſh'd, Madam, purſu'd ſhe, remarking ſome amazement in my looks, I would ſooner have taken my death than this imployment, if I thought it might juſtly offend you, and you would wrong me to believe that my own life is not leſs dear to my deſires than your intereſts: 'Tis true Artaban is no Prince, but his vertue has already rais'd him above the greateſt, and will doubtleſs place him in a rank that ſhall overtop the beſt of thoſe that enoble that title: Beſides, Artaban adores you with the ſame reſpect that he owes the Gods, Artaban fights for you, and poſſible in ſhedding the laſt drop of his blood at this moment in your quarrel.’

Urinoe followed this diſcourſe with a long train of other arguments, arm'd and authoriz'd with ſo much power, deriv'd from my education, as in ſpite of all my repugnance ſhe forc'd me at laſt to read Artaban's Letter, though I think ſhe had not gotten ſo cheap a victory upon my reſolution, if the treachery of my proper inclinations had not aided her, and my own deſires ſtruck as many blows as her perſwaſions in the combat.

Madam, I have made you a confeſſion, which then I would not own to Urinoe, and to that end indeavouring to poſſeſs her with a belief, that to her alone Artaban was endebted for all the obligation, I ſuffered her to approach with her candle, and ſhe open'd the Letter wherein I read theſe words.

Artaban to the Princeſs Eliſa.

‘I Know not, Madam, what ſucceſs I ought to expect from the continuation of my faults, ſince my fate enforces me ſtill to offend you, and if fortune be ſo kind to conduct theſe blots to your bright eyes, and ſo noble to loſe a few moments upon the object, you will read an unhappy obſtinacy in my crime, that may provoke a heavy doom from your anger: yet, Madam, I have no power to repent it; and though I were ſure my ruine were infallibly tyed to the perſeverance, I would run with a greedy haſte to embrace it as my laſt felicity. To die for you is a thouſand times more glorious than to put on laurel for the conqueſt of Media, or make the ſpoil of Aſia wait upon the triumph, and the victories I may win for the King your Father, muſt ever yield precedency to the honour of being vanquiſh'd by you. I know you cannot chuſe but bluſh at the conqueſt, nor rank a private man without ſhame among your ſlaves, ſince 'tis the duty of all the Kings upon earth to ſubmit to you, and wear your chains as their greateſt ornament; but we have no power to fight againſt the force of deſtiny, and as mine has not ſuffered me to faſten my regard upon any thing that is not above me, ſo yours can let you ſee nothing that is not as much below you: you will hardly find an equal to your ſelf if you ſeek it among men, and if that poverty of merit in mankind be ſuppliable in part for default of a full proportion, it can be no other way, than by ſuch thoughts of reſpect and veneration as mine, I know the preſent pitch of my ſhort winged fortunes, diſgraces all the proof I can give of any zeal to ſerve you, but poſſible the Gods may one day permit me to put longer feathers to their opinions, and ſtrengthen my plea to that priviledge by ſupplement of vertue which my birth has refuſed me. In the mean time, Madam, do me the grace to receive my ſervices without averſion, and ſuſpend your judgment, which doubtleſs by the vote of your firſt reſentments could not chooſe but be rigorous, till the ſequel of my actions may better inform you, whether juſtice will enjoyn you to ſign my pardon or pronounce my condemnation.’

This was Artaban's Letter, which at the ſolicitation of Urinoe I read diſtinctly, and though I found ſome cauſe to be vexed at the proceſs of his boldneſs, yet I had not reaſon enough left me to confute the reaſons that induc'd me to pardon him: Urinoe read more than half a confeſſion of this in my viſage, and willing to compleat her diſcovery, after ſhe had taken up the letter, which I had thrown by with a regardleſs action. ‘Ah! Madam, ſaid ſhe, why will you do this violence upon your ſelf, do you taſte any ſweetneſs in this conſtraint, or does my fidelity begin to be ſuſpected? is it to me that you ought to diſguiſe your thoughts, and do you believe that you hazard any thing, in telling me that you are not willing to hate Artaban.’

Theſe words ſpread the Crimſon livery of ſhame upon my cheeks, and covering the bluſh [Page] as well as my hand would do it: ‘Urinoe, ſaid I, you have almoſt put me paſt the power of anſwering, and if cuſtomary freedom did not give me a larger Commiſſion of boldneſs with you than other perſons, I ſhould be dumb to diſcourſe; 'tis true mother, continued I, throwing my arm about her neck, and bluſhing with a deeper dye, that I have prized Artaban's ſervices at their full value in my thoughts, and 'tis as true that I do not hate his perſon; but theſe reſentments (the ſecreteſt that ever dwelt within the cloſure of my breſt) which I ſtrip naked to you as to my mother, have not uſurped ſo far upon my reaſon to force an approbation of his raſhneſs, they have got my conſent to ſuffer, and let it paſs with impunity, which doubtleſs, I ſhould not have done, had I examined his fault with rigour, but they ſhall never ſoften me to ſo fond an indulgence as will deſerve a ſevere conſtruction, and I am reſolved to regulate all my actions to ſo ſtrict a Decorum, as you ſhall never ſee the loſs of that care you have taken to mold me after the model of vertue. I fear not that, reply'd Urinoe, your vertue has beam'd it ſelf ſo clearly through all the paſſages of your life, as I ſhall alwayes believe you capable of conquering more preſſing and paſſionate motions, and let the Gods never give me leave to demand any thing in his favour, that may expoſe you to the leaſt ſhadow of reproach: the ſum of my deſires is, that you would pluck a man from the precipice of deſpair whom neceſſity declares ſo uſeful to you and yours, one who has put you ſo deeply in his debt, and a man whoſe uncommon qualities may eaſily excuſe all the impreſſions he has given you to his own advantage; do we know for what the Gods have reſerved him? thoſe dawnings of glory that ſhined from the firſt actions of the greateſt men, were never ſo bright and beautiful as his, and if Fortune can learn ſo much juſtice to make his vertue her favourite, he muſt needs tread the Stairs of ſucceſs to ſuch a conſpicuous height as may give the King your Father reaſon to deſire his alliance.’

‘Ah mother, ſaid I, (too well pleaſed with this language) ſince you will enforce me to avow my weakneſs, to you I will no longer ſcruple to confeſs, that if Artaban were lifted to a degree, which might make him a claim to the Kings conſent, I ſhould deſpiſe the largeſt Thrones and the longeſt Scepters upon the Earth for his ſake.’

Urinoe, highly ſatisfied with her Victory, and deſirous to advance her deſign upon my yielding heart, after ſome diſcourſe (which conſiſted all of reaſons, coined on purpoſe to confirm me in thoſe thoughts) ſhe attempted to prevail for an anſwer to Artaban's letter, but of that I cut off her hopes by ſo firm a reſolution, as ſhe durſt not preſs me any further: a few dayes after, with the news of a ſecond victory, I received another Letter from Artaban, which Urinoe cauſed me to read, as ſhe did the former, and indeed there came no expreſſes from him, but ſtill gave account of the taking in of ſome City, or ſome conſiderable blow he had given the Enemy.

I confeſs the renown of his actions, the price of his ſervices, and the ſolicitations of Urinoe began to work very powerfully upon me, and in ſpight of the reſiſtance I could arm in mine own defence, all theſe conſiderations uſurped ſuch a Magiſtry upon my Spirit, as in fine, I ſadly perceived that I was now no longer Miſtreſs of my liberty; when awake he was alwayes the Argument of my thoughts, nay, my very ſleeps would not defend me from his importunate, and yet agreeable image, that was ever preſenting it ſelf to my ſickened fancy, and I beheld Artaban with the opticks of my Soul, not only as covered with the Laurels of ſo many victories, but as Artaban, whoſe perſonal accompliſhment even under a helmet, did a thouſand time out-vye the beauties of young Achilles, as Artaban ſtellified with all thoſe graces that are fit to make a feminine heart their quarry; and in fine, as Artaban, who, (at leaſt if my judgement miſtook him not) loved me as much, nay above his own Soul; how oft have I waked from theſe Dreams, when the warm blood leaped into my viſage, chaſed thither by the remembrance, that I had ſuffered my imagination to ſtray ſo unbecoming; how oft have I rowed againſt the ſtream of thoſe motions with a real anger, which I could not approve, and for ſome moments inforced my ſelf to hate the ſame thing, that my fears informed me was grown too dear to my deſires? a thouſand and a thouſand times have I tryed to take up arms in my own defence, by ſeeking for ſomething in the perſon of Artaban, that deſerved my contempt, and a thouſand times have I ſhot reflections at that abſcurity of his birth that had he known what pains I took to find him guilty, it might juſtly have edged his reſentments againſt me; the daily diſcourſes upon his repeated gallantry, that my vigilant ear gleaned from the Parthian Nobility, and the King himſelf, who every moment exalted the obligations he had to his valour, ſtruck themſelves home to the Centre of my breaſt, and at thoſe times, if a regardful eye had peruſed my viſage; it would not have miſſed the diſcovery of ſuch changes there, as might eaſily have given the intelligence, that I did not ſlightly concern my ſelf in his praiſes.

To compleat my overthrow, I received a letter from Artaban, (which aided by a prediſpoſal [Page] of my heart in his favour, touched me more tenderly than all the reſt) and with it there arived an expreſs to the King which told him, that within three dayes march of Praaſpa, the Metropolis of Media, Artaban in a great battel, had defeated Tigranes with ſuch an Univerſal overthrow, as all the Army was cut in pieces without hope of reſource, and the King himſelf, having hardly eſcaped in perſon, was gone (as the common belief had voiced it) either to ſeek for ſanctuary or ſuccour in ſome neighbouring Court, that the ſucceeding day to this victory, all the adjacent Cities had ſent their keys to Artaban, who received them in the name of the King of Parthia, and was ſince marched towards the Capital City, with a firm belief, that they had not courage enough left to ſhut their gates, or man their works againſt him.

At the news of theſe important ſucceſſes, Phraates paſſionately celebrated his fortune with a joy that equalled it, of which he openly expoſed ſome clear proofs, by the Bonfiers he cauſed to be made in the greater part of his Cities, and the honours he decreed for Artaban, to whom he erected Statutes with inſcriptions ſo glorious, as they might well have contented the moſt boundleſs and irregular ambition. The Letter I then received from Artaban which Urinoe cauſed me to read as the reſt, I think ſhewed me theſe words.

Artaban to the Princeſs Eliſa.

‘THe Medians will quickly be your Subjects, and there remains ſo little to do, to compleat the conqueſt of that Crown, as within a few dayes, I may promiſe it without preſumption; till now I have fought as a man whoſe life was not unuſeful to your family, but ſince it is become Criminal in your thoughts, and every day increaſes the guilt, I will henceforth combat, as one that hath nothing to loſe that is dear unto you, and try to waſh away with blood, the offence I have committed, ſince there is no other way to take our the ſtain; may the Gods favour me ſo much as to make that reparation great enough to appeaſe your anger, and I call them all to witneſs, that I will think my ſelf gloriouſly rewarded, for all the publick and particular ſervices I have rendered you, if you will only let me carry the ſatisfaction to my tomb, that you did not hate me.’

No Artaban, ſaid I, when I came to the period of theſe words, I do not hate you. I ſcarce uttered this before Urinoe, when ſhe ſaw the marks of Shame and Confuſion ſtart into my viſage I had not only called back my words, if it had been poſſible, but even thoſe very thoughts that hatched them, but I knew 'twas vanity to hope it, and Urinoe gladly taking advantage of the compaſſion and tenderneſs that my weakneſs betrayed for the ſufferings of Artaban, paſſionately preſſed me for anſwer to his Letter, ſhe purſued my flying denials all that day without overtaking them, but the following, ſhe continued the chaſe ſo hotly, as at laſt I was wearied to a yielding; a long luctation with my ſelf, before I could vanquiſh my repugnance to an action which my reaſon told me deſerved a ſevere cenſure; but in fine, as if I had ſuborn'd reaſon to excuſe deſire, at laſt I believed I had found a way to reconcile my ſcruples to Urinoe's will, and my own inclination; and I thought I had ſo nicely ſtudyed my reply, as might poſe a Stoick to faſten a juſt cenſure, or Artaban any advantage upon them: at laſt after a tedious choice and rejection of words, I made my paper ſpeak in theſe terms.

The Princeſs Eliſa to Artaban.

‘I Should ſin againſt my quality, thus by exchanging paper, if a juſt motive did not oblige me, and I thought not in Conſcience, whatever that action amounts to, is due to the Deſerts of your ſervices. Heaven is my witneſs that before your offence was committed, my eſtimation (bating thoſe perſons that gave me being) beſtowed not a larger ſhare of it ſelf upon any perſon on earth than Artaban, nor ſhould I have put a ſhorter date of thoſe reſentments, than my proper life, if the Cognizance of yours had not cancell'd them: I am ſorry to tell you, that your actions oblige me to hate you againſt my inclination; I neither miſprize your perſon, nor ſet too cheap a rate upon your vertue, and I could ſpend ſome wiſhes (thoſe not faint ones) that it were parallel'd by all thoſe requiſites that might Authorize your ambition: but ſince the Gods refuſed you that favour, learn to ſtoop the ſoarings of your Courage to the humble pitch of your Fortunes, and appeaſe my juſt diſpleaſure by removing the cauſe of it.’

I was very well pleaſed with the ſucceſs of my invention (as my ignorance then ſtyl'd it) and I thought I had woven my words with skill enough to ſecure my reputation: but I had not examined them ſo ſtrictly to ſuſpèct the ſatisfaction they gave to Artaban, who found it by a more cuning conſtruction, than I thought they would have born.

[Page] In effect, he diſcovered which way my inclination bent it ſelf, through the Cobweb diſguiſe of my expreſſions, which augmented his boldneſs, and raiſed his heart to ſuch hopes, as I did not think I had given him; when he received it, he was already gotten within the walls of Praaſpa, and his word had then ſo little work to make himſelf abſolute maſter of Media, as in leſs than too months time, he finiſhed the entire ſubjection of that large Kingdom to the Parthian Scepter.

In the mean time the infortunate Tigranes, was retired to the King of Cappadocia, and Cilicia, his Allies whom he endeavoured to arm for his Intereſts. That miſerable Prince then felt by a ſad experience, how deeply the Gods taſted ingratitude, and how unjuſtly we ſuffer Pride, the baſtard of Proſperity, to cancel the memory of a benefit.

While he ſolicites his friends aſſiſtance, to re-ſeat him in the Throne of his Anceſtors, Artaban who had made an entire conqueſt of his Country, received the Oath of Allegiance in Phraates name, of all thoſe whoſe loſſes had enlarged his Soveraignty, placed Garriſons in the moſt conſiderable Cities, and ordered all things elſe, as diſcretion and neceſſity decreed it. He then ſaw himſelf gloriouſly acquitted of his promiſe, and began not without the appearance of reaſon, to fortifie the hopes he had conceived; the King my Father, who yet kept it living in his thoughts, that he was reduable to his valour for a puiſſant Kingdom, was grown very ſtudious of his own power, (though I think in vain) to find whether it had a reward within its reach, that might meaſure with his ſervices; he was very willing to eſcape the guilt of a ſluggiſh acknowledgement, and whether he fear'd his great Authority among the Medes, or was really deſirous to ſee him, he invited him home to his Court in the moſt honourable manner, that gratitude could invent; I remember the Letter he wrote him ſpoke much to this purpoſe.

Phraates King of Parthia to Artaban.

‘I Am double indebted to your valour, for the conqueſt of a puiſſant Kingdom, and the conſervation of that which is my birth right, and by the ſole vertue of your invincible arm, I reign over the Medes and Parthians; but neither of theſe Crowns can give me any true taſt of happineſs without you, and I can never think the authority truly mine, till you have a ſhare of it; come a way then my dear Artaban, to receive the recompence I have prepared you: 'tis true, I poſſeſs nothing that is not below your merit, but I pretend to go as far in requital, as the deareſt and moſt precious things I have in the world will carry me.’

Artaban received this Letter with a grand ſatisfaction, and though he had a near gueſs at the Kings intention, who was really jealous of his power among the Medes, the paſſionate deſire he had to ſee me, only lent him leiſure to deſpiſe that conſideration, as poſſible it would have taught him to trample upon all others that might have offered him cauſe of diſcontent. At length he began to think (as we are all too prone to flatter our ſelves with the fruits of our own wiſhes) that the King in his promiſe of the deareſt, and moſt precious thing he had in the World, could mean no other than his Daughter; and curiouſly poiſing the weight and worth of his ſervices, he found them tall enough to over-top all other rewards but that; fraught with theſe hopes, he compleated his Garriſons in places of moſt importance, and leaving the command to him that he thought was worthieſt, he left Media behind him only with ſuch troops as were neceſſary to guard his perſon, entered the Parthian territories, and by large days marches, bent his courſe with an amorous impatience to the City, where we then reſided.

Never was Triumphant Captain received into the walls of Rome with greater glory, nor did ever her ſeven proud hills eccho with a louder acclamation and applauſe, than reſounded in the Parthian Court at Artaban's arrival; the prime Nobility paid them honours, that ſeemed only due to the perſon of their King, and if the King himſelf did not treat him with the ſpecious formality obſerved by Kings at their entertainment of crowned gueſts, at leaſt he received and careſſed him with every tender proof of affection, that might be expected by an only Son (though ſtored with all the excellent qualities of Artaban) from a paternal indulgence; in effect, he forgot nothing that could enter the thoughts of a ſtudious Gratitude, to expreſs it ſelf with Elegance, and by his own example, obliged all the perſons of honour in his Court, to a difference that offended his Modeſty: I ſhall take pity of your patience Madam, by forbearing to amplifie the ſingle particulars that conduced to his reception, and content my ſelf to tell you, that after the King had locked him along time within his arms, and held him a while in diſcourſe of his own gallantry, he led him into the Queens Chamber, where I was then preſent in a confuſion of thought, a part of which cannot well be miſſed by your own imagination.

[Page] 'Tis true, that Artaban was not unwelcome to my eyes, and I cannot ſay that there was not ſome impatience mingled with my wiſhes to ſee him; yet it poſed me to caſt up a true account betwixt me and my honour, and I knew not what face to put on to his publick accoſt, nor how to receive his particular viſit; my judgement had not paſſed the vote, whether it behoved me to treat him as a man that had publickly ſerved us, or privately offended me, and in this diviſion of thoughts, I ſaw him enter the Chamber before I had time to ſettle their obedience to a reſolution; Oh what a reſtleſs puiſſance did he bring in his looks, to diſarm a part of my choller! how had a full years abſence ſtruck new graces about him, and added me-thought ſome Majeſty to his mind; his behaviour (as my opinion weighed it) was handſome, and far more hardy than before: but I judg'd it ſo, by his deportment to the Queen, he quickly ſhewed me reaſon to quit that opinion, when he came to ſalute me; and had any critical eye peruſed our faces at that account, it had made an eaſie comment upon our hearts. Urinoe told me ſince that, if Artaban wanted any courage or aſſurance in his looks, I appear'd not leſs confuſed and aſtoniſhed; nevertheleſs as he was naturally the boldeſt man in the world, he quickly recovered himſelf to an eſtate of repeating his civilities to the Queen, to whom the King, taking hold of his hand had preſented him: ‘See Madam, ſaid he, behold the Man, that divided you chains aſunder, and revenged your quarrel; now me-thinks it ſhould not ask much pain to obtain your pardon for the Captivity he made you ſuffer, nor need we henceforth ſcruple to truſt him with the care of your liberty and revenge. He has clear'd the debt of his promiſe ſo nobly, reply'd the Queen, as he deſerves the repoſal of more confidence in himſelf, than in the entire puiſſance of a Kingdom; but you are not ſo deep in his debt, for the conqueſt of a Crown, as to thoſe that acquired him, for you, from whom without ingratitude you cannot diſavow that you received him.’

Phraates enlarged the Queens diſcourſe, with much more upon the ſame ſubject, which for a long time they bandied from one to another, ſcarce allowing Artaban the leiſure to ſpeak againſt himſelf, or his modeſty the means to defend him from the oppreſſion of their praiſes. In effect, he ſpake but little that day, and after they had thus diſpoſed of a large part of it, the King led him back with his own hand, ſtill diſcourſing upon the Them: of his great acts, and when he had detained him a while longer by himſelf, at laſt he ſet him at liberty to retire.

I was no ſooner gone back to my Chamber, when Urinoe having nicely obſerved the appearance of ſome indigeſted and irreſolute thoughts in my viſage: ‘Confeſs Madam, if you pleaſe ſaid ſhe, that the coming of Artaban has given you ſome inquietude, and you are yet divided in your ſelf, in what faſhion you ſhould treat him: If I treat him as I ought, anſwer'd I, my behaviour will neither ſuit his inclination nor mine, and I confeſs there is now a combat in my ſoul, that rends it ſeveral ways, with the greateſt torture that ever fainted a female heart. Ah Madam, reply'd Urinoe, do not ſtrive againſt the tide of your own inclinations, ſince they raiſe no War againſt your duty, and why do you refuſe a few moments audience to Artaban which he devoutly begs by my interceſſion? either permit him to juſtifie or accuſe himſelf at your feet and then if your reaſon ſays he has offended, you will find him readily diſpos'd to pay you the forfeiture of his life for expiation; and if he thinks he is innocent, you cannot make your ſelf leſs, by giving him leave to prove it. Urinoe, ſaid I (after I had taken ſome time to let my thoughts controul one another) I know it is my duty to be deaf to your deſires, and 'tis my weakneſs thruſts me headlong upon an evident occaſion of blame, but I know how that I am not able to reſiſt a motive that over-powers my reſolution, and ſince you deſire it with ſuch unanſwerable vehemence, you have leave to bring Artaban to morrow to my chamber.’

Urinoe extreamly glad of the permiſſion, the ſame Evening gave Artaban intelligence how prevalent ſhe had been in her ſolicitation, and, as he told me ſince, he prepared himſelf for that viſit, with a moſt paſſionate impatience. The next day I fained a little indiſpoſition on puropoſe to enjoyn a privacy exempted from common viſitants; nor could any think it ſtrange that Artaban was then admitted to that priviledge, if they rightly examined the credit that he carried at Court, or my particular engagements to the glories he had gotten to my advantage.

He came with Urinoe who received him at my Chamber door, into my Cabinet, whither I was retired, and where I had ſeated my ſelf upon a little Bed, having cauſed the Curtains to be cloſe drawn before the windows, upon pretence of his head-ach, baniſhing as much of the tell tale light from the Cloſet as was poſſible, that Artaban might find it leſs eaſie to read the red letters of ſhame in my viſage, for the fault I committed; indeed he entred with a grace and garb ſo becoming, as the skilfulleſt piece of detraction could have found nothing common about him; and though he carried [Page] leſs courage and confidence in his looks than ordinary, yet he had ſtill the undefaced impreſſion in his Port and viſage, or ſomething ſo great and lofty, as there was as much difficulty to miſprize him for his face, as his actions; Pardon me, Madam, if I ſin againſt the Majeſty of your thoughts, by ſhewing the eaſineſs of mine: 'tis true, I was too haſty to disband the forces of my judgement, that ſhould have reſiſted the batteries of his merit and affection, but they loſt the field at the firſt appearance, all my anger preſently tendered its arms, and I felt my reaſon in too weak an eſtate, to put a tongue to my reſentments.

All my attendants ſtaid in the Chamber, and Artaban perceiving no body preſent, but Urinoe and her Daughter, (the ſame you ſee with her here in my Chamber) who, he knew, deſerved his confidence as well as her Mother, concluding he might ſafely take that liberty in their preſence, threw himſelf at my feet ſo haſtily, as I had neither time nor power to prevent him, and kiſſed the lower part of my robe, with an action wholly ſuppliant, and indeed onely due for a meaner merit; but unwilling to let him ſtay in that condition, and recoiling a ſtep or two from the place where I was; Riſe Artaban, ſaid I, if I were not prepoſſeſſed with too much indulgence to your offences, this proſtrate action could not obtain their pardon.

‘'Tis true Madam, anſwered Artaban raiſing himſelf, that I could look for no leſs than death, from any other judge but you, and I vow by all that's great and good, if your anger has prepared me a condemnation, to receive the fatal doom from your mouth, with as perfect a reſignation, and obedience, as the pardon I beg at your hands; Believe it Artaban, you will not obtain that ſo eaſily, replyed I, as your imagination flatters you, and perhaps your own opinion has not taken your crime at the full proportion, but I ſhall refer the puniſhment to your ſelf, in appealing to your judgement for the cenſure of your faults. My faults, replyed Artaban, are worthy of all the pains that cruelty it ſelf can invent, and would be utterly of any hope of pardon, if they could not borrow ſome excuſe from the violence you have done me; 'tis not my will Madam, that has offended you, for the Gods are obliged to witneſs, I levyed all the power againſt you that was likely to preſent any fruit to hope, from a ſoul capable of knowledge and reaſon; even in my greener youth, which you know is apt to take home objects to the heart before it has weighed them, I have endeavoured to fortifie my ſoul againſt the force of nature, with an oppoſition under which I was like to fall your ſacrifice, I ſaw my reſolutions cowardly turn their heads in the combat againſt you, and though I called the knowledge that I ought to have of you and my ſelf to re-inforce them, at laſt I found an abſolute impoſſibility, to hold up arms any longer; no Madam, it was no blind preſumption that thruſt me headlong upon this attempt, for I never found any thing in my perſon or ſervices, that might authorize my boldneſs; 'tis a reſtleſs conſtraint that onely labours to excuſe me, and my thoughts are clad in all the whiteneſs and purity of truth, when I proteſt at your feet, it was onely your ſelf that forced me to offend you. I ſhould think my ſelf very innocent of your faults, replyed I, if by forbearing to cut them off in the infancy, I had not contributed to their nouriſhment, 'tis that has made me an accomplice in your crimes, and had I timely given the conſideration of my birth and duty, the precedency of thoſe ſervices you have rendred us, I had happily prevented the ſequel of a miſchief, whereof I could not avoid the beginning: but ſince it is not in my power to revoke what is paſt, I will try to expiate a part of my errour, by a better regulation of the future, and I hope my prayers will prevail with your ſelf to aſſiſt me, by changing your aims to ſome other object: No Madam, ſaid Artaban, interrupting me, let me beg you will never hope my conſent to that, if you deſire my obedience, ordain me any thing but ceaſing to adore you, ſince all your power and mine, are too weak to effect it, and 'tis as poſſible that I ſhould live without a heart, as without a heart that is not entirely yours: But what are the thoughts you foſter, anſwered I, or what deſign can you level at the King of Parthia's onely Daughter, that may promiſe any hope of ſatisfaction? The ſame, replyed Artaban, of rendring you what we owe the Gods, with a clearer ſubmiſſion, and a warmer zeal, than commonly compoſes thoſe vows, that are twice a day winged for the ſtarry Palace, the ſame of making your glory the mark, rule, and guide of all my thoughts, and actions, and the ſame of paſſing my life, or finding my death in the affairs of your ſervice.’

‘But do you believe, added I, that the King whoſe will is the law of mine, does approve your intentions? or do you think that without his commiſſion, I can keep an unſtained duty, and ſtill ſuffer them to run in the ſame channel? I will not ſay, replyed the hardy Artaban, that ſuch a Princeſs as Eliſa can be merited by Man, and I know too well, that the gaining of a hundred Kingdoms, and the loſs of a thouſand ſuch [Page] lives as mine, can infer but weak arguments to legitimate that ambition; but I think I may ſafely ſay, that if I rendered the ſervices that Phraates has received of my ſword, to any other King than him that is Father to Eliſa, I ſhould think I could not ſet them at a meaner value, than the honour to ſerve his Daughter; no Madam, 'tis the only diſproportion betwixt your ſelf and me (leaving your birth out of the ballance) and not betwixt my ſervices, and the Royal dignity, that frames my preſumption, and if my vaſt diſtance below your perſonal merits, were weighed up to an equality by your permiſſion, I would learn to hope, that by greater conqueſts than that of Media, I might become conſiderable enough to the King your Father, to own a demand of that nature without bluſhes.’

In this diſcourſe of Artaban, there was ſomething that favoured of a great deal of arrogance, and yet that arrogance appeared ſo well placed in him, and indeed all things elſe ſpeak ſo near an alliance, and ſo perfect a conformity to the grandeur of his courage, as inſtead of condemning, I felt an affectionate impulſion to augment my eſteem, and I found my ſelf utterly unable to hinder the confederacy of my words and actions, with the treaſon of my love.

‘I avow, ſaid I, that men of your condition may faſten very haughty and pregnant hopes to their courage, and if Juſtice guided the hand of Fortune in the diſtribution of her treaſury, there could be nothing above you; I know not how the thoughts of Phraates agree with this opinion, but without his ſeal I can make no aſſurance, and, that once obtained, the conqueſt of my obſtinacy will not coſt you much trouble.’

I know not what raſh fit of folly wreſted theſe inconſiderate words from my mouth, I know they were followed at the heels by ſhame and repentance, nor did the artificial darkneſs cover my confuſion from Artaban, who a little in pain to ſee it, fell once more at my feet, and kiſſing them with a tranſport of joy: ‘Now fortune, ſaid he, I bid defiance to thy malice, and ſince my divine Princeſs does vote me happy, I hope both Gods and men will declare themſelves in my favour. He ſpoke much more to this purpoſe, which I only anſwered in bluſhes, for all the time he ſtaid after this, my ſhame would not let me ſpeak in any other language, and I found it ſo impoſſible to recover my colour and confidence, as the diſcovery of it made him take his leave ſooner than he intended; and he went out of my chamber with hopes, that till then he had never conceived.’

After that day, he directed all his actions to deliver me ſo many meſſages of Love, and paid me his reſpects in ſo amiable and obliging a faſhion (or rather Madam, my weakneſs underſtood it ſo) as I was content to pull off the mask of my affection: but before I came to this confeſſion, it coſt him whole days, with abundance of preſſing and paſſionate diſcourſe, whereof the length releaſes my repetition: but when I had once vanquiſhed that difficulty, he receiv'd ſome proofs of my affection, that ſhewed my indulgence in a deeper tincture than the difference of our conditions would well permit, however they were ſtill limited by rules, as ſtraight as the ſteady hand of a vertuous reſolution could draw them, he never obtained any favour from me, beſides what the tongue and the eye delivered, and I ſtrictly reſerv'd my ſelf to the Kings diſpoſal, without whoſe conſent I always aſſured him his hopes were thrown away.

I know Madam, that maugre all my circumſpection, I was yet very culpable, in not taking the firſt kindlings of affections, from the commands of thoſe to whom my birth had ſubmitted me; but I know too, that 'tis no wonder if extraordinary merit produce effects that are like themſelves, nor need thoſe hearts, that have held the fortreſs all their life, againſt a puny Siege, be aſham'd of an overthrow, by ſuch forces as vanquiſhed me: ‘Yes my dear Artaban, I love thee, and I ſhould love thee yet much more than my ſelf, if the Gods had left thee ſtill amongſt men;’ couldeſt thou come hither again from thy ſtarry habitation, thou would'ſt juſtifie the affection I have for thee, and I cannot now diſavow it with ſo little ſhame, as before I confeſſed it.

The fair Princeſs was conſtrained to ſtop the current of her diſcourſe, on purpoſe to make way for another, compos'd of ſome fugitive tears, that had newly broken over their Cryſtal banks in abundance, and after ſhe had thus wept and ſigh'd away ſome moments, wherein the fair Queen took occaſion to ſweeten her ſorrows, with all the comfort that her pity could invent, ſhe went on in this manner.

Artaban was ador'd among the Parthians, and the prodigious things he had done for the intereſt of that nation, acquired him ſo much honour in the general eſteem, as could not well be aſcrib'd (and ſave Religion harmleſs) unto a mortal perſon, eſpecially the King, who had reap'd the faireſt fruits of his glorious labours, and ſaw himſelf ſurely ſeated by his valour, not only in his own eſtate, but Maſter of one of the greateſt Kingdoms in Aſia, openly publiſhed his impuiſſance, to pay what was due to ſo great a vertue: of this he made a [Page] particular declaration the ſame day he was crown'd King of Media, after the ceremony was ended, holding Artaban in his left hand: ‘'Tis of you great man, ſaid he, with a loud voice, (for I have neither power nor will to diſavow it) that I hold this puiſſant Crown, and I do here deeply proteſt in this aſſembly, by all that Religion requires to make a vow ſacred and obliging, I have nothing ſo much my own to make it not totally at your diſpoſal, nor can you name a demand of what price ſoever, that I will ſtay to conſider before I grant it.’

Artaban heard theſe words with an exceſs of joy, and full of thoſe forward hopes they had given him, turning to the King: ‘Sir, ſaid he, it beſeems not Artaban, to miſprize the favors of his great and bounteous Maſter, for which perhaps he will ſhortly take enouragement to put a name to his requeſt; for though my ſervice be light and trivial, yet I cannot be ignorant, that it is the cuſtom of ſuch great and magnificent Princes as your ſelf, rather to quadrate the reward to the largeneſs of their own hearts, than the merit of him that receives it.’

The King, who had not yet ſpi'd out the mark that Artaban aim'd at, received his diſcourſe with a very high ſatisfaction, and as till then he had been much troubled at his refuſal of the greateſt offices of honour, truſt and profit in the Kingdom, the belief that he would now accept the proffer'd bounty which he hop'd might pay the purchaſe of Artaban's ſervice for the reſt of his life, made him gladly faſten upon the words, and oblig'd him openly to repeat and confirm his promiſe: I confeſs Madam, that I received a great deal of contentment from my intelligence of this paſſage betwixt him and the King, and a few days after, was ſo eaſie to be overcome to a conſent by Artaban's importunities, that ſo ſoon as the next occaſion invited him, by adventuring to name his demand, he ſhould try how the King ſtood inclined to the accompliſhment of our wiſhes: this permiſſion ſo exalted him, as he thought nothing impoſſible to his Courage and Fortune, and as Nature had always lodg'd in his breſt a haughty opinion of himſelf, he was grown too credulous to ſuſpect any impoſture in theſe hopes that preſaged a favourable event to his deſigns.

He made choice of a time to hazard the attempt, when many conducing circumſtances appeared to plead in his behalf, and juſt upon the firſt arrival of a rumour, that the Kings of Cilicia and Cappadocia, had each raiſed a numerous Army to play an after-game in Tigranes quarrel, he thought no time ſo critical, as that to attempt the King, nor none ſo promiſing (the approaching danger conſidered) to transform his hopes to aſſurance; beſides the publick engagement of the Kings word, to grant him his deſire without a limitation, he remembred the ſame expreſſion he had under his hand, that he was willing to reward his ſervices, with the deareſt and moſt precious thing he had in the world, his hopes were yet better fortifi'd againſt the menaces of fear by the publick wiſhes, and he knew the Parthians daily talk'd without a whiſper, that if their King deſir'd to ſet an invincible guard upon his new acqueſt, and raiſe the power of his Empire to a prouder pitch of glory, than ever the greateſt of his predeceſſors had flown it, Phraates could find no fitter expedient than Artaban's alliance by the marriage of his Daughter, ſince all the ſtate policy he had, though it ranſak'd and rifled the whole world for a choiſe, could not find out a more valiant Defender for his People, nor a Succeſſour whoſe Perſon and Goverment would be more agreeable to his Subjects; that the Male-line of the Arſacides being utterly extinct (the Prince Tyridates excepted, to whom they all knew Phraates would never leave his Crown, and the baſtard Venones, whoſe pretences would be always like himſelf, illegitimate) he would either be obliged to create a Candidate for his Crown at home, or elſe contract an alliance with ſome neighbour King, and ſo run the hazard of Metamorphoſing the Parthian liberty to a provincial ſervitude, which could not be leſs than inſupportable to that warlike nation.

When theſe popular diſcourſes had once found the way to Artaban's ear, they quickly matured his reſolution to a poſitive degree; in fine, he began to think that delay might do him injury, and concluded it unfit to ſtay till time might moderate the Kings impatience to requite him, and the beauty of his brave acts had left its gloſs in his memory.

In the heat of thoſe thoughts, (after he had once more beg'd my permiſſion) he went one day to find out the King in the Palace Garden, where he was then walking with a train of his principal Nobility about him: the King receiv'd him with a very affable aſpect, and after the exchange of ſome open diſcourſe before all the company, at laſt (as his frequent uſe had made it a cuſtom) he drew him aſide from a particular Parley, and to that purpoſe making a ſign to the reſt, not to follow him, he paſs'd into the next Alley leaning [Page] upon his arm, and began to entertain him with indifferent things, as chance and occaſion offer'd to his thought.

Artaban having allowed ſome time to a reſpective attention, and ſhap'd ſuch replies, as he knew were moſt agreeable to Phraates humour, at laſt grew deſirous to change the Theme of their Diſcourſe to a ſubject of more importance, and chaſing all the fear from his heart might diſcredit his deſign, by appearing in his looks and geſture; ‘Sir, ſaid he, how are your intentions now bent to diſpoſe of us? has your judgement voted us uſeleſs for your future ſervice? and are you content to ſit quietly down, with the Crowns of Parthia and Media, when you have power enough at your beck to Maſter the greateſt part of Afia? you underſtand that the Kings of Cappadocia, and Cilicia, have already raiſed forces in Tigranes behalf, to wreſt the Crown of Media out of your hands, and in outward appearance, your Majeſty takes no care to prevent them: I beſeech you Sir, give us leave to go meet them, before they force the unwelcome complement of a hoſtile viſit upon us, let me once more beg the honour and aſſignation of as many troops to my conduct, as I had for the conqueſt of Media, and ſuffer me for your intereſts, to carry the War home to thoſe Princes doors, that are coming beyond their limits in chaſe of their own misfortune; Sir, I do make you a promiſe of their ruine, to be paid in leſs than is requiſite to take exact ſurvey of their Provinces, and if I do not lay both thoſe Crowns at your feet, before Time be two years older, blot out the name of Artaban from your memory, and call me Impoſtor.’

When Artaban ſpake in this manner, the King regarded him with admiration, and inſtructed by the proofs of a fortunate experience, how capable he was to change his words into actions, he liſtened to the ſame language from him, as he would have done to an Oracle, which might have been interpreted from another mouth, as the effects of a vain preſumption; and he had made uſe of ſome time to ſhape his reply, throwing his arm about his neck: ‘Invincible Artaban, ſaid he, or rather the Soul of valour, ſent down to the Parthians as a favour from Heaven, for their ſecurity and advancement, I have ſo little reaſon to lay the blemiſh of a doubt upon your generous propoſitions, as I one day hope, by the vertue of your warlike arm, to check the arrogance of that proud Empire, and pluck the Eagle pinions that pretend to make the world their quarry, ſince you are reſolved to unſheath your ſword againſt them, I hold the Cappadocians and Cilicians already defeated, and I aſſure my ſelf with as much confidence of both thoſe Diadems, as the Crown of Media, wherewith your hands impal'd my Temples: but Artaban, to what do you reduce me? how unkindly you uſe me with this exceſs of merit? and how do you think I can reign over ſo many people without a bleeding honour, when I ſhall not reign but by the ſole valour of a man that will take no reward at my hands? you have owned ſo little eſteem of offices, treaſures, and indeed of all things elſe, that others would greedily ſeek, as I have ſcarce the confidence to reſolicite your acceptance of any gift, for fear of offending your courage; and will you never let me know, that though you refuſe what my gratitude is able to offer as a requital, yet you will not diſdain it as a badge of my inviolable amity?’

Artaban unwilling to let ſo fair an opportunity eſcape him, regarding the King with a viſage leſs aſſured than before; ‘No Sir, ſaid he, I will not always dwell upon theſe terms of refuſal, and if till now, by ſo long forbearing to ask a recompence, I have paſs'd in your thoughts for a modeſt man, I ſhall doubtleſs now, by demanding one of too high a value, incur the cenſure of an inſolent; Sir, you have that at your diſpoſal, that carries a capacity, not only of rewarding my former ſervices (they are too cheap and worthleſs to give me any right to ſo rich a ſalary) but indeed of overpaying (like a great and bountious King) all the reſt that I am preparing to render you, which I do not queſtion ſhall wear the badge of more deſert and importance, than any that preceeded them. 'Tis true Sir, that Riches and Dignities are not rated by my courage as the world eſteems them, but you have a treaſure in your power, that may dazle the boldeſt aſpirer to a diſtruſt of his ambition, and if I have raſhly raiſed the wings of my deſires that way, I do but take the juſt dimenſions of your greatneſs, which I cannot offend, ſo weakly to ask any thing below it in proportion. In fine, Sir the Princeſs Eliſa is the only fruit, the Centre, the Soul of my life, and all my happineſs; and (if I may dare to call her ſo) the price of my Actions, if my ambition has broke the bounds of her proper ſphere, and ſoars too high, I will ſtrive to train my ſervices to the ſame ſublimity, and if Crowns be wanting to ſet off that vertue which your Majeſty has honoured with ſo high an eſteem, ſince neceſſity requires thoſe ornaments to excuſe my raſhneſs, ſo long as any ſhall ſit upon the heads of your Enemies, we ſhall have right enough to promiſe you their poſſeſſion.’

[Page] Artaban in ſucceſs of theſe words, put a knee to the ground before the King, a poſture that he thought fitteſt to follow this hardy petition with, when he ſaw his face turn pale then preſently over-flowed with a fiery bluſh, and in a few moments, by the continued riſing of more clouds, grown the Omen of a following tempeſt.

In effect, Phraates, the proudeſt and moſt haughty hearted Prince upon earth, was ſo deeply incenſed at Artaban's demand, as he had much ado to ſuffer the memory of his ſervices, to ſtop the natural courſe of his own inclination, which you know, by what you have already underſtood of his life, was ever prone to bloody and barbarous affections. However he made a ſtrong aſſault upon himſelf to moderate the fierceneſs of his paſſion, and regarding Artaban with a face full of ſcorn, ‘I cannot now wonder, ſaid he, at your former proceedings, and I find you had reaſon to diſdain Offices of ſo petty a concernment, ſince you had tyed your pretences to my Daughter and my Crown. The boldneſs of that thought were worthy of an exemplary puniſhment, in any perſon that weighed leſs in my eſtimation than you, but the conſideration of your ſervices hath got your pardon, in hope you will take future care to pull ſome Feathers from the wings of your ambition.’

Artaban received this ſudden change in the Kings ſtile, like the blot of a thunder-bolt, but his undaunted courage quickly came to his reſcue from that aſtoniſhment, when repulſing the danger, to its own credit of ſuch a ſurprizal, and clearing his looks of all the troubles that had newly invaded them: ‘If the glorious reward I demand, ſaid he, by a juſt computation, does over-top my ſervices, they are above all things elſe that you are capable of giving; nor can I be ſo weak an Arbiter of my own deſert, to loſe the knowledge that I have added more to your grandeur, by preſerving one, and planting another Crown upon your head, than the greateſt of your Neighbour Kings can bring to out-bid me for the title of your Son in-Law: nor would I be miſtaken to foſter any thought that I have, or can ever pay a valuable price of merit for ſo rich a Jewel; but Sir, if I be guilty, let me dare to ſay, your ſelf is an acceſſary, 'twas you betrayed me to theſe hopes, when you promiſed to pay my ſervices with the deareſt and moſt precious thing in the world. I thought, replyed the King, that thoſe favours, which I never placed upon any but your ſelf, might have challenged the Epithets of dear and precious enough in your thoughts, and ſo your own judgement ſaved you the labour of making ſo unlikely an explication of promiſes; 'tis from the valour of my own ſubjects that I hold the aſſurance of Parthia, and the conqueſt of my other Kingdom, and if your Sword hath carved me your ſhare of victory, ſince I did you the honour to place you at the head of my Army, you have gotten glory, and gathered profit enough from that employment, to content any ambition that is leſs unreaſonable than yours: Yes Sir, replyed the fierce Artaban, the glory remains ſtill in my poſſeſſion, and with the advantage of obliging none but ingrateful Kings; 'tis all the fruit I can ſhew of the ſcars I wear for you and the unfortunate Tigranes, from whoſe lofty creſt I plucked down Victory, to perch her upon your Standards, tumbled him from his Throne, and chaſed him out of his Territories, and all this to put you in poſſeſſion of a power to treat me ill in yours: thoſe very Subjects to whoſe valour you are ſo deeply indebted, methought defended you but feebly, when the point of my ſword was turned againſt them, and had not I lead them the way to glory, perhaps your old Subjects would never have ſubdued you new ones; Sir, I muſt know no fear to ſay, that this hand alone put both the Scepters into yours, and the glittering ſpoils you enjoy of thoſe victories, were purchaſed by my blood, and bought with the peril of my life: could juſt anger put my will to ſuch an act, I might yet change the lot of War, and carry back the ſmiles of Fortune to your Enemies party, and could I prevail with my ſelf, to do as much for Tigranes, as I have lately done for you, peradventure I ſhould find ſtrength enough to lift him up again to that throne, from whence I pull'd him for your intereſts: but the reſpect that I muſt ever preſerve for the Princeſs Eliſa, forbids me to carry any aid to her Fathers Enemies, and for her ſake alone, the Sword, which is yet keen enough to cut the threds of as many Parthians, as it has freſhly done of Median lives, ſhall never more be drawn either for or againſt you.’

At theſe words he returned his back, and offered to leave the room, when the King ſtaying him by the arm: ‘Say no more, ſaid he, with a furious look, that I am ungrateful for the ſervices thou haſt render'd me, and in lieu of that grand reward thy fancy hopes did aim at, receive thy life at the hands of my unmeritted mercy, which thy Inſolence has forfeited to the ſword of Juſtice: till now I never ſuffered reproach or menace from any mortal perſon, and thou alone haſt put my patience to a proof, that would have been fatal to any other, and may at laſt be deſtructive to thy ſelf, if thou doſt not teach thy tongue more becoming language: King of Parthia, ſaid Artaban, ſince thou haſt refuſed me all that I thought worth the asking, I ſcorn to owe thee for either mercy or favour; and if thou think'ſt I can [Page] take my life as a gift at thy hands, know that I diſdain to keep it at ſo baſe a ranſom, and now me-thinks, as thy ingratitude has disfigured it, it looks ſo ugly, I would not receive it from thee, but as the greateſt plague that Heaven can ſend me, coming from thee, I refuſe, reject it as I did thoſe offices and honours thou would'ſt once have given me, and if thou haſt not forgot what is paſt, thy concernments will inſtruct thee, to cut a man from the world, that wants no more than intention to ruine thee.’

The King heard not theſe laſt words; for ſo ſoon as he had vented his own paſſion, he turn'd his back to Artaban, and had left a pretty diſtance betwixt them, before he had done ſpeaking. Artaban, rather dead than alive, by the Kings example, bent his ſteps to another part of the Garden, and making choice of the moſt ſecret and untroden Alley, that his ſorrows could light of, he buried all his hopes and comfort in the cruelleſt thoughts that ever ſhook ſo great a ſpirit; this ſad and ſudden change in his condition, had like to have made his Executioner, and he often put a hand to the guard of his Sword, with a purpoſe to make a paſſage for his Soul to get out at; ſome few moments after, a furious Demon of vengeance, turn'd the impetuous torrent of his thoughts againſt Phraates. And ſo long as that violent paroxiſm of choler laſted, never did open anger, or ſecret malice, contrive a deeper revenge, than what tumultuous thoughts then urged againſt him: but the remembrance of Eliſa, hung chains upon his paſſion and he had no ſooner admitted the conſideration that Phraates was her Father, but it turn'd the edge of his keeneſt reſentment, and baniſhed all that diſobeyed his love: ſometimes he prepared himſelf to go find Tigranes, and joyn intregue with him for their common vengeance, feeding his hopes of that deſign, with the haughty opinion of his own merit; but theſe motions were quickly out of favour, when the memory of Tigranes affection to Eliſa came once to accuſe them, and it leſs affronted his reaſon to ſeek a retreat in the remoteſt corners of the earth, than hide his head under the roof of his Rival: beſides he remembred the promiſe he had made the King, never to bear Arms againſt my Father, and though his Conſcience could have grown contented to diſpenſe with the breach of that engagement, yet the fear he ſtill kept to diſpleaſe me, had too powerful an influence upon him to defeat that reſolution: in fine, where ever his fancy moved a wing, ſhe encountred new torments, and freſh cauſes of incurable vexation, and ſtill as he ſent his thoughts to hunt for comfort, they brought home no other quarry, than variety of ways to periſh; ‘Unfortunate Artaban, cryed he, what doſt thou longer here? get thee down into the ſhades in queſt of that repoſe which the world denies thee, and conteſt no longer with thy implacable enemy, Fortune, whom thy evil genius has bribed to undo thee; the Sun has ſhin'd upon no part of the world where thou haſt been, wherein thy felicity has not been affronted, and if the fates have favoured thee in War, the harveſt of the victories have been taken in by other hands, the pain, the ſhame, and the deſpair, ſtill ſtays with thee; to thee Earth is fruitful in nothing but ingrateful perſons, every man to thee will either be a Tigranes, or a Phraates, and by ſuch as thoſe the Gods, whoſe wrath is the product of thy pride, have decreed to tread upon the neck of thy ambition: ſure they are angry to ſee how audaciouſly thou doſt raiſe thy courage above the birth they allotted thee; and if thou canſt not humble it to equality, try to bound thy unjuſt pretences with a death that has only power to free thee from theſe calamities, to which thy aſpiring deſires will eternally expoſe thee: But why ſhould I die, continued he, after a little breathing, before I ſee how the powers above will diſpoſe of thoſe puniſhments, which (how ſeverely ſoever they have uſed me) are doubtleſs ready to drop upon the heads of theſe unworthy wretches? it may be they have made them their inſtruments to humble thee, without an approbation of their ingratitude, and the deſtiny that waits on that may inſtruct thee to hope a happy change in my Fortune, and a revenge of my Injuries: Did I ſay to hope, added he, what baſe fear ſhall uſurp ſuch power to pinion my endeavours, that I may not make it a certainty? Has the change of my condition ſunk it ſelf into my nature, and is that valour ſhrunk away from my aſſiſtance, that a few months ſince has cauſed ſuch ſtrange revolutions in too great Empires? May not I reſtore to the humbled, and poſſible repentant Tigranes, what I took from him, for the proud and diſdainful Phraates, for Phraates a thouſand times more ingrateful than the King of Media, and all this with a ſucceſs ſo unconceiv'd by the moſt pregnant hopes, as my ſelf had enough to promiſe all that was perform'd; go then wronged Artaban, and once more draw thy Sword againſt this inhumane monſter, whoſe Soul is ſanguin'd with the ruine of all his neareſt kindred, eſpouſe thy quarrel with the loud cries of his Fathers and Brothers blood, whom he barbarouſly butcher'd; and if we have provok'd the Gods, in lending ſuccour to this Parricide, let us ſtrive to appeaſe thoſe angry powers by carrying the ſword and fire into the bowels of his Parthia, which in his quarrel too lately devaſted the Median Empire: Oh my reſolutions (continued he, after a little interval of ſilence) [Page] how juſt you are, and yet how faint and feeble, when Eliſa enters the liſts againſt you; with an invincible difficulty does my ſpirit feel (deeply ſtung as it is with the ſenſe of my injuries) to frame the projection, or ſo much as ſhelter a thought that may diſpleaſe my ſovereign Princeſs, this ſword, that once was fortunately drawn for her intereſts, has neither edge nor point againſt her Father; and if the greedy thirſt of revenge ſhould ever ſeduce my conſent to offend her ſo rudely, I could not think of a leſs expiation, to force a paſſage with the point to that heart, which the entertainment of ſo profane a deſire would render utterly unworthy to be the Guardian and Tablet of ſo fair an Image.’

Thus did the two factions of his reaſon grapple with each other, while he ſought the moſt unviſited corners of the Garden, to make a liſt for the Combat; and in fine, the conteſt was like to be determined by ſome deſperate reſolution, when his Eyes encounter'd with me, only attended by Urinoe, and her Daughter; I had ſpy'd him as I croſt an Alley, with a purpoſe to ſhelter my ſelf from the Sun, in the covert of an Arbour, and deſcrying a part of the truth through his melancholly garb and choice of ſolitude, the trembling deſire I had to clear my conjecture, made me give the reſt of my train a command to wait my retreat upon the bank of a Brook that ran through the Garden, while I, propping my ſelf on either ſide with Urinoe, and Cephiſa, directed my ſteps to the farther part of that Alley, which I had ſpy'd Artaban enter at the other end, and I had not left many paces of it behind me, when I was ſuddenly upon him, before the deep diſpute of his thoughts would permit him to diſcover me. I am ſtill troubled at the remembrance of that ſad eſtate wherein I found him, his viſage was totally changed; and if for ſome moments it was painted with the fiery colour that Choler gives, preſently grief got the victory, drove that ſanguine tide to a retreat, and cover'd it with his own complexion, ſo wan and pale, as if the cold approach of Death had newly frozen up all thoſe Crimſon channels; his Eyes, the uſual Heralds of his Heart, that were ſtill ſparkling the contents of ſomething there that was great and noble, were now eclips'd with a dull gloomy cloud of woe, and his very diſcerning faculty almoſt choak'd up with ſome tears, which made themſelves a breach in ſpight of all his Courage, that denyed them paſſage.

Gods! what a fearful divination of my ſucceeding miſchief did that object ſhoot into my ſoul? how quickly did my ſpirit at the ſame time take the impreſſion of my miſery, and releaſe my repoſe? I advanced towards Artaban, with little leſs diſquiet in mine, than his looks had ſhown me; the noiſe of my approach made him lift up his head, and he knew me, in ſpight of the prepoſſeſſion of thoſe paſſions that diſputed precedency in his Soul: the light of me inraged the ſtorms of thoſe tranſports that ſhook him, and he had much ado to ſtop the torrent of his griefs from breaking out into a diſcovery by a loud out-cry; though I often called him by his name, as I made my approaches, it was long before he could digeſt his woes into words; and, inſtead of advancing to meet me, he leaned his back againſt an Arbour, and holding his arms a croſs upon his breaſt, he ſtaid my coming up in a poſture, that pierced my very Soul with pity: my affection ſoon reached me a ſhare in his anguiſh, and it coſt me no ſecond thoughts to divine the cauſe of his inquietude, the fear I had entertained to learn ſomething from his mouth that would juſtifie it ſelf, made my tongue turn coward for a time, and charactered a diſturbance in my looks that were little ſhort of his; in fine, I firſt overcame the confuſion, that ſhared it ſelf betwixt us, and violently putting by my own ſad apprehenſions, that my judgement might have liberty to make a more dexterous application of comfort to his: How now Artaban, ſaid I, are your knowledge and courage both wracked with one guſt? what have you let your ſelf ſink under the weight of a grief (that appears in your viſage) below the knowledge of Eliſa?

At theſe words Artaban drew up two or three groans from the bottome of his breaſt, and faſtning his eyes upon me with a wild and half diſtracted look: Yes Madam, I do know you, ſaid he, with a voice compoſed of almoſt as many ſighs as words, and oh that Heaven had pleaſed I had known you leſs or better! In fine Madam, purſued he, a little re-inforcing his ſpirits, the ſame Gods that took me from you, have cruelly torn thoſe hopes from my heart, that my indiſcretion planted there; and a King, whom I can neither call cruel, nor ingrateful, becauſe he is your Father, does rigorouſly puniſh the ſame offence your indulgence pardoned, his refuſal expoſes me to a death, that might have been far leſs bitter, and more glorious, had I received it as a juſt doom of my boldneſs from your command, but in this my deſtiny is much more cruel that (utterly unable to love the man that pays me no other price but Death for all my ſervices) it is not permitted me to hate him that diſcloſed ſuch a mine of Treaſure as your ſelf to the World.

At this period a ſhower of tears, that violently broke their way, ſtayed the purſuit of his diſcourſe, which ſoftened my Soul to ſuch a melting temper, as forced me freely to unlock [Page] the channels of my own, and putting my hand before my face with a purpoſe in part to hide them: ‘Artaban, ſaid I, my fears were always Prophetick of what has befallen you, and though (your ſervices eſteemed aright) I believed ever, there could be nothing too great for your expectations, yet I know the Kings diſpoſition too well to over-ſee ſo ſad an augury: this I may ſafely proteſt, and poſſibly, with too much truth, that the cauſe and ſenſe of your ſorrows have equally divided themſelves betwixt us; and ſince you cannot be ignorant that I love you, you may eaſily gueſs from that, how large a ſhare my heart has carved it ſelf in the ſufferings of your diſgrace: would to Heaven it lay in my power to ſmooth all the frowns in the face of your fortune, and that the Gods had as happily ſuited the Kings intentions to mine, as my will is ſubmitted to the indiſpenſible tyes of duty, to an abſolute dependance upon his: Believe it Artaban, you ſhould quickly know, that your vertue takes place of all thoſe in my choice, that ſwell the titles of the greateſt Kings; nor has the whole Univerſe a capacity to court my ſoul with a clearer ſatiſfaction, than by putting you in poſſeſſion of that priviledge my wiſhes deſign you: But ſince the Gods will not let us be happy at our own Election, call upon the greatneſs of your courage for a reſignation to their wills, 'tis that muſt create you hopes to calm and quiet your diſpleaſures, and doubtleſs cut you out fairer Fortunes, than any can flatter your expectations in the Court of Parthia. I cannot ſee my ſelf reduced, Dear Artaban, without a ſad reluctance, to offer you this Counſel, but you muſt not be ignorant how poorly my power can befriend my will in a buſineſs of this nature, and you know with what a preciſe obedience maids of my birth are tyed to the auſtere rules of their duty, they are thoſe that ſubſcribe me a blind ſubmiſſion to the will of my Father and my King: And they are thoſe, interrupted the ſad Artaban, that reduce me to this deplorable eſtate, which draws tears from your fair eyes; no Madam, 'tis not the power of a King that creates my misfortune; had I nothing but that to combat, perhaps I might find forces enough to hold up my Buckler, which now I muſt lay down at your feet, ſince you are my oppoſer; it may be I ſhould throw down all other difficulties that ſtand in my way to happineſs, and I think the powerfulleſt impediments would all become the Trophies of my reſolution, if your conſent would vote the Triumph; but 'tis that I know not how to hope: and 'tis that too, Madam, that has made a coward of all my courage to demand it; no Madam I dare not ask any thing that croſſes your humour in behalf of a miſerable man, nor pretend to the violation of a duty that forbids me to be happy: for though I were born to greater Crowns than thoſe that embrace your Fathers Temples, I ſhould not ſuffer ſo bold a thought; but ſince a Sword is all the portion that Heaven has given me, I ſhould be too unworthy of the glory I have gotten by it, in ſerving you, ſhould I ask more than what I have already received of your goodneſs: my deſires then Madam, are all contracted in this ſingle requeſt, continued he, throwing himſelf at my feet, that you will only ſuffer me to go away with the honour of being yours, and continue it, till one ſhort Scene of my life be acted, I ſhall not long trouble you with keeping the Commiſſion, and I promiſe you to make haſt into the arms of Death, as the only medicine that is left for all miſeries.’

While he ſpake in this manner, I had ſeated my ſelf upon a bank that was behind me, and regarding him in what ſad eſtate, with all the tender agitations of Love and Pity: ‘Yes my dear Artaban, ſaid I, where ever you go you have my conſent to be always mine, and the Gods can witneſs I would be yours too, had the King and his Daughters deſires been as neerly ally'd as themſelves: live then with this aſſurance, but remember I bid you live, nay I command you to take care of your life, ſince I have ſome hope ſtill left unſtrangled that tells me Heaven will not always let you be unhappy; I know it will concern your ſafety, to abſent your ſelf a while from the Court, becauſe the Kings anger was ever too dangerous to be truſted, but I hope the want of you at the helm of his affairs, will quickly make it ſelf known by ſome following diſadvantages, that will not only oblige him to call you back again, but offer that into your arms, which he has ingratefully refus'd you: in the mean time oppoſe your deſpair with this belief, he ſhall find it no eaſie Province to make me diſclaim my right in you for a new object, and ſo far a Decency will defend thoſe endeavours, I ſhall take care to preſerve you from the miſchief, of ſeeing that in another mans poſſeſſion, which was unworthily denyed you: If this be your reſolution, Madam, cryed Artaban, I am not half ſo miſerable as my ſorrows told me, but as I bind my promiſe by all that ever was obliging, to make my future behaviour take laws from the profound reſpect my Soul has for you, and obey them by reregarding that happy man, without a deſign to diſquiet his Fortune, whom your own free ſuffrage ſhall raiſe to the honour of your bed, ſo I beg your licence to oppoſe the felicity of thoſe, with all the power I can make that pretend to that bleſſed Priviledge againſt your [Page] conſent. I allow your requeſt, replyed I, without a farther conſideration, and after this permiſſion, do make it my prayer to you, to retire your ſelf from hence, leſt (the laſt jars betwixt you and the King perpended) I contract a ſevere cenſure by ſo long a diſcourſe; nor can I think my ſelf ſecure from the bolts of his anger, if ever he arrives at the knowledge of our privacy; Adieu Artaban, and do not complain of a cold unkindneſs in this farewel; for if you deſire to oblige me, you cannot do it better, than by believing that Artaban's memory ſhall ever be as dear to me, as Eliſa's life.’

Theſe laſt words took their flight with a torrent of unruly tears, that climb'd over the walls of their priſon, while Artaban took his laſt leave of me with a very paſſionate diſcourſe; which in the broil of troubled thoughts I could underſtand but confuſedly; I left him half dead at this ſeparation, and walked a way from him for fear of a ſurprizal, but in ſo ſtrange a diſguiſe of grief, as it was long before I durſt come in ſight of my Women, and I ſought out all the ſecreteſt walks in the Garden, that I might have leiſure to quiet and compoſe my diſorders before I appeared; indeed I think at laſt my face had parted with ſome of it, but my ſoul was ſtill upon the Rack, and torn ſo cruelly, as I believe Artaban himſelf ſcarce felt more torment: The whole remainder of that day I was utterly incapable of any entertainment or accoſt: and I ſpake to none but Urinoe and her daughter, whom I ſuffered to be partners in my woe for Artaban's misfortune and my own. I ſay my own, for I always ventured an equal ſhare of happineſs in his Barque, nor was it in fortunes power to ſend ſuch a ſtorm as would ſhip-wrack his joys, and let mine ſwim to ſhoar.

‘Ah! Urinoe, would I ſay, ſince 'twas impoſſible for you to over-ſee this event, or miſs the fore-ſight that Artaban's pretences to me would never be authorized, why would you favor his attempt ſo imprudently, and why with ſo many preſſing ſolicitations ſtrive to enter my heart with his love, that it might be this day wounded with his loſs? That unfortunate is gone, and carries away no other ſalary for his great ſervices than his own deſpair, nay poſſible he is gone into ſome other Country leſs ingrateful than this, with a fatal reſolution to throw off his miſeries with his life, and force them both to expire together; while I ſtay behind with the ſtings of a remorſe for expoſing a man that has ſo bravely obliged me, to the cruelty of ſo many diſaſters. But as there is but a part of Eliſa ſtays behind him, ſo he cannot go away with Artaban entire and undivided; and if he leaves me a heart, which I keep as the deareſt pledge that ever was pawned by lover, ſo I have given him leave to glory in the poſſeſſion of that which my duty (how preciſe and ſevere ſo ever it ought to be) could not refuſe to his Merit, his Affection and Services.’

I breathed my ſorrows with divers other diſcourſes of the ſame tenour, which I cannot repeat and be civil with your patience, and all my actions were diſtempered with a grief ſo violent, as there were very few eyes in the Court too dim to diſcover it.

The next day after Artaban's departure, the King came into my Chamber, and finding me in bed, which I reſolved to keep for ſome days, on purpoſe to conceal what my tell-tale looks would have betrayed too plainly: ‘The audacious Artaban, ſaid he, was yeſterday ſo raſh as to demand you of me, for the ſallary of his ſervices; can it be poſſible Eliſa that you ſhould either know, or approve his inſolence?’

Theſe words ſtab'd themſelves to my very heart, but unwilling to betray any trouble in too long a ſtudy for an anſwer: ‘Sir, ſaid I, the ſervices of Artaban are known unto me, but I am a perfect ſtranger to his inſolence, and he never diſcovered any thoughts to me, that might juſtly offend your Majeſty: If I thought, replyed Phraates, knitting his brows, that you favoured the ambition of that preſumptuous man I ſhould ſoon make you know the diſpleaſure you have done me. The Queen coming in at this paſſage, interrupted the ſequel, and ſecretly ſtrove to allay the Kings paſſionate heat with milde and gentle inſinuations; ſhe was a perfect lover of Artabans vertue, as ſhe deemed her ſelf obliged, and had been touched with a tender ſenſe of his diſgrace: In fine, her gloſs upon the cauſe of his diſturbance differed much from the Kings;’ and though her opinion pointed at ſomething too hardy in the attempt of Artaban, yet that reflection could not blemiſh the eſteem ſhe had for him, and proved ſo far from forcing his deſerts to the loſs of any ground in her memory, as if his felicity had depended upon her diſpoſal, ſhe would not have oppoſed it; however ſhe openly regretted the unlucky cauſe of his abſence, and though ſhe durſt not condemn that refuſal the King had made him, yet ſhe made no ſcruple to ſpeak it in his preſence, that ſhe was ſorry his paſſion had forfeited the future ſervice of ſo brave a man; and if he thought him not worthy to wear the title of his Son-in-law, ſhe wondered he would not rather endeavour to preſerve him by ſome other benefits, than pay the arrears due to his merits with injuries and out-rage.

The King, who had yet little feeling of the fault he had committed, could not ſuddenly [Page] repent it, and repulſed all thoſe that adventured to urge the neceſſity of Artabans valour, for the defence of his Eſtate, with ſuch thundering words, and a look ſo terrible, as none of them were hardy enough to re-inforce their arguments: the obſtinacy of this humour ſtuck theſe ſentiments in his breſt for a time, and the proſperity of his affairs had ſo inchanted his reaſon, as he had already driven Artaban from the place he held in his memory, and ſhuffled him among the common throng of men, prized him no better than one that he might loſe with no inconvenience, and a perſon without whoſe aſſiſtance, he and his Parthians had eaſily performed what Artaban had done in his defence, and for the advancement of his grandeur.

But it coſt him no long time to diſcover the vanity of theſe thoughts, and ſince 'tis but fit that I abridge my ſtory by ſtepping over the particular ſallies of my grief into ſeveral complaints for my Artaban's abſence, which neither the inſenſible charms of time, nor all the comforts Urinoe could coin, had power to aſſwage. I ſhall ſucceed to paſſages of more importance, and recount the ſtrange revolutions cauſed by the abſence of one ſingle perſon, that in ſhort time befel a potent Empire.

Two months were ſcarce added to the age of time when the King received intelligence, that Archilaus King of Cappadocia, and Philadelph Son to the King of Cilicia, two young and valiant Princes, to whom Tigranes had fled for refuge, had raiſed a mighty Army in behalf of that uncrowned Prince, and with him entered Media, whereof the peoples averſion to the Parthian government, and the aſſurance they repoſed in their own ſtrength, had furniſhed them with reaſons to aſſure themſelves the ſucceſs of a re-ſubjection to the proper owner; Phraates a little ſtartled at this news, drew his forces together with a dexterous haſt, and ſent a flying Army of the firſt Troops that rendezvouzed into Media, reſerving the main body to be led on by himſelf when they were ready to march; but all the bloſſoms of his expectation were blaſted, for the Medes univerſally taking Arms at the appearance of their King, and the Parthian Garriſons, frighted at the vaſt number of their Enemies, daily rendered the places they defended upon very ſhameful capitulations.

Artabans who commanded for Phraates in Media, having drawn together the body of an Army, with a purpoſe to ſtagger the ſucceſs of his Royal Enemies, was cut in pieces with his whole Army, and of all the moſt conſiderable Cities in Media, there was not one that in leſs than two months time had not planted the Standards of their lawful Prince upon the walls, and either cut their throats, or ſent away the Garriſons upon miſerable conditions.

The forces that Phraates ſent to ſtop the courſe of this impetuous ravage, were defeated as ſoon as they appeared, and when he came himſelf into Media, he found it entirely reduced to its old obedience.

Phraates was amazed at ſo ſudden and ſo ſtrange a change, and of two Crowns he poſſeſſed but a few months before, perceiving himſelf reduced by the chance of War to the moiety, became very ſenſibly afflicted with ſhame and anger, and too late regretted the loſs of Artaban, who could as bravely have preſerved what he generouſly acquired: Grief and Repentance equally contributed themſelves to his diſquiet, but rumour quickly repreſented the neceſſity of other thoughts, when he learned that the three victorious Kings, (after they had made themſelves abſolute Maſters in the heart, and ſpread their ſucceſs through all the veins of the Kingdom) were coming up to fight him with an Army, which ſwell'd to a greater bulk at every ſtep, by the hourly addition of new forces that flocked in to their Prince from all parts.

Phraates plainly perceiving his numbers too thin to accept the defiance, was fearful to fight upon ſo great an inequality, and drew back his Army towards our Frontier, his Enemies improving their pride and courage at this retreat, almoſt trod upon the heels of his Rear in their march, and appeared as ſoon as he, upon the ancient limits of Parthia.

The ſame Tigranes that a few months before (unable to tread a foot upon his own land) had been inforced to beg the ſhelter and ſupport of his life among ſtrangers, then ſaw himſelf repoſſeſſed of his hereditary Throne, and in a more potent condition than ever to make the Crown of Parthia tremble upon the head that wore it: in effect he was now in power to give a mighty check to the Parthian Monarchy, and the two Kings his Allies (Princes provoked by their proper vertue, and the bruit of Phraates cruelty to liſt themſelves on his Enemies party) were reſolved to break into his Territories, and with their friends to carry on the quarrel of Divine Juſtice, for the blood he had ſpilt at home with ſo black a Cruelty; all the Courage Phraates had, could not exempt him from ſhaking at the threats of this approaching tempeſt, and indeed he was in very great danger, when his fears were unexpectly releaſed from the Rack, by a friendly Demon to the Parthian Monarchy, and my particular Enemy.

Tigranes wholly vanquiſhed, deveſted and driven from all, he had ſtill nouriſhed the flames [Page] of a paſſion that I was ſo unlucky to kindle, and finding that ti ſtill blazed higher he made his hoſtile approaches to our Kingdom, he thought himſelf in better caſe than ever to make it publick to the world, and demand me of my Father with a ſword in his hand, that fortune had already render'd very dreadful to Phraates; he made this propoſition to his two friends, and though then their ſpirits boiled with the heat of Victory, yet they were loath to reſiſt a deſign, whereof the accompliſhment proffered peace to their People, and ſatisfaction to their friend, the only cauſe that helped them on with their Armour.

Tigranes confirmed by his friends conſent in this reſolution, and beſides deſiring to ſit quietly down with his Subjects, and taſt the ſweets of a calm repoſe which ſo long had been expoſed to the miſeries of a cruel war, ſent two of his prime Nobility to Phraates, with an order to demand me for their Queen, and an abſolute power to conclude the Peace and Marriage.

They could not have made this propoſition to Phraates in a more propitious ſeaſon, and the terrour of their Arms had already diſpoſed him to accept conditions, much leſs advantagious than thoſe they offered him, for beſides that he had then the power of three great Kings to grapple with, which he found himſelf too feeble to reſiſt upon equal terms, he diſtruſted his peoples allegiance, who he knew deteſted his cruelty, and learning from all parts of his Parthia, that the moſt conſiderable perſons ſhrunk away from the War, and openly cryed out for Peace, his Jealouſie foretold a dangerous inſurrection, if he took not a ſudden care to content their longing.

Phraates treaty with ſuch thoughts as theſe, when the Embaſſadors of Tigranes arrived, not only prepared their welcome, but procured them a favourable audience, and at the firſt overture of their Maſters meſſage, got them a full conceſſion to all they demanded, as well in relation to the Peace as Marriage; never was affair of ſo grand importance huddled up with ſo ſhort a debate: before the Embaſſadors returned to their Prince, the peace was concluded, the Articles ſigned, and the unfortunate Eliſa deſtined as a victim to be ſacrificed for the publick repoſe.

Tigranes diſtruſting the King of Parthia's performance of Articles, inſiſted upon a ratification of the Treaty, before he drew off his Army from the Frontier, believing, that while he held Phraates in the chains of fear, he might more ſecurely tye him to the accompliſhment of his word, than when he once retreated without an Enemy at his heels to the center of his Dominions; my Father repreſented that ſuch a precipitation in affairs of that nature, would carry a very ſhameful conſtruction, and appear to the world with all the proportions of a forced act on his part, without the leaſt guſt of a liberty, that (content rightly ſtated, and reputations conſidered) might perform a clearer ſatisfaction to both.

At laſt Tigranes conſent ſtruck fail to the opinion of his two Royal Friends, that adviſed him to render Phraates the deference he deſired, coupling their Counſel with a promiſe, that if he broke his word with him, they would once more joyn their Forces to his, with a reſolution to ruine him.

All things thus concluded, and ſolemnly ſworn on both ſides, the two Armies drew off from their Poſts and retreated, Tigranes and his two Couſins took the ſeveral ways that led to their own Provinces, and Phraates bent his courſe to Hecatompolis, where we then reſided, but he was followed by the Embaſſadors of Tigranes, one of which, as cuſtome would have it, was to eſpouſe me in their Kings name at the Parthian Court, and after the Ceremony conduct me into Media.

In the mean time I trailed on my life in a very doleful condition, the memory of Artaban made a continual war upon my quiet, I loved him far dearer ſince his diſgrace and abſence than ever before, and if at that diſtance he could have travelled his eye to the naked tablet of my heart, and ſeen how ſtrong a guard of favourable and faithful thoughts I had there placed about the Image of himſelf & vertue, it could not have brought him home a feeble ſatiſfaction, old time (that uſually ſheds poppy upon ſuch reſentments) could never ſhade the eyes of mine with the leaſt inclination to drowzineſs, and if before he had appear'd with ſome graces about him that were lovely, he then preſented himſelf armed at all parts with ſuch invincible advantages, as left nothing in Eliſa's power to give away from him; I paſſed away a part of my life in diſcourſes of him with Urinoe and Cephiſa; and they could not pleaſe me better than by ſtraining their art of ſpeaking well upon his praiſes, but we never cloſed our Converſe without a warm Epilogue of tears; and ſometimes when thoſe were wiped away, and liberty allowed it, we begun the diſcourſe again, and ended it with another ſhower: You may judge Madam, whether I lightly concerned my ſelf in the wrongs he ſuffered, ſince if for his conſideration, I made no vows againſt my own party, at leaſt I learned the news of their diſtreſs without a ſigh, nay, and in ſome kind rejoyced at the bad ſucceſs of our arms, and the unlucky confuſion to which my Father had reduced himſelf, by driving ſo brave a Pilot as Artaban, from the helm of his warlike [Page] affairs. Had Artaban kept his command, would I ſay, when Fame brought me the news of our overthrows, Victory would never have left us, and the ſame Tigranes, that now proudly rides in his Triumphant Chariot, had ſtill hung down his uncrowned head, and tamely taken the Chariot of a ſhelter from Couſin Kings.

Theſe were my thoughts, theſe my employments, when I received the diſmal news of a publick peace, and my own private diſaſter: I underſtood the King had made me the price of his ſafety, before he vouchſafed me the leaſt notice of ſuch an engagement, and I learned he had given me away to Tygranes, at ſuch a time, when my heart had more averſion for him, than any that nature had ever made of his ſex.

Madam, as I have already told you, he was a Prince handſome enough, Couragious and Valiant, without the leaſt blemiſh of Cruelty, Avarice, or any other Vices, which blot the Lives, and ſully the repute of Princes, (at leaſt if you bate his ingratitude to Artaban, for which his Love does make ſome Apology) and yet whether I derived my Antipathy from ſome undiſcovered cauſe in nature, or the reaſons already alleadged, ſince the time that I firſt beheld him, when my heart was mine to diſpoſe of, before Artaban could plead any priviledge there, I never admitted the leaſt inclination to his perſon; but at ſuch a time, when his Competitor had made ſo clear a conqueſt of my will, I could not underſtand that I was promiſed to Tigranes, without falling into the extreams of a comfortleſs grief: What, cryed I, has the King given me to the greateſt of his Enemies, that would doubtleſs have denied me to the deareſt of his friends, and does he ſacrifice his only Child to his peoples repoſe, without conſidering how juſtly her own does plead for a place in his thoughts?

In ſequel, I carefully informed my ſelf of the truth, and receiving (wherever I bent my inquiry) nothing elſe but cruel confirmations of my miſery, I took a ſad farewel of all my hopes of a reverting happineſs, and abandon'd my ſelf to the cold imbraces of a deſperate melancholly, that even tore up my very capacity of comfort by the roots.

In this calamitous condition the King found me, when he arrived at Hecatompolis, and underſtanding the cauſe of it, he burſt into an anger that would not ſuffer him to ſee me for ſeveral days after; but at laſt, importun'd by neceſſity, either to bow or break me to his will, he cauſed me to be call'd into his chamber, and no ſooner ſpy'd me at the door, when without any other reception (though he had not ſeen me of divers months before.) What Eliſa, ſaid he, do you then oppoſe my intentions, have you ſo ſlender a portion of reſpect for the commands of a Father and a King, that you can give them the hearing, and refuſe your ſubmiſſion?

The fierceneſs of the Kings action, and the tone of his voice, ſent ſome fear to my heart, yet they could not ſo appeal my Courage, but it recovered ſtrength enough to throw me at his feet, and return him this anſwer.

‘Sir, I was ever reſolved to ſpend my whole life in a continued practice of obedience to all you ſhall pleaſe to ordain me; but you know Sir your ſelf has always taken care to nouriſh ſo ſtrong an averſion in me to Tigranes, as I hope you will not think it ſtrange, if I feel an impoſſibility to vanquiſh it. Tigranes was my Enemy, reply'd Phraates, when I commanded you to hate him, but now he is become a friend to the houſe of Parthia, 'tis my abſolute and indiſpenſible will, that you love him with all the faithful rights of affection, that are due to the man I have choſen for your Husband. Ah! my Lord, ſaid I, will you wrack the quiet of my life, and ſink my joys at once, for State conſideration, and will you not give me ſome time at leaſt to clear my breaſt of all that denies him entrance there, before you force me to his bed? never think to obtain any thing of me, reply'd the furious King, but the extremeſt degrees of hatred and rigour, if you keep the leaſt objection to my will unvanquiſhed by your duty; go, get you out of my preſence, and come no more in my ſight, before you have bow'd your ſtubborn heart to obey me without a ſcruple of repugnance.’

I was ſtruck dumb at the cruelty of his language, and returned to my chamber ſo confus'd and afflicted, as it coſt me the reſt of that day, to get my reaſon again into her place.

The next morning there came a command from the King, that I ſhould make my ſelf ready to receive Tigranes Embaſſadours, who a little after, being entred my chamber, they entred me an account of their delegation in behalf of their Prince, and offered the firſt homage of that reverence, which they paid me as due to their Sovereign Queen.

I would not ſuffer any paſſion to break looſe in their preſence, as without doubt I had done, if I durſt have followed the ſtream of my own reſentments, but they cull'd a very ſlender ſatisfaction from my language and looks, and if an impos'd formality put ſome of my words in a civil frame, they came from me in a poſture ſo viſibly conſtrained, as they might eaſily read [Page] through it the ſmall inclination I had to become their Miſtriſs; however in publick they deem'd it not fit to ſilence any further inquiſition, and the King, without ſo much as vouchſafing any enquiry what blows I had ſtruck in the Combat with my ſelf, caus'd all things to be prepar'd for a Ceremony, to which I was to be lead as a victim to an Alter.

Gods! what a world of unquiet thoughts did then tread the mazes of my ſoul! what excuſes did I not make to the unfortunate Artaban whom a rigorous conſtraint had cauſed me to abandon! how often have I ſummoned heaven to take notice of the violence was offered me, how oft from the juſtification, have I paſſed to a complaint againſt him, accuſing his affection of Apoſtacy, and falſly charging him with inſenſibility of my affection and diſcharge of my intereſts.

Cephiſa and her Mother daily endeavoured to dry my eyes, but were utterly unable to ſtop their ſource with any ſolace to my ſad heart, and the Queen my Mother, whoſe ſweet diſpoſition ever charged it ſelf with a tender care, and a dear indulgence for the peace of my ſpirit, knowing her power too weak to wreſtle with the Kings intentions, left nothing uneſſaid to eaſe me of my anguiſh, by perſwading a reſignation to his will, though ſhe has proteſted a hundred times a day, that ſhe would not think it too dear a rate, to ranſome my repoſe at the price of her own, and vowed ſhe could not ſee the cruel preparation of my following miſeries, without getting all my ſighs and ſufferings by heart in her own breſt. But fortune had not ſpent the ſpightfulleſt miſchiefs ſhe intended upon me, and ſhe raiſed me up a freſh diſaſter (unforeſeen by my fears) that ſtruck me deeper than all that fore-ran it: and now Madam, you are to underſtand the uttermoſt effects of ingratitude and cruelty.

There was but one day left unſpent before that which was appointed for my nuptial Ceremony, when the King, being in one of the Palace Courts, inviron'd with a proud train, compoſed of the prime Nobility among the Parthians, and the King of Media's Embaſſadors, ſaw himſelf aborded by a man, whoſe unexpected appearance was quickly grown the aſtoniſhment of all the beholders: His viſage was pale, and a little altered, yet not ſo eſtranged by that change, but he was quickly known to be Artaban by the whole aſſembly; at the view of a man ſo indeared to the beſt, and affectionately rever'd among all the Parthians, their joy ſtarted out into a thouſand acclamations, and the King recovering his face as well as the reſt, appeared with a greater ſurpizal in his looks than any of thoſe attended him.

Artaban not ſo much as ſtraying one ſingle regard from his purpoſe upon the troop that invironed him, directed his addreſſes to the King himſelf, and his ſteps no ſooner carried him near enough to be heard, when ſetting apart all other formalities: ‘King of the Parthians, ſaid he, I am not returned to thy Court to demand Eliſa, nor to tell thee I am content to fall in the price of my ſervices into a cheaper value: I am only come hither, to make thee a new offer of this arm, which of late thou haſt miſſed to thy grand diſadvantage, and whereof the ſole abſence has poſſibly reduced thee to take very ſhameful laws from thy Enemies; I hear thou art reſolved to give away thy Daughter to Tigranes, the cruelleſt of all thy oppoſers, to whom upon a fair and unforced treaty thou wouldeſt doubtleſs have refuſed her, and thou receiveſt him for thy Son-in-Law, at a time when all Aſia takes notice to thy ſhame, that nothing but fear and weakneſs makes the match; Phraates, if thou haſt not caſhiered all care and eſteem of thy repute and glory, yet break this diſhonourable Marriage, and inſtead of giving with thy Daughter the Crown of Parthia to Tigranes, ſuffer me to reſtore thee that of the Medes, which once before thou didſt receive at my hands, I dare engage all the honour I have gathered in the field, to recover it before Gods and men; and if with the ſole aſſiſtance of thy Forces I do not ſet it once more upon thy head, before the Sun ſhall compleat the Circle of a year, I am contented mine ſhall be expoſed to all the rigours thy wrath can invent, with an utter abjuration of any plea for mercy.’

Thus did the undaunted Artaban diſcloſe his thoughts, and the King, who during this diſcourſe had recovered himſelf from his firſt amazement, darting at him a diſdainful look: ‘And whence comeſt thou, ſaid he, thou that didſt ſo baſely ſhrink from me in the war? has thy fooliſh preſumption brought thee to be my Counſellor in peace? art thou now crept out of thoſe lurking places, where thou didſt ſhroud thy head from the ſhowers of danger in our Combats, to diſturb mine and my ſubjects repoſe, to re-kindle a war that has already coſt ſo much bloud, and by the example of thy own perfidious actions oblige me to break an alliance, which my word and honour are laid in pawn to perform?’

At theſe injurious words, Artaban loſt all patience, and as nature had planted noble ſcorn in his ſoul to pocket any wrongs for fear of death, his contempt of that bug-bear received an extraordinary increaſe from the provocation of this unhandſome language, and beſpeaking the expectation of what he had to ſay with a terrible look: ‘The glory of my former actions, ſaid he, has power enough to juſtifie and ſecure it ſelf againſt the reach of any ſtain [Page] from thy reproaches, and thou haſt ſeen me fight with too much prodigality of blood for thy Intereſts, to make thy ſelf believe that fear could ever force me from the Combat; no Phraates, if I forſook thee in the war, thou knowſt 'twas thy ingratitude bereſt thee of my Sword, and I cannot be accuſed of Cowardiſe, and diſloyalty by any but Monſters and Parricides.’

Theſe bold words that openly uncovered the blackeſt of his crimes, ſet his rage a running like wild-fire through all the parts of Phraates body, and turning to his guards; Seize upon him, cryed he, in a flame of fury, let him be taken dead or alive.

Theſe words had ſcarce mingled themſelves with the air, when Artaban was invironed by a thouſand of his Enemies, but though the love of life was utterly expelled his breſt, yet revenge eaſily got his conſent to hold it at a very dear rate to thoſe that firſt attaqued him, and now he preſented the ſame dreadful Sword to the throats of his oppoſers, which they had often ſeen him brandiſh againſt their foes in ſo many Combats, and from which the Sun then firſt beheld victory to be raviſhed by an unequal number: Phraates their Captain was preſently thrown dead at the feet of his Companions, and in a few moments the forwardeſt of his Men received a like paſs from his ſword to follow him: Artaban then quitting the care of his own preſervation ruſhed in among them with a head-long fury, and quickly goring himſelf all over with their blood, was in an inſtant become ſo terrible to the hardieſt of his Enemies, as Phraates himſelf, though bulwarked round with thouſands of armed men, ſcarce thought his perſon ſecure behind ſo many bucklers: Yet at laſt this prodigious valour grew incapable to guard his liberty, and while it was ſtill cutting lanes through thoſe that faced him, they aſſaulted him behind with better ſucceſs, and by an inundation of his Enemies, which powred themſelves at once upon his back, he was born to the Earth, and reduced to an Eſtate of making no more reſiſtance.

By the Kings orders he was immediately bound and led before him, and Phraates had cruelty enough to aggravate the ſenſe of his misfortunes with menaces and reproaches unworthy of enterainment in the mouth or mind of a King: Artaban retorted all his threats with contempt, and was ſo far from ſtooping to a power, with the leaſt Flexure of ſubmiſſion, that might have given or taken his life at pleaſure, as regarding him with an eye that ſpoke nothing but diſdain and indignation: ‘Phraates, ſaid he, I ſhall receive the bloody kindneſs of thy command that dooms me to die, and prefer it (the main one denied) above all the dignities that Fortune has left at thy diſpoſal; credit me King, 'tis a neceſſitated ſacrifice for the ſafety of thy Son-in-Law, and might concern thy own, if my reſpect to the Princeſs Eliſa did not guard thee from ſuch intentions.’

The King, after he had vomited ſome outragious words againſt him, that ſhewed the cruelty of his nature, ſent him to one of the rudeſt Dungeons in the City, commanded his hands and feet ſhould be laden with Irons, and impoſed very ſtrict precautions upon his guard, that made them acquainted with the importance of the Priſoner, and the fear was due to the recovery of his liberty.

The laſt diſaſter of Artaban ſpread a ſtrange amazement through the Parthian Court, and thoſe that a while before had ſeen that great Man at the head of their Armies dealing deſtruction with a dexterous hand (as if he played with victory) among their Enemies, gaining battles, conquering Kingdoms, and quitting himſelf in all his deportments, as if he had been ſent with a Commiſſion from Heaven to make their Nation happy, could not ſee him thrown into a Dungeon, charged with Irons, expoſed to ſhame, and in all their judgements, pitched as an eminent mark for death to draw her bow at, without ſpending ſome ſerious reflections upon the ſickly conſtitution of humane fortunes, and deploring the fate of ſo brave a man with all that could ſignallize an unfeigned affliction: 'Tis true, they found ſomething that required a ballance in the haughty humour and indomitable ſpirit of Artaban, but when their memories glanced upon the marvellous things he had done for them and their Country, they knew not how to accuſe his confidence; ſince it took a lawful birth from the greatneſs of his heart and Courage, which had ſo bravely beaten off, and defeated danger, that threatned chains and ruine to their Country: but if the Parthians intereſſed themſelves in Artabans fortune, judge Madam in what manner I was touched at the news of this unluckly paſſage: I am diſcouraged to enterprize the difficulty I feel to perform it, and ſhall cloſe it in as few word as will ſerve to tell you, that my grief ſeemed to have borrowed ſome darts of death to ſtrike me, and I think the ſudden arreſt of fate it ſelf, would not have dealt more cruelly? My ſorrows were grown ſo head-ſtrong as they eaſily taught their untoward children my tears to break their bounds, and I had ſo little power to pinion the aery wings of my ſighs, that they broke looſe in whole Troops to carry news of my reſentments; all that day I ſhut up my ſelf with Urinoe and her Daughter, not permitting ſo much as the ſight of any other perſon; all the parts of [Page] ſpeech that belonged to the Grammar of a lawful grief had a free paſſage through my mouth, and if I lamented Artaban's misfortune, I complained a thouſand times of his imprudence, and decryed his deſperate reſolutions that loaded my mind with more miſery than it was able to ſupport; the Kings bloody diſpoſition filled me full of deadly fears in his behalf, and I could not examine the danger that menaced his life, without ſuffering ſuch thoughts to devour my quiet, that were the neereſt neighbours to deſpair.

‘Ah Artaban, would I ſay, art thou come back on purpoſe, to bring the cruelleſt addition to my grief, that it was capable of receiving, and was it not enough for the unfortunate Eliſa to ſuffer for thy abſence, but thy return muſt throw us both headlong to our Tombs? I had ſadly loſt the hope of ever ſeeing thee again, and now thou haſt raſhly removed that affliction; but Ah! thou haſt done it with a dangerous appearance that puts me to far greater pain, than a perpectual divorce could ever have inflicted.’

I tormented my ſelf in this manner, and waſted the whole night in ſuch a doleful condition, as I think my ſorrows would have ſoftned the ſtony heart of Phraates himſelf, had he rightly underſtood them; but in this full tide of affliction, maugre all my proteſtations and tears, I was forced to obey a cruel order from the King, that cauſed me to be conducted to the Temple, there to eſpouſe Tigranes, in the perſon of his Ambaſſador, and receive the Crown of Media.

I was too great a ſufferer at this Ceremony, to bring away the deſcription: In ſhort, I was there eſpouſed, there publickly Crowned (and after all the ordinary formalities that uſually wait upon ſuch ſolemnities) led back to the Palace, in an eſtate that contracted pity from all that ſaw me, the King my Father excepted.

After this action he fell to conſider what he ſhould do with Artaban: the revenge he believed was due to the unbecoming words he had given, carried weight enough in his thoughts, to make a ſeeming juſtice his aſſaſſine, but beſides the turbulent motions of his Choler, he had many other reaſons, and thoſe of no feeble footing in his breaſt, that ſolicited Artaban's ruine; his experience of this mans invincible ſpirit, and his amorous aims at me, hatched him ſome ſanguine fears, that he would prove a perpetual ague to himſelf and his Son-in-law, remove Heaven and Earth to raviſh Eliſa from the hands of Tigranes, and alwayes keep a capacity conſiſtent with his life, to diſquiet the two Kingdoms, as well by the help of his offended courage, as the affection and authority, which his grand actions had acquired, and were likely to preſerve him among the Medes and Parthians. In fine, he thought he could not ſleep ſecurely, ſo long as ſuch an Artaban was above ground to traverſe his deſigns, and this conſideration eaſily got the victory of all that reſiſted it to conclude his murder, but when his memory made freſh oppoſition, by reviving the ſervices that man had done him, he gave credit to a new conception, that he could not bring him to a Scaffold, without deepning the tincture of his execrable crimes, to the eye of the World, and drawing upon himſelf a dangerous encreaſe of his peoples hatred, to whom he was already very odious.

The influence of theſe reaſons on both ſides held him ſome dayes irreſolute, but the laſt could not prevail for Artabans pardon: in fine, he cloſed with one invention, that he thought would render him leſs odious than any that had trod their ſucceſſive ſteps through his fancy.

He was well acquainted with the cauſe and temper of Tigranes reſentments againſt Artaban, and beſides the knowledge that all the world had of it, he remembred in his propoſitions of peace, he demanded his head, or Artaban dead or alive in his firſt Article, beſides, he had underſtood that ſince his impriſonment, Artaban had openly proteſted, if he were at liberty again, he would kill Tigranes, which being told to the Median Ambaſſadors, they had brought it in as a new complaint againſt him to the King, this ſprung him a conceit, that he might ſafely rid himſelf of Artaban, and tye Tigranes to him in an immortal obligation, ſending (with his ſpouſe) his Enemy in chains, by his death to ſatisfie for all the loſſes he had cauſed him.

This thought had no ſooner made it ſelf known, but preſently grew up to a reſolution, and to the perſons were appointed to conduct me into Media, there was added a great number of others to guard Artaban thither, but becauſe he feared thoſe friends that Artaban's vertue had acquired among the Parthians, ſhould attempt a reſcue if we took the ordinary road, he directed our voyage through Hircania though much the farther way, and gave ſecret orders to a certain number of veſſels, that he judged neceſſary for my conduct and Artaban's, to wait us at a Port upon the Caſpian Sea, where we were to imbark, after we had traverſed Hircania.

See Madam how far he ſtretched his ingratitude, and what a rancorous malice inhabited his heart, to expoſe a man that had ſo gallantly obliged him to the rage of an Enemy, that had never been ſo but becauſe he ſerved him.

[Page] The rumour of this reſolution that raiſed a general murmur among the Parthians, ſtuck me with an unparallel'd aſtoniſhment; all the bloud I borrowed from his veins, could not ſtop my cryes againſt this laſt effect of Phraates cruelty, but when I had ſpent ſome ſerious reflections upon this deſign, I ſpyed a little glimmering of comfort, and I believed there was more hope of procuring Artaban's ſafety, by my intreaty to Tigranes, upon whoſe ſpirit I ſtill thought affection had left me ſome authority, and whoſe diſpoſition was never voiced by the common repute to be cruelly enclined, than by leaving him to my Fathers mercy, whoſe marble heart never gave acceſs to pity, when choler or ambition kept the gate.

But why ſhould my relation travel the farther way towards its journies end, by ſuch unpleaſant paſſages? this deſign of the Kings was acted as reſolved, and I was ſnatched out of the Queen my mothers arms (who as well as the wretched Eliſa, was ready to dye for grief at our ſeparation) before my fears of ſuch a ſudden divorce had time to feel themſelves in ſeaſon, and conducted with Artaban, through Hireania, which is under the King my Fathers Dominion, to the Caſpian Sea, where after I had given my laſt farwel to thoſe, who, through private reſpect or publick command, had accompanied me thither; was put into a veſſel among the Medes: Artaban laden with Irons, in another full of armed men, and both theſe followed by three other Ships fraughted full of Souldiers, that were rather ſent as a guard to the Priſoner, than a train to the Princeſs: they were commanded by Oreſtes, Brother to the ſame Euphrates that was killed by Artaban a few dayes before in the Court, and therefore for the greater aſſurance, preferred by the King to that charge, as his bittereſt Enemy: Oreſtes had with him a thouſand well trained men in thoſe veſſels, and Polinices, who by the Kings Commiſſion was captain of my Convoy, commanded two or three hundred Parthians that were all in our Ship, with my Women, and a part of my Family; of all his Servants, then the unfortunate Artaban had no other with him but Telamon, a young man of a great heart, a lively wit, and rare fidelity.

I ſeemed as if I had rather been conducted to my Tomb than my Nuptials, and if ſome Bolts and Shacles had not made the difference betwixt us; it would have troubled any judgment, not anticipated to diſtinguiſh which, or Artaban, or I, was the Priſoner.

All the time we travelled by Land, I durſt not ſo much as demand a ſight of him, and I deemed the requeſt would be eaſier obtained, when we were once on Ship-board, and had loſt the ſight of ſo many perſons that came no farther than the ſhoar, and might propably carry back dangerous news of them that permitted it; however the firſt day I thought it unfit to hazard a repulſe, till I had made my ſelf better acquainted with the faces of thoſe that had power to grant it, but the next day after ſome endeavour to ſoften and flex the ſpirits of Polinices and Tigranes Embaſſadors with gentler words, and ſmoother looks than I had formerly put on, I begged their permiſſion for a ſight of Artaban upon the deck of his Veſſel; at firſt theſe barbarous Men made ſome ſcruple to conſent, and defended their diſobedience, with the Kings orders, which they alledged were poſitively expreſs and rigorous againſt it: but at laſt I aſſaulted their obſtinacy with ſo many powerful and prevalent reaſons, telling them that the ſight of me could no way conduce to the ſafety of Artaban, that at beſt they would but rob themſelves of an opportunity to oblige me, ſince I knew I could owe the ſame favour to Tigranes when ever I deſired it; and at laſt threatning to let my ſelf dye with hunger, and ſo bereave them of all the honour and reward they expected for their ſervice in my conduct to the King of Media, if they refuſed my demand, as in fine, whether the fear of a future revenge for the churliſh refuſal, or the importunity of my prayer was the beſt advocate, they gave me my deſires: then was Artaban's veſſel brought near to mine, and himſelf placed upon the Deck, with all his Irons about his arms and feet: this object ſtruck a horrour through me of my Fathers inhumanity; and (if Cephiſa had not ſupported me) doubtleſs I had fallen upon the Deck, and all the ſuccour ſhe could lend my feeble ſpirits, had much ado to hold in my ſenſes to their ſeveral properties.

Artaban took ſome ruddy ſhame into his looks, that I ſaw him in that ſlave-like poſture charged with Irons, and I read in the very rays, that his eyes darted downwards (for I ſaw they fled my face) that it was not the fear, but the kind of death that troubled him, and he could not patiently take the account of thoſe thoughts that told him, he was carried to be thrown at the feet of his mercy, who had ſo lately been diſpoiled and ſtrip'd of his Purple by his own hands, of a man that was Enemy and Rival conjoyned, and ſuch a Rival, whom not only his anger, but his amorous intereſt had compoſed him a reſolution to kill him in the very centre of his guards: theſe reflections ſwelled his great heart to a purpoſe of anticipating his death, before he received it by the King of Media's doom; and in purſuit of that deſign, perceiving he was too ſtrictly guarded to ſurprize any opportunity of throwing himſelf [Page] into the Sea, he reſolved to make hunger his Executioner, and had therefore taken very little nouriſhment ſince we firſt imbarqued.

After I had a little recovered my ſpirits, that at firſt were driven from their places, by the aſſault of ſo ſad a ſpectacle, faſtning my eyes upon his face, and diſcovering all to his eaſie interpretation in the Dialect of my looks, that the preſence of ſo many Witneſſes adviſed me to hide: ‘Artaban, ſaid I, the condition you appear in is very unworthy of you, and if I received not ſome comfort from a hope to releaſe you of all the ſhame and danger, you ſhould quickly know how large a propriety I claim in your misfortunes.’

Artaban, (fierce as a Libian Lyon to all beſides, only in my preſence ever gentle and ſubmiſſive) raiſed his eyes to my viſage, and ſtrugling with himſelf to keep ſome ſighs from breaking priſon. ‘Madam, ſaid he, my condition is very glorious, ſince it takes a pedigree from no other fountain but the love of you, I ſhall imbrace my death, and finiſh my Tragedy without the leaſt reluctance, if my ſufferings for you may ſpeak the Epilogue: for you alone I abandoned Tigranes Intereſts, for you, chaſed him out of your Fathers Kingdom, and deſpoiled him of his own, for you incur'd the indignation of Phraates, and in fine, for you, am now going to tender my naked throat to the ſword of the incenſed Tigranes: 'Tis I Madam, muſt be made the ſacrifice to propitiate your Hymen, and Tigranes will poſſeſs his Heaven of happineſs in you without a cloud, when he ſhall once ſee his fears waſhed away with the blood of a man, that had he lived, would ſtill have held him to a very cloſe diſpute of his title; this is my Deſtiny, and yours Madam, is to be led in triumph into the arms of a young King, that attends your approaches with a panting expectation, to receive a flouriſhing Crown, and paſs away your dayes with all the varieties of content and delight, that are worthy to entertain you: the eſtabliſhment of yours, and the end of my life, I believe will both arrive at one conjuncture of time, ſince your conſent has ſealed to theſe, I forbid my ſoul ſo much as a ſecret murmur; but if my preceeding ſervices have made me worthy to prefer a ſupplication, I would fain conjure you to obtain of Tigranes, that he would not let me ſurvive this laſt Scene of my misfortune, there is cauſe to ſupect, if I come alive into his hands, he will prevent the death he intends me, by another matyrdom ten thouſand times more cruel, which I ſhall ſuffer every ſeveral moment, in being made a ſpectator of his felicity, but your goodneſs bids me hope you will take care to cut off this approaching diſaſter, and repreſent to Tigranes that he ought to content himſelf with his Fortune, and my ſingle fate, without trampling upon me by an ignoble triumph at my death, that will ſully the credit, and tarniſh all the glory of his life.’

While Artaban expreſſed himſelf in this manner, I was half drowned in my own tears, which the ſad contexture of his language, and the deplorable eſtate wherein I beheld him, drew away from my eies in great abundance; and though his reproaches offered me ſome cauſe of exception, I eaſily pardoned all to his grief, and aſſured my ſelf they were the offſpring of a belief, that I had willingly diſpos'd my ſelf by the conqueſt of all my repugnance to eſpouſe Tigranes.

If I could ſafely have truſted my juſtifications in that place, as it was then peopled, I had quickly cured him of his errour, and indeed, I that had been the ſource of all his misfortunes, could not owe leſs to that gallant man, whom I then ſaw ready to periſh for my ſole intereſt; I durſt not give him my thoughts at their full proportion, and yet I was unwilling to keep all under hatches that my heart had for him, ſuppoſing thoſe that heard us, would partly conjecture pity to be the parent of that which indeed was the child of affection; encouraged by theſe thoughts, and regarding him with more paſſion than ever I taught my eyes to expreſs before: ‘Artaban, ſaid I, you are very cruel to aggravate my diſpleaſures by your reproaches, and by them you have given me cauſes of complaint, which would not have been eaſily pardoned at another ſeaſon: I reliſh no ſuch ſweetneſs in this triumphant condition (as your unkindneſs ſtiles it) which the Deities know I oppoſed with all my puiſſance, and I muſt not bluſh to tell you before Tigranes Ambaſſadors, that I fled as far from the offered honour of his alliance, as the obedience due to a Father and a King would permit me; thoſe that believe they made a clear conqueſt upon my will, did not well underſtand me, nor do I think that any action of mine could ever raiſe them a rational conjecture to feed ſuch hopes: for all elſe that had no dependance upon me, and wanted a remedy beyond my reach, diſpute it with Heaven, upbraid my Soveraigns, and accuſe your Fortune and mine: but if you have lent any credit to a thought, that I can plant my ſelf any repoſe with Tigranes upon your ruines, or behold the death you are in danger to take upon my ſcore, with a clam brow, and a quiet heart, you are moſt unjuſt, more ingrateful your ſelf, than thoſe that have condemned you to ſuffer it: No, Artaban, take your leave of that opinion, and be aſſured that inſtead of demanding your death at the [Page] hand of Tigranes, if I do not obtain your life, he ſhall quickly ſee the end of mine: remember I paſs you this bold promiſe, before theſe intereſſed perſons, and do ſolemnly proteſt in their preſence, that whenſoever he condemns you to dye, he pronounces my ſentence.’

‘Ah Madam, cryed the afflicted Artaban, how vain and fruitleſs, nay how cruel is this unſeaſonable pity of yours! quit, I beſeech you, the hope that I can ever take my life of Tigranes, or of you your ſelf at the rate of keeping theſe eyes uncloſed to ſee my Princeſs in my Rivals poſſeſſion: by this time I might have cut down thoſe high grown hopes with his life, had I ſtill been Maſter of my liberty, and I would not baſely bargain for my own with an implyed condition, to attempt his no more upon the guilty penalty of ingratitude and cowardiſe: thus you would injoyn me Madam to dye by degrees of unſpeakable torture, inſtead of one gentle blow that will ſend me down to the ſhades, from ſufferings far more inſupportable than it ſelf; but ſince at theſe extreams of my miſery, you are contented to unmask a compaſſion, that I never merited, which forces my acknowledgement that Fortune is the only cauſe of all my complaints, give me leave to ſatiate the thirſt of an implacable foe to my felicity, who has ever been ſtrewing impediments in my way to an acqueſt, that could not be the quarry of a common vertue, prevent the malice of my Enemies that would make my ſhame their triumph, and ſpare my Princeſs the pains of diſcompoſing her bridal joys with a troubleſome pity, which I know her excellent diſpoſition cannot deny to ſuch an object: No Artaban, ſaid I, apprehendign my deſign, I can never agree to that, and if your will ſtill allows my pretences of ſome power upon it, you cannot diſpoſe of your life, nor attempt any thing againſt it without my conſent: What would you then have me to do, ſaid he, raiſing his voice higher than ordinary? I would have you generouſly endure, replyed I, theſe frantick fits of your Fortune, and conſider that with a weaker courage than yours, I have born the oppreſſion of almoſt as weighty ſufferings: former Ages have left us many Preſidents of a hopeleſs change in Affairs as deſperate as yours; and if you can but quiet thoſe raſh over-boilings of your ſpirit, and conform your ſelf to the will of Heaven, you will certainly receive either eaſe in your miſeries, or conſtancy to ſupport them; there is this beſides to comfort you, that the perſon for whoſe ſake you abide theſe torments has as great a ſhare as your ſelf in the ſame affliction, and methinks this ſhould ſweeten the ſenſe of your calamities, to ſee how near a community they had with hers, for whoſe ſake you are ſo willing to ſuffer them, call home then Artaban, the ſtragled forces of your ſpirit, and do not put a Maid to the bluſh for your weakneſs, whereof till now ſhe never ſuſpected you guilty.’

I uncloathed my thoughts in this manner, and Artaban made ſome ſemblance to moderate his raſh reſolutions, as well by the prevalence of my language as the example that I gave him of my conſtancy; when ſome upon the main Maſt cryed out, they diſcern'd ſome Veſſels making towards us with full ſails, and a while after, when a ſhorter diſtance gave them leave to take the objects at a truer proportion, they added there was cauſe of ſuſpition, they intended to aſſault us, eſpecially becauſe they made their advances too ſwiftly towards us, to be accounted any other than Enemies.

My Conductors were troubled at this intelligence, which cauſed them to break off my diſcourſe with Artaban, and when they had led them back to the ſame Cabin that was his Priſon before, they began to prepare themſelves for the encounter of thoſe dangers, that their fears foreſaw, they were ſcarce ſingled to their ſeveral tasks, but every minute ſprung new cauſes to increaſe their apprehenſions, and they that were beſt acquainted with that Sea, had no ſooner remarked the flags of thoſe approaching Ships, but they cry'd out with a mortal fear, ‘it was the Pirate Zenodorus, Zenodorus the moſt redoubted Rover that ever robbed upon the Ocean, or rather the only man that by his proſperous villanies was become terrible, ſince the great Pompey purged the Seas of thoſe diſeaſes.’

Our Commanders as well as Souldiers, turned pale at the very name of Zenodorus: but when they had conſidered themſelves Maſters of five ſtrong Ships, and that the Pirates number exceeded not theirs above one or two, they quickly recovered ſpirit and reſolution to defend their lives and liberties couragiouſly.

Polinices and the Median Embaſſadors preſently fitted themſelves for the fight, Oreſtes was covered with Artaban's armour, which he had begged and obtained of the King, the ſame day we began that unlucky Voyage, Arms that were ſignally rich in beauty, fame, and their Maſters glory, wherein their Uſurper appeared like another Patroclus, in thoſe that belonged to the valiant Achilles.

Artaban was half diſtracted with rage, to ſee that Rook in his plundred plumes, and wiſh'd they might be as fatal, as the ſon of Pelius proved to his preſumptuous friends.

The Commanders armed, and the Souldiers ready for Combat, we ſtaid the coming up of our Enemies, ſince the weighty bulk of our Veſſels would not ſuffer us to ſave our ſelves [Page] by flight; and we waited not long in that poſture before they powred themſelves upon us with a skilful fury.

They were indeed a part of Zenodorus fleet, commanded in his abſence by his Nephew Ephialtes, one of the boldeſt Pirates that ever rode the Ocean, who without meaſuring danger, either by the number or force of thoſe he encountred, had made it his cuſtome to charge all that came near him; the combat was begun by the Pirates, and their ſhock ſuſtained by our men with a great deal of reſolution, my ignorance will not let me deſcribe you the fight in parts; but Madam, ſhall I give you a ſhort liſt of my reſentments, at that preſent? indeed I cannot chuſe but tell you, that the deteſtation I ſtill cheriſhed, of the very thought to eſpouſe Tigranes, and the grief I took for Artaban's misfortunes had left me ſo little care, or love of life, as I can hardly ſay that death looked ugly enough to affright me; and if I may aſſume the liberty to undiſguiſe my criminal thoughts without a reſerve, I think Artaban's danger was attended with as large a portion of my fears; as thoſe that regarded my proper ſafety.

In the mean time an interchanged cloud of arrows rained upon both parties, the Pirates quickly found a reſiſtance, that made them wiſh the danger unattempted, and certainly the advantages they got, had coſt them a great deal more blood, if Oreſtes (as if thoſe famous Arms had refuſed to do ſervice to their Maſters Enemy) had not been tumbled dead at the feet of his men, by ſome of the firſt blows that were ſtruck in the Combat, and my conductor Polinices, with one of the Median Embaſſadors ſuddenly acquitted (by divers mortal wounds) of the the care to obey their Maſters Commiſſion.

The Death of their Commanders diſtributed a terrour among the common Souldiers, which froze up thoſe Courages that were ſo hot as the Fights beginning, and loſing all hope of victory, they diſputed it ſo poorly, as the Pirates almoſt had it in poſſeſſion when they leaſt ſuſpected it: They were upon point to board our Veſſels, wherefore the Decks were then but very faintly defended, when inſpired with a thought that deafen'd me to the threats of of danger, I boldly ſtep'd upon the Deck, and heightning my voice that I might be underſtood by thoſe in Oreſtes Veſſel: ‘My friends, cryed I, if you deſire ſafety, or wiſh victory, they are only to be had from the hands of Artaban, eaſe him of thoſe irons that will not ſuffer him to ſuccour you, give him but arms for your own defence, and hope for all from his valour, that man can do when he once fights at the head of you. Theſe words ſucceeded to my wiſhes, for ſince Oreſtes death, Artaban had no more Enemies left in the Veſſel;’ the Parthians that adored his vertue, whom the ſole authority of Oreſtes inforced to keep him captive, that had ſo often taught them the art of overcoming, no ſooner ſaw themſelves at liberty to reſtore him his, but they ran down in throngs to releaſe him, and even envied his own Squire the glory of putting the firſt hand to take off his Irons: while the overjoy'd young man was doing this office to his dear Maſter, others haſtily employed themſeves in ſtripping Oreſtes carkaſs of thoſe arms he had unworthily uſurped, and Arno ſooner ſaw his chains unlocked, when he felt his manly limbs reinveſted in the ſame armour that had faithfully ſerved him in ſo many victories, and when his warlike dreſs was compleated, lifting up his ſword and voice with a fierce cry: ‘My friends, ſaid he, in exchange of this freedom you have given me, I do here promiſe to requite you with victory.’

As he brought forth theſe words, he flew before them at the audacious Ephialtes that had newly boarded the veſſel, and by that bold act provok'd his fate; for the furious Artaban, darting himſelf upon him, with a ſorce and ſwiftneſs like that of Lightning, prevented his deſign with a deadly thruſt, which finding a default in his Arms, pierced him quite through the body, when after he had reeled two or three paces backward, he fell dead into his own Ship.

The death of Ephialtes congeal'd the courages of his men, but the following actions of Artaban quickly ſtifled all their hopes of victory, and as if there ſecretly lodg'd a fatality in his Sword to all that oppoſed him, he carried it to no part of the fight, wherein he did not cut down Enemies in heaps, and change the fortune of both parties, with a prodigious promptitude; the actions he performed with his own hands, his admirable conduct, and the ſtrong belief the Parthians had entertained, that his valour was invincible, brought forth ſuch marvellous effects, as in leſs than one quarter of an hour, the Pirates changed their deſign of aſſaulting their Enemies to defending themſelves, and proſpered ſo ill in that too, as in leſs than another, they beheld their Ships covered with their fellows carkaſſes, and the Sea painted with their blood.

So ſoon as Artaban had chas'd out thoſe Pirates that invaded his Veſſel, he leap'd into mine, and there it was I ſaw him do things in my defence, that would make an Infidel of the eaſieſt credulity.

[Page] In fine, the victory became entirely ours, the greater part of the Pirates loſt their lives, two of their Ships were taken, and the reſt ſaved themſelves by flight, or rather by the ſmall regard we took to purſue them; Artaban contrary to the Parthians inclinations, gave the Priſoners their lives, but he left all the booty to the Souldiers, and commanded divers of the Pirates into our Veſſel, to ſerve in the places of thoſe Mariners that we had loſt in the combat. Thus after he had ſet the face of order upon all things that haſte would permit him, he ran to me all covered with blood, in a poſture that had half affrighted me, if he had not taken off his Caſque as he threw himſelf at my feet, and diſcovered his face, wherein me thought the heat of combat had diſcloſed ſome new beams of maſculine beauty, that I never ſaw there before; at leaſt my fancy was ſo deeply inchanted with that apprehenſion, as it degarded my judgment ſo far to let the Medes and Parthians then preſent ſee me throw my arms about the neck of the kneeling Artaban, and lean my head upon his with an action ſo tenderly paſſionate as at this very confeſſion of my weakneſs, I feel the warm blood is come into my cheeks to accuſe me.

Madam, I will not trouble your patience with the repetition of thoſe diſorder'd words that Artaban and I exchanged at that point of time, and indeed they were too full of confuſions to deſerve recital: and if his liberty gave him ſome ſatisfaction, I was ſo raviſhed with joy to ſee him in ſo different a condition to that he appeared in but a few hours before, as I could not expreſs my contentment better, than in ſhewing by a few disjoynted words that I could not expreſs it: In fine, after I had raiſed him from his knee, and preſented him to the Parthians; ‘Well Parthian, ſaid I, do you judge Artaban worthy to return to his chains, or enjoy his part of that liberty his valour has given you? if you have done him a courteſie in permitting him to fight for your defence, I hope he has fairly enough requited it to deſerve the continuation.’

The Parthians anſwered me with loud cries; ‘Artaban, ſaid they, is not only free but ſtill our General, and you Madam are our Soveraign Miſtreſs, to whom we owe, and will ever be ready to render all ſorts of obedience: Do you all promiſe me this, replyed I, and may I ſecurely repoſe a perfect confidence in this affection you have expreſſed to your Princeſs? Yes Madam, anſwered they, you ſhall never deſire any thing at our hands that we will not undertake at the peril of our lives to ſerve you. If that be ſo, ſaid I, turning towards the Median Ambaſſadours that eſcaped the combat, you may go home to your Maſter Tigranes, and tell him from me, that Eliſa will never be a partner of his bed.’ The chief Ambaſſadour reply'd ſomething in the King behalf, and aſſuming the liberty that his office and quality allowed him, menaced the Parthians with the power of Tigranes and his Allies to revenge that indignity: but in fine, they were forced to ſuffer what they felt themſelves too feeble to prevent, and with thoſe few men that Fight had left him, he entred into a Ship I had cauſed to be conſigned him, and took the way towards Media, full of grief for the ſad ſucceſs of his negotiation.

If Artaban had left any anguiſh for what was paſt, he then ſaw his ſuffrings drowned in a flood of unexpected joy; and though he had utterly given over treating with any hope, at leaſt not ſuch a one, as aimed at my rejection of Tigranes, to put him in his place, without the conſent of thoſe that nature impowered with a right to my ſubmiſſion, he took ſuch a comble of contentment, to ſee me openly renounce a Rival, whom in a few dayes he thought would be confirmed in the poſſeſſion of his Eliſa, as he felt ſome time to tye himſelf to the rules of temperance, fell again at my feet, gave them a thouſand kiſſes, made me as many diſcourſes full of tranſport, that was Rhetorical without method or connexion, and proved it by all his behaviour, that a courage able to defend it ſelf from the rudeſt blows of Fortune, had not ſtrength enough to hold in a head-ſtrong joy; but if Artaban was ſeized with theſe exceſſes of ſatisfaction, and if my own were little ſhort of his, to ſee my ſelf freed (by ſuch a favourable accident) from the power of a man I deteſted, and another pluck'd from the jaws of death, and reſtored to my arms, that I loved above my life, I think their pride of his contentment and mine, was abated at the ſame time with the ſame thoughts that aſſaulted it.

'Tis true, I ſaw my ſelf delivered from the hands of Tigranes, or rather from an inſupportable ſlavery, that looked with a more dreadful face than death it ſelf; but when ſome ſoberer thoughts had gained my attention, I eaſily perceived by the help of their eies, to what a perplexing Dilemma that event had reduced me. 'tis true, I loved Artaban, and if the election of a husband had depended upon none but Eliſa's will, I preferred him (as he was) before the greateſt of that Sex, but I never humoured the leaſt inclination to eſpouſe him without my Parents conſent; nor harboured any intent of expoſing my name to the Ages obloquy, by an unexamined act ſo full of levity, and ſo little a kin to the greatneſs of my birth; beſides the publick notice of his paſſion gave me ſome apprehenſion of blaſting my [Page] repute by remaining in his power, againſt the King my Fathers intent, but then to condemn my ſelf again to the rigid hands of Phraates was that I could not reſolve, for beſides my inducements to dread a man that never had pity for the neareſt of his blood, the gentleſt treatment I could expect from that furious Father, was firſt to be uſed with a great deal of cruelty, and then ſent ſhamefully back to Tigranes to wear out my life in a bondage that had no parallel.

Artaban ſaw ſomething in my looks that ſecretly pain'd me, and requiring the cauſe, I diſcovered all with an innocent freedom, not ſo much as reſerving the leaſt part of the truth from his knowledge; he was troubled to make his defence good againſt their conſiderations, but as he was a friend to reaſon, and had alwayes a ready ſubmiſſion to my will, he quickly brought his judgement to an agreement with mine, and eaſily cleanſed his breaſt of thoſe deſires that might expoſe me to reproach. ‘Madam, ſaid he, I am reſolved that neither paſſion nor intereſt ſhall diſſwade the execution of your commands, no though they ſhould condemn me to lead you back to Phraates, or give you up into the hands of Tigranes himſelf, I would not diſgrace my obedience ſo much as with a murmur, but if heaven has not been deaf to your adorers wiſhes, that you think the retreat to either of thoſe Courts can neither be ſafe nor pleaſing, command me to carry you whither you pleaſe, and I beſeech you do not wrong me with a thought, that I will ever take advantage of your ſweetneſs to name a requeſt (though in the humbleſt manner) that may make the ſame a ſufferer: but if my opinion be not erroneous, the ſecureſt and moſt decent receptacle that can be thought of, will be to the King of Lybia, Father to the Queen your Mother: 'tis true the way thither is long, and you will be conſtrained to travel part of it by Land; but if can take a reſolution ſtrong enough to overcome the difficulty, there are many inducements to the voyage that declare their favour to your wiſhes; beſides that affection which the nearneſs of bloud, and the fame of your: vertues has gained you in the King your Grandfather, the diſtaſtes he has juſtly conceived of Phraates cruel humour, and his mortal enmity againſt Tigranes, will doubtleſs induce him to protect you from the latter, and impower you, by degrees, to make your peace with the King your Father: in the mean time you may live there in the quality of his Daughter, till time and nature ſhall mollifie your Fathers marble heart, and beget an occaſion to break his conditions with Tigranes.’

This advice of Artaban appeared ſo rational, as I could find no objection weighty enough to fill the other ſcale againſt my conſent, and after I had tenderly acknowledged, how much his vertuous complacency to my will, and the noble care he took of my reputation had obliged me, I readily conſented to the preſent execution of his prudent advice, proteſting that no conſideration ſhould ever leſſen the faith and fervour of my love: and if my Parents proved inexorable to all mediations, and entreaties that laboured our marriage, at leaſt their threats and promiſes, reaſons and rigours ſhould all be loſt upon Eliſa, who would never admit any other in the quality of a husband.

The comfort of this promiſe, and the vows we both enterchanged, for a time quitted the greateſt part of our cares, and after Artaban had cauſed the Veſſels to be cleanſed of the bloud that defiled them, and the dead bodies to be buried in the Sea, we diſpoſed our Canvas to accept the favourable breath of a wind, that blew towards the ſhoar of Iberia, where we were firſt to land.

Madam, it is not neceſſary to tire you with the recital of a tedious voyage. In ſhort, we traverſed the Caſpian Sea, to the Port we intended, and there providing ſuch things as were requiſite for our journey by Land, we paſſed by the foot of mount Caucaſus, ſaw the Sarmatique Ports, and having croſſed Iberia and Colchis, we re-imbarqued, and paſſing through the Euxine Sea with three Veſſels that we hired, ſpread our ſails for the Coaſt of Affrick.

Alas how treacherous was the tranquility of the winds and waves? how ſhort lived the quiet of our ſpirits! it ſeems the Gods had not freed us from a foregoing miſery, with any other intent than to plunge us in a greater, or rather the deepeſt that ever imagination ſounded. Poor Artaban, thy valour only ſerved to prolong thy misfortunes, and wretched Eliſa, the Gods only brought ſome eaſe to thine, with a purpoſe to exquiſite the ſenſe of thy laſt calamities.

The forth night after we imbarqued was already well advanced, when the mutinous waves began an inſurrection, abetted by the moſt raging tempeſt that ever frighted a Pilot, all the winds declared themſelves againſt our ſafety, the waves flew up as if they had taken up the Giants quarrel to ſtorm Heaven again, and the danger became ſo diſmal as the skilfulleſt heads and the hardieſt hearts among us began to deſpair of life.

[Page] We had only three Ships in the company, whereof two carried our Souldiers and the third only my ſelf, Artaban, my women, and the officers of my houſe; a while they withſtood the angry Elements without ſeparation, but in fine, diſperſed by the impetuous winds, and driv [...]n to a large diſtance from each other without hope of rejoyning, our Veſſel was left alone to the mercy of thoſe enraged flouds, that flew upon us with a ſenſible encreaſe of fury. A thouſand Images of death preſented themſelves to our affrighted fancies; but the unfortunate Artaban took all his fears upon my account, and the care he had of my ſafety, made him neglect his own in that manner, as he ſeemed to let fall and diſavow his title, to wit, his great courage was utterly unable to charm the pangs of his grief, and he deteſted his own life, becauſe his uncharitable ſorrow charged it with the guilt of deſtroying mine: In the mean time the tempeſt roared every moment louder, and at laſt raged to that extremity, that our maſt was broken, and our ſhip reduced to the miſerable obedience of being governed by the tyranny of Sea and fortune: all my women were half dead with fear of death, and (the weakneſs of ſex conſidered) 'tis eaſie to believe I felt my ſhare in the common calamity, but the inconſolable Artaban was all this while embracing my knees, letting fall new floods of tears at my feet, and offering the Gods, with a prodigality of nobleneſs to die a thouſand times over, upon condition they would pity me and ſave my ſingle life.

Thus we had ſpent two entire daies, and a great part of the third night, when the billows (as if they had been tired with ſo violent a motion) began to take a repoſe, that let in a little glimmering of hope, to Artaban and the Pilots, I ſay a little, for the ſtorm had ſo miſerably torn our Veſſel, as the forwardeſt among us could ſee but little more than a poſſibility of eſcape: the ſhip drank water on all ſides, the maſt and rudder were both broken, and the Marriners forced (all their skill now became ineffectual) to refer themſelves only to the courteſie of heaven for deliverance: the reſt of that night we were carried up and down at the uncontroled will of the winds, and ſhe had ſcarce begun to disband her ſhades, when we deſcryed a great fire upon the water: though this ſpectacle appeared very ſtrange, yet it lent us ſome rayes of comfort, and our men took courage at that ſight to employ all their ſtrength and art, to get our miſerable Veſſel nearer to a place, where they expected to receive-ſome ſuccour.

The daies arrival drowned a great part of that light, in his own that out-ſhined it, but by the aid of thoſe clearer beams, we received objects at a truer dimenſion, and the firſt that ſaluted our eies, was preſently known by the Pilot for the ſtately Alexandria.

The comfortable ſight of this City perfected ſome half-drawn hopes within us, when in the midſt of our toil to get near the fire, we beheld two ſhips of war make towards us, to oppoſe our paſſage, and having laid us aboard on both ſides, they commanded us to yield.

Artaban, unuſed to be overcome by words, quickly got into his Arms, and preſented himſelf upon the deck like a man reſolved to ſell his liberty: but he was followed by none but his own Squire, and of all thoſe that wore the faces of men in our Veſſel, there was ſcarce one beſide himſelf that had a heart undiſmayed at the number of our Enemies: I was terribly affrighted at the ſight of Artaban's raſhneſs, and believing (unleſs ſtopped in time) it would infallibly coſt him his life, I commanded him to render himſelf, as well becauſe it was as utterly hopeleſs, that he alone ſhould maintain the Combat againſt five or ſix hundred armed men, as likely by a perverſe reſiſtance, he would provoke the cruelty of our enemies upon us, (who if we ſet the face of ſubmiſſion upon our miſeries) might perhaps be drawn to ſome compaſſion: the fear to involve mine in his own deſtruction gave a ſudden birth to his obedience, and he had no ſooner let fall the point of his Sword, when our Ship (grappled on both ſides) was become full of Enemies in an inſtant; at the ſight of me, their Captain let fall ſome ſigns of reſpect, but the faces of him and ſome of his men were no ſooner diſcerned by thoſe Pirates we had taken to ſupply their places in our veſſel, that we loſt in the laſt Combat (who with the reſt of our people had followed us, all our land voyage, with outward pretence of obligation and acknowledgment for the mercy and mild uſage they received at our hands, though indeed with an intent very different) but running to him with loud cries: Ah my Lord! ſaid they, ah Zenodorus! See the cruel man that has made us his ſlaves, defeated your forces, and killed your Nephew Ephiaſtes with his own hand.

Theſe words ſpread the face of Zenodorus with a trouble that preſaged a fatal effect, and regarding Artaban acroſſe, Is this the man, ſaid he, that ſlaughtered my forces, and murdered Ephiaſtes? the Pirates confirmed their language with loud exclamations, and Zenodorus no longer doubting the truth; Let him die, ſaid he, let the butcher of Ephiaſtes die, or rather let the wretch be taken alive, and ſuffer ſuch puniſhments as are cryed for by his bloudy crime.

[Page] This barbarous doom was no ſooner given, but a hundred ſwords were drawn upon Artaban, who daring all with a brave deriſion, and ſhooting a furious look at the face of Zenodorus: Yes, Pirate, I will die, ſaid he, if be that killed Ephiaſtes muſt not live, but before I diſmiſs mine, perhaps I ſhall ſend thy black ſoul to keep thy Nephews company: at theſe words he flew at Zenodorus through the throng of his men, for he knew it impoſſible for himſelf to eſcape. Zenodorus avoided Artaban's thruſt by ſtarting aſide, yet he could not throw himſelf ſo far from his reach, but he catched him in his ſtrong arms, and deſperately preſſing towards the deck, he threw himſelf and his Enemy (as his revenge had tied them together) backwards into the Sea: but the waters would not ſuffer him to perfect his intent, and ſeparating thoſe hateful embraces in the fall, Zenodorus (not incumbred with arms) eaſily kept his head above water by ſwiming till his men brought him ſuccour, and the unfortunate Artaban carried to the bottom by the weight of his, did there ſink down with himſelf, all my hopes, all my joys.

When the Princeſs arrived at this deplorable paſſage, ſhe ſelt it impoſſible to purſue her ſtory, before ſhe had paid ſuch lamentable Obſquies to the death of her dear Artaban as touched the fair Aethiopian's tender heart with a true grief for her miſery; and inſtead of ſtaying the courſe of Eliſa's tears, ſhe mingled the ſtream with a ſilver ſhower of her own, let looſe by a juſt compaſſion.

It was long before Eliſa's ſighs and tears would let ſpeak, but when ſhe had once cleared the paſſage for her words; Thou didſt die, ſaid ſhe, my faithful, my generous Artaban, and I ſtay here among the living to conſecrate the wretched reliques of a languiſhing life, to regeſter and repeat what I owe to thy dear and illuſtrious memory in thee I have loſt all that in my eye was lovely upon earth, and I think the world could not have parted with any thing greater and more truly eſtimable than thy ſelf: but Artaban I muſt adventure to ſay, that thou didſt not totally die, ſince there is ſtill a part of thee (unraviſhed by the hand of death) in the heart of Eliſa, and ſo long as that little parcel of life ſhall laſt, to which the Gods have condemned me, thy memory ſhall ever be as dear and never die but with her ſelf.

After this Rapſody of grief ſhe dried her eyes, and turning towards Candace; ‘What remains to tell you, Madam, ſaid ſhe, (beſides that my own weakneſs acquaints me with a neceſſity of drawing to a period) is very inconſiderable.’

I was preſent at all that paſt, had heard the Pirates words to Zenodorus, trembled at the cruel command he gave them, and turned pale at Artaban's furious reſolution: but when I ſaw him fall into the Sea, I fell too into a deſperate ſwoond, that ſnatched all the knowledge from me of what had paſſed: the recovery of my ſpirits rowſed the remembrance of my loſs, and I regained the uſe of my tongue to no other end but to breath complaints, that would have ſoftned any thing with pity, but the rocky ſouls of Pirates: when my ſenſes returned, I found my ſelf laid upon a courſe bed with Urinoe and Cephiſa ſtanding on either ſide, and only them two the Pirates could not fright from my attendance, who had reſolutely told them, they, would ſooner chooſe to throw themſelves into the Sea, than forſake their Miſtreſs; they had put the reſt of my Servants into another veſſel, and divided them into ſeveral ſhares (before I knew how they were uſed) as a part of the booty.

Zenodorus eſſayed to give me comfort, but when he ſaw I was utterly incapable of receiving it, he left me to his Lieutenants care, himſelf appearing with the marks of a deep diſcontent in his face, for ſomething that had befallen him.

It was the loſs of you, Madam, that touched him to the quick, and I think (with deſign to learn what had befallen you) after he had rode at Anchor in the ſame place the reſt of that day, without going nearer the ſhoar; the night following, he ſecretly landed with twenty of his men, leaving me in the Veſſel under the guard of his Lieutenant, whom he commanded to attend them there and not to ſtir from that place till he came back again.

This Pirate permitted me during the remains of that night to take ſuch repoſe as my ſorrows would licence, but coming the next day to my beds ſide (where I lay breathing out my ſoul in ſighs, and melting into tears, the winds and ways of grief for my loſs, reſolving a quick diſpatch of my life by ſhutting up my tears from comfort, and my mouth from nouriſhment) he began to make love to me with a brutiſh rhetorick: if my force had equalled my ſpight, I think I had torn out his eyes, however weak as I was, I made ſhift to handle him courſly enough to put him to a cold retreat, but a few hours after he renewed the aſſault, and by the hateful proſecution of his ſuit, taught me ſo true a repentance for ſurviving Artaban, as if Urinoe and Cephiſa had not violently reſcued me from my own deſperate reſolution, I had infallibly thrown my ſelf into the Sea; he was content for a few hours more to attend his Captains return, but at laſt perceiving Zenodorus came not, and ſpurred by a baſe and beſtial inclination to rob him of the prey he had committed to his keeping, he quitted the place where he promiſed to attend him, put off to Sea, and took a contrary courſe to Alexandria, with all the haſt his Canvas wings could make.

[Page] When once he ſaw himſelf abſolute Maſter, he eaſily reſolved to abuſe his authority, and after he had loſt ſome breath in perſwading my conſent to his will, he began to make force his executioner of the black purpoſe, which certainly would have made me run bluſhing to my death, if the Gods had not ſent ſome ſhips to my ſuccour commanded by Cornelius to ſcour the Sea, upon report of Pirates that infeſted it, by theſe Romans the Sea robbers with their Captain, were all cut in pieces: and thus the unfortunate Eliſa was ſnatched from the gulph of her greateſt danger, conducted to this City and brought to theſe lodgings, where ſhe had the honour to ſee and embrace the great Candace, from whoſe dear ſociety alone ſhe has already received more comfort, then ſhe could ever have hoped while her ſoul and body are companions.

‘And now, Madam, continued ſhe, I have brought my woful ſtory to a period, and acquainted you with accidents rarely found in the fortunes of a Princeſs of my age and extraction, you have heard the confeſſions of my faults, and though perhaps they have juſtly incurred your cenſure, I have laid them naked before ſo perfect a candour, as I can hope for nothing leſs than your pardon, as a juſt debt to thoſe merits that made me guilty; & my Artaban as he lies in his watry grave, is now more glorious than ever, ſince a Princeſs has thought him worthy of her precious tears, whoſe compaſſion is able to change the condition of the miſerable, and ſweeten the very gall of fortunes malice.’

Thus did Eliſa wind up the clew of her ſtory, and Candace had ſcarce patience to ſtay the finiſhing, when ſhe tenderly preſſed her between her arms, and making ſome affectionate kiſſes ſpeak the prologue to what followed; ‘'Tis true my fair Princeſs, ſaid ſhe, your miſfortunes are capable of ingendring an equal grief to yours, not only in the tender and unpractiſed heart of a young Princeſs, but even ſtagger the ſureſt-footed conſtancy in the firmeſt and beſt fortified ſouls, yet (all this granted) I cannot recunt my opinion that the valiant Artaban may ſtill be among the living, the place where he fell into the Sea (as I gueſs by your recital) is near the ſhoar, ſince it cannot be far from that where I fired the Veſſel, and forſook the thought of a poſſibility to eſcape the danger; Madam, why might not heaven ſend him ſuccour as well as me, eſpecially ſince experience makes it no wonder to ſee perſons overcome and ſurvive greater perils, than the ſame you ſaw him aſſault ſo fiercely. Ah Madam, replyed Eliſa with a geſture, wherein ſorrow had apparelled it ſelf in ſweetneſs, how deeply am I obliged to your generous compaſſion, and how well-pleaſed with the knowledge, that (to flatter my grief) you are contented to ſhape me out ſome comfort which is not the workmanſhip of your own opinion; however it be, in obedience to you, I am willing to wait for ſome extraordinary favour from Heaven, and make room in my ſoul for a few of my baniſhed hopes to come home again, which I could not entertain without a previous conſideration, how hard it is for your excellent judgment to miſtake.’

They had amplified theſe civilities, if Gallus returning from the diſpatch of ſome affairs that detained him that whole day, had not come into the chamber and interrupted the progreſs; his preſence broke off the Dialogue, and as well during the time of their repaſt, as the reſt of that evening, which he paſſed away in the Ladies company, they only entertained him with diſcourſes of indifferent things, till the night came of age to ſend them to their ſeveral Couches; the Ladies were very loath to part, though their ſeparation was to laſt no longer than the next morning.

We will leave them for a few days in poſſeſſion of thoſe mutual ſweets they taſted in each others ſociety, to follow the track of Caeſario, whom we left in purſuit of the Pirat Zenodorus.

The end of the third Part.

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA: OR, Love's Maſter-Piece. PART IV.

[Page]

LIB. I.

ARGUMENT.

Caeſario purſuing Candace's Raviſher, meets with his Brother Alexander in the company of a fair Lady, miſtakes him for Zenodorus, and defies him to a Combat, but having loſt much blood in a former fight, he falls from his horſe. He is courteouſly taken up by Alexander and his company, carried to their Manſion; there, by the help of Chirurgions he recovers his ſpirits, and after ſome mutual indearments, Alexander gives him the Hiſtory of his life. He gives a relation of the infant-affections between him and the Armenian Princeſs Artemiſa, in the Egyptian Court. The ruine of Anthony and Cleopatra part them. Artemiſa is ſent into Armenia, Alexander to Rome, where he is nobly educated. He accompanies Tiberius in his Dalmatian Expedition, where he contracts an intimate amity with a Noble Armenian, called Artamenes, who ſhews him Artemiſa's Picture, and acquaints him with his unſucceſsful love to that Princeſs. The ſight of that Picture renews Alexander's former flames, and engages him to viſit the Armenian Court. Artamenes dies of his wounds received in the battel; After which Alexander privately takes a voyage into Armenia, and there by the aſſiſtance of Narciſſus, now his Squire, he gets a ſight of the Princeſs, under the borrowed name of Alcippus, a pretended Servant to Artamenes. He gives her an account of his death, which ſhe receives with pity and grief. She entertains Alcippus into her ſervice; ſhe ſuſpects his quality; and at laſt he diſcovers himſelf to be Alexander.

THE valiant Son of Caeſar ran after Candace's Raviſher with a fury fleet as the wings of Lightning, and the ſwiftneſs of his courſe was ſuch, as he ſcarce left any print of his horſes feet upon the ſand: the loſs of blood that ran along his arms, from two or three deep wounds in purple ſtreams, to the earth, had much infeebled him, but neither his grief nor weakneſs had power to retard his purſuit, and a deeper wound than any of thoſe he received from the arms of his Enemies, ſtill forcibly detein'd ſome ſpirits, that would fain have ſawm down thoſe rivulets of his blood, with the reſt that were already gone, yet he ſadly felt them ſteal away by degrees, but if he regretted their loſs, it was rather becauſe they withdrew their forces from the ſuccour of his Princeſs, than the conſervation of his life, and in the heat of his carreer, lifting his eyes to heaven, with a bewitching plea for aid in his very action; ‘Gods, ſaid he, Gods, that in extreameſt perils, have reach'd me reſcue with a miraculous hand, do but reſpite your decrees, and either preſerve or reſtore forces to this languiſhing body, ſufficient for Candace's relief, and then, without a farther reprieve, diſpoſe of my deſtiny as you have ordained it, but do not increaſe your ſeverity with a [Page] counterfeit mercy, and after (when unprepar'd with expectation) you have ſhewed her to me, and ſnatched her back again like lightning, do not blaſt the blooms of your divine goodneſs, let me not be mocked with a ſeeming bounty, and loſe her the ſame moment you gave her back again.’

The Deities did not liſten when he utter'd this ardent prayer, and his angry fortune decreed it, that by reaſon that part of the coaſt was cover'd with a great quantity of ſand, he ſoon loſt the track of Zenodorus horſes, and quitting himſelf to the inſenſible direction of Chance, and the providence of thoſe Divinities he invok'd, he ſtruck into a tall Wood that lay in the way, which preſented more likelihood of refuge to a thief in his view, than any of the adjacent places: the roads were fair and beaten, the firſt he ſaw was his indifferent choice, and he ran upon it for a great many furlongs, as if he had been loath his horſe ſhould tread upon any thing but air; he warm'd the winds as he rode with a thouſand ſighs, and the woods got the name of his beloved by heart, which (in imitation of him) they Ecchoed round in loud repetitions; he could not keep any patience when he conſidered the fantaſtick tricks of his fortune; ‘Candace, cry'd he, muſt the ſame minute be a witneſs to thy reſtauration and raviſhment? am I doomed to meet with harſher uſage in my native Country, than in either Nubia or Aethiopia? After I had vainly travel'd a vaſt tract of waters, where thou wert loſt, in queſt of thee muſt fortune ſhew thee to me upon earth, and ſteal thee away again like a flying ſhadow? or am I ſo wretched to abuſe my ſelf with the force of a wounded fancy, and believe Candace preſented to my eyes, becauſe ſhe was always preſent in my memory?’

That thought for a few moments made ſome impreſſion upon his ſpirit, but then he called to mind ſome particulars that quickly wip'd it out, and his fancy urging the freſh Idea of what had befaln him, ‘No, no, continued he, I am not deceived, it was the true perſon of my fair Queen that appeared unto me; my ear has not yet parted with the ſound of her coaleſtial voice, ſince ſhe pronounced the name of Cleomedon ſo often, and I ſaw Eteocles with her, who I know came to me, and took up arms in my defence; 'tis Candace her ſelf I ſeek, and theſe unfortunate places where I took my birth, are the very ſame that detain her from me, and of them I muſt demand her.’

His reaſon (then blinded with exceſs of paſſion) he addreſs'd himſelf to things inſenſible, and inquir'd news of Candace, even of dumb objects; but at that time diſcerning another road, that croſs'd the ſame, he had long follow'd, he ſpy'd the freſh track of divers horſes had lately paſs'd that way: this ſight reviv'd his little hope and quickly concluded his choice of that road, not ſo much as taking a liſt of his own forces, or conſidering the number of his Enemies; purſuing this track, he left Alexandria at a pretty diſtance on his right hand, and in a ſhort time, finding himſelf at the end of the Wood, he ſpy'd through ſome clouds of duſt, that roſe from the feet of divers horſes, a fair houſe, ſituated upon a neighbouring hill: at the view of this, Caeſario, redoubled his carreer, and when a nearer approach had given him the objects at a truer dimenſion, he diſcovered a Chariot drawn with ſix black horſes, and guarded by ſome Cavaliers; as he came nearer he heard the voice of a woman, and taking an eaſie belief from the anticipation of his fancy, that it could be no other than his Queen, furiouſly ſpurring towards the Chariot with a great cry, ‘Stay Traitor, ſaid he, ſtay Barbarian, thou carrieſt away but half the booty, and thou oughteſt to win what remains untaken, if thou deſireſt to purchaſe an entire prey.’ At theſe loud menaces, and the ſight of him that pronounced them, preparing for the Combat with an action wholly terrible, the Chariot being ſtaid, there leapt a man out of it, and mounting a horſe that was led by for him, he ſpurred up to Caeſario with a countenance fierce as his, and drawing his Sword which he carried, advanced in the air as he approached his Enemy; And what art thou, ſaid he, that dareſt thus diſturb our Progreſs with thy audacious menaces? The Son of Caeſar lifted his eyes to the face of his Enemy, where he met with features that already began to ingender a doubt of his miſtake, when thoſe forces that his paſſion had powerfully detained above the Laws of a natural order, forſook him, and left not ſo much ſtrength behind, as would either ſerve him to lift up his ſword againſt his Enemy, or return him one ſingle ſyllable in anſwer, his arms hung down with a looſe negligence upon his thighs, no longer able to hold an erected poſture, his head was fallen as low as the ſaddle bow, and a little after he dropped from his ſeat, and fell without ſenſe upon the ſand.

When his foe, that was ready to charge him, ſaw him weakly reel upon his ſaddle, he ſtopped ſhort in his carreer, and preſently after perceiving him faln to the earth, and there lie ſtretched at his Horſes feet, inſenſibly ſending away the reſt of his blood through divers large advenues, he was ſtruck with amazement at ſo ſtrange an adventure: Compaſſion preſently took the place of his ſurprizal, and though he had atcheived a defiance from that man, whom [Page] he believed he had never injured, he could not behold him in that diſtreſſed eſtate, and not reſign his anger to a generous reſolution of eſſaying to relieve him; beſides the beauty and Riches of his arms (where in thoſe places that were not defiled with blood, the Roman Eagles, might be ſeen to glitter among the Godl and Jewels about them) eaſily perſwaded him that their owner was no ordinary perſon; poſſeſſed with this opinion he ſuddenly leaped from his horſe, and having called ſome ſervants that attended, to aſſiſt him, he approached the ſwooned Prince, and commanding the reſt to ſtop the current of his blood, if poſſible, he diſarmed his head of the rich Cask that covered it, to facilitate his breathing; the majeſtick viſage of Caeſar's Son ſeized the officious ſtranger with a deeper aſtoniſhment than the firſt, and ſuddenly touched with ſome ſecret motions of reſpect and affection of an unknown linage (by their incitement) he added every moment a tenderer care to the Princes aſſiſtance.

He was thus diligently buſied, when a Lady of an excellent Beauty, with two others that followed her, came out of the Chariot, and deſirous to go a ſhare in that charitable action, ſhe approached Caeſario, and imployed part of her Womens linnen to ſtop the mouths of his wounds: the Princes brave aſpect did at once beget and excuſe her wonder, and in ſpight of thoſe diſadvantages that flow'd from the loſs of his blood, and the flight of his ſpirits, even in that dying condition, he preſerved ſtill grace and beauty enough to enform his fair Spectatour what he might poſſeſs in the ſupplement of thoſe pale defects, and animated by this Spectacle with an unuſual ardour to ſuccour him, ſhe did not diſdain to make her own fair hand the inſtruments of her pity, thus by her example inviting and obliging the reſt to imitation of her charity.

They had already taken off the Prince's Arms, and directed by the blood in his wounds, had begun to bind them up, while one of the company ran for water to recover his ſpirits; when they ſaw a man on horſeback ſpurring towards thein upon the ſame rode and was no ſooner come near enough to diſcern Caeſario in the middle of the Troop, that invironed him, but ſuddenly throwing himſelf from his Horſe, and haſtily cleaving the crowd to get to him: Ah my Prince, cry'd he, ah my Lord, in what a ſad eſtate have I found you; It was the faithful Eteocles that had ſwiftly follow'd his dear Maſter by the ſad, yet certain directions of his blood that he loſt in the way.

The name of Prince pronounced by his inconſiderate grief, drew the companies attention to his words with more curioſity, and while with a greater diligence than the reſt, he laboured his Maſters recovery, the fair Lady in very civil terms demanded his name and quality: Eteocles, who till then had ſcarce ſtraid one ſingle glance upon any other object from Caeſario's wounds, at that ſummons did a little looſen his regards, and raiſed his eyes to the Lady's face, where reading the reſpect was due to her in the lines of a majeſtick beauty, ‘Madam, ſaid he, pardon me if my trouble, derived from the ſad eſtate wherein I find my Maſter has too long defer'd the payment of what your quality may challenge; I dare not ſpeak his name without his permiſſion (at leaſt if the Gods leave him ſtill upon earth) and while I timerouſly attend the event of his wounds, can only tell you, that there is not a Prince in the world more worthy than himſelf of thoſe ſuccours you have lent him.’

The fair Lady was ready to reply, when Caeſario, whoſe blood had been ſtopt by the linnen they applied to his wounds, having drawn in ſome freſh air ſince they uncovered his face, began to open his eyes, and returning to himſelf by degrees, at laſt intirely recovered the uſe of his ſenſes; the firſt ſervice they did him, was amazedly to regard the troop that intour'd him, and part of that little blood left unſpilt, proved the ſervant of ſhame in his cheeks to ſee himſelf half naked before perſons of an extraordinary appearance, when Eteocles, willing to eaſe him of the pain of that ſurprizal, ‘Come, ſaid he, rouze your great Courage to your aid, if poſſible, and do not reject the courteſie of theſe noble perſons that have ſo generouſly aſſiſted you.’

Caeſario preſently knew Eteocles by the tone of his voice, and turning towards him with the lively ſigns of comfort in his looks, Ah my Father, ſaid he, and where is the Queen? Eteocles unable to make him an agreeable anſwer, was dumb to his queſtion, and the Prince, eaſily guided to find the truth by his ſilence, lifting his eyes to heaven, Oh Gods, ſaid he, and why do you not permit me to die, if my life be decreed ineffectual to my Princeſs ſuccour; Sir, ſaid Eteocles when I ſaw you purſue the Raviſher, I took no other care than to follow your foot-ſteps, which does not diſprove the likelyhood that thoſe we left in the combat, almoſt in poſſeſſion of a certain victory, recover'd her. Alaſs reply'd the Son of Caeſar, how long will be the file of my miſfortunes that are yet unſuffered?

The beautious Lady, and he that was Maſter to the reſt, regarded the faces, actions, and diſcourſe of Caeſario and Eteocles, with a ſerious attention, and the young Cavalier, that in ſo ſmall a number of minutes, had voted his ruine and ſafety, borrowing deſire of a new-born [Page] affection to comfort him, and already ſhaping his behaviour to a fit apprehenſion of the Princes quality, ‘Sir, ſaid he, there is much errour in my obſervation, if you have not courage and conſtancy enough to conteſt with the greateſt misfortunes, and I make it my earneſt requeſt, that you will not hinder our ambition to be inſtruments of your ſafety, by giving up thoſe weapons to this that afflicts you; I hope your wounds are not dangerous, and if you will accept of a place in the chariot with this fair Lady (who you ſee does intereſs her ſelf in the return of your health) and truſt my promiſe of a hearty entertainment in a houſe of mine a mile diſtant from hence, I muſt preſume to ſay, you will there find every thing more commodious, and more care within thoſe walls to ſerve you, than any Alexandria is likely to afford you.’

The civility of this language faſtned Caeſario's eye upon him that ſpake it, and judging him the ſame that a little before his Errour had choſen for an Enemy:

You throw away your courteſie, ſaid he, upon a man that has deſerv'd a courſer treatment; but I ſee you can pardon the offence of my miſtake, when I rudely interrupted your voyage, and I am contented you ſhould freely diſpoſe of a life which you have entirely purchaſt by the care you took to preſerve it.

To confirm theſe word, he no longer oppoſed their deſires, and feeling his limbs ſo fettered to that degree of weakneſs, as he could ſcarce raiſe himſelf from the earth, at the earneſt intreaty of Eteocles, he permitted them to carry him from thence into the Chariot, where the Ladies placed themſelves about him: in the mean time the young Cavalier remounted his horſe, and rode by the Chariot ſide, as it ſoftly advanced towards a fair houſe, that ſhewed it ſelf upon a hill, while one that attended the Chariot, by his Maſters command, poſted away for Chirurgions to Alexandria.

By this time Eteocles, and Caeſario himſelf, tormented as he was, with the double anguiſh of his grief and wounds, found leiſure to contemplate theſe unknown perſons that ſuccoured him; and if the noble ſtrangers had been ſurprized at the confluence of graces they met in Caeſario's mind, he did not find fewer marvels in their faces, nor leſs cauſe of admiration; the Lady was fair to that degree of excellence, as there were few ornaments of Natures skill upon Earth had a right to plead precedency: in her Eyes, Port, and Actions, there ſhined ſomething ſo ſweet, ſo noble and attractive, as it was not ſafe, for them that loved their liberty, to look upon her; ſhe was clad in a Gown that hung looſe about her, beſet before upon the ſleeves and skirts, with high prized Gems, her Arms and Neck half naked, unleſs her Hair, neerer to black than fair, that fell down in long curles about it, with a negligence preferable to the beſt art might paſs for a Veſture; but if the Lady had few Parallels of her Sex in beauty, he that accompanyed her was one of the miracles of his own, and poſſible the World had not another, whoſe face, features and ſymetry came ſo neer perfection; he had then ſcarce lived above nineteen or twenty years at moſt, and at that Age, if but aſſiſted with the habit of the ſofter Sex, might have paſſed for one of the faireſt Ladies in the World; yet his beauty, though very delicate for a man, deciphered no effeminacy, ſweet and fierce were both due Epithetes to that rarely mingled luſtre of his eyes, wherein the braided contrarieties of Souldier and Lover ſeemed to conteſt for priority; inſtead of a cloſe Caſque, he wore nothing but a little Murrion covered with feathers, upon his head, that denyed no part of his face to the view: the colour of his Armour was compoſed of a ſhaded Argent, inriched with little Landskips of Gold, curiouſly wrought, the ſleeve and skirts of his Caſſock were tiſſu'd with Gold and Silver, his Buskins of the ſame materials, beautified in certain ſpaces, like the lower parts of his Caſſock, and the ſleeve covered with little taſſes of ſilver, like that of his Cuiraſſe; in this double dreſs of Art and Nature (far more lovely than the fair Italian Boy, when he gave away the golden Apple) he drew the eyes of Caeſario upon him, with a more ſerious regard, than in that eſtate, he could have beſtowed upon any other object; he felt his grief and anguiſh too weak to take off his eyes from the deep ſtudy of ſome old Ideas, which that young face, by the help of a natural inſtinct, awaked in his memory; Eteocles (not exempted from ſuch thoughts as theſe) being got on horſeback near the young unknown, fell greedily to examine his features, or rather to devour them at the eyes, which, obſerved by Caeſario, confirmed his opinion that he had not miſtaken that face, when his conjectures told him 'twas not a total ſtranger to his knowledge.

As they were taking the glad account of theſe thoughts, which yet they had not mutually imparted, they arrived at the houſe, where the young Gallant and the Lady were attended by ſome domeſtick Servants, who, in obedience to their commands, received the Son of Caeſar with a grand reſpect, and ſerved him with a great deal of care and affection; he had not been long in bed, before ſome Chirurgions they had ſent for to the City arrived, and preſently ſearcht his wounds, which they found very great, but not mortal, owning no other danger [Page] of the Princes life, than what might be imputed to his loſs of blood; the two fair ones gave a glad welcome to theſe hopes of Caeſario's recovery, and impoſed a care upon themſelves to ſee him diligently ſerved with all circumſpection. He was no ſooner left alone with Eteocles, but he asked him a hundred queſtions in a throng, and whatever caution that loyal ſervant intended for his Maſters health, he could have no quiet till he had related all that befel the Queen ſince he firſt truſted her to his charge, till her laſt ſurptizal: it was well Eteocles had not ſeen the face of Zenodorus, nor known it was he that carried Candace away, for if the Prince had underſtood that ſhe was faln again into the ſame rude hands that had ſtormed her honour ſo violently, not all his wounds and weakneſs could have kept him from preſently ſpending the miſerable remains of his life to the laſt ſigh in her ſuccour; he firſt began to hunt for comfort in the height of his unconquered courage, capable to make good his defiance againſt the cruelleſt attacques of Fortune, thence did his thoughts recur to the memory of thoſe perils, which Heaven, againſt all appearing poſſibility, had ſo often helped him to overcome, and from this laſt conſideration he learned to truſt ſome hopes of Candace's ſafety to the ſame goodneſs; beſides theſe, the anguiſh of his wounds, did a little dull the ſenſe of his inward ſufferings, and at laſt his Feaver became ſo violent, as it ſcarce left him any judgement to reaſon with his misfortunes; this inforced his obedience to the Chirurgions orders, and the good Eteocles more paſſionately deſirous of his Maſters dure than he that wanted it, that might oblige him ſilence, reſolved to anſwer him no more; while ſome of the firſt days paſt away in this manner, his beautiful entertainers diſcreetly paid him their viſits at ſuch ſeaſons when their courteſie might not diſturb him, & ſo ſhon as the remiſſion of his malady gave them leave to ſee and diſcourſe with him oftner they let fall no occaſion to be civil, and there were very few hours in the day, wherein either the fair Lady, or the handſome ſtranger were not ſtill by his bed-ſide, to keep him company; without diſcerning the reaſon, they felt a ſecret impulſe of extraordinary affection one towards another, and if in the manly and majeſtick mind of Caeſars Son, the noble youth met charms that taught reſpect, and ingaged affection, Caeſario made himſelf acquainted with ſome reſemblances in his, that beſides the obligation he received, had got a very kind entertaiment in his heart; they were both pain'd with an equal deſire to know each other, but, becauſe he had already try'd it upon Eteocles in vain, diſcretion bridled the young mans curioſity, and Caeſario contented himſelf to be indebted to him for his life, without naming a requeſt that might oppreſs his civility; yet at laſt he could not over-maſter ſome motions of tenderneſs that carried him beyond circumſpection, and as his ſuſpitions were ſtronger, and his conjectures grounded upon clearer appearances than any the unknown could frame to excuſe his curioſity, he was the firſt that ventured to put his deſire into words, and one day perceiving him near his bed, where he ſtill carefully rendered him ſuch offices, as are ſeldom found, in ſo young a friendſhip, after his eye had ſeriouſly peruſed his face, ‘Sir, ſaid he, 'tis juſt I ſhould content my ſelf with the knowledge that my life has lately been the gift of your nobleneſs without ſteping farther into freſh obligations, or haſtily exacting younger proofs of your bounty, eſpecially being newly laden with others ſo great and weighty, but beſides that, Natures law injoyns all mankind to court the acquaintance of thoſe that have ingag'd us, methinks I ſee ſomewhat in your perſon, that by a particular intereſt, has inflamed me with another kind of curioſity than I ever yet reſented, if therefore my requeſt be not too unwellcome, pray let me know to whom I am indebted for my life, and yet I had rather ſit down unſatisfied, than ever offer you the trouble of changing any reſolution to keep your ſelf concealed. The young Cavalier, that burned with an equal deſire to Caeſario's, tenderly embrac'd that occaſion to content him, and willing to ingage the Prince, by the inſinuation of a free confidence to a requital by a like diſcovery: Sir, ſaid he, I ſhall not offend truth in affirming, that I never felt a ſtronger paſſion in my life, than to obtain the ſame favour from your ſelf you demand, for beſides that, I have taken an impreſſion from your looks, of ſomething in you that is very great and ſublime, methinks I deſcry ſome reſemblances there, that time has not totally wiped away from my memory, which do equally beget and awake within me the ſenſe of a high reſpect, and a tender love to your perſon. I ſhall gladly know when you are pleaſed to reveal it, for whoſe ſake it is I have ſo ſuddenly conceived them: in the mean time, for you I ſhall get an eaſie victory upon my repugnance in breaking the deſign to keep my ſelf concealed from other perſons: I am called Alexander, Son to the infortunate Antony, and the great Queen Cleopatera, and born in the firſt year of their marriage, at the ſame birth with my Siſter the Princeſs Cleopatra.’

Caeſario, confirmed by theſe words, that had not gueſs'd awry, was almoſt extaſy'd with an intemperate joy, and all thoſe paſſionate workings of the ſoul that ever bubled the ſecret ſympathy of blood at ſuch encounters, did then powerfully poſſeſs themſelves of his, [Page] with an exceſs of tenderneſs, prompted then by the ripened beauties of his dear brother: at the ſame moment did he call to mind what they were in their bloſſoms, while they were brought up together in their age of Innocence at the Court of Alexandria; nor had a ten years ſeperation ſpread ſo great a change upon his viſage, that he could not eaſily retrive thoſe firſt marks of his Infant beauty: Alexander had a harder game to play in his diſcovery, for beſides that Caeſario's complexion, by reaſon of his reſidence in the broyling climate of Aethiopia, muſt needs ſuffer a greater alteration than Alexanders could do at Rome; they were divided at a time when Caeſario's fancy was far ſtronger to retain the images of things, than his brothers, that wanted four or five years of his age; beſides, his memory drew another diſadvantage from the general report of Caeſario's death, and therefore no wonder if his aims were made unſteady by a ſuppoſed impoſſibility of ever ſeeing him again.

In theſe agitations of Natures raiſing in his ſpirit, the ſon of Caeſar had all the pain in the world to reſtrain himſelf, and how ſtrongly ſoever he held the bridle of his paſſion, he could not hold in theſe words; How, ſaid he, are you Alexander Son to Anthony and Cleopatra? Which again confirmed by the young Prince, he was ready to reveal himſelf, and throw up his arms to give and receive ſuch Careſſes as were mutually due on both ſides, when ſome other conſiderations ſtept in to ſtop the paſſage of that freedom, and defer his diſcovery for a few days longer.

Eteocles, that had kept his affection like Religion, to the memory of his royal Miſtreſs and her illuſtrious family, and no ſooner heard the name of Alexander, but in the loyal heat of his tranſport was ready to throw his imbraces about him, yet prudence checked his paſſion with a ſtrong hand, till he ſaw which way Caeſario would bend his behaviour, but collecting from his carriage that he had no intent to make himſelf known ſo ſuddenly, he compoſed his own by that pattern, that he might not ſlack his Maſters reſolution.

Caeſario for a time kept a fixed eye upon his Brothers face, and preſſed his hand with a great deal of ardour; at laſt, ſaid he, ‘Indeed you are ſprung from a royal ſtock, that for many weighty reaſons I muſt ever honour, I cannot hear the names of Anthony and Cleopatra, and not bow my heart in reverence to their memories; within a few days I ſhall give you ſome particular reaſons why I mention them in this manner, and undiſguiſe you my birth, and fortunes, with the whole ſtory of my unhappy life, whereof ſome important conſiderations forbid me now to tell you any more that I am called Cleomedon.’

‘Alexander, unwilling to preſs him farther, for fear of diſobliging; I will wait the time your pleaſure ſhall prefix, ſaid he, for a clearer declaration, and perhaps the free and reſerved relation I intend you of my life, may purchaſe from you a greater confidence to truſt me with yours: but, if the requeſt might not importune you, I would gladly demand if you be the ſame Cleomedon, whoſe reputation is arrived among us, and the ſame that in a few of theſe lateſt years, for the Aethiopian Crown, has done ſuch great actions, and gained ſo many famous Victories in Nubia. The report of thoſe inconſiderable things I did there, reply'd Cleomedon, could never have come ſo far, if Fame in the publiſhing had not adulterated the truth with ſome of her own additions; but 'tis true I am Cleomedon, that in the Queen of Aethiopia's ſervice did make war, and got ſome battels againſt the Rebels in Nubia: do not uſe me ſo hardly, to think that any diſtruſt of you can perſwade me to keep a drawn Curtain betwixt us, if I were not ſtrictly forbidden by ſome ſtrong reaſons, which you your ſelf will not diſapprove, when you once underſtand them; I would open my heart unto you as my proper brother, and when I may ſafely give my ſelf leave to appear to you without a mask, I ſhall acquaint you with things that will challenge your aſtoniſhment, and I hope ſhew you cauſe to confirm me that affection, which is yet the only gift of an unmerited nobleneſs.’

Alexander, that in his Travels had every where met with the high voiced renown of Cleomedon's actions, regarded him as a perſon extraordinary, and the fair Lady that had all this time been preſent at their parley, gave him all the reſpects which the bruit of his vertue (that had likewiſe travelled it ſelf through the Country where ſhe was born) made her believe he had right to.

Caeſario, who had cauſe to think he never ſaw any face (Candace's only excepted) that equalled hers in beauty, kept his eyes faſtned upon her viſage, in a poſture that expreſſed his aſtoniſhment, and by degrees reviving things in his remembrance that had long layn gaſping there, he ſenſibly began to fancy ſome lineaments in that face he had ſeen before; this apprehenſion quickly raiſed an unquiet diſpute in his thoughts, and he had concluded her to be the Princeſs Cleopatra, if an imperfect retention of his Siſters air and aſpect, very different from thoſe, had not prevented that opinion; beſides he ſaw Alexander's behaviour carried a great reſpect, and a deep obſervance to the Lady, far diſtant from that freedom and familiarity which ſuch a nearneſs of blood might allow.

[Page] Alexander, that had heedfully traced the ſeveral ſteps of his eye, was reſolved to unſhadow all to his curioſity, as well to make known by the entire repoſal of ſuch a ſecret, how highly he eſteemed him, as to offer a fair invitation of requital again in the ſame nature, and after he had turned towards the Lady in a poſture that ſeemed to ask her permiſſion of what he had to ſay, ‘I ſee, ſaid he, you have met ſomething in my words that you think very ſtrange, and if report has exactly told you of my birth and education, you cannot but wonder to ſee me in this Equipage in the train of this beautiful Princeſs, in a Country (that though it be my native ſoil) is now to me grown as forraign as any other in the Roman Dominion, in a private melancholy houſe, and in fine, in a condition that implies ſome extraordinary events in my fortune: but if my Lady pleaſes to licence the relation, I will give you a ſingle ſurvey of every link, as it hangs upon the chain of my ſtory, and render you a preciſe account of the weightieſt and moſt eſtimable accidents of my life.’

‘If Cleomedon thinks, replyed the Princeſs, that a diſcourſe of this nature can deceive or infenſate his pains, I ſhall be very unwilling to oppoſe it; and though you cannot give it him entirely, continued ſhe, with a delicate compoſition of ſmiles and bluſhes in her cheeks, without recounting ſome paſſages, that I have cauſe to fear may purchaſe me his cenſure, I have too little repentance for what I have done, not to ſuffer the recital without diſpleaſure, provided it may ſweeten his with any allay or mitigation.’

Caeſario's ſick mind and feeble body might well have excuſed his refuſal of a long attention to the ſtory of a ſtrangers fortunes, but the intereſt he took in that noble Brothers, cauſed him for ſome moments to keep in awe the violent effects of his grief, when after he had ſmoothly acknowledged her obliging complacence to the Princeſs, and handſomly complemented Alexanders freedom in parting thus with his ſecrets to a ſtranger, he diſpoſed himſelf to receive him.

The Princeſs modeſtly conceiving that ſome parts of the ſtory were not fit for her preſence, left the Chamber to go walk in the Garden with her two women, and Alexander making choice of a feat near Caeſario's bed, after he had called the Chirurgions, and taken their aſſurance, that neither the noiſe of his words, nor the Princeſs attention, were in any danger to controll the approaches of his health, he began the hiſtory of his life in theſe words.

The Hiſtory of Alexander and the Princeſs Artemiſa.

THey have much truth on their ſide, that ſay we have no ſtronger inclinations than thoſe, which firſt eſtabliſh themſelves in our ſpirits, and 'tis certain that they take much deeper root in a heart which never received any other impreſſions, than in thoſe who having been long acquainted with paſſions, have found out the means of fortifying themſelves againſt their powerful aſſaults; you will ſee a ſufficient evidence of this in the diſcourſe I have to make you, and you will find in this conjuncture of my life, ſomewhat ſo various, and poſſibly ſo extravagant, that I ſhould hardly find examples to authorize what it hath made me do, if I ſhould have need either of authorities or excuſes after the ſucceſs of my enterprize.

I was born in Alexandria upon the ſame day with the Princeſs Cleopatra my Siſter, and I came into the World at a time, when poſſibly no Family whatſoever could boaſt of a Fortune, which might equall that of ours: I had ſcarcely faluted the light, but I had a great train, of Princes at my ſervice, and we could hardly go, but the Queen our Mother being prepoſſeſſed with the exceſſive affection ſhe bare us, or that Pride, which without doubt drew down the indignation of Heaven upon our Houſe, inſtead of making us to be educated like Princes, ſhe cauſed us to be reverenced in Alexandria like little Gods; ſhe made us take their very habits, and oftentimes preſenting my Siſter and my ſelf to the People under the form of Apollo and Diana, ſhe made us receive ſervile adorations from them. Anthony being preoccupated with the extream love he had for her, approved all her actions, and by her ſolicitation in our very infancy, we were declared publickly Soveraigns of the greateſt Kingdoms of Aſia, and the Prince Caeſario our Brother, the Son of Caeſar and Cleopatra, was proclaimed King of Kings, and brought up in thoſe hopes, which afterwards the event did cruelly fruſtrate: I paſs theſe things ſlightly over, both becauſe they are known to all the World, and alſo becauſe the memory of them is unpleaſing, and in ſome ſort ſhameful to ſome who ſaw themſelves afterwards, and do ſtill ſee themſelves reduced to a far different fortune: Nevertheleſs I am obliged to make ſome ſtay upon my infancy, ſince in that age it was that I received, though imperfectly, the characters which I carry at this day, and ſhall eternally carry in my heart. You may poſſibly have heard the relation how Anthony at his return from the War which he made againſt the Parthians, wherein, though he [Page] gained many victories, he received very conſiderable loſſes, whereby he was obliged to return into Egypt, without any fruit of his expedition, made high complaints againſt the King of Armenia, accuſing him for being the cauſe of the loſs of his Army, by not ſending thoſe aſſiſtances and ſupplies which be was obliged to furniſh him with, according to their league and agreement, and for favouring the Parthians in all things, out of envy to his glory; and in fine, after he had publiſhed the reaſons which he had, or believed he had, to accuſe him, he ſurpriſed him, and took him Priſoner, with part of his Family, and brought him as it were in Triumph to Alexandria, where he preſented him to the Queen laden with chains of Gold, and detained him in an hard captivity. I have heard ſomething of that, ſaid Caeſario, (who knew all thoſe things more perfectly than Alexander, and yet ſeeing him paſs them ſuccinctly over, would not interrupt him) and there are few perſons who have not heard of the puiſſance of Anthony, at the time of your birth, as alſo of his expedition againſt the Parthians and the unfortunate impriſonment of Artibaſus King of Armenia. This knowledge of yours, replyed Alexander, will ſpare me many things which I muſt have declared to a perſon leſs acquainted with the affairs of our Family; and I ſhall only tell you, that there were taken with Artibaſus three of his children, a Son of ten years old, and two Daughters of the age of ſeven or eight years: theſe three young perſons were three miracles in beauty, wit, and all the qualities which can be remarkable in children: the little Ariobarzanes (for this was the name of the young Prince) had a mind ſo excellent and ſublime, and did already ſhew ſo much vivacity and greatneſs of courage in the meaneſt of his actions, that there were wonderful hopes conceived of him; and the two Princeſſes, at that age, gave all that ſaw them cauſe to judge of their beauty, that it would one day rank them amongſt the moſt ſoveraign beauties of the Univerſe: I was about their age, and yet notwithſtanding my tender youth, I remember very well all things which came to my knowledge: I was near the Queen when Artibaſus was brought into her preſence: And I too, ſaid Caeſario within himſelf: I ſaw, continued Alexander, how he threw himſelf at her feet, being followed by his three children, and how the Queen, after ſhe had received him with diſdain enough, and given him ſome reproaches for his want of friendſhip to Anthony, ſent him back to the place appointed for his ſecurement, and commanded him to place all his hopes in Anthony's goodneſs, and to ſupport his fortune with patience.

This great and powerful King, but much inferior in all things to Anthony's who poſſeſſed with an abſolute authority the moity of the world'd Empire, continued priſoner at Alexandria, and endured his misfortune with a remarkable conſtancy: his confinement being of great importance, he was guarded with a great deal of care, and his Son likewiſe was very ſtraightly looked to (though he were but the youngeſt, and the eldeſt Artaxus heir to the Crown continued in Armenia, Anthony failing of getting him into his power, as he did the reſt of the Family) but the Daughters enjoyed as much liberty as they could wiſh, and they were brought up at Court, not as Priſoners, but as the Companions of the Princeſs Cleopatra my ſiſter. There was little difference in their beauty, and yet ſome there were which gave the Princeſs Arſinoe ſome advantage over her ſiſter Artemiſa; nevertheleſs, though I were acquainted with the admirable qualities of Arſinoe, my inclinations, without knowing any reaſon for it, directed themſelves towards Artemiſa, who was younger than Arſinoe by a year: This Princeſs, by a ſympathy which powerfully acted in the beginning of our affections, permitted at the firſt that I ſhould contract all the amity with her that we were both capable of, her beauty, which gave at that time marvellous hopes of its future excellence, already made impreſſions in the ſoul of a child of ſeven or eight years old, and the ſweetneſs of her ſpirit, and the gracefullneſs which accompanied all her actions, did ſo Captivate my heart that it was impoſſible for me to live without her; I diſdained all ſorts of entertainment, and all manner of company to enjoy hers, and I had this happineſs too that ſhe expreſſed no greater inclinations towards her own brother and ſiſter, than ſhe did to me: If any from Anthony or Cleopatra enquired after the little Alexander, they muſt look for him in the company of the little Princeſs of Armenia, and they had ſo much ado to get him from her, that ſhe was fain often-times to follow him to the place whither he was ſent for or otherwiſe they would have hardly got him thither without tears, and grand expreſſions of his diſpleaſure. The Queen diverted her ſelf ſometimes with theſe innocent teſtimonies of our affection, and cauſing us to play together in her preſence, ſhe pleaſed her ſelf to hear our converſations: She heard me one day talking to her more ſeriouſly than my age did ſeem to permit; ‘Artemiſa, ſaid I to her, I am affraid you do not love me: I love you, ſaid ſhe, as well as my Siſter: That is not enough, replyed I, for I love you much better than the Princeſs Cleopatra: And how would you have me love you then anſwered the young Princeſs? As you do your ſelf, ſaid I: As my ſelf? replyed Artemiſa, ah? Alexander, that will be impoſſible, for I love nothing like my ſelf, and I am very ſenſible that when I take any hurt, I could wiſh it to [Page] any perſon in the world rather than to my ſelf; but next to my ſelf I will love you as much as any thing elſe in the world beſides. Artemiſa, anſwered I, I proteſt to you, that when I ſee you ſuffer any harm, I reſent it ſo much, that I would willingly endure it my ſelf to eaſe you: If it be ſo, ſaid ſhe, I confeſs, Alexander, that you love me better than I have loved you hitherto, but for the future, I will do what I can to render you the like affection: I humbly intreat you to do it, added I, otherwiſe I ſhall never be ſatisfied.’

The Queen my Mother was much pleaſed to hear this diſcourſe, and having told Anthony of it, he was pleaſed oftentimes to make uſe of the ſame diverſion. Jealouſie too began already to mingle it ſelf our affection, and I remember that Anthony ſeeing me one day extraordinary ſad, and having asked me before the Queen, and before Artemiſa, and her Siſter, (who at that time was in the Chamber) the cauſe of my ſadneſs: ‘I am ſad, ſaid I, becauſe that Artemiſa hath not looked kindly upon me to day: You have nothing to do with my looks, anſwered Artemiſa diſdainfully, and you are ſufficiently ſatisfied with the careſſes which my Siſter hath rendered you all this day: Artemiſa, replyed I, your Siſters kindneſſes do not pleaſe me like yours, and if you would have me, I will tell her in your preſence, that I love her not in compariſon of you: You will do me a pleaſure, briskly anſwered the young Princeſs, for ſhe hath hit me in the teeth all this day, that you you have quitted me for her with diſdain, which hath angred me very much: Arſinoe, continued I, turning my ſelf towards her Siſter, if you have any ſuch thought, you deceive your ſelf, and I deſire to acquaint you in your own preſence, that I love Artemiſa much better than your ſelf.’

Arſinoe, who in an age ſo full of innocence, had a compoſed ſpirit, and admirable knowledge, troubled not her ſelf at my diſcourſe, and Artemiſa was ſo ſatisfied with it, that from that moment ſhe began to look more kindly upon me.

I am tedious in relating to you theſe petty effects of Nature; but theſe beginnings of my life have been of ſuch importance in relation to the laſt events which have happened to me, that I am forced to make you a ſlight mention of them, and to prepoſſeſs you with the opinion that I was really amorous of Artemiſa at that time, when by the priviledge of my age I was permitted to ſee her, that you may be induced to excuſe thoſe things which the memory of theſe beginnings cauſed me to do at an age more capable of reaſon. During this time, as without doubt you have heard, the war between Anthony and Octavius Caeſar brake out into ſuch a flame, that all hopes of peace were extinguiſhed, and theſe two being Maſters of the greateſt part of mankind, did ſo eagerly purſue each others ruine, that nothing was capable to divert the deſtruction of him that was moſt unfortunate: In the time of this war, the King of the Medes, the ally and friend of Anthony, but an irreconcilable enemy to Artibaſus, continually importuned Anthony and Cleopatra to put him to death, and offered them in requital, his forces to ſerve them in the war againſt Caeſar, but they rejected his propoſitions, and could not reſolve to uſe ſo much cruelty to a great Prince, who by his ill fortune had faln into their power; they perſevered a long time in this reſolution, and I believe they would have continued ſo ſtill, if her misfortunes had not exaſperated, or rather changed the inclinations of Cleopatra.

The famous battel of Actium was fought, wherein by the Queens flight, the fortune of our Family was totally ruined, and the victorious Caeſar found himſelf in a condition to purſue the remainder to the gates of Alexandria. Then it was that the King of the Medes redoubled his ſolicitations for the death of the King of Armenia, and ſent to offer Cleopatra in the abſence of Anthony, the whole forces of his Kingdom for the head of Artibaſus: the preſſing neceſſity of her affairs, and the deſpair to which ſhe ſaw her ſelf reduced, might make the Queen hearken to the propoſitions of the cruel Mede, but yet ſhe would not have diſpoſed her ſelf to grant him what he demanded, nor have ſtained her memory with a blot which will never be wiped off, if at that time ſhe had not been informed that the eldeſt Son of Artibaſus, who remained in Armenia, having declared himſelf King, ſerved Caeſar with all his forces, and did highly threaten to ruine Anthony and Cleopatra, and be cruelly revenged for the injury they had done to his Family. The reſentments of this Prince were juſt, but the ſpirit of Cleopatra being as I told you, exaſperated by her miſfortunes, ſhe did that out of deſpight, which ſhe would never have done for any other intereſt; and giving ear to the preſſing ſolicitations of the King of the Medes, out of a boyling precipitation, which was too late repented of, ſhe cauſed the head of the unfortunate Artibaſus to be cut off, and ſent it to his enemy.

I paſs over theſe things ſuccinctly, as being known to the greateſt part of the world, and as belonging to the life of that great Princeſs, whereupon we have leſs occaſion to inſiſt: As very a child as I was, I remembred that this action ſtruck me with ſuch a horrour, as [Page] by all likelihood I was not capable of; and the young Artemiſa having received this loſs otherwiſe than might have been expected from her age, I continued weeping with her divers days, no body being able to get me out of her company: as I wiped away her tears, I mingled my own abundantly with them, and though after their Father's death, neither the Prince, nor the Princeſs, came any more to the Palace, but confined themſelves to a ſorrow conformable to their condition, thoſe who had the care of my education had no quiet with me, if they did not continually have me to Artemiſa, and the Queen, who did much indulge me, and could not condemn this inclination of mine, permitted them to give me this ſatisfaction as often as poſſibly they could. I ſaid to her then, with a countenance as ſad as her own, You will love me no more now, Artemiſa, and poſſibly you will bate me after the diſpleaſure you have received from the Queen my Mother. I repeated theſe words to her divers times, and ſhe anſwered me, ‘Alexander I will love you ſtill, for it was not you that killed the King my Father:’ No Artemiſa, reply'd I, it was not I, and I believed I ſhould part with my own life, to reſtore the King your Father his.

We were about ten years of age when we had this diſcourſe, for it was almoſt about the ſame time that the final misfortunes of our family happened: you have heard without doubt that Caeſar came to beſiege us in Alexandria, and that Anthony having loſt all his hopes, and believing he had loſt the Queen too, who was more dear to him than all the world, diſpatched himſelf with his own hands; and that Cleopatra deſiring to avoid the ſhame of the triumph for which Octavius intended her, ended her life by the ſting of an Aſpik, which at that rate, ſaved her from the ignominy that was prepared for her; and that Caeſar having rendred himſelf quiet poſſeſſor of all things that were in Anthony's power, carried us to Rome, my Siſter Cleopatra, my bother and I, I mean my brother Ptolomy, younger than I by a year; for as for the Prince Caeſario, the ſon of Julius Caeſar and the Queen, a Prince incomparable hopeful (whoſe memory you have awakened in me by your ſight, and by ſome reſemblances which I find in your viſages, according to the old Idea which remains in my memory) he was killed by the cruel order of Auguſtus by the way to Ethiopia, whither the Queen our Mother had ſent him.

Hitherto, a out of complacence only, and for fear of diſcovering himſelf, Caeſario had heard things which he knew as well as the perſon who related them, but ſeeing him about to enter upon the diſcourſe of thoſe paſſages which were not as yet come to his knowledge, he gave ear with more attention than before, and heard him purſue his narration in this manner.

Before we departed from Alexandria, Caeſar ſent back the Prince, and the two Princeſſes of Armenia into their Country with an honourable convoy, and many preſents and teſtimonies of his amity to the young King of Armenia their brother. I was almoſt as ſenſible of this ſeparation, as I had been of the greateſt of our misfortunes, and having obtained permiſſion to bid Artemiſa adieu, I thought I ſhould have melted into tears at her departure, ſhe embraced me divers times, and according to the liberty indulged to our tender years, ſhe permitted me to render her my careſſes in the ſame manner: ‘Artemiſa ſaid I, with a rationallity ſomewhat above my age, you are going at your liberty, but we remain ſlaves, but I aſſure you my captivity is not that which afflicts me moſt, and amongſt all our miſeries I find nothing ſo unſupportable as our ſeparation:’ This was, at leaſt the ſenſe of what I ſaid to her, but I know not whether I could range my words in this order at that time or not: Artemiſa ſeemed to be moved with them, and accompanying the tears I ſhed with ſome of hers; Alexander, ſaid ſhe, I would with all my heart you might go with us, and I am ſenſible that I ſhall be much afflicted when I ſhall be deprived of your ſight: ‘Ah, Artemiſa, replyed I, you will remember me no more, and when you are grown bigger than now you are, you will be ſerved by ſo many Princes, that you will entirely forget your poor Alexander you leave behind, who loves you ſo dearly. I will never forget you, replyed Artemiſa, and if you love me ſtill, when you are grown a man come and ſee me, and you ſhall know whither I have loſt the affection I have for you: I will do it, Artemiſa, I will do it, anſwered I with precipitation, I will come one day and put you in mind of the promiſe you have made me, and if I had now liberty to wait upon you, nothing in the world ſhould ſeparate me from you.’

This was our converſation, after which I was conſtrained to let her depart, and I ſtaid behind with all the grief that at that time I was capable of.

A few daies after their departure, Octavius took us with him to Rome, we arrived there, and ſince I muſt needs confeſs our ſhame, we ſerved as an ornament to the triumph of our Vanquiſher: if we had been of ripers years, we had without doubt, according to the example of the Queen our Mother, avoided by our death the ignominy they made us ſuffer; but beſides that our youth took from us almoſt all ſenſe and knowledge of our condition, we find [Page] ſome excuſes for it, and accuſe fortune only for the calamities whereinto we were fallen through her cruelty. Not long after the vertuous Princeſs Octavia, ſiſter to Auguſtus and Wife to Anthony our Father, whom he had forſaken for Cleopatra, and who in ſpight of the unworthy uſage ſhe had received from her Husband, had alwaies taken his part at Rome againſt her Brother, although he took up arms partly for her quarrel, dwelling ſtill in his houſe, and managing his eſtate as if they had agreed the beſt in the world, received us not as if we had been her Husbands children, but as her own; ſhe put us entirely into the poſſeſſion of Anthony's eſtate, which Caeſar had left him, and ſhe treated us in the ſame manner as ſhe did her Son Marcellus, and her Daughters, as well thoſe which ſhe had by Marcellus her former Husband, as thoſe two which ſhe had by our Father: we began according to her will to converſe, with her Family, as if we had been all Brothers and Siſters; but the Empreſs Livia finding ſomewhat extraordinary in the Princeſs Cleopatra my ſiſter, by the permiſſion of Anguſtus took her to Court, and bred her in a garb little different from that of the Princeſs Julia. We were brought up with as great a care as we could have been in the greateſt luſtre of our Family; and if at Rome we were not called Kings of Kings, and had not titles full of pride and vanity, nor a numerous train of Princes as at Alexandria; yet it is certain that we were educated like Marcellus, Tiberius, and the greateſt young Princes that were bred in Rome, and through the generous care of Octavia there was nothing wanting that might form our nature to things worthy of our birth. My Brother Ptolomy and I had towardly inclinations, and a diſpoſition great enough to learn as well the exerciſes of the body, as thoſe ſciences wherein they employed our minds, and we proceeded in both with a very general approbation: Auguſtus having extinguiſhed in the death of Anthony all the hatred he bare him, looked upon us, and treated us as really, as if we had been the Sons of Octavia, and according to his example all the perſons of the greateſt importance in Rome, or of the moſt illuſtrious families took it as an advantage to be allied to ours, and conſidered us almoſt in the ſame manner as they could have done in the time of Anthony's greateſt fortune. In the mean time (that I may return to give an account of the inclination I had to Artemiſa in my very infancy) I will tell you, that the tender youth wherein we were ſeparated, being not capable of a ſtrong and ſolid ſettlement. Time, as you may well imagine, did partly wear out of an Infants mind an impreſſion which it could not long conſerve; it was a hard matter that at nine or ten years old a firm affection ſhould be formed in my Soul: but certain it is, that the continuation of time was never able to baniſh this memory out of my ſpirit, and though I grew to a more rational age, the Image of Artemiſa never returned into my thoughts, without leaving ſome tenderneſs and paſſion behind it, without drawing ſighs from me, and without putting me for ſome time into the ſweet thoughts of my infancy. I carefully likewiſe preſerved a Ring and a Bracelet of her hair which I had received from her; and whatſoever coldneſs theee arrived in a paſſion which at an age like ours could not ſtrongly eſtabliſh it ſelf, I deſired alwayes to carry about me with high reſpect the precious marks of the affections of a great Princeſs: This is all that war left of it then, and it is probable, that no more could have remained of it, and that this remembrance would have been totally laid to ſleep, if it had not been awakened again afterwards, as I will relate unto you. In the Interim, if Ptolomy and I grew in ſtature, and divers qualities, wherein according to the judgement of the Romans, we had ſufficiently profited, Cleopatra our Siſter arrived to ſuch a degree of beauty, that the general voice of Rome publiſhed it for the moſt rare, and the moſt accompliſhed that ever appeared within the circumference of the Empire; and all thoſe who had formerly pretended to handſomneſs, yielded her the advantage at an age when ſhe had hardly had time to ſhew her ſelf. Amongſt a great number of illuſtrious Adorers that ſhe had acquired, Tiberius the Son of Livid by Druſus her former Husband, and Juba ſurnamed Coriolanus, the ſon of Juba ſometimes. King of Mauritania, were the moſt conſiderable: Marcellus, as I believe, at the firſt had a very ſtrong inclination for her, but his compliance to Auguſtus his will, who had deſigned his Daughter Julia for him, or, as others believe, the amity he had for Coriolanus obliged him to diſingage himſelf frrom it, and Tiberius and Coriolanus ſtood ſingle to diſpute their affections in publick: though Tiberius was a perſon worthy of eſteem for his birth, and many qualities he was maſter of; yet I confeſs my inclinations were entirely for Coriolanus; and that Prince hath ſuch great and amiable parts in him, that it is impoſſible to know him without being abſolutely his. I could tell you ſome things both of his valour and the vertues which accompany it, which poſſibly would make you prefer him before all the perſons in the World: but I will reſerve a more full relation till another time, and will only tell you at this preſent that the advantage which in my judgment he had over Tiberius, and all other perſons that I knew, made me take his part, and obliged me to favour him in all that poſſibly I could. Thoſe of either ſide ſignalized themſelves by their addreſſes in divers actions of gallantry, and we began to appear amongſt them when we approached [Page] our ſixteenth year, and to put our ſelves forward in all things, even beyond what our Age did ſeem to permit: the Emperor approved our forwardneſs; proceeding, as he ſaid, from courage worthy of our birth, and Marcellus and Coriolanus ſhewed us as much favour in it as poſſibly could be. At laſt I attained to the ſeventeenth year of my age, and I began then to deſire ſome occaſions to acquire a little reputation, and ſeek out means to advance my ſelf by ſome actions of valour; I already perceived my ſelf ſtrong and valiant enough to undertake and ſupport all things, and the glory of Coriolanus, Marcellus, and Tiberius, who had their eſſayes in arms at an age not much different from mine, and by a thouſand brave effects had already rendred themſelves commendable to all the Romans, ſpurred me on with emulation. Fortune quickly gave me the means to ſatisfie my ſelf, and upon ſome combuſtion that happened then at Rome between Coriolanus and Tiberius, about the love and the pretenſions they both had for Cleopatra, the Emperor to regulate their differences, and to encourage them to his ſervice by their mutual jealouſie, and the hopes of gaining Cleopatra, gave them two equal employments, and ſent them to command two Armies. Tiberius was deſigned for Germany againſt the Pannonians and the Dalmatians, and the Son of Juba againſt the Auſturians and Cantabrians: At firſt my reſolution was to follow Coriolanus in his expedition, but the Emperor at the entreaty of his ſiſter Octavia, who ſaw me at that time a little indiſpoſed, refuſed to give me leave, and forced me to ſtay at Rome till the departure of Tiberius, who went for Germany; I had no inclination to march with Tiberius, ſeeing I could not go with Coriolanus, but the Empreſs Livia having told me about that time, that if I would eſſay my fortune in arms with her ſon, ſhe would obtain me permiſſion; I thought I could not handſomly refuſe this occaſion of going to the wars, and I feared that the difficulty I ſhould make of it would rather have been attributed to ſome other motive, ſooner than to the inclination I had to march with Coriolanus rather than with Tiberius: I reſolved then upon that voyage, which was in ſome ſort contrary to my humour in relation to the Commander in chief, under whom I was to fight, and yet conformable to my deſire too, in regard it conducted me to the near occaſions of acquiring glory. The Empreſs procured me liberty to go, and I took my leave of the Emperor, and of Octavia, and all perſons to whom either out of reſpect or affection I owed that regard, and having put my ſelf into a very magnificent Equipage, little different from that of our General Tiberius, I departed from Rome with him and marched towards Germany: Tiberius the greateſt diſſembler in the world, though he knew upon ſeveral accounts that my affections inclined towards his Rival much more than towards himſelf, yet remembring that I was brother to Cleopatra, and that he might have need of me in the courſe of that ſervice he had vowed to her, received me with all kinds of careſſes, he treated me with a thouſand reſpects and civilities; and when we were come to the Army, he offered me my choice of employments and commands over his Troops, but I did not abuſe his offers, and being ſufficiently conſcious, that by reaſon of my youth, and want of experience, I was uncapable of a command, I deſired to continue without charge, and to aſſociate my ſelf with the better experienced Commanders in thoſe occaſions which were preſented. I was fortunate enough in my entrance upon arms, and if I may ſpeak it with modeſty, there were few encounters paſſed, wherein they that ſaw me fight, did not report very advantagiouſly of me; Tiberius wrote to Rome concerning me with ſuch Elogies, as I could attribute to nothing but the intereſt he had to flatter me, and he would have perſwaded all the Army that he had ſeen few perſons ſo very young as I was, give ſuch fair teſtimonies of valour: in exchange of that which he ſpake of me out of complacence, I muſt needs really confeſs of him, that through the whole war he carried himſelf as well as the moſt valiant, and moſt experienced Captains could have done; and if his dealing ſometimes with thoſe he had conquered, had not favoured of an humour inclined to cruelty, he could not have returned with a greater perfection of glory than he acquired in this expedition: He took a great number of Towns, and was Victor in two ſignal Battels, and by his valour and good conduct in leſs than ten months he finiſhed a war which in all probability might have laſted many years. Caius Druſus his younger brother by a year, who under him commanded the Cavalry, performed there a number of gallant actions both for valour and conduct, & gave great hopes to them which knew him, that he would be one day one of the greateſt men of the Empire: I was preſent at all, which paſſed even to the ſmalleſt skirmiſhes, and I received ſome hurts, but they were all ſo ſlight that they never deprived me of occaſions to receive new ones. My mind at that time enjoyed tranquility enough; and ſince the death of Anthony and Cleopatra, our captivity and continuance at Rome, I had paſſed over eight years which were troubled with no other cares but what might proceed from my ambition, and a rational deſire of re-aſcending by honourable waies to thoſe dignities from which we had been precipitated; but about this time my deſtiny, which for all that, I will not now complain of, raiſed me new troubles, and made me change for another courſe [Page] of life, wherein I have continued ever ſince, and to which I ſhall be fixed to my very laſt breath.

There was in our Army an Armenian of an illuſtrious birth, being allied divers wayes to the Royal Family, and of no common vertue, his name was Artamenes, he was at firſt preſented to Tiberius to ſerve him without any command; but the knowledge we had of his condition in a ſhort time, and the teſtimonies of his valour and prudence which he gave of himſelf, ſoon after obliged Tiberius to treat him with great civility, and to give him the moſt important employments of the Army: the ſweetneſs I found in his converſation, and the characters of vertue I obſerved in him, quickly fixed me into great friendſhip with him, and after being augmented by little and little by our frequent ſociety, became at laſt ſo great, that we were but ſeldom aſunder, and hardly concealed any thing from each other: he was ordinarily very ſad, but it might be eaſily perceived that his ſadneſs proceeded from ſome ſecret cauſe, and not from his temper, I never enquired it of him, fearing to be troubleſome to him, at laſt I learned it when I leaſt expected it. I knowing that he was an Armenian, and brought up in the King of Armenia's Court, deſired to enquire ſome news of him concerning the Princeſs Artemiſa, to whom I had devoted my firſt inclinations, even at my very birth. I was informed that of all the Royal Family there were no more left in the world but the King Artaxus and the Princeſs Artemiſa, and that the Prince Ariobarzanes and the Princeſs Arſinoe being ſent to Rome by their brother to the Emperor, who had demanded them, were caſt away at ſea, to the great regret of all the Armenian Court. After I had heard this news which was unpleaſing to me, I enquired more particularly concerning Artemiſa, and the better to oblige Artamenes to inform me, I related to him the beginnings of my fancy, the acquaintance I had with the young Princeſs, and beſides what I have told you, divers other things more at large that I have not mentioned to you; whilſt I made him this diſcourſe, I perceived that he bluſhed and grew pale again, and ſighed every moment, and that in all his actions he expreſſed an extraordinary trouble: the fear which I had at firſt of his health obliged me to enquire of him the ſubject of that alteration which appeared in his countenance, and Artamenes ſeeing himſelf no longer in a condition to diſſemble with me, ‘Ah Alexander, ſaid he, you have touched me to the quick with your diſcourſe; and how happy are you that you did not know Artemiſa, but at a time when ſhe was not old enough to do you much harm, nor your ſelf of ſufficient years to be ſenſible of any? Alas! continued he ſighing, I have made but too ſad proof of thoſe powers from which your youth exempted you, and by them it is that I ſee my ſelf now reduced to the moſt ſad condition that ever was; I loved her but too much for mine own repoſe, and to puniſh me for having too audaciouſly advanced mine eies towards her, ſhe hath condemned me to eternal baniſhment; it is for the expiation of this raſhneſs that I have forſaken my native country, and yet my flight cannot preſerve me from an ill to which all the reſt of my daies are deſtined: Alexander you ſee my preſent condition, and that you may not judge that I am brought to this paſs by ordinary powers, take notice by the portraiture of that Princeſs which by Artifice is faln into my hands, whether Artemiſa may be ranked among the meaner beauties: Compare, ſaid he, as he was drawing out the box wherein the picture was incloſed, compare the imperfect draughts of a young child with the completeſt points of perfection; ſee if you can ſtill find there the marks of that which ſeemed ſo beautiful in your eies, and judge if you have not ſome obligation to your fortune, that it did not make you ſenſible of her forces, but when they were not great enough to wound incurably.’

Artamenes had not quite finiſhed this diſcourſe, whereby in diſcovering to me his wounds, he made mine bleed afreſh, but I had already opened the box, and greedily caſt mine eyes upon the pourtraiture of Artemiſa. True it is that the Idea of the former beauties of that Princeſs which remained in my memory, made me expect ſome what very handſome, yet that which then preſented it ſelf to my eies appeared to me very different from what I had imagined, and the beauty of Artemiſa had received ſuch a wonderful growth with her age, that I could not behold ſo much as her picture without being dazled at it: I eaſily diſcovered the ſame lineaments that I had formerly ſeen, and the ſame ſweetneſs in her eyes that ſhe had in her infancy, but all was admirably heightned by a luſtre which eight years time had added to it, and to the former ſweetneſs there was joyned a Majeſty capable of imprinting reſpect and love in moſt inſenſible ſouls: I could not untye my ſight from this dear image, which unperceivably recalled all my old affections, and if I had not feared to diſpleaſe Artamenes by keeping his picture ſo long, I ſhould have paſſed the whole day in this agreeable converſation; at laſt he took it again out of my hands, which did not quit it without ſome violence, and looking upon me with an action which ſeemed only to require my judgment, of what I had ſeen, ‘Well Alexander, ſaid he, do you find the Princeſs of Armenia, ſuch as you left her at your ſeparation? Ah Artamenes, anſwered I, with a ſigh, how fair is Artemiſa, and [Page] what a marvellous encreaſe hath that Beauty received, which ſhe had at the time of our firſt acquaintance? Take heed, replyed Artamenes with a ſmile, that you do not find her too fair for your own repoſe; and if you will take my counſel, do not imbark your ſelf upon that dangerous Sea where I have ſuffered ſhipwrack: Lions and Panthers have nothing in them ſo cruel as the diſpoſition of Artemiſa, and pity which is natural to perſons of her Sex, hath no acceſs to her. She hath reaſon to be cruel, anſwered I, if extraordinary advantages may create haughtineſs in any, there is no perſon in the World in whom it may be more juſtly placed than in the Princeſs Artemiſa.’

We had ſpoken more to this purpoſe, but that our diſcourſe was interrupted by ſome of our friends; I was not at all diſpleaſed at it, for I thought it long before I was alone to entertain my ſelf with the fair Image which did re-aſſume its former place in my heart: I paſſed the reſt of that day and all the night following in a deep muſing, which would not let me ſleep, and never poſſibly was any ſpirit more troubled than mine was at this rancounter. Artemiſa preſented her ſelf to me then in a condition which could hardly find any reſiſtance in a mind which had been prepoſſeſſed with affection for her, at a time when her powers were much different from what they were then; and the natural diſpoſition I had to love, made my ſoul incline to that relapſe with ſuch forces, as it would have been in vain for me to oppoſe. Whatſoever advantages there were in the Princeſs Artemiſa, the ſight of the picture was not capable to give birth to my paſſion, if I had known them only by that, and the impreſſions of love which I had received in my fancy were not ſtrong enough to kindle that fire in my Soul, if they had not been otherwiſe aſſiſted; but my former inclinations being joyned to the view of the picture to my former inclinations, and my deſtiny as I believe, having operated above all theſe natural cauſes, that paſſion whereof I had made eſſayes in my infancy, inſenſibly poſſeſſed it ſelf of my ſoul. All the moſt ſweet and agreeable paſſages which had happened in the beginnings of my love, returned then into my memory; and all the proofs I had received of the innocent amity of that Princeſs, preſenting themſelves to my memory, I began to condemn my ſelf either of lightneſs or negligence in ſlighting a fortune which well deſerved that I ſhould entirely engage my ſelf therein: ‘Why did I not continue, ſaid I, what I had ſo happily begun? and why, having loved according to my power when I was not capable, why do I ceaſe to love now when I am ſo? Ah without doubt the Gods by their juſt decree reduce me to my duty which I had ungratefully forgotten, and they have permitted me to have knowledge of the preſent beauties of Artemiſa, only to make me acknowledge my fault, and to bring me back into the way which without any reaſon I had forſaken: they remember better than I, that I have promiſed that Princeſs a thouſand times to love her eternally, and I remember very well my ſelf, that I promiſed her at our ſeparation to come and ſee her one day in Armenia, and that ſhe required this promiſe of me as a proof of my affection; Why ſhall I not acquit my ſelf of a word which I gave voluntarily? and what reaſon can diſpence with me for the many and deep proteſtations of eternal fidelity which I made to that Princeſs as young as I was? Ah Alexander, rouze thy ſelf out of this ſleep which hath poſſeſſed thee ſo many years, purſue thy former inclinations; thy duty, and thy deſtiny it ſelf, as thou may'ſt judge by ſo uncommon an adventure, calls thee to the ſervice of Artemiſa; ſhe will not poſſibly be ſo cruel to thee as Artamenes repreſents her: if by what is paſt thou may'ſt judge of her inclination, ſhe is not ſo inacceſſible to pity as ſhe hath appeared to this repulſed lover, and poſſibly ſhe will call to mind her own promiſes when ſhe ſhall ſee thee perform thine.’

By this kind of reaſoning which flattered me, I introduced love into my heart with precipitation, but yet I wanted not another counſellor within me which repreſented ſuch difficulties to me as might have been able to divert me from my enterpriſe, if I had been capable my ſelf to conſider them: I knew that I was the ſon of Anthony and Cleopatra, who againſt all right, both divine and humane, had cruelly put to death the Father of that Princeſs; and beſides that, I might juſtly fear leſt the Princeſs her ſelf being come to more maturity of age, might bear regret againſt the children of her Father's murtherers; I was not ignorant that the King of Armenia her brother, had conſerved that irreconcilable hatred againſt the memory of Cleopatra, that he publickly declared it, and that he had uſed all endeavours to be revenged upon all thoſe who by any proximity or alliance might have relation to her, and that upon this quarrel he had made cruel war upon the King of Media, who was ſon to him that had procured the death of Artibaſus at Cleopatra's hands, which had not been ended but by the authority of Auguſtus; and that beſide the juſt reſentments which filled him full of animoſities, he was reputed a ſevere Prince, and one obſtinately wedded to his paſſions; knowing theſe things, I ſaw my ſelf deprived of all means ever to ſerve Artemiſa by the conſent of her brother, and to obtain her of him by any ſervice, though of never ſo great importance: I could not ſo much as ſee her without throwing my ſelf into an enemies [Page] country, and expoſing my ſelf to great dangers, but all theſe conſiderations were not ſtrong enough to oppoſe the birth or return of my paſſion. ‘Artemiſa, ſaid I, is the daughter of Artibaſus, her brother, and all her relations are our enemies, and there is little hope of prevailing with them, and ſome danger in engaging my ſelf in ſeeking occaſions to ſee and ſerve her; but for all that I muſt love Artemiſa, and all the obſtacles which can oppoſe themſelves to that deſign are too weak to divert me from it. I cannot openly deſire her of her brother, becauſe he is an enemy of the children and the memory of Cleopatra, but I may viſit her privately, who poſſible hath not conſerved reſentments like to his; and I am not the firſt of thoſe who upon occaſions of leſs importance have paſſed divers years unknown and diſguiſed in their enemies territories: my face is not known in Armenia, and in the crowd of a great Court I may continue long enough diſguiſed without being diſcovered; at the moſt 'tis the enterpriſe of a young man in whom his age may apologize for all; and though I ſhall hazard the danger of miſcarrying in it, that is not enough to divert me from ſo glorious a deſign, and I cannot periſh more honorably nor more contentedly than in the ſervice of Artemiſa.’

Theſe were my thoughts which poſſeſt me for many days, and this was at laſt my reſolution, from which nothing was able to move me. I viſited Artamenes oftentimes, who finding me muſing and unquiet, contrary to my ordinary humour, imagined part of the truth; he gave me ſome knowledge too of the ſuſpition he had, and modeſtly queſtioned me about it; but though in thoſe affairs I ſhould have made no difficulty of confiding in his friendſhip, I did not believe that in this buſineſs, wherein he had ſo great intereſt, I ought to repoſe too much confidence in him. In the mean time I thirſted after nothing more than the battel which was to be fought within few days, being reſolved to depart immediately after to go into Armenia, without communicating any thing concerning my voyage, but only to thoſe whom I intended to take along with me. As fortune would have it, I lighted upon a conveniency for the execution of my deſign much greater than I expected; but I purchaſed it with a very ſenſible diſpleaſure, which did ſtrongly moderate the ſatisfaction I might have received from thence. The battel was fought as we had expected, and we gained the victory with all manner of advantages, which put a period to the war, it having reduced the Barbarians into a condition which made them ſubmit to whatſoever Articles Tiberius was pleaſed to impoſe upon them: but in this days work we loſt divers valiant men, and amongſt the firſt Artamenes was brought back to his Tent, having received two mortal wounds. The affection I bare him made me run thither as ſoon as I had heard the news, and I found him drawing towards his end, having but ſome few moments to live: I expreſſed to him preſently by all manner of teſtimonies the grief I had to ſee him in this condition: but if he were ſenſible of the marks of my affection, he ſhewed but little apprehenſion of his approaching death, and he diſpoſed himſelf to receive it with a conſtancy very conformable to the opinion I had of his vertue: After he had briefly anſwered my civilities, he prayed me to cauſe thoſe who were in the chamber to withdraw a while, deſiring that none might be witneſſes of what he had to ſay to me, but only one of his Servants which he retained with him: and when he ſaw that no body heard us; ‘Alexander, ſaid he to me with a feeble voice, but an aſsured countenance, what care ſoever you have taken to conceal from me the pain you have endured ſome days ſince, yet I knew it, or at leaſt ſuppoſed ſo, and I am too well acquainted with the powers of Artemiſa to be ignorant of the effect they might produce in a ſoul, over which heretofore they had ſome power: you love her without doubt, or I am deceived in my conjecture, and the opinion I have that it is ſo, obliges me before I die to make you a preſent which poſſibly will be acceptable to you, and I cannot put it into better hands than yours. 'Tis the picture of Artemiſa that I leave you, by the ſight of that as I imagine, you have relapſed into your ancient affections, and in the poſſeſſion of it you will find without doubt ſome conſolation for the evils which her abſence makes you ſuffer: if I be not deceived in my opinion, you will carefully preſerve it, and all the recompence which I deſire of you for it, if ever you ſee that adorable Princeſs, do me onely the favour to teſtifie to her my laſt thoughts, and the regret which accompanies me to my grave for having incenſed her by the raſh declaration of my Love, Artamenes ſpake in this manner, and I was ſo ſurprized with his diſcourſe, that I continued a long time without being able to reply: he thought I made ſome difficulty to declare my ſelf to him before the man who ſtayed with us, and deſiring to remove that ſcruple: Fear not, added he, to diſcover your thoughts to me becauſe of Narciſſus's preſence, he ſhall be gone if you pleaſe, but he is a man faithful and diſcreet above all others, and poſſibly you may have occaſion to make trial of his fidelity and diſcretion. This was not the principal reaſon that hindered me from anſwering, though it was ſome obſtacle, but ſeeing my ſelf aſſured on that [Page] part, and obliged to acknowledge by mine own freedom, that of the obliging Artamenes, Artamenes, ſaid I to him, the teſtimonies of your affection are ſo dear to me, that I can no longer diſguiſe my thoughts to you; and if I have done it hitherto, it was not out of any diſtruſt, but only out of fear of diſpleaſing you in confeſſing my ſelf to be your Rival. It is true, that by the ſight of what you ſhewed me, my former affections are revived with ſuch a force, as hath totally deprived my ſoul of all liberty, and that I am reſolved to ſerve Artemiſa (ſince by reaſon of your misfortune I may do it without offending you) to the utmoſt moment of my life. I receive the precious gift you beſtow upon me with all the acknowledgment which is due for ſuch a preſent; and I not only promiſe you, that if I ſee Artemiſa, I will acquit my ſelf of the charge you give me, but that I will go within theſe three days to ſee her, and I ſhall never be at quiet till I am in her preſence, and ſhall make her a faithful relation of the obligations ſhe hath to your fidelity.’ Artamenes having underſtood my reſolution, ſeemed a little aſtoniſhed at it, and continued a long time without replying, keeping his eyes fixed upon the ground, like one in a deep muſe, but a little after looking upon me: ‘Alexander, ſaid he, you undertake no ſmall enterpriſe, and you affront all manner of dangers which poſſibly you have not foreſeen; but if you are fully reſolved to ſee and ſerve Artemiſa, which in the preſent condition of your affairs, you cannot do but in private, I can facilitate the means to you by making you another preſent, which is the faithful Narciſſus, whom I beſtow upon you, and of whom I deſire at my death the ſame fidelity to you, that he hath expreſſed to me in the whole courſe of my life: he is of a very noble extraction among the Armenians, and he hath acquaintance in that Court that will not be ungrateful to you: you cannot find a more favourable adventure to advance your deſigns, and I believe I cannot give Narciſſus a better recompence than to leave him in your ſervice.’ I was about to thank Artamenes for his cares ſo full of goodneſs, when he fell into a fainting before us, and a little after breathed his laſt, without being able to utter one word more. I had really all the regret of the loſs of a vertuous and obliging friend as he was, and it continued a long time in my heart before I could receive any conſolation: the faithful Narciſsus remembring his command, threw himſelf at my feet, and gave me the picture which his Maſter had given him, and proteſted to me, that if his ſervice were acceptable to me, he would never forſake me while he lived, and that after the death of a Maſter who had been ſo dear to him, he could receive no comfort but in me alone: I found ſo much conveniency in this accident, and Narciſſus was ſo agreeable to me at the very firſt, for the ſincere and real grief he expreſſed for the loſs of his Maſter, that I received him with open arms, and promiſed him whatſoever he hoped from Artamenes, and from a Maſter much more affectionate. Artamenes was interred according to his condition, and Tiberius, who aſſiſted at his funerals with all the principal Commanders of the Army, teſtified a great deal of regret for his loſs: his Equipage according to his order, was parted amongſt all his Servants, and I employed my ſelf to get them entertainment, and engaged them to other Maſters to hinder them from returning into Armenia, where perchance they might meet me, know me, and diſcover me; I took the greateſt part into my own ſervice, but with a deſign to ſend them to Rome with my Equipage, meaning to take no more with me into Armenia, than Narciſſus and two Squires, whom I loved above all the reſt of my Domeſticks. After this I dreamed of nothing more than my departure, and having diſpoſed all things to that purpoſe as well as I could deſire, I took my leave of Tiberius, but I told him I was returning to Rome, being obliged to make all poſſible haſt thither by ſome Letters which I had received from Octavia, which did not give me time to wait his return, whereunto he began to prepare himſelf: Tiberius made me a thouſand careſſes at my departure, and proteſted that he would render me a teſtimony before the Emperour of the gallant actions that I had done, and he forgot nothing that might ſerve to acquire him the brother of Cleopatra. I parted from the Army, and marched one days journey upon the way to Rome, but afterwards, in a place where we had lain, pretending ſome ſmall impediment, I commanded all my people to go directly to Rome without ſtaying for me by the way, promiſing to be there within two days after them, and telling them that for ſome reaſons I was obliged to make this voyage without a train which might make me be taken notice of: nevertheleſs I delivered to one of my Servants a Letter for the Princeſs Octavia, (thinking that I was obliged to render her an account of my actions for the good offices we received from her) wherein I ſignified to her that a youthful curioſity engaged me to make a voyage into Aſia, with a deſign privately to viſit ſome Provinces, and to frame my ſelf with the more conveniency to the forreign languages and manners, and that I would return to her in a ſhort time, and ask her pardon for taking this little ramble without her knowledge. After my [Page] Equipage was gone, I took my way out of Dalmatia through Greece, which I croſt, attended only by Narciſſus, whom Artamenes had given me, and two Squires, the one a Roman named Valerius, and the other an Egyptian, named Tideus, the ſon of Androclion, who was my governor, and Maſter of this houſe where we are. With this ſmall company I came to Bizantium, and having croſſed the Helleſpont, I began to enter into Aſia; I fed my ſelf, during my Voyage, with the moſt agreeable hopes I could conceive, making no reflection upon dangers and obſtacles which oppoſed my intentions. An hundred times a day I opened the Caſe wherein the fair preſent of Artamenes was encloſed, where I fixed my ſight upon the beautiful viſage of Artemiſa with incredible raviſhments, & oftentimes addreſſing my diſcourſe to it, as if it had been capable of giving me ſatisfaction, I demanded of it the performance of the promiſes which the Princeſs had made me to love me as long as She lived. I concealed nothing of my deſigns from Narciſsus, reſolved to commit the conduct of them to him, as I was neceſſitated to do it in a Country where I had no acquaintance, but by his means; and having taken notice in the frequent conſervations I had with him of the excellency of his underſtanding, and the addreſs which he had to manage an affair of the ſame nature with mine, I made no difficulty to communicate to him my moſt ſecret thoughts; he gave me hopes which without him I ſhould hardly have conceived, and I promiſed him recompenſes conformable to the greatneſs of the ſervices which I expected from him. But why do I trouble you with a relation of our voyage? there happened nothing to us worthy of your knowledge, and after we had ſeen divers Cities, and croſſed over divers Provinces, without making any ſtay, or receiving any hindrance by reaſon of the profound peace which thoſe Provinces through which we paſſed, began already to enjoy, we entred into Armenia, and at laſt arrived at the great and famous City of Artaxata, the ſeat of the Armenian Kings where the Princeſs was at that time with her Brother: Narciſſus had an houſe in the City, where we alighted, and where I was reſolved to ſtay not being willing to ſhew my ſelf at Court in publick, for fear (as it probably might happen) that there might chance to be ſome perſon there who had ſeen me at Rome, and might diſcover me: At Narciſſus's houſe I paſſed amongſt his Friends and Kindred, who came to viſit him, for one of his friends and a ſervant of the deceaſed Artamenes, and in their preſence, according to the command I had given Narciſſus to that purpoſe, he converſed with me as with one of his familiars. The longing deſire I had to ſee the fair Princeſs, for whoſe ſake I had taken ſo long a journey, deprived me of all reſt for the firſt night I paſſed in Artaxata, and I could not conceive that I was encloſed within the ſame City with her, without abandoning my ſelf to tranſporting thoughts: I flattered my ſelf with a thouſand pleaſing imaginations, in expectation of my approaching happineſs, and I meditated an hundred ways what diſcourſe I ſhould entertain her with at the firſt, and the means I ſhould uſe to come into her preſence: upon this account I was in no ſmall diſquiet, and though the Princeſs was of very eaſie acceſs, it was difficult for an unknown perſon who deſired to appear in a mean quality, to find an occaſion to entertain her with any liberty: beſides I was not willing to diſcover my ſelf to her too ſoon not knowing whether ſhe did yet retain the thoughts of good will ſhe formerly had for me, or like her Brother, ſhe were poſſeſt with reſentments and hatred againſt all the Family of Anthony: In this uncertainty I deſired, I feared, I hoped, and I was at the ſame time diſtracted with divers different agitations which held me till the morning. I reſolved at the laſt to take the commiſſion which Artamenes had given me for the ground of the firſt diſcourſe I intended to make to Artemiſa, and having communicated it to Narciſſus, whoſe prudence might extreamly aſſiſt my youth in the conduct of my affairs, I found him of an opinion conformable to mine, and deſiring to be guided by his counſel in all things wherein I might need it, I gave him an account of the greateſt part of thoſe thoughts that had troubled me the night before. As ſoon as I was ready, having underſtood by Narciſſus the hour at which the Princeſs was accuſtomed to come almoſt every day to the Temple of Diana, which is in Artaxata, I went out without any company but himſelf, and under his conduct I went to wait at the Temple with thoſe impatiences that are not conceivable: I took my ſtation near the gate, that I might ſee her at the neareſt diſtance, both coming in and going out; and though I was a ſtranger in a place which might entertain me with ſome novelty, I had all my thoughts ſo fixed upon one ſubject, that I hardly caſt mine eyes one moment upon all the other objects that preſented themſelves: I believed that day, as my impatience made me judge, the Princeſs came much later than ſhe was uſed to do, and this delay being inſupportable to my deſires, I turned my ſelf divers times towards Narciſſus, to tell him that Artemiſa was the floweſt Princeſs in the world. At laſt ſhe came, and in my opinion, all that deſerves the ſtyle of beautiful came with her into the Temple, and if the picture which Artamenes gave me did ſurpaſs the former knowledge I had of her, it ſeemed to me then that the picture was infinitely tranſcended [Page] by the truth; in her infancy ſhe could onely have imperfect lineaments, ſuch as might ground an hope of thoſe miracles ſhe ſhould one day be Miſtreſs of, and though the form of her viſage, and the colour of her hair were preſented in the picture, yet the ſweet motion of her eyes, the majeſty of her port, and a thouſand graces which were in her, could not be expreſſed by the pencil: I no ſooner ſaw her appear, but my heart knew her, and took its flight towards her, and continued always with her, yet it was not without feeling at firſt a ſhivering and trembling throughout my body, which teſtified my tranſport, and if Narciſſus being leſs paſſionate than my ſelf, had not pulled me behind to give me warning to retire, I took ſo little notice of thoſe who commanded to make way, that I ſhould have directly oppoſed her paſſage: ‘Ah! behold, ſaid I within my ſelf, behold that adorable Princeſs, to whom the Gods and mine own inclinations deſign me; I diſcern her by a thouſand marks which ſpeak her ſo, and though mine eyes might have miſtaken, my heart would have ſhewed her to me amongſt all the perſons upon earth.’ During all the Sacrifice, having ſeated my ſelf in a convenient place for that deſign, I kept mine eyes fixed upon her face, and I was ſo happy at this beginning that once ſhe turned hers upon me, and ſtay'd them there a good while: Ah! Artemiſa, ſaid I, with a language which my looks only expreſſed, do you not know me? and have you ſo far forgot your former amity, that there remains no Idea of Alexander's viſage in your memory? I am the very ſame whom at an age full of innocence you began firſt to love, the ſame whom you commanded to return one day to you; and the ſame who by your orders only comes to confirm at your feet the proteſtations he hath made you.

Though my mouth was ſilent, Artemiſa might read this diſcourſe in mine eyes, if ſhe had been poſſeſſed with the leaſt ſuſpition of the truth: but at that time having other thoughts, ſhe was only attentive to the ſacrifice till the end of it, and when it was finiſhed ſhe went out of the Temple, and remounted into her Chariot, leaving me the ſight of her onely for the advantage of this firſt days work; neither did I hope for any more, but retired my ſelf to Narciſſus his houſe with all the ſatisfaction I pretended to at my firſt going abroad: then I reflected upon what I had ſeen, and from thence paſſing to judgement upon what I reſented, I found that if Artemiſa was incomparably more fair than I had imagined her to be, I was a thouſand times more amorous than I had been, or thought I poſſibly could be: about the end of the ſame day, I ſaw her as ſhe walked abroad, and divers other times one after another I had the ſame good fortune, yet without ſpeaking to her, or finding any opportunity to do it conveniently: In the mean time I accuſtomed my ſelf to ſee her, and by that means I endeavoured to diſſipate that fear which ordinarily ſuprized me when I ſaw her, which I took for one of the greateſt marks of my paſſion. At laſt I was reſolved to paſs over my former difficulties, and not deſiring to defer any longer what I had ſo maturely deliberated upon, I took my time one day, when at her departure out of the ſame temple of Diana where I ſaw her the firſt time, and where ſhe viſited almoſt every day the Virgins conſecrated to that Goddeſs who dwelt there, ſhe was walking on foot in the fair alleys which are within the incloſure of the Temple, into which acceſs was permitted to all perſons: She had already taken ſome turns, when Narciſſus, as we had agreed, drawing near to one of the principal Officers of her train, with whom he was very well acquainted, he prayed him to preſent me to her, and to give me the opportunity to entertain her ſome moments with a buſineſs of very great importance: this Officer very courteouſly did ſo, and having ſpoken a word to the Princeſs, of whom he eaſily obtained the audience that I required, he made me a ſign to draw neer: I did reverence to the Princeſs after the Mode of her own Country; and when as I raiſed my head to look in her face, I ſaw her eyes fixed upon mine with a ſparkling vivacity, which pierced me to the bottom of the heart, I was ſo ſurprized that I had hardly any aſſurance left to finiſh what I had begun, ſhe went aſide from her Gentleman-Uſher, and the Ladies which followed her, about ſeven or eight paces, to give me the liberty of ſpeaking to her, without being overheard; and after ſhe had commanded me with a great deal of ſweetneſs to declare what I had to ſay to her, ſtriving againſt all the fear which kept me tongue-tyed: Madam, ſaid I, Artaments, whoſe Servant I was—ſhe interrupted me at this word; Speak no more to me of Artamenes, ſaid ſhe, he is a man who hath offended me, and you cannot ſay any thing to me on his part but it will diſpleaſe me. Madam, ſaid I, if Artamenes were alive, I would not ſpeak to you of him knowing that in his life time he diſpleaſed you by his audacious thoughts, but ſince he is no more amongſt the living, I thought I might without offence render to his memory what he deſired of me at his death: How, anſwered Artemiſa, is Artamenes dead? He is Madam, replyed I, and at his death he commanded me to aſſure you that he died without any other regret, but for having diſpleaſed you, and that having fought after death as the only expiation of his fault, he received [Page] it with joy, if thereby he might obtain your pardon for the fault he had committed againſt you

The Princeſs out of the goodneſs of her nature was moved at this diſcourſe, and ſhewing ſome ſigns of ſadneſs in her countenance; ‘Artamenes did offend me, ſaid ſhe, but the reſentments I had againſt him did not extend ſo far as death, and his fault was of ſuch a nature as might have obtained its pardon of me by diſcontinuation and repentance without requiring any greater reparation: I have as much regret for his loſs as one can have for the loſs of a very vertuous man: and if I believed that I had contributed any thing to it, I ſhould be very ſenſibly troubled at it a long time. It would not be juſt Madam, replyed I, that you ſhould find a Subject of grief, where he himſelf found his laſt comfort, and his condition is much more happy in that he hath appeaſed by his death an indignation which made him hate and fly life, than if he had lived to linger it out in torments which wou'd never have cauſed your compaſſion: Time would have cured him, added the Princeſs, and that with the aſſiſtance of reaſon would without doubt have reduced him to a more comfortable condition: Time and reaſon, replyed I, doth hardly cure evils like thoſe of Artamenes, and by good reaſon time would have wrought no effect upon him, ſeeing that according to reaſon he could not raiſe his thoughts to a ſubject more worthy of his adorations.’

Theſe words eſcaped me with little diſcretion, but I could not keep them in, in the violence of the paſſion which tranſported me, and the Princeſs in ſtead of taking my liberty ill, took ſome pleaſure in it, and having a mind to oblige me to ſpeak more, after ſhe had called one of her Maids, ſhe commanded me to relate the death of Artamenes: I did it in the moſt paſſionate terms that poſſibly I could, and I took notice that during my diſcourſe, wherein the Princeſs ſeemed to take extraordinary delight, ſhe kept her eyes fixed upon my countenance with a marvellous attention; I had hardly finiſhed, but we ſaw the King arrive, who with a numerous train of Courtiers and his guards came to the Temple. As ſoon as he alighted he went to the Princeſs his Siſter, to walk with her in thoſe allies, and at his coming I went another way with Narciſſus. This was the firſt time I ſaw the King of Armenia, he was about eight and twenty years of age, of a comely proportion, and a gallant mind, but of a haughty carriage and a fierce aſpect, which partly denoted the roughneſs of his nature: as I had no deſire to make my ſelf known to him, ſo I came not near him, but ſeeing that the Princeſs was engaged with him in a long diſcourſe, I retired home with Narciſſus: I was ſo contented with this firſt entertainment I had with Artemiſa, that I could not conceal my ſatiſfaction, and beſides the beauty which the Picture, and my ancient remembrance had figured to me, I found a ſweetneſs in her converſation, and ſuch rational reſentments for the deſtiny of Artamenes, that the force of my paſſion was very much augmented thereby: ‘Ah! without doubt, ſaid I, ſhe is not ſo cruel as Artamenes hath repreſented her to me, and if Heaven be not mine enemy, I hope we may yet have ſome acceſs to her: I find in her ſame goodneſs ſhe had in her younger years, and if ſhe hath contracted any thing that is more ſtately and venerable, 'tis beauty and majeſty that hath imprinted it in her countenance, and not the change of her nature.’

In the mean time I ſought all occaſions to be preſent at thoſe places where moſt frequently ſhe was, as often as was poſſible, and there hardly paſſed a day but I ſaw her, and was ſeen by her: always at her paſſing by I cauſed her to take notice of me by the profound reverence I made her, and ſhe being humble and courteous obſerved my reſpects, and took them in good part. One day I coming into her walk in a fair Garden which is without the walls of Artaxata, and rendring her the accuſtomed ſalutation at her paſſing by, ſhe ſent for me by one of her Maids named Leucippe, who had been with her at Alexandria during all the time ſhe had continued priſoner there. I went to her, being uncertain what the Princeſs deſired of me, and when I was come near her; ‘Of what Country are you, ſaid ſhe, and how long have you been in Artamenes his ſervice? I am an Egyptian, Madam, anſwered I, born in the City of Alexandria, and I ſerved Artamenes only in the laſt war where he died: It muſt needs be, added the Princeſs, that he obſerved a great deal of diſcretion and fidelity in you, ſeeing in ſo ſmall a time he repoſed ſo great a confidence in you. It was by my good fortune, replyed I, that I gained his affections, and he had not as yet found any occaſion to make tryal of my fidelity: Well Leucippe ſaid Artemiſa turning her to her Maid, both by the eyes, and the whole air of the face, and the very tone of the voice, is it not the very ſame thing? I find no difference, Madam, replyed Lucippe, but what eight or nine years time might well occaſion. Then they talked privately together a while, and a little after the Princeſs turning towards me: In what condition are you, ſaid ſhe, and ſince the death of Artamenes to what other Maſter are you engaged? Since the loſs of ſo good a Maſter, replyed I, I have not engaged my ſelf to any body, and I ſhall hardly find elſewhere any condition like to that I have loſt. If you will continue in [Page] my ſervice, anſwered Artemiſa, the good qualities which I imagine to be in you will make way for you. I was ſo joyful at this propoſition, that not being able to diſſemble my contentment, I threw my ſelf at Artemiſa's feet, and kiſſing the hem of her robe with an action full of reſpect:’ ‘Madam, ſaid I, I receive the favor you do me as the greateſt I could have deſired of the Gods, and I proteſt to you before them, that amongſt all your ancient ſervants you ſhall never find ſo much zeal and fidelity as in him whom you receive this day into your ſervice.’

I was retained in this manner in Artemiſa's houſe, and from that day was placed amongſt a number of young men nobly deſcended, to whom ſhe allowed penſions, without obliging them to any other ſervice, but only to be ordinarily near her perſon, and receive her commands as occaſions preſented themſelves; you ſee how in theſe beginnings fortune was favourable to me, and whether I could deſire a more happy introduction to my deſigns: I ſaw my ſelf now at liberty to ſee the Princeſs almoſt every hour in the day, and except it were at thoſe hours when her women were only with her, there was no time but we were permitted to have acceſs to her: you need not ask me whether I were one of the moſt affiduous in her ſervice, you may well judge, that acting upon another conſideration than thoſe did, who were retained by the baſe hope of a ſalary, my ſervices had another kind of appearance, and my actions, having another aim, had likewiſe a very different grace. I ſeized upon the very leaſt opportunities of pleaſing her, with a zeal which might eaſily be obſerved by her, and if I ſaw my ſelf outſtript by any of my Companions, I had no repoſe upon ſome other occaſion I had the means to repair my deficiency; the Princeſs who perceived it, took an affection to me above all the reſt, and having otherwiſe a diſpoſition to wiſh me better than they, ſhe oftentimes expreſſed to me that ſhe had an higher eſteem of my ſervices than of theirs. I continued at the Palace all the day, and at night I retired to my lodging, where my two Squires and Narciſsus lay; although I laid hold of all occaſions of ſeeing the Princeſs as often as I could, yet I avoided as much as I could all great companies, and the preſence of thoſe who might have ſeen me at Rome, and when any of them came in to the place where I was, I got from them, I turned my head another way, or laid my hand upon my face, and being aſſiſted otherwiſe with the ſmall appearance there was that I ſhould come into that place, and in that condition, I kept my ſelf concealed with facility enough; yet one Evening in the Princeſſes chamber the King taking notice of my face, which he had often ſeen before, without informing himſelf of me, and underſtanding by them of whom he enquired, that I was in the Princeſs his Siſters ſervice: he addreſſed himſelf to her, and asked her in my preſence what country-man I was, and how long I had ſerved her? Artemiſa having anſwered him that I had been two months with her, and that I was an Egyptian born in the City of Alexandria? ‘All that come out of the Country, ſaid the King rubbing his eye brow, are ſo odious to me, that if you had taken my counſel you ſhould never have received this man into your ſervice:’ ‘He is very innocent, replyed Artemiſa, of the diſpleaſure we have received in his Country, and I hope he will prove no leſs faithful to us, than if he had been born in Artaxata.’ I gave no anſwer to the Kings diſcourſe, ſeeing with how much goodneſs the Princeſs took my part, and beſides he took no farther notice of me, but without continuing any longer in that diſcourſe he turned his looks and his thoughts another way. In the mean time by the ſight of my Princeſs my love received continual increaſe; and if on the one ſide I received great ſatisfactions, on the other ſide I was eternally tormented by my impatiences and fears; I burned with a deſire of diſcovering my ſelf and ſeeking out the true enjoyments inſtead of the ſmall appearances of happineſs which till then had contented me, and I dyed with fear leſt in ſeeking a greater fortune, that which I then poſſeſſed ſhould be taken from me, and if I ſhould let Artemiſa know that I was the ſon of Cleopatra, I might find the ſame reſentments in her that were in her brother.

‘Ah Alexander, ſaid I, what good doth it do to thee to flatter thy ſelf with a ſhadow of falſe pleaſure, if the realities be denyed thee, and what happineſs doeſt thou find in enjoying only the ſight of Artemiſa, when the whole Armenian Court doth the like? If Artemiſa be ignorant that thou adoreſt her, if ſhe know not that thou art Alexander, 'tis impoſſible that ſhe the very ſame who now receives thy ſervices with teſtimonies of acknowledgment, and endures thy perſon with divers expreſſions of goodneſs, will abhor both thy ſervices and thy perſon, when ſhe ſhall know thee to be Son of Anthony: This thought touched me ſometimes ſo ſienſibly,’ that the marks of my cruel inquietude appeared in my viſage, and I loſt for divers days the pleaſure I was wont to receive from that happineſs which was granted me: At other times when I was in Artemiſa's preſence looking upon her with ſuch an action which might diſcover a part of the truth to her: ‘Ah forgetful Artemiſa, ſaid I, is it poſſible that you can ſee Alexander ſo long & not know him? he to whom you gave your firſt affection, to whom you promiſed that you would remember him eternally? [Page] and yet he whom you commanded to come one day to you is now in your preſence, appears every hour before your eyes, and hath lived divers months in your ſervice: if according to your promiſe you had preſerved any place for him in your memory, his face would not be ſtrange to you, and a little affection would eaſily remove the cloud which hinders you from diſcerning him:’ Though I diſcourſed thus with my ſelf, yet oftentimes I called to mind what ſhe ſaid to Leuoippe in my preſence that day ſhe received me into her houſe, and by that I did probably conjecture that ſhe had not quite loſt the Idea of my viſage, the attention wherewith I had ſeen her behold me divers times ſtrengthned me in that opinion, but I received at laſt ſuch confirmation of it as permitted me to doubt no longer, and from that I received a boldneſs which till then I durſt not think of. She was walking one day in a gallery where ſhe viewed ſome pictures which ſhe had cauſed to be drawn not long before, and after ſhe had taken a few turns, ſhe retired to a window where ſhe entertained her ſelf for a while with Leuoippe onely: and having turned her eyes that way that I was, ſhe ſaw me, and perceiving that I looked upon her with great attention, ſhe called me, and commanded me to approach. The ſatisfaction I received every time ſhe ſpake to me made me run to her with joy, and when I was near her, Alcippus ſaid ſhe, for that was the name I gave my ſelf, ‘I told Leuoippe, and I ſay ſtill, that if my memory fail me not, your face doth very much reſemble a Prince that I knew, and you might know ſeeing you were born in Alexandria:’ This diſcourſe which ſignified her memory of me, gave me a great deal of content, and growing more bold than I had been till that time. ‘Madam, anſwered I, I have been very often ſlattered with that reſemblance, and your Highneſs is not the firſt that I have heard ſay, that I am very like a Prince whom poſſibly you may have ſeen: but if I gloried in it in my own country, I ought to conceal it from you, for without doubt both the reſemblance and the name of a perſon whom you hate are odious to you. And why do you believe, replyed Artemiſa, that the perſon of that Prince is odious to me? Becauſe ſaid I, he is Alexander, and the ſon of Anthony and Cleopatra: I confeſs, anſwered the Princeſs, that I hate the memory of Anthony, and Cleopatra, and the cauſe I have to do ſo is ſo juſt that this hatred will never be condemned by any perſon, but I hold the Prince Alexander to be ſo innocent of our misfortune, that my reſentments never reached ſo far as him: Is it poſſible Madam, replyed I, that your enmity is not extended unto that Prince, who though he be innocent of your diſpleaſures yet he is Son to thoſe who cauſed them? 'Tis certain, ſaid Artemiſa, that I do not hate him, nor ever will upon that occaſion, and I know too well how to diſcern between the innocent and the culpable to conceive unjuſt averſion: O Gods! Madam, ſaid I, how equitable and generous are you, and how happy would Alexander be if he had but this knowledge of his fortune? Alexander, replyed the Princeſs, hath not eſtabliſhed his felicity with us, and I believe he troubles himſelf very little to know what thoughts I have for him: If you could ſee into his, anſwered I, you would be of a quite different mind, and you would know, as I do, that Alexander's ſoul is entirely poſſeſſed with only paſſion which he hath to adore and ſerve you.’ Artemiſa looked upon me then in ſuch a manner as made me believe that ſhe began to ſuſpect me, and after ſhe had left me a while in that apprehenſion: ‘Of whom, ſaid ſhe, could you learn ſo much? Of Alexander himſelf, ſaid I, with whom I had the honour to be bred,’ and thoſe ſecrets I knew at leaſt as well as Artamenes his: I knew not reply'd Artemiſa, with a kind of ſurprize, ‘whether you were bred up with Alexander or not, but if you be ſo knowing in his ſecrets as you ſay, you will know without doubt according to all likely-hood, that Alexander hath thought no more upon me ſince our ſeparation: Appearances, Madam, anſwered I, are very often far from the truth, and if you have conceived this opinion by thoſe which are paſt, poſſibly you will one day find Alexanders juſtification by ſtronger probabilities.’ It was likely that we ſhould have had more diſcourſe to this purpoſe, if the Princeſs had not ſeen divers Ladies approach, for whoſe entertainment ſhe was obliged to quit mine; ſhe went ſome ſteps forward to meet them, and I retired another way to meditate upon the adventure which had ſo lately befallen me, and the hopes it made conceive: I was ſo ſatisfied to ſee that not only Artemiſa did not hate Alexander, but that ſhe her ſelf took ſome pleaſure to hear talk of him, and intereſſed her ſelf in the thoughts which he might have for her, that I could hardly contain my contentments; and at night being retired home, and calling Narciſſus to me, from whom I concealed nothing in the conduct of my love.

‘Ah! Narciſſus, ſaid I to him, what a fortune is mine? Artemiſa doth not hate Alexander, and if I may dare to ſay more, ſhe hath not forgotten Alexander; ſhe ſaid enough to me to make me judge ſo, and I have received an aſſurance from this diſcourſe that made me almoſt put all to the hazard.’

[Page] With theſe words I related to him the converſation I had with her; and when he had attentively hearkned to me, Sir, ſaid he, ‘your affairs cannot be in a better condition, and I believe you may perfect the diſcovery of your ſelf without much danger: Ah! Narciſſus, replyed I, I dare not; the goodneſs of this Princeſs cannot diſſipate the fear I ſtand in of her, and with what courage ſoever I ſhould arm my ſelf, I could not without trembling accoſt her with that intention: this uncertain ſtate of my condition though it gives me but a ſhadow and an image of happineſs, is more ſupportable to me than the apprehenſion onely of drawing the diſpleaſure of my Princeſs upon my ſelf. If ſhe receives the knowledge of me with an offended countenance, there will be no death ready enough for me, there will be no precipices near enough to me from her indignation: What will you do then, anſwered the affectionate Narciſſus, and if upon the knowledge of the good will ſhe bears you, you do not undertake ſomething, from whence will you take that boldneſs? I know not, replyed I, but I hope that time and the aſſiſtance of Heaven will furniſh me with more favourable opportunities than all thoſe I might receive from a premeditated deſign: I am really ignorant what courſe I ought to take to diſcover my ſelf, but ſerving the Princeſs with my accuſtomed reſpect, and engaging her, if it be poſſible, if ſhe do it not her ſelf, upon the ſame diſcourſe which was interrupted by ſome happy chance or other, I may poſſibly take as much courage as is neceſſary for me in that action, which at this time I cannot find in all my reſolutions: This was my deſign, and I paſſed diverſe days as uncertain what I had to do, and as wavering in my will as the moſt irreſolute mind had ever been:’ hope and fear almoſt equally divided my ſoul, but though there was according to appearances ſome place for hope, yet out of a natural infirmity, or rather a weakneſs proceeding from my love, my fear exceeded my hope, and ſtill when I opened my mouth to ſay to Artemiſa, I am Alexander, a Spirit of fear tyed up my tongue, and whiſpered me in the ear, that by this forward raſhneſs I would ruine my ſelf, whereas by time and patience I might make my ſelf ſure. I reſolved then to reſolve upon nothing but what opportunity ſhould inſpire me with, and in the mean time I applyed my ſelf to the Princeſs's ſervice with greater aſſiduity than I had done before, and ſhe received my endeavours ſo favourably, and looked ſo graciouſly upon me, that amongſt all thoſe to whom I had rendred my ſelf a companion ſince my diſguiſe, there was none but envyed my Fortune. I lived a while in that manner, but I was upon the point of paſſing to another condition: there remained ſome ſcruples in Artemiſa's mind: which ſhe muſt needs clear up, and the deſire ſhe had to be ſatisfied, gave me the opportunity of attaining to that which I had ſo much feared and ſo much deſired. One Evening when I leaſt expected it, having bid Good night to the company which was in her chamber, ſhe ſent me her commands by Leucippe that I ſhould ſtay, for the ſervice of the chamber when ſhe was retired, ſhe went to ſit down in a corner cloſe by a table whereupon there were tapers lighted, and Leucippe having made me draw neer, after ſhe had continued ſome moments without ſpeaking: ‘Alcippus, ſaid ſhe, you will judge me to be too curious, but that's a vice ordinary with our Sex, and I may poſſibly be excuſed for ſome reaſons, in that I deſire to know from you ſince you were educated with the Prince Alexander, to whom you have ſo much reſemblance, and were ſo particularly acquainted with his intentions, it will not be amiſs if you tell us ſomething of his affairs: He is the Son of our cruel Enemies, but I aſſure my ſelf that he contributed nothing to our miſfortune, and I muſt confeſs more, in his younger years he had a reſpect to me, which permits me to enquire of him.’

During Artemiſa's diſcourſe I was agitated with divers different thoughts which made me change my countenance, and rendred me for a while amazed and ill-aſſured in my looks: but at laſt I partly compoſed my ſelf, and endeavouring to diſſipate the fear which hindred me: ‘Madam, anſwered I, Alexander is too happy and too glorious, ſeeing he hath ſtill a place in your memory, and I intereſs my ſelf ſo far in his happineſs, that he himſelf cannot receive the knowledge of it with greater ſatisfaction than I do: 'Tis certain for all that, Madam, that Alexander dies for you, and as in all the affairs of his life he judges nothing to be of importance but only the thoughts he hath for you, 'tis with thoſe only, Madam, that I can and ought to acquaint you. You divert your ſelf Alcippus, ſaid the Princeſs, and poſſibly I ſhould not like it very well, if by the way of my proceeding with you I did not give ſome place to your diſcourſe: the thoughts that Alexander had once for me were not unknown to me, but he was too young to engage himſelf in a more ſolid affection, and I am not ignorant that he remembers me no more now than if I were out of the World. 'Tis not my duty, Madam, replyed I, to oppoſe your opinions; but that you have of Alexander is ſo far from truth, that all the reſpect I owe you is not capable to make me approve it: [Page] 'Tis certain, Madam, and in time I ſhall make it appear to you by infallible teſtimonies to which you will give greater credit than to my diſcourſe, not onely that Alexander hath preſerved his infant affections for you, which are not worthy to be preſented to you; but that he is now enflamed with a paſſion worthy of you, that he hath ſacrificed his Life and Fortune at your feet, and deſires neither Fortune nor life, but to have the glory to employ them both entirely in your ſervice. You engage me, anſwered Artemiſa, with a little bluſh that appeared in her face, in a very ſtrange converſation: but ſeeing I have done ſo much, I will ſee the end of your diſcourſe, of which as yet I comprehend nothing, and I will ask you by what marks could you take notice of Alexander's paſſionate thoughts, if all the World be ignorant of them, if he hath not ſeen me ſince he was nine or ten years old, and if ſince that, he hath paſſed his life at Rome without giving me any teſtimony of his remembrance of me? Alexander would be very unworthy of your memory, replyed I, if he had done as you ſay, but I am very well aſſured of the contrary; and to let you ſee, Madam, that it is not without reaſon that I bragged of having ſome part in his ſecrets: will you be pleaſed to let me tell you that at your ſeparation, when as very a child as he was, he poſſibly gave you proofs of a real paſſion, you commanded him to come again to you when he was of another age; you left him ſome favours which he hath very carefully preſerved, and you approved of the promiſe he made you to come one day and render you the homage he had vowed to you, and to ſubmit himſelf anew to the Empire which he had already given you over his ſoul: The Princeſs ſeemed aſtoniſhed at the diſcourſe, and yet ſhe replyed, I will make no difficulty to confeſs thoſe things which the age I was then of, may eaſily excuſe, and you make me remember ſome particulars which paſſed at our departure from Alexandria; 'tis certain that at that innocent age, loving Alexander as if he had been my brother, I invited him to come and ſee me, and he promiſed to do ſo; but theſe being the propoſitions of childrens promiſes, time which hath made him forget them had almoſt worn them out of my memory: He hath been ſo far from forgetting them, ſaid I to her, that poſſibly he hath put them in execution ſince he hath abandoned all things to dye and ſerve you, and without conſidering the danger which might threaten him among the mortal enemies of his family, poſſibly he is come, hath ſeen, and ſerved you, and in that condition hath eſtabliſhed all his fortune.’

As I ſpake theſe words which began to render themſelves very intelligible, the Princeſs beginning to ſuſpect the truth, viewed me from head to foot with a geſture full of trouble, and opening her eyes by little to the appearances which might diſcover me, ſhe continued in ſuch an uncertainty and confuſion of thoughts as would not permit her to reply. Seeing her in this condition, and believing I did in vain endeavour any longer to diſguiſe my, ſelf: ‘Be not aſtoniſhed, added I, at what I tell you, poſſibly there is a great deal more and yet all that I could ſay conoerning Alexander's paſſion is inferiour to the truth: I know his moſt ſecret thoughts, and the very bottom of his heart as well as mine own, and for ſufficient proof of the aſſurance he hath in me, behold, Madam, the pledges he hath truſted me withal.’ Saying thus, I ſtretched out my arm to the light, whereupon I ware the bracelet of hair and the ring faſtened to it, which ſhe had formerly given me, but becauſe it was too little I could not wear it upon my finger: Artemiſa no ſooner ſaw what I ſhewed it by my words, though 'tis poſſible ſhe might have ſeen it before often enough without taking notice of it, and this knowledge made her fall into the greateſt aſtoniſhment that ever ſhe had been in, in her life: ſhe once more employed her eyes and memory upon my perſon, my diſcourſe, and all the tokens I ſhewed her, and finding nothing but what confirmed her in a ſuſpicion which began already to grow into a certainty in her mind, ſhe ſeemed to be entirely poſſeſſed with amazement: Her confuſion was the cauſe of mine, though I had fortified my ſelf with all the boldneſs I could, and her eyes being firmly fixed upon me, made me let fall mine to the ground, where I held them in the poſture of a perſon convinced of ſome great crime: We continued both of us, a while in this condition; but at laſt Artemiſa breaking ſilence firſt: Alcippus, ſaid ſhe, ſpeaking lower than before, ‘Can it be poſſible that you ſhould be Alexander? And is it poſſible, anſwered I, that you ſhould doubt of it any longer, and if you have conſerved any Idea of Alexander's viſage, could you not read it in Alcippus his countenance? Artemiſa ſeemed more troubled than before at theſe words, and giving me a look whereupon I could ground no judgement of my fortune;’ O Gods! replyed ſhe, if you be Alexander what do you dream of, and to what do you reduce me? She ſpake but theſe few words, and riſing up from the place where ſhe ſate, much moved, or rather much aſtoniſhed, ſhe croſſed the chamber and ſhut up her ſelf in her cloſet. I continued leaning againſt a wall more like a Statue than a living perſon, and ſo uncertain of what I [Page] ought to fear, or might hope for, that it was impoſſible for me to make any conjecture upon the condition wherein I found my ſelf: I was in this plight, when Leucippe (who had not heard our diſcourſe, but had ſeen the Princeſs go away troubled, as ſhe and divers others of the maids obſerved) came to me, and finding me in ſo deep a muſe that it hardly gave me leave to ſee her, after ſhe had pulled me by the arm twice to awaken me: Alcippus ſaid ſhe, What ailes the Princeſs? I hardly came to my ſelf at theſe words, and Leucippe having repeated them: Leucippe, ſaid I, you will learn that of the Princeſs better than of me, but what ever it be Leucippe I deſire your protection: I ſpeak only theſe words, and parting preſently from her, I went out of the Palace, and retired to my lodging.

But poſſibly, purſued Alexander, a tedious attention may be inconvenient for your health, and you would be leſs accommodated if I ſhould remit the remainder of my diſcourſe till another ime: you need not fear that, if you pleaſe, ſaid Caeſario to him, and if you have not tiredt your ſelf with ſo long a narration, leave me not thus in an unquiet ignorance. I intereſs my ſelf in your adventures more than you believe, and having ſo many obligations to you, and eſteeming your perſon ſo highly, I cannot be informed of the accidents of your life without being particularly ſenſible of them: I am too much obliged my ſelf to your goodneſs, replyed Alexander, and the eſteem of ſuch a man as the valiant Cleomedon ought to be very conſiderable to me: I will go on then with my diſcourſe ſince you deſire it, and poſſibly I ſhall acquaint you with things more worthy of your attention, than theſe which I have already related,

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA: OR, Love's Maſter-Piece. PART IV.
LIB. II.

[Page]

ARGUMENT.

The Princeſs Artemiſa is much troubled at Alexander's being in the Armenian Court, yet by the mediation of her Maid Leucippe, they renew their infant-love. She gives him hopes of obtaining her by ſome Honourable way. He is betrayed by the indiſcretion of Lucius Cepio to Artaxus his fury, who commands him to priſon with a reſolution to ſacrifice him to his Fathers Ghoſt. He is formally condemned to loſe his head. Artemiſa interceeds for him, but in vain; She ſends him poyſon to prevent an ignominious death, and promiſes to bear him company. He accepts of her preſent, but conjures her to live. His Squire accidentally ſpills the poyſon. He is brought upon the Scaffold, and the Executioner is ready to ſtrike the blow, but is firſt ſtayed and then killed by Cepio, who puts a Sword into Alexander's hand, and bids him dye bravely. They make an incredible ſlaughter, but at laſt Cepio is ſlain, and Alexander is re-taken and reſerved for another ſolemn Execution day. Artemiſa gains his Keeper Sarpedon to ſet him free; ſhe eſcapes with him out of Armenia, and they flie together to meet Auguſtus in Egypt.

THe Princeſs Artemiſa (as I have been ſince informed) was no ſooner retired into her cloſet, but ſhe found her ſelf aſſaulted by divers different thoughts which took their original from the adventure which had lately happened: at firſt her aſtoniſhment deprived her partly of her action and reaſon, but when that began to vaniſh, and ſhe was to make ſome reflection upon what was paſt, all things preſented themſelves to her fancy in ſuch forms as gave her matter enough to muſe upon: Leucippe, from whom ſhe concealed nothing, having an advantage above her companions, made uſe of a particular priviledge, and entring into her cloſet found her ſitting leaning her head upon one of her hands, and her arm upon the chair, her eyes fixed upon the ground, and in the perfect poſture of a perſon buried in a profound meditation: Leucippe out of reſpect ſtayed ſome moments without interrupting her, but a little after ſeeing Leucippe by her. Ah! Leucippe ſaid ſhe, are you there? yes Madam, anſwered Leucippe, and I ſaw you, after the converſation you had with Alcippus, go out of the chamber into your cloſet, in a condition which hath forced me to come indiſcreetly and interrupt your muſing; Ah! Leucippe replyed Artemiſa after ſhe had looked every way to ſee if they were alone, and had beckoned to her to ſhut the door: Ah! Leucippe, in what a troubled condition doſt thou find me, and what an ample ſubject have I to meditate upon, and to diſcourſe with thee concerning what is lately happened to me? And what, O the good Goods! ſaid Leucippe quite ſurprized, what can be happened to you in ſo ſmall a time, and who could have the power to trouble you in our preſence, [Page] and render you ſo much aſtoniſhed as you ſeemed to me to be? 'Tis no ſlight matter that hath cauſed it, added the Princeſs, and without doubt thou wilt judge ſo thy ſelf, when thou ſhalt know that in the perſon of the falſe Alcippus, I have found the true Alexander, whoſe countenance we took notice of in Alcippus: O Gods Madam, cryed Leucippe, what is this you tell me? I tell thee the truth, replyed Artemiſa, the Son of Anthony of whom we have often diſcourſed when we called my infancy to mind, is here in Artaxata, he is here in this Palace, he is in my ſervice, and hath continued ſo divers months, as you have ſeen, under the name of Alcippus: But Madam, ſaid Leucippe, what aſſurances have you of it? I have all, anſwered Artemiſa, that I can deſire, and beſides what thou mayſt gather as well as I from the reſemblance of his countenance, I have his confeſſion, and the relation of divers things which could not be known to any but Alexander, and ſome more particular marks beſides: Hereupon ſhe repeated all that had paſſed, and made her as well acquainted with the truth, as ſhe was her ſelf. Leueippe ſeemed aſtoniſhed at this diſcourſe, and continued a while without ſpeaking, whileſt the Princeſs being riſen up from her chair, walked up and down in her cloſet, deeply muſing what reſolation ſhe ſhould take.

After they had been long enough ſilent, Leucippe began to ſpeak firſt, and coming to her Miſtris, Madam, ſaid ſhe, I really find in this rancounter ſomething ſtrange enough to cauſe your aſtoniſhment: and it is no common adventure that ſuch a Prince as the Son of Anthony, ſhould paſs through all the Countrys which divided him from us, to you, that he ſhould diſguiſe himſelf, and put himſelf into your ſervice in the condition of one of your plain Domeſticks. He that in any place elſe might enjoy one of the ſupremeſt dignities upon earth, and live gloriouſly ſecure from the danger which without doubt will threaten him in this Court if he be known; but in ſo extraordinary an accident, I ſee no cauſe you have to be diſpleaſed, and you ought not, in my opinion, to be afflicted, that a Prince ſo conſiderable as Alexander, both for his birth and the qualities of his Perſon, a Prince for whom in your tender years you had all the inclination you were then capable of, ſhould deſpiſe all manner of dangers to come and ſubmit himſelf to you, and neglect all the fortune which with leſs trouble and leſs danger he might find elſewhere, to obey the command you heretofore laid upon him, and to put himſelf into your ſervice in the moſt ſubmiſſive quality, whereunto a man of his worth would never have debaſed himſelf.

Leucippe ſpake in this manner, and having ſome inclination for me, without doubt ſhe ſpake well of me beyond the truth; when Artemiſa who had hearkened to her a long time without interrupting her, caſting her eyes ſuddenly upon her, ‘Leucippe ſaid ſhe, I know very well that thou never wanteſt reaſons to maintain thy opinions, and in this very thing I do not ſay that thou art abſolutely without reaſon; 'tis true that Alexander is a great Prince, that I loved him as my Brother when we were children together and that I am obliged to that affection which hath made him ſtrip himſelf of his condition, and expoſe himſelf to great troubles and dangers to come and ſee me; and finally, that it is not a cauſe of diſpleaſure to the Princeſs of Armenia, that the Son of Anthony heretofore the Maſter of ſo many Kings ſhould be ingaged in her ſervice; but we muſt conſider too, that he is deſcended from thoſe very Perſons which after a hard and unjuſt captivity, made the King our Father ſuffer a cruel and ſhameful death; that there is not, nor ever can be any reconciliaation between his Family and ours; and if I were to be pardoned in my childhood, for not having expreſſed to her children how ſenſible I was of the injury we had received from Cleopatra, I am now of an age that obliges me to very different thoughts. Ah Madam, replyed Leucippe, I have heard you often ſay, and before Alexander himſelf too, that you had no reſentment againſt him for the death of the King your Father. I never had, anſwered Artemiſa, nor ever will have any reſentment againſt Alexander, that may oblige me to procure him, or ſo much as wiſh him ill, but I ought to carry my ſelf ſo againſt all the children of Cleopatra, as not to dream of their alliance, or approve of their ſervice: the difference is very viſible, and though my mind ſhould not be ſo diſpoſed as bloud and reaſon require, decency exacts that of me which I ſhould not allow to nature; and though I ſhould let Cleopatra's children live with indifferency as to me, without hating him, I cannot ſuffer them with a particular deſign, without being blamed by all the world; beſides, Alexander living in a diſguiſe amongſt us, doth not expoſe himſelf alone to danger, but if the cauſe of his diſguiſe be enquired into, and the reaſon of his ſtaying here, it cannot be diſcovered without rendring me obnoxious to great reproaches, the hatred of the King my brother, and to all manner of diſpleaſures. What will you reſolve upon them, ſaid Leucippe, and in what manner do you intend to deal with this Prince, who by all probability, as I my ſelf have obſerved, is at this time in very ſtrange diſquiets? Never to ſee him more, replyed Artemiſa, but to ſend him word by thee that he ſhould retire himſelf, and deliver me from that fear which will eternally torment me ſo long as he ſhall continue here.’

‘[Page] This expedient is not difficult, anſwered Leucippe coldly, but it ſeems very cruel to me in relation to the Prince, after he had done things for you which poſſibly may make him merit better uſage, and by the proofs he hath given of his paſſion, I conceive it violent enough to make him uſe extremities againſt his own life, which if it be true that you do not hate him, will cauſe you ſome diſpleaſure without doubt. What wouldeſt thou have me to do then, ſaid Artemiſa, and how wouldeſt thou have me ſatisfie at once my duty, and the care thou takeſt of Alexander's repoſe? 'tis true I am much obliged to him, and I naturally have diſpoſition enough to wiſh him well, ſo as to avoid the occaſion of putting him into deſpair, as you fear; but withall I conſider my own quiet, and my reputation too, too much to ſuffer, that, by an intelligence which will be condemned by all the world, Alexander ſhould live unknown amongſt us, where he cannot be diſcovered without fatal accidents to himſelf, and a very diſadvantagious reflection upon me. You may, replied Leucippe, attend ſome other time to take your reſolutions, and not do any thing with precipition, which oftentimes cauſes repentance: 'Tis poſſible, that from an adventure ſo uncommon, the Gods may produce ſome extraordinary reſult, and that by wayes to you as yet unknown, you may find the means to ſatisfie your duty, and the acknowledgment you owe to Alexder's affection.’

Leucippe uſed many other arguments to divert her from the deſign ſhe might have againſt me, and I am obliged to her for this, that ſhe forgot nothing for my defence againſt Artemiſa's ſcruples: By her diſcourſes ſhe really wrought great effects, and after a long converſation upon this ſubject, the Princeſs went to bed without taking any reſolution.

But if on her ſide ſhe paſſed the night in ſome diſquiet, for my part I was extreamly tormented, and though I thought I had ſurpaſſed the greateſt difficulties that lay in the whole courſe of my enterpriſe, and I ſaw no ſigns of anger in Artemiſa's countenance when I declared my ſelf to her; I ſaw nothing likewiſe which could make me expect from her any compliance with my deſigns, and that did not leave me in a perfect uncertainty betwixt hope and fear.

The next day I durſt not preſent my ſelf before her at the hour accuſtomed, but only walked in the Court of the Palace with Narciſſus, contenting my ſelf to lift up mine eyes to her lodgings, without having the boldneſs to go up thither: I had not cotinued there long, but by fortune I ſaw Leucippe appear at the foot of a pair of ſtairs; I went towards her as ſoon as I knew her, and when I was near enough to her, to be heard by none but her ſelf, beholding her with an action full of fear and ſubmiſſion: ‘Leucippe, ſaid I, you certainly know my fortune, muſt I live, or muſt I die? You muſt live without doubt, anſwered ſhe, and death ought not to be ſought for but when all other remedies fail: You underſtand me right, replyed I, and I think now I am no longer unknown to you. No Sir, ſaid Leucippe, you are not unknown to me, and I have vowed no leſs ſervice to Prince Alexander, than I had amity for Alcippus. Alexander, added I, was known to you before Alcippus, and it was upon the account of that remembrance that yeſterday night he deſired your protection: I think it was neceſſary for him, and I hope it will not be uſeleſs to him if you will employ it for his ſafety. Sir, ſaid ſhe, poſſibly I have ſerved you already, and will ſerve you with affection and fidelity: I cannot yet inform you of the condition of your affairs, the Princeſs is as yet uncertain what reſolution ſhe ſhould take; I can only aſſure you that ſhe does not hate you, and that without doing her ſelf violence ſhe will never pitch upon any deſign, which may cauſe you any diſpleaſure. I ſhall never have any regret, replyed I, to execute punctually whatſoever ſhe ſhall pleaſe to order me, and if for part of the reparations which are due to her from our unfortunate family, ſhe demanded my life, or ſomething more precious than that, if it were in my power, I ſhould as willingly give her the remainders of it, as to have given her the beginnings: Do not deſpair of your affairs, anſwered Leucippe, but expect from a former inclination which powerfully takes your part whatſoever you can reaſonably require of it.’

She cut theſe words ſhort, ſeeing the Princeſs, who was coming down, appear at the top of the ſtairs, and not deſiring to be ſurpriſed by her in this particular diſcourſe with me: but if ſhe avoided her ſight upon this occaſion, I deſired to ſhun it no leſs than ſhe, and like a criminal I hid my ſelf from the countenance of my Judge. Artemiſa mounted into her Chariot at the ſame gate where I had ſpoken to Leucippe; and though I was retired behind divers other perſons from off the ſteps which are at the gate, ſhe ſaw me and knew me: as from the place where I was I held mine eyes fix'd upon her face, I eaſily took notice of her action, and I ſaw that at the firſt ſight of me ſhe was a little troubled, and looked downward with a diſcompoſed countenance.

All the reſt of that day I did not preſent my ſelf before her, and for divers other dayes I never ſaw her but at a diſtance, my love having created a fearfulneſs in me, which deprived me [Page] of aſſurance to accoſt her whileſt I was uncertain what reception I might expect: I deſired to draw conjectures of it from her countenance, and if I entred not into her chamber, nor waited upon her as I had been accuſtomed; I was every day where ſhe paſſed by, and being near enough to be ſeen by her, and to obſerve her, I took notice that at the ſight of me ſhe changed colour, and caſt down her eyes, not being able to look upon me confidently: I almoſt repented at thoſe moments that I had diſturbed the tranquility of her life with this trouble, and I could not obſerve the marks of her confuſion in her face; without reſenting ſome diſpleaſure for having been the cauſe of it. At laſt I reſolved to make a full diſcovery of my fortune, and not being able to live any longer in this uncertain condition of life, I believed that by writing to the Princeſs I might oblige her to acquaint me with ſome part of my deſtiny; upon which deſign having ſhut my ſelf up in my chamber, I made my Letter ſpeak in theſe terms.

Prince Alexander to the Princeſs Artemiſa.

THat fear which keeps my tongue tyed up, and forbids me acceſs into your preſence, hath permitted me to draw out in this paper, not my juſtification, for I ſeek none if I have offended you, but a declaration of that blind obedience wherein I ſubmit my ſelf to all the puniſhments you ſhall pleaſe to ordain for me; if the conſervation of the memory of thoſe precious affections which honoured the beginnings of my life, if obeying the command you laid upon me to come one day to you, if ſeeking with ſome danger the opportunities of engaging my ſelf in your ſervice, are offences worthy of your anger, or rather, if to be the Son of Anthony and Cleopatra, be a condition which may expoſe him to your hatred; behold, Madam, behold the criminal, both by his birth and actions, ready to ſuffer whatſoever upon either account he may have meritted from your juſt reſentments; I did believe by the firſt intelligences that you were pleaſed to give me of it, that your goodneſs had wiped off from my birth whatſoever rendred it odious to the Princeſs of Armenia, and I did judge my actions innocent, becauſe they were authorized by your command; but ſeeing I have been deceived both in my hopes and my opinions, I will not avoid the occaſion of rendring you ſatisfaction both for anothers crime, and my own offences. I expect, Madam, the ſentence you ſhall pleaſe to pronounce, with a firm reſolution punctually to execute it, and I beg only of your goodneſs that after the effecting of your will, how fatal ſoever it ſhall be to me, you would out of pity remember, that if Alexander was too bold, if Alexander were the Son of Anthony, he was likewiſe the moſt paſſionate for you, and the moſt faithful amongſt men.

After I had wrote theſe words which I found conformable to the condition of Life I then lived, I gave my Letter to Narciſſus, who had ſufficient aquaintance with Leucippe, to embolden him to preſent it to her, and I ſtai'd in my Lodging to attend the effect of it with all the unquietneſs that is imaginable. Narciſſus acquitted himſelf of his commiſſion as faithfully and as happily as I could deſire: he ſaw Leucippe, he gave her my Letter, and by an exceſs of happineſs above my hopes, having viſited her again the next day according to my command, ſhe gave him the anſwer which he brought me, and I ſaw it was written with Artemiſa's own hand. I leaped for joy at this ſight, I changed colour divers times, and if Narciſſus had not been fully acquainted with my paſſion, I ſhould have given him knowledge enough of it; at laſt I read thoſe precious characters, and therein I found theſe words.

The Princeſs Artemiſa to Prince Alexander.

LEucippe puts the pen into my hand to write to you, and acknowledgment might have done it, if my duty had not more prevailed over that, than over Leucippe's obſtinacy: you are not criminal Alexander, either by your birth or actions, but Artemiſa is unhappy that ſhe is not free in her judgment, and that ſhe ſees her ſelf conſtrained by her fortune to offer violence to her inclinations: I do not hate you, Alexander, nor ever will whileſt I live: but I am not permitted to ſuffer your affections as I was at that age, when you gave me the firſt teſtimonies of them, and I cannot receive any proofs of them from you in Artaxata which will not be of more dangerous conſequence than thoſe you gave me in Alexandria; you are here within the reach of an enemy, whoſe thoughts are very different from mine, and I cannot without fear conſider the danger whereunto you expoſe your own life and my reputation: I deſire that you would think upon the one and the other, ſeeing the latter is more dear to me than my life, and the other would be ſo too, if my duty did permit it; in reſpect of thoſe actions which you call offences, but if I were permitted to judge of them, would be ranked amongſt immortal obligations in my ſoul, cannot find in me that acknowledgement that is due to them, and by the care I have of your ſafety, I am conſtrained to diſpoſe you, [Page] as much as poſſibly I can, to ſome reſolution which may render me that repoſe, which for ſome dayes ſince you have deprived me of: In expectation of what you will reſolve upon, or when you will be in a condition to put it in execution, I do not forbid you to viſit me, and let me tell you that the countenance of Alcippus was never odious to me becauſe of the reſemblance it had to Alexander.

I thought I ſhould have dyed with joy at the reading of this Letter, and though it diſcovered to me that the Princeſs had ſome deſign to cauſe my departure, yet it was expreſſed in ſuch terms as made me believe that it would not be difficult to alter her reſolution, and that poſſibly I had an higher place in her thoughts than I hoped for: I read over every word of it a thouſand times, I kiſſed all the characters even with Idolatry, and I ſtopped my ſelf with tranſport at thoſe places which did moſt ſweetly flatter my deſires.

Ah, without doubt, ſaid I, I have permiſſion to hope, and according to all apperances I am not hated by Artemiſa: The Princeſs courteouſly acknowledges my ſervices, and I could not hope that they ſhould be crowned with a more happy or more glorious ſucceſs: Reaſſume my heart, reaſſume that boldneſs which my love hath deprived me of, and hence-forward raiſe thy ambition to the higheſt degree it could ever mount to: Artemiſa cannot diſapprove it ſince ſhe hath favoured it, and upheld it her ſelf, and in fine, the countenance of Alcippus is not odious unto her, becauſe of the reſemblance it hath to Alexander's.

Full of the hopes wherewith theſe thoughts inſpired me, and being emboldened by them more than I had been before, I left my lodging and went to the Palace, believing that by Artemiſa's permiſſion I might preſent my ſelf before her without fear of her diſpleaſure: yet all this reſolution wherewith I had fortified my ſelf, could not hinder me from being troubled with ſome apprehenſion at her ſight, and I could not approach the place where ſhe was without feeling a ſhivering, which ran quite through my body; She was walking at that time in the ſpacious Allies which are in the great Garden of the Palace, and had the principal Ladies of the Court attending upon her; I walked a while behind the company which followed her: but when ſhe was at the end of an Ally, and was turning back again, having caſt her eyes about, ſhe diſcovered me amongſt the reſt; the blood immediately mounted into her face, and ſhe made uſe of one of her hands to conceal it: but a little after making as if ſhe had a deſire to have ſome particular diſcourſe with Leucippe; ſhe cauſed her Gentleman-uſher to retire, and put Leucippe in his place, and ſo leaning upon her arm, ſhe walked the other turn, and then ſeeing me at her paſſage by, Alcippus, ſaid ſhe to me aloud, I have ſome buſineſs for you, come you hither.

Theſe words pierced quite through my ſoul, and I obeying her with an emotion which might eaſily be perceived in my countenance, drew near her, and walked by her on that ſide where ſhe had no body near: all the reſt of the train, after ſhe had made the Gentlemanuſher retire, and expreſſed a deſire to ſpeak with Leucippe in private, kept farther off than before, and ſuppoſing that what ſhe had to ſay to me was part of that ſecret, they followed at ſo great a diſtance, that ſhe had all the liberty that might be to ſpeak to me without being over-heard.

She continued for ſome time without opening her mouth, or ſo much as looking in my face, finding ſome occaſion of being aſhamed of what ſhe did: at laſt having conquered the ſcruples which hindred her from expreſſing of her ſelf, and caſting a look upon me which was able to diſarm the moſt ſavage and beſt fortified ſouls: ‘Alexander, ſaid ſhe to him, I know not what I ought to expect from the judgment you will make of me, nor in what manner I may ſpeak to you at this time, and though I have employed ſome daies to draw my ſelf out of that trouble whereinto you had put me, yet it was ſo great that it was impoſſible for me to diſſipate it in ſo ſmall a time, and I cannot imagine yet without aſtoniſhment and fear, that I talk to the Son of Anthony and Cleopatra in Artaxus's Palace. I do not deny but that the pains you have taken, and the danger whereunto you have expoſed your ſelf for my ſake, ought to move my mind to a real acknowledgment, and I confeſs there remains a remembrance of the former good-will between us which doth not permit me to look upon you with indifferency: but all this cannot make a proof of your enterpriſe, nor cloſe mine eyes againſt the danger to which you expoſe us both, your ſelf by imprudently putting your ſelf into the power of a mortal enemy, and me by obliging me to ſuffer near me a diſguiſed Prince, and our diſguiſed upon a motive, which can never be diſcovered without wronging my reputation: What were your thoughts, or what in fine did you pretend to from the daughter of Artibaſus, and the Siſter of Artaxus, in whom the memory of the injury received from your Family is engraven in eternal characters? For there is little reaſon that you ſhould fall upon this deſign out of obedience, as you told me, to the command I laid upon you heretofore; and you and I were even of ſuch an age as hindred [Page] us from knowing the obſtacles which oppoſed it, and ſo ſufficiently diſpenſed with the execution of your promiſe. What muſt I do then in theſe terms to which you have reduced me not to be ingrateful, nor yet imprudent? the firſt of theſe two vices is very contrary to my nature, and the other may draw us into great inconveniences and misfortunes: I will not diſſemble with you, but confeſs ingenuouſly, that if I might follow mine own inclinations, I ſhould be very glad to enjoy the ſight of you, and as far as my duty and decency would permit, I ſhould let you know that I am not inſenſible of the proofs of your affection, you are ſuch both by your birth and by the qualities of your perſon, that the teſtimonies I might give you of my acknowledgment would be eaſily excuſed, if I were only hindred by ordinary impediments: but you and I are ſuch, through the miſfortunes of our Families, that all things are forbidden us, and to all appearance hope it ſelf is not permitted us.’

Artemiſa ſpake in this manner, and in my judgement ſhe expreſſed her ſelf with ſo good a grace, that it ſhe had ſpoken more againſt my thoughts I ſhould never have interrupted her; At laſt when ſhe had done ſpeaking, I conceived by the liberty ſhe gave me, I might declare my thoughts to her, and upon this account after I had continued mute ſome moments longer, I began to ſpeak thus: ‘It is very difficult, Madam, in the tranſport you have put me into, that I ſhould ſpeak rationally to you, and I am ſo full of confuſion to ſee, that juſt when I expected to receive a condemnation, which poſſibly my raſhneſs did deſerve, I ſhould be permitted to ſpeak to you as Alexander, to declare the paſſionate thoughts I have for you and to receive from your own mouth ſuch teſtimonies of your goodneſs as are able to content the moſt immoderate ambition, that I can hardly have ſence enough left to render you that account of my intentions and my hopes which you require of me: and yet, Madam, that I may endeavour to obey you, I ſhall make bold to tell you, that really the beginings of this glorious enterpriſe whereby I have introduced my ſelf into your ſervice were inſpired into me by nothing but love alone, and that they were not grounded upon any other reaſons but what produced thence: I have not much conſidered the events I might expect upon that account, and though all the obſtacles which might oppoſe my happineſs in regard of the enmity which the King your brother bears to the remainders of our family did preſent themſelves to my imagination, I looked upon them only to diſpiſe them, and blindly purſued the deſign of ſeeing and ſerving you; and it ſufficed me as the uttermoſt aim of my love to know, that in loving you, I loved that which the Gods had created moſt amiable; and it being impoſſible for me to love you without ſeeking opportunities of ſeeing you, all the difficulties which poſſibly might have diverted a mind prepoſſeſſed with an ordinary paſſion did but animate more. In fine Madam, I have been fortunate enough to ſee you and to be received into your ſervice, and poſſibly in theſe beginnings I have not prudently enough conſidered the intereſt your reputation might have in my diſguiſe: this conſideration without doubt would have wrought more with me than all the dangers that could threaten my life, and the Gods would not permit me to make too long a reflection upon it, that they might give way to my preſent fortune: but ſince, Madam, as my hopes had their original from the knowledge I had under the name of Alcippus, that Alexander was not hated by you, ſo they have raiſed my thoughts to the expectation of thoſe happineſſes which till then I could not probably pretend to; and I conceived that if you ſhould pleaſe to approve of my deſigns, I might be favoured againſt the hatred of Artaxus by the authority of Auguſtus: He expreſſes to me at this time the ſame affection as if I were the ſon of his Siſter Octavia, and that Princeſs loves me ſo well that ſhe will not refuſe to employ all her credit with Auguſtus, to cauſe him to employ his with the King your brother, who, I know, conſiders him with ſuch grand reſpects, that he will hardly oppoſe his will, when it ſhall be declared in my favour; and I doubt not but at my ſupplication, and the humble requeſts of Octavio, Marcellus, and Livia her ſelf, he will preſs him to extinguiſh the memory of the injury he received from Cleopatra, and particularly intereſs himſelf in obtaining that felicity for me which I may requeſt of him: The family of Anthony, though deſpoyled of the Empire, doth ſtill poſſeſs riches and dignities ſufficient to preſerve it from envying at the greateſt Princes of Aſia, and though I cannot offer you what you might expect from me whileſt Anthony continued in power, yet, if I may ſpeak it with modeſty, our alliance is not ſo contemptible, but that it may ſtill be preferred before all the Kings your neighbours.’

Whileſt I ſpake in this manner, Artemiſa beheld me with great attention, and as my good fortune was, finding in me much more amiable parts than really they were, ſhe inſenſibly engaged her ſelf to wiſh me as much good as juſtly I could deſire: She found great probability in what I ſaid, and taking the word when I had done ſpeaking: ‘If you can, ſaid ſhe to me, either by the authority of Auguſtus, which doubtleſs is able to do any thing with [Page] Artaxus, or by any other honourable ways make him approve of the deſign you have for me, you ſhall not find me oppoſite to your deſire; and I do ſo much eſteem your perſon, your birth, and thoſe dignities, which you ſtill may call your own, that I am not ſorry for any thing you have loſt by Anthony's misfortune: you ſhall find me in this mind, as long as you ſhall continue in that you have expreſſed; but you muſt not dream of making any longer ſtay here; for beſides that without committing a real offence againſt my duty, I cannot permit a diſguiſed perſon privately to continue with me, I ſhall be in a perpetual fear, both of the danger which threatens you, and the diſhonour I may receive upon that account; 'tis almoſt a miracle that you have continued ſo long here without being diſcovered; and in fine, it will be impoſſible that you ſhould conceal your ſelf much longer from divers perſons who have ſeen your face in Auguſtus his Court; you may retire your ſelf thither, and from thence you may make his power operate much more efficaciouſly, than at this diſtance from him.’

Madam, replyed I, with a ſigh, my parting from you will be almoſt unſupportable to me, but I muſt diſpoſe my ſelf to it ſince you deſire it, and the patience I have to engage the Emperor in promiting my Fortune, will moderate as much as may be, the grief I ſhall have to leave you; I only deſire ſome few days, if it pleaſe you to grant them me, in which time I ſhall endeavour to reſolve upon a ſeparation which cannot happen upon my part without a ſtrange violence. This moment gives birth to my enjoyment of the ſupreme felicity you beſtow upon me, and you cannot take it from me the ſame day without ſome kind of inhumanity

The Princeſs was about to anſwer me, when ſhe ſaw the King her Brother appear, and come to her in the ſame Alley with the principal perſons of the Court: I retired upon my own accord at his ſight, and not deſiring to preſent my ſelf before the King and thoſe that followed him but as rarely as I could, I turned through another Alley, and went out of the Garden, and at the Gate I found Narciſſus and my two Squires which attended me.

Hitherto all things had ſucceeded more happily than I dared to deſire, and I had all the reaſon that could be to be ſatisfied with my fortune; but mark the accident which befel me when I leaſt feared it, whereby our reſolutions were overthrown, and the Scene of our affairs was entirely changed.

Lucius Cepio, one of the moſt noble Knights of Rome, but the moſt inconſiderate and imprudent man in the world, having been baniſhed from Rome a little before, and retiring himſelf into ſome of the Aſiatick Provinces, was come to Artaxata, the evening before, without my knowing of it; he had already ſaluted the King, and was going to wait upon him in the Garden where he was then walking, when by chance he met me in the Court of the Palace attended by my three ſervants, and ſome other friends that I had acquired in that Court under the name of Alcippus, Cepio no ſooner ſaw me but he preſently knew me, and having no diſcretion himſelf, nor any knowledge of my affairs, running immediately to me with an inconſiderate action: O Gods, cryed he, what adventure is this, to find the Prince Alexander, to find the Son of Anthony in Artaxata! All the Court, as ordinarily it is, was full of perſons that walked there; and they had no ſooner ſeen the action, and heard the exclamation of Cepio, but they all drew near us out of a deſire to learn ſome news: In the mean time I was ſurprized, that I could make Cepio no reply, and ſome perſons who came in with him, telling him that he was deceived, and that I could not poſſibly be the man he thought me to be: ‘What ſaid he to them, do you believe that I do not know Alexander, that I do not know the Son of Anthony and Cleopatra, whom I have ſeen brought up from his cradle, and for whoſe abſence I have left at Rome the chiefeſt perſons of the Empire in diſquiet? With theſe words he drew near to ſalute me,’ and I was ſo aſtoniſhed at this diſcourſe, and received his ſalutation without replying one word; beſides my ſilence, the changing of my countenance betrayed me, and there appeared at firſt ſo much trouble therein, that all the perſons who took notice of it, did not doubt but that Cepio had ſpoken the truth; there were divers perſons there (as the greater number is inclined rather to miſchief than to goodneſs) which ran to the King to carry him this news, and he was informed from ſeveral mouths at the ſame time, that Alcippus, one of the Princeſſe's Domeſticks, was Prince Alexander the ſon of Anthony and Cleopatra.

Artaxus being ſurprized at this diſcourſe, though he gave but little credit to it, ſent part of his guard, commanding them to bring me into his preſence, and Cepio, who had diſcovered me, along with me: When they came to me I began to recover a little out of the aſtoniſhment whereunto this adventure had caſt me; and when they commanded me to follow them, and go to the King along with them, I laid my hand upon the hilt of my ſword; but ſeeing my ſelf alone, and environed with ſuch a great number of armed men, I knew very well that my reſiſtance would be to no purpoſe; and ſo yielding to my fortue, I went back into the [Page] Garden with them, and marched towards the King, who being full of impatience at ſuch an accident, came to meet me: Cepio beginning then to underſtand the fault he had committed, was ſorry for it, and would have made his Apologie to me, which, inſtead of making ſome reparation, quite ſpoiled all: I came before Artaxus and the Princeſs his ſiſter, who was then preſent with him; but if in the countenance of the brother I ſaw indignation painted out to the life, I beheld in the ſiſters face ſo many ſigns of aſtoniſhment and grief, that at this object of diſpleaſure my courage almoſt failed me.

Artaxus having divers times ſurveyed me from head to foot; Is it true, ſaid he, that you are the ſon of Anthony? I continued at firſt unreſolved what anſwer I ſhould make him, endeavouring to read in the countenance of the Princeſs what her intention was; and in the mean while the King turning himſelf towards Cepio with a threatning action, demanded of him if I were not the ſon of Cleopatra: The imprudent Cepio, though ſorry for his fault, and couragious even to the exceſs of raſhneſs, yet being aſtoniſhed at the adventure, knew not what to reply, and therefore I ſaved him the labour; I was aſhamed that out of ſome appearance of fear I had refuſed to ſpeak the truth at the firſt asking; and doubting that it might be drawn out of Cepio's mouth, I deſired to prevent it, and did believe that I ought not to conceal my birth upon any conſideration whatſoever. Upon theſe thoughts, looking upon the King with an aſſured countenance; Ask not Cepio, ſaid I, that which I am ready to confeſs to you, my birth is too noble to be diſavowed, 'tis certain my name is Alexander, and I am the ſon of Anthony and Cleopatra.

Artaxus ſtept back a few paces at this diſcourſe, beholding me with eyes enflamed with fury, and after that, lifting them up on a ſudden towards heaven; ‘O Artibaſus, cry'd he, O deplorable Father of a Son, who was too weak to give thee ſuccour: If hitherto thy Manes have been unſatisfied with my cares, and if I have not been able to appeale them by part of that hateful blood, behold me now in a condition to ſacrifice to thee the moſt agreeable and moſt juſt victim that could ever be afforded to thee. And afterwards turning himſelf towards me with an action full of terrour; I am ſorry, ſaid he, that thou haſt but one life to ſatisfie; and if the Gods had beſtowed more upon thee, I might make a more agreeable ſacrifice of them to the ſoul of a King, whom againſt all manner of right thy Parents put to a cruel death; ſince it hath been the will of heaven that the cruel executioners of the greateſt King of Aſia ſhould eſcape my vengeance, but not from that of the Gods, who have brought them to an end ſuitable to their crimes, I will take ſuch as they pleaſe to ſend me, and will make ſuch an example of thee, as all the world ſhall take notice of.’

Artaxus ſpake in this manner, but I was not at all intimidated by his threatnings, and without being troubled, I replyed: ‘Artaxus I will not juſtifie nor excuſe my Parents actions before thee, if they cauſed thy Fathers death 'tis poſſible they were induced to it by ſome lawful occaſion: thou knoweſt I was then of an age that was capable to take little cognizance of it: but if, notwithſtanding I was abſolutely innocent of the diſpleaſure done thee, thou findeſt in me any matter to ſatiate the reſentments, follow the motions wherewith they inſpire thee, and do not expect that I ſhould beg thee to reflect upon the birth of a man who is not born thy inferiour, or upon the viciſſitudes of fortune, which may yet throw thee into the power of my relations, as I am fallen into thine. Neither the conſideration of his birth, anſwered Artaxus; nor of the inconſtancy of fortune to which Cleopatra her ſelf was ſhortly after expoſed, could guard my Father from her cruelty, and when ſhe took off his head by the hand of an Executioner, ſhe had not the death of a Father to revenge as I have, nor the leaſt occaſion to violate upon his account what is due to the Perſons of Kings: when upon ſo juſt a motive of revenge, I ſhall do what ſhe did out of a baſe deſire to oblige the King of the Medes, no Perſon will blame me, and thou art not innocent, becauſe thou art the Son of the murtherers of my Father: but to this reaſon, which might give thee a thouſand deaths, thou haſt added another, by continuing diſguiſed as thou haſt done in my Dominions, thou couldeſt not have continued concealed and unknown, as thou haſt done, in the Court and near the Perſon of thine Enemy upon any good motive: Tell us the occaſion of this brave deſign, and do not hide from us a truth that we ſhall force out of thy mouth, if thou doſt not make a voluntary confeſſion of it. I valued thy power too little; replyed I, to content thy curioſity out of fear of thy menaces, and though the occaſion which hath brought me into thy Dominions hath glory enough in it to juſtifie it to the World, thou ſhalt be the laſt to whom I will make confeſſion of it. Young man, replyed the King with a ſmile full of ſharpneſs, we ſhall ſee if this reſolution will accompany thee to the laſt:’ and then turning himſelf towards the Princeſs his Siſter who had hearkned to our Dialogue more like a dead than a living perſon, and by the divers changes of her countenance expreſſed a part of her [Page] thoughts: ‘Madam, ſaid he, this Egyptian was not unknown to you, whom I ſuſpected at the firſt ſight, and whoſe part you took ſo earneſtly: If he had been known to me, anſwered the Princeſs, I ſhould not have permitted him to continue ſo long ſo near an Enemy, whoſe inclinations I was acquainted with: If yours replyed the King, were ſuch as they ought to be, you would have a reſentment equal to mine againſt the murtherers of the King your Father, but you ſufficiently diſcover to me by your countenance, your diſcourſe & your paſt actions, that inſtead of a juſt enemy, as you ought to be, Alexander hath found you a perſon more affectionate than your duty did permit: 'tis you alone without doubt that have retained him with you, and this intelligence you hold with him is the effect of that amity you contracted with him whilſt your Father's head was cutting off.’

Theſe words ſenſibly touched the Princeſs, but ſhe having a courage that could hardly diſſemble her thoughts, and believing it a baſeneſs upon this occaſion abſolutely to deny them, made no difficulty in part to diſcover them, and looking upon the King with a countenance void of fear, ‘I have contracted no amity with Alexander, anſwered ſhe, wherewith I may fear to be reproached, and I call the Gods to witneſs that during his continuance with me, I knew him for no other than Alcippus: but when I knew him to be Alexander, the reſentments which are common to us both againſt the culpable, were not extended to the innocent, and if upon my account he hath expoſed himſelf to the danger whereinto he is fallen, next to my honour I have nothing ſo dear that I would not have given to ſave him from it.’

Artaxus became almoſt mad at this diſcourſe of the Princeſs, and not being able to diſſemble his rage: ‘Madam, ſaid he, ſince you are ſo pitiful to your Enemies, you ſhall have matter enough ſhortly to exerciſe your compaſſion. Carry him to priſon, continued be, turning himſelf toward the principal Officers of his Guards, whom be called by their names, and upon pain of your Lives ſee that he be kept laden with Irons, till by a publick ſpectacle I make all Armenia ſee their Kings revenge.’

I did not vouchſafe a reply to theſe cruel words of the Armenian, and only caſting a look upon Artemiſa where by I declared as much as poſſibly I could, that I died for her without repugnance, I marched in the middle of the guards that environed me, towards the Priſon whither they conducted me. Thus as you ſee, I paſſed from felicity to danger in an inſtant, and that ſupreme happineſs to which Artemiſa ſome moments before had advanced me, ought to be counterbalanced by ſome misfortune; my projects hitherto had been crowned with too proſperous ſucceſs, and this too great a calm was without doubt the preſage of a urious tempeſt.

I was, according to the intention of Artaxus, really conducted into the common Priſon, and not into thoſe places of reſtraint for the cuſtody of Princes, or any perſons of a conſiderable condition: and though out of the reſpect or pity of thoſe who had the command to do it, I was not loaden with Irons as he had ordered yet I was kept under ſo ſevere and ſtrict a guard, that all my liberty had no greater extent, than the limits of a Chamber ſtrongly grated with Iron; my two Squires came preſently to ſerve me in my impriſonment, but Narciſſus kept himſelf cloſe, both becauſe he was an Armenian and ſo would have been worſe uſed than ſervants that were ſtrangers, and alſo becauſe being at liberty he continued in a condition to do me greater ſervices, than if he had been in priſon with me.

I know not well, generous Cleomedon, how to expreſs to you what my thoughts were at that time; the fear of Death did not much intimidate me, and Heaven had given me courage enough to meet it in all its moſt horrible appearances; but having at that time no misfortunes in my life, which might make me hate it, and on the contrary having ſeen my ſelf a few moments before in a moſt glorious condition, and the faireſt hopes in the world, I could not be deprived of them ſo ſuddenly without regret, nor change the favours of Artemiſa for a common priſon, from whence, according to Artaxus his threatnings, I could not hope to come but only to my death: Being young as I was: and in a flouriſhing condition of life, theſe thoughts were hard of digeſtion, and I could not think that poſſibly within a few days I ſhould loſe my head in publick, and draw the people of Armenia to the ſpectacle of my death, without loſing ſome part of my conſtancy, and yielding to ſomething that favoured of youth, and the infirmity of nature: but again, when I reflected upon the cauſe for which I ſuffered, and that I came to think that it was for Artemiſa's ſake only that I ſaw my ſelf expoſed to this danger, I found a ſweet conſolation in that thought; I would ſuffer more yet for Artemiſa, ſaid I, if it were poſſible, and it ought to be indifferent to me which way I part with my life for her, which I have given her without condition.

But if I were ſenſible of ſome grief which was almoſt entirely grounded upon the regret I had to quit Artemiſa, the Princeſs, as I have been informed ſince was ſo much afflicted at [Page] my misfortune, that ſhe could hardly bear it with any moderation; She loved me before this diſgrace, as well out of a remembrance of our former affections which continued deeply engraved in her mind, as out of an acknowledgement which ſhe believed was due to what I had undertaken for her; but after the arrival of this unlucky accident, and that ſhe ſaw me fallen into great danger upon her occaſion, the moderate affection ſhe had for me before was changed into a violent paſſion, and as ſhe naturally had as generous inclinations as any perſon in the World, ſo ſhe believed her ſelf obliged not only to love me better than before, and to engage all her credit for my ſafety, but to periſh her ſelf if ſhe could not divert my deſtruction: No Leuoippe, ſaid ſhe, to that faithful Truſtee of her moſt ſecret thoughts, I make no difficulty to confeſs before thee, and will confeſs before the whole World, if need be, that now I love Alexander more than my ſelf, and that Artaxus could not redouble the affection I had for him with more violence than by the effects of his cruelty; one hour of impriſonment, one moment of danger hath gained more for Alexander, upon my ſpirit, than a year of ſervice could have done; and I cannot think that he is in priſon for love of me, and that for my love only he is poſſibly upon the point to ſatiate the rage of his enemy, without acknowledging by beſtowing my heart upon him, that I cannot pay him ſo much as a part of what I owe him: Let us diſpoſe our ſelves therefore to render him part of what he hath done for us, let us not permit our ſelves to be reproached, that, after we had drawn him into danger by our former amity, and the command we laid upon him in our infancy, we have baſely and ungratefully abandoned him, let us try all manner of ways for his ſafety, and if they be all unſucceſsful, let us periſh couragiſly with him, and not dream of living without him, ſeeing we are not permitted to live with him as we had reſolved.

Upon this deſign ſhe began to ſet all manner of Engines at work for my ſafety, and the firſt thing ſhe did was to ſend her moſt faithful ſervants poſt to advertiſe Auguſtus of my misfortune, and to intereſs Octavia, Marcellus, and all my neareſt friends in procuring my liberty, and becauſe they were uncertain which way to take, becauſe of a rumour that had paſſed ſome days for current, that Auguſtus was departed from Rome to make his progreſs through the Provinces of Aſia which are under the obedience of our Empire, ſhe ſent divers perſons ſeveral ways with the like commiſſion; but this way to ſave me was too long, by reaſon of the haſt they made to frame my proceſs, and the Princeſs deſiring to eſſay all other means, gained with all the addreſs ſhe could poſſibly, all thoſe of the Armenian Court that had the moſt power over the Kings inclinations to oblige them to ſweeten him and divert him from the fatal deſign he had againſt me; She endeavoured moſt of all to gain thoſe who had the charge of guarding me, working this effect by her careſſes to the chief of them, and her preſents to thoſe of inferiour condition. In all theſe buſineſſes ſhe made uſe of the addreſs and the fidelity of Narciſſus, whom ſhe had known a long time, and though he kept himſelf concealed part of the day, yet when he was in leſs danger of being diſcovered, he employed himſelf in thoſe commiſſions ſhe gave him, with wonderful care and affection.

In the mean time Artaxus reſolved, or rather continued in the reſolution he had already taken to put me to death; and beſides his will was to an ignominy to the puniſhment, and to make the head of Cleopatra's ſon to be publickly cut off by the hand of the Executioner, as by the command of that Queen, Artibaſus had received the like, or little different uſage in Alexander. He propoſed his deſign to ſome perſons of his councel not to govern himſelf by their advice, but to acquaint them with his will: the greateſt part of his Counſellors, either out of a repugnance which they really had againſt this cruelty, or out of reſpect of Artemiſa, who had ſolicited them before in my behalf, endeavoured to divert him from this reſolution, and repreſented to him that he would render himſelf odious to all the world by ſhedding innocent blood, and putting to death one of the greateſt Princes of the Univerſe for anothers fault, that he would put himſelf in danger to draw upon him many powerful enemies, and in particular, Auguſtus, who, as they were informed, loved me and ſupported me no leſs than thoſe who were neareſt to him, that he ought not to be too haſty in an action of this importance, which without doubt would cauſe a late and unprofitable repentance. They uſed many more arguments beſides, capable to divert him from his deſign, if he had heard them without paſſion: but he could hardly endure the diſcourſe, and looking with an evil eye upon thoſe who uttered it: ‘There muſt be, ſaid he, other perſwaſions than yours, to make me change my reſolution,’ and all the conſiderations upon earth will ſcarcely be able to do it: the judgements of my neighbours and of all the world beſides are all of ſmall importance to me, ſo I ſatisfie my ſelf, and they who ſhall underſtand that I have revenged the cruel injury done to our family by the blood of Anthony's ſon, and appeaſed my Fathers Ghoſt which ſtill cries out againſt his murtherers, they will find leſs cruelty in that action, than pity and reſpect to the memory of my Father, Auguſtus himſelf cannot but approve [Page] of it, when he calls to mind that Artibaſus was his Ally, and that it was partly for his intereſts that his Enemies put him to death, and becauſe the ſollicitations of Alexander's kindred may poſſibly oblige him to intercede for his ſafety, by the ſpeedines of the execution I will prevent the requeſt he may make upon that account, and I will not put my ſelf in danger, either to diſoblige Caeſar, by refuſing what he ſhall demand, or grant him a thing which no power but his, nor poſſibly his neither, ſhould ever obtain of me.

In theſe terms he declared his intention, and the mean while to render himſelf the leſs odious to Caeſar, he was willing to obſerve ſome formality and ſhadow of juſtice in his revenge, and commanded they ſhould make my Proceſs not only as I was the Son of Anthony, but as an enemy who was come diſguiſed into his Court, and had continued there a great while with the deſigns againſt his State and life.

Artemiſa hearing of this precipitation, was ſo troubled at it, that ſhe continued a long time not knowing what counſel to take, and after ſhe had in vain eſſayed to prevail with her brother by their Prayers whom he loved beſt, ſhe reſolved to hazard her own, finding no repugnance which might hinder her from rendring what ſhe thought was due to that ſhe loved: She viſited the King in his Privy-Chamber, where ſhe had never been ſince the words he ſpake to her that day I was taken, and finding him in a condition to hearken to her; ‘Sir, ſaid ſhe, though I have ſeemed, and perhaps may ſtill ſeem ſuſpicious to you, yet I will make no difficulty to implore your pity for Alexander's ſafety, and to repreſent to you that he is ſo innocent of the injury we received from his relations, that you cannot lay the puniſhment of it upon him, without making your ſelf to be accuſed of a vice, which eternally brands the memory of Kings. I obſerve ſuch ſtains in you, replyed the King, ſmartly interrupting her, that you will never waſh off whilſt you live; and if your intereſts, which ought to be the ſame with mine, were but as dear to you as the Enemy of your Family, you would abandon him without doubt, to wipe away our ſuſpicions; If he were innocent in Alexandria he is not ſo in Artaxata, and it is a crime great enough in him to fix his love in a Family, where he ought to expect nothing but hatred. Sir, anſwered the Princeſs, I will confeſs whatſoever you ſhall pleaſe to accuſe me of, and if this confeſſion may any way conduce to Prince Alexander's ſafety; I will confeſs, Sir, that I love him more than my ſelf, I am poſſibly ſo much obliged to him, that I may make this acknowledgment without fear of being blamed, but all the affection I ever had for him could never draw me from the ſubmiſſion I owe to your pleaſure, and the Gods are my witneſſes that I never had a thought to engage my ſelf to any perſon but by your command: O Gods, cry'd Artaxus, ſtopping two or three paces back, what is this I here! what Artemiſa do you confeſs without bluſhing that you love Alexander? I do love him, Sir, replyed the Couragious Princeſs, and if my affection could have made me bluſh at the confeſſion of it, I ſhould never have loved him: I owe ſo much to the former compaſſion he had of our misfortune to the memory of Artemiſa, which he hath ſo dearly preſerved, and to the danger whereinto he is come to throw himſelf for love of me, that except I were inſenſible to all things, I cannot be ſo to his affection: yet the Gods know, and I proteſt to you before them, that he always paſſed for Alcippus in my thoughts as well as in yours, and after I knew him to be Alexander I never ſpake to him but only that day he was taken, and the end of my diſcourſe then was only to command him to retire; the intereſt I have in his misfortune, as being the ſole cauſe of it, tenders me paſſionate for his ſafety, and makes me hope I ſhall obtain it of your Majeſty if you render Artemiſa's welfare. I loved Artemiſa, anſwered the barbarous Prince, as long as ſhe was worthy of my friendſhip; but now that ſhe prefers the amity of my enemy before mine, I cannot look upon her but as my enemy.’

With theſe words he left her without any farther hearkning to her, and went into a chamber by, leaving her full of confuſion and mortally afflicted; her grief was obſerved in her countenance by all thoſe who ſaw her retire to her apartment, and when ſhe was at liberty to expreſs it, ſhe did it in ſuch a manner as made all her maids that were near her melt into tears of compaſſion: ‘Cruel man, ſaid ſhe, thou needeſt pronounce but one ſentence to rid thy ſelf of two enemies at once, and at one blow thou wilt finiſh the deſtiny of the Son of Anthony and the Daughter of Artibaſus: that heart of thine which is unacceſſible to pity, may ſatiate it ſelf with a more entire revenge by deſtroying together with Alexander that which he loves better than himſelf, and thy zeal will appear much greater in revenging our father's death, when in ſhedding a ſtrangers bloud thou haſt not ſpared thine own. She ſpent part of the day in theſe complaints, and in the evening Narciſſus having ſent her word by Leucippe, that he had prevailed with one of my Keepers, and if ſhe had any thing to impart to me ſhe might do it with confidence, ſhe joyfully embraced the opportunity of writing to me what was upon her heart.’

In the mean time if I were afflicted, and ſuffered much in my impriſonment, it was more [Page] than any thing elſe, for the diſpleaſure I had, neither to ſee, nor to hear from her: my two Squires were permitted to ſerve me in the priſon, but they had not the liberty to go out, and Narciſſus who without had not permiſſion to ſee me, neither did he dare to appear there for fear of being ſurprized, and ſo made unſerviceable to me: Being ignorant as I was of all that paſſed, I knew not yet whether I ought to complain of Artemiſa or commend her, and I had ſo little confidence in, and acquaintance with thoſe that guarded me, that I would never ask them any thing upon that account.

One day having ſome thoughts that I was not beloved by Artemiſa, and being more ſad than ordinary, the Gods ſent me ſome comfort, and one of my Keepers coming neer the bed whereupon I then lay, and ſeigning to ſtoop down to take up ſomething that he had let fall on purpoſe: ‘Sir, ſaid he to me ſoftly, confide in me, if you pleaſe, I deſire to ſerve you, and for a beginning ſee what Narciſsus hath ſent.’ With theſe words he ſtretched forth his arm a little, and let fall a paper upon my bed: I immediately clapt my hand upon it, and with my other laying hold of Souldiers arm, ‘Friend, ſaid I, I will not be unthankful for thy good office.’ I could not look upon the Letter preſently for fear of making the Souldier ſuſpected, but a little after cauſing Tidus to bring a light, and drawing the paper from under my cloaths, as if I had had it a long while, I opened it and found theſe words written with Artemisa's own hand.

Princeſs Artemiſa to the Prince Alexander.

‘THEY would not have me ſee you, they would not have me ſpeak for you, they would not have me love you; they may hinder me from the ſight of you, they may prohibite me to ſpeak to you: but my dear Alexander they cannot hinder me from loving you, this declaration is very free, but poſſibly the condition to which my love hath reduced you may warrant me to do it; and I will add this too, that my deſtiny ſhall be the ſame with yours, and Artaxus ſhall execute nothing againſt you which ſhall not be equally fatal to Artemiſa; I will try all means to deſtroy your liberty, and if all things fail me upon that deſign, you ſhall ſee me run the hazard of your fortune without repugnance: Receive, my dear Alexander, the aſſurance I give you of it, and expect whatever may be done by her who will undertake all things for you as cordially as for her ſelf.’

O Gods! what ſweet conſolation did I receive at the reading of that Letter, and with what tranſports did I behold the dear marks of the remembrance and affection of my Princeſs? the acknowledgement only due to ſo great a goodneſs might have produced puiſſant effects in a ſoul prepoſſeſſed but with a ſlight paſſion, but in mine that was all on fire, and inflamed with love, this knowledge could not find place, without bringing a ſatisfaction along with it that made me cheriſh my pains, and rendred me more glorious in my impriſonment and ſufferings, than other perſons would have been in the moſt ſublime and illuſtrious fortune: Let us not complain any longer, ſaid I, of our deſtiny, and ſince my adorable Princeſs ſo ſweetly aſſiſts us in ſupporting our captivity, let us prefer it before the moſt abſolute liberty, and never deſire an end of it, ſeeing by that means we receive ſo precious an aſſurance of our happineſs: Ah! Artemiſa a thouſand times more generous, than your brother is inhumane, by what proofs of love, or by what ſervices can I have merited this paſſion which you expreſs for my intereſts? and what blood can I ſhed by the cruel orders of Artaxus, which can acquit me from ſo dear and preſſing an obligation? but though, to acquit my ſelf to my Princeſs I ſhould willingly die her ſervant, and be totally hers even to death, when will it be in my power to diſengage my ſelf? Upon theſe thoughts I caſt mine eyes once more upon the Letters, and finding occaſion in every word to out-brave fortune, and to diſpiſe my diſgraces, I read it over again with an action wholly conformable to the raviſhment of my ſoul, After I had beſtowed ſome hours upon this employment, I thought of writing an anſwer; there was no body hindred me from writing, and I might do it upon pretence of eaſing my thoughts upon the paper; but if my keepers had known that I had ſealed delivered my Letters, they would either have been read or carried to the King: I had need therefore to make uſe of the ſame ſecrecy to deliver mine, as was obſerved to give me Artemiſa's Letter, and in the mean time having called for paper to divert my ſelf in writing ſomewhat, as I ſaid, I made the Princeſs this anſwer.

Prince Alexander, to The Princeſs Artemiſa.

‘MY Enemies may exerciſe all the cruelty againſt me, that their reſentments can inſpire them with, and I defie them to render the ill they intend me equal to the leaſt part of the felicity you have beſtowed upon me: I only conjure you, my divine Princeſs, that you would be pleaſed to moderate it a little, ſince the value of a thouſand ſuch lives as mine is [Page] too much below your generous ſentiments; The Gods preſerve me from the diſpleaſures of ſeeing you inveloped in my diſgrace, and let them make me the object of their moſt formidable vengeance, rather than permit you to participate of my misfortunes; they have loſt that name ſince they have cauſed your pity, and I deſire that you would be pleaſed not to complain of them, ſince by them I am exalted to the moſt ſublime fortune that ever I could aſpire to.’

After I had written this Letter, I cloſed it, without folding it up, as if it had been ſome other thing, and in the evening, when no body could dream of it, I delivered it to my Keeper almoſt in the ſame faſhion as I had received mine, and with a Jewel of good value to oblige him to perſevere in his good offices: by his means I received ſome other Letters which afforded me all the conſolation in my diſpleaſures that I could deſire, but it was impoſſible for me to have a ſight of the Princeſs, though ſhe expreſſed a great deſire of it on her part, and the two Commanders to whoſe cuſtody I was committed, being ſtern and inexorable men, executed their Maſters will with ſuch a ſeverity as they could not be taken off from, by any entreaty or conſideration whatſoever.

One day having ſome talk with the more bruitiſh of the two, who was called Eurilochus after ſome diſcourſe, wherein he had ſufficiently diſcovered his rude and ſavage humour to me: ‘I know not, ſaid I, why the King ſpins out the time of my impriſonment ſo long, I think he might do well to give me ſpeedily either death or liberty,’ ‘As for liberty; replyed Eurilochus, I believe you have no cauſe to hope for it, and as for death, I ſhould think you might wait his leiſure, who hath the power over your life.’ This uncivil and cruel anſwer provoking me againſt him who gave it me: ‘Artaxus hath this power, anſwered I, becauſe I have given it him my ſelf, and if I had preferred my life before what I ſought for in his Dominions, both he, and all Armenia beſides, had been too weak to reduce the Son of Anthony under his power, who hath often ſeen as high born Princes as Artaxus is attending upon him. That time is paſt with you, ſaid the inſolent Eurilochus, and ſince fortune hath now ſubmitted you to thoſe who heretofore attended upon you, you muſt do by them as they did once by you, and expect your deſtiny from their will, as they expected and received from Anthony's.’

Theſe words full of Pride and reproach, put me into ſuch choler againſt him that ſpake them, that I could not diſſemble, but looking upon him with an eye full of diſdain and indignation both together; 'Tis thy intereſt, ſaid I to him, to oppoſe my liberty, and if it pleaſed the Gods that we were in another condition, aſsure thy ſelf thy life ſhould pay for thy inſolence. Eurilochus, though he was in a condition not to fear my threatnings, looked pale at this diſcourſe, and ſeeing ſomething in my face, which in ſpight of the condition wherein I then was, forced him to ſome reſpect, he held down his head and turned himſelf another way without reply.

After that day, I had no more converſation either with him or his companion, but I entertained my ſelf only with my two faithful ſervants, who were acquainted with the whole ſecret of my life, and ſometimes, when I could by ſtealth, with the Keeper, that brought me the Princeſſe's Letters.

In fine, after ſome ſcurvy formalities that Artaxus made uſe of in his proceedings, by his cruel orders I was condemned to loſe my head upon a ſcaffold in the great place of Artaxata; the rumour of it preſently ſpread it ſelf through the whole City, but I aſſure my ſelf that the moſt pitileſs of the inhabitants did not approve that cruelty. Cepio, by whoſe imprudence I was reduced to this condition, who ſince that time had not ſtirred from Artaxata, was one of the firſt that heard that news: He almoſt died with grief, when he conſidered himſelf as the cauſe of my misfortune, and the only cauſe of his ſtay in the Armenian Court was to ſeek ſome occaſion to make ſome reparation for the fault he had committed. When he underſtood the cruel ſentence paſſed againſt me, he went boldly to preſent himſelf before Artaxus, and without fear of the danger he might incur by provoking him:‘King of Armenia, ſaid he, I underſtand that you have condemned the Son of Antony to a ſhameful death, but take good heed how you execute that ſentence which will be your ruine, and give no way to the death of that Prince, except you deſire to ſee the deſtruction of your People, and the abſolute deſolation of your Dominions. And who ſhall lay deſolate my Dominions, replyed the King of Armenia with a ſcornful look, who ſhall ruine my people and execute thy threats? Auguſtus anſwered Cepio, and all the principal perſons of Rome, who either by blood or friendſhip have intereſt in Alexander, the whole Empire, the whole World, will arm with them for the revenge of that Prince; and you will ſee ſuch powers fall upon you, upon this quarrel, as will infallibly ruine you. Auguſtus, replyed Artaxus, ought rather to be a friend to me, than to the ſon of his enemy, and the remainders of the blood of Anthony will not be more conſiderable to him, than the [Page] Kings of Armenia his moſt ancient Allies. I [...] Auguſtus be diſ-intereſſed, as without doubt he is, I do not much value the reſt, and to thoſe powers thou talkeſt of I ſhall oppoſe others that ſhall protect me from the effect of thy menaces: but let what will happen, the Son of Cleopatra ſhall die to morrow, and thou ſhalt have thy part in the ſpectacle if thou haſt a mind to it, in the publique place: Yes bluntly replyed Cepio, I will have my ſhare in the Spectacle, and ſeeing the young Prince is fallen into this misfortune by my imprudence, I will hazard my deareſt blood in endeavouring the reparation of my fault.’ With theſe words he went from the King who had left hearkning to him before, and would not have ſuffered him to have ſaid ſo much, if thoſe about him had not perſwaded him to give way a little to the humour of this hair-brain'd man.

In the mean while the Princeſs no ſooner underſtood that the ſentence of my death was paſſed, and that I was to die the next day without delay, but ſhe flew out of her chamber tranſported with grief, with an intention to make uſe of the laſt remedies that were left her: As ſhe was going to the King, ſhe found him upon the top of the ſtairs, and ſhe no ſooner ſaw him, but running to him with an action full of the marks of her grief, and caſting her ſelf at his knees, which ſhe embraced, and moiſtened with her tears: Sir, ſaid ſhe, once my brother full of tenderneſs and affection, and now a King inacceſſible to pity, either command my life to be taken away in your preſence, or give me Alexander's. The barbarous King was not at all moved to compaſſion at this ſpectacle, but rudely ſnatching himſelf out of his Siſters arms; Die if thou wilt, ſaid he, woman without reſentment or honour, and believe that in the diſ-eſteem thou haſt cauſed me to have of thee, I ſhall be ſo far from giving thee Alexander's life, that I would not give the life of the leaſt of my enemies to ſave thine.

With theſe words he flung away without ſo much as looking upon her more, and the Princeſs riſing up full of grief and deſpair; Yes Monſter, cryed ſhe, I will die, and death will be a thouſand times more ſweet to me, than the life I can lead with a Tiger and a Barbarian; I will die, ſeeing thou wouldeſt have it ſo, but by my death I will furniſh thee with revenging furies which ſhall eternally torment thee. At theſe expreſſions breaking out a freſh into tears, and being in a condition that imprinted a tender compaſſion in all that were preſent at this action, ſhe ran to her appartment where ſhe threw her ſelf between the arms of Leucippe and the reſt of her women, and was ready to expire there through the violence of her grief: What Alexander, ſaid ſhe, ſhalt thou die, and ſhall this unfortunate creature, for whom thou haſt expoſed thy ſelf with ſo much love, not have the credit with a brother to divert the inhumane inſtrument of death from thy head? Doth this day onely remain to thee of that life which thou hadſt ſo generouſly beſtowed upon me, and ſhall I behold the bloody preparatives of thy death without preventing it? Ah no, Alexander, hope better of my courage, and do not ſuſpect me of a baſeneſs whereof I am not capable: I might poſſibly have lived, or lingred out a few days in grief, if any other kind of death had ſeparated us, but dying here, and dying only for my ſake, who wert always faithful to me ſince our firſt acquaintance, I am engaged both by my affection, and by my honor, to bear thee company, it ſhall never be laid as a reproach upon me that I drew thee hither, by the command I did once lay upon thee, to ſacrifice thee in our Country to the paſſion of an inhumane brother; and Cleopatra, that Cleopatra, which by her cruelty authorized Artaxu's, ſhall never accuſe me amongſt the ſhades below for approving, againſt her blood, of the revenging of the injury which ſhe did to our family. She ſpake ſome other words beſides, after which having employed all the reſt of the day almoſt, in ſeeking unprofitably for ſome expedients for my aſſiſtance, at laſt ſhe abandoned her ſelf to deſperate reſolutions.

All this while I was in priſon, where about the end of the day my ſentence was pronounced to me, and I was advertiſed to prepare my ſelf for death: the terrible countenances of thoſe that brought me this news could not refrain from ſhewing ſome ſigns of compaſſion, and according to their report they found ſomething extraordinary in my face which made them regret my deſtiny: I will not tell you that I received this ſad intelligence without being troubled at it, and whatſoever courage Heaven beſtows upon a man, when his mind is not prepoſſeſſed with deſpair, it is a difficult thing for him to endure the face of an horrible and ſhameful death, without aſtoniſhment and trouble: I was young, and more happy in the affection of Artemiſa than I had confidence to wiſh, and in a likelyhood to improve my life to the beſt advantages, theſe reaſons without doubt made me find death of a more hard digeſtion, than uſually it is to thoſe whoſe misfortunes ſmooth the face of it; I confeſs I was troubled, and that I had a combat with nature; wherein reaſon at firſt did not prevail without ſome difficulty, and I could not diſpoſe my ſelf without regret to abandon my hopes: but yet after I had yielded a little to humane frailty, I was ſooner reſolved than many perſons very timorous would have been, and at laſt I made uſe of my courage to let my [Page] enemies know that all the ill they could do me was not capable to caſt me down, After I began to ſpeak: ‘O Cleopatra, ſaid I, 'tis juſt that ſince I have received my life from you, I ſhould render it back for the reparation of your faults:’ And afterwards turning my ſelf towards them that had brought me news of my death; ‘Artaxus, ſaid I, doth very vigorouſly revenge the death of his father, and hath taken a great deal of pains, and run a great many hazards for his own ſatisfaction; but tell him that he ſhould have taken his courſe by way of arms both againſt Anthony, and the deceaſed King of the Medes, for the liberty or the revenge of his Father, and that this which he now takes upon me, can neither repair the baſeneſs he hath committed in ſuffering this injury for the time paſt, nor give me ſo much regret for my death, as to oblige me to be beholding to him for my life, if he ſhould be in the humour to give it me: yet let him know that his cruelty ſhall not remain unpuniſhed, and that, I ſhall leave perſons behind me, who ſhall more nobly and more generouſly call him to accompt for this offence.’ I ſent them back with theſe words, and ſtaying with thoſe of my ordinary guard I began by little to ſurmount all the difficulties that I found in this paſſage.

Night was come on, when the Keeper that was wont to give me Artemiſa's Letters by the means he was accuſtomed to uſe, preſented me with the laſt which ſhe had written an hour before, and with the Letter he gave me a little Veſſel wrapped up in a paper; the little neceſſity I had at that time to diſſemble my affairs made be preſently open the Letter, and at the ſight of thoſe dear Characters which I immediately kiſſed, not being able to forbear ſome tears: ‘O Artemiſa, ſaid I, 'tis juſt that your goodneſs ſhould continue as long as my life, but after my death wiſh you a repoſe which may never be croſſed by any remembrance of Alexander;’ and after I had given ſome kiſſes more to this precious writing, I read theſe words.

The Princeſs Artemiſa to Prince Alexander.

‘YOu muſt die, my dear Alexander, and I would not ſend you this news but that I am reſolved to die with you: all my hopes are extinguiſhed; Artaxus is inexorable, and I ſee my ſelf at laſt reduced to that deplorable condition I ſo much feared: Let us die ſince Heaven hath ſo decreed it, but let us not ſuffer Artaxus, and the People of Armenia, to glut their eyes with the cruel ſpectacle: By this poiſon that I ſend you, you may avoid the ſhame they intend you, and I have kept as much for my ſelf to avoid the ſhame I ſhould have to ſurvive you; Adieu my dear Alexander, and if by my death I do not acquit my ſelf of what I owe to yours, let your affection ſupply that defect, and believe that if my life were far more precious I ſhould have given it you with all my heart.’

There was hardly any need either of dagger or poiſon to take away my life at the reading of this Letter, and I was ſo ſtruck to the heart that grief alone wanted but a little of immediately contenting the rage of my Enemies, theſe laſt teſtimonies of Artemiſa's unmoveable affection rendred me the moſt happy of men; but they made me find ſome regret too in my death▪ which without doubt I ſhould not have done, if ſhe had not loved me, and ſeeing her, as ſhe ſent me word, in a reſolution to die, I was ſeaſed with ſo violent a diſpleaſure at it, that there was no room for comfort in my ſoul: I took the Veſſel wherein the poiſon ſhe ſent me was, and delivered it to Tideus to prepare it in a potion, receiving this preſent from Artemiſa with a great deal of ſatisfaction, as likely to free me from the ſhame wherein a great part of the puniſhment to which I was deſtinied, did conſiſt: After I had ſufficiently tormented my ſelf at the Princeſſes deſign, wherein I found ſufficient reaſon to die deſperate, if I ſhould not divert her from it, I deſired to give her the laſt aſſurances of my fidelity in a Letter which I wrote unto her in theſe terms.

Prince Alexander to the Princeſs Artemiſa.

‘I Am ready to die, my dear Princeſs, and I part from this life without any other regret, than of quitting you for ever: I ſhall die but half if you preſerve that part of me, which I leave you, and death it ſelf cannot take from you: but I ſhall die twice, and the moſt cruel death that can be imagined, if you ſuffer me to part in that fear whereinto your fatal reſolution hath put me: I have dearly received the preſent you ſent me, but I conjure to employ the remainder for other uſes, than for the deſtruction of the moſt perfect Maſter piece of the Gods; a loſs ſo inconſiderable as mine ſhould not give a Princeſs of your quality occaſions of deſpair, and you cannot conceive a thought of it without rendring my end full of horrour, and giving me greater reſentments againſt your [Page] cruelty, than againſt that of the King your brother: Live then to reſerve your ſelf for a better fortune, and live that you may let me live ſtill in your memory; if I could obtain this aſſurance of you before my death, I ſhould receive it with ſuch ſatisfaction as without doubt would deprive Artaxus of a great part of his revenge, and in hope not to find you inexorable to this my laſt ſupplication, I likewiſe make this my laſt proteſtation before you and the Gods not only that I die yours, but that death it ſelf is not capable to take Alexander from you.’

It was much eaſier for me to deliver this Letter to my Keeper than at other times, and this laſt night my enemies were pleaſed to expreſs a little more complaiſance to me than before. After this, being deſirous to put all things in order, I divided ſome Jewels I had between my two Squires, and commanded them to give Narciſſus a ſhare, and to ſignifie to him how ſenſible I was of his fidelity; but they melted into tears at this diſcourſe, and made it appear to me by their actions, that they were in a bad capacity to take notice of the orders I gave them. There was nothing in the priſon but horror and dreadful ſilence, and the greateſt part of the night being paſt, a little before day I called to Tydeus for the poyſon I had given him, which he had already prepared for me in a potion: Tydeus made ſome difficulty at the firſt to do it, telling me I ought not to take it but in caſe of extremity, and there might ſome change happen in the King of Armenia's mind, or in my condition by ſome accidents which might free me from the danger I was in; but having convinced him that theſe were ridiculous, and that if I ſhould defer any longer to ſerve my ſelf with this remedy, it would not have done its execution within the time prefixed, and ſo would prove uſeleſs as to the deſign I had to avoid a ſhameful death by its aſſiſtance, he diſpoſed himſelf at laſt to obey me, and went to fetch the veſſel, which he preſented to me with a trembling hand. They which ſaw this action, believing that he brought me ſomething to drink, as he was often uſed to do, did not oppoſe it, but whether it were out of Tydeus his fear, or ſome deſign he had, when I reached out my hand to take the Cup, he let it go too ſoon, and either by his fault or mine it ſlipt from us both, and fell upon the floor, where all the Liquor was ſpilt.

This accident cauſed me a ſenſible diſpleaſure, but being upon terms to ſupport any thing from my fortune, I ſtifled my reſentment, and lifting up my eyes to heaven, ‘'Tis juſt, cryed I, that my deſtiny ſhould be punctually accompliſhed, and the puniſhment of the blood of Cleopatra would not be perfect, if I ſhould die any other kind of death than Artibaſus did.’

With theſe words reſigning my ſelf to the will of the Gods, without reaſoning the caſe any farther, I threw my ſelf upon my bed, either to get a little ſleep, or to expect my death without troubling my ſelf any farther. I confeſs that death preſenting it ſelf to my eyes in all its moſt horrible forms, did not permit me to ſleep, and though poſſibly I ſhould not ſo much have feared its approach, if it had been preſented to me in a Battel, or upon ſome occaſion where I might have diſputed it with my Arms, or received it with glory, yet I could not think that within a few hours in the ſight of the people of Armenia I ſhould loſe my head upon a Scaffold by an infamous hand, without finding a great repugnance in my nature againſt that kind of death: At laſt the darkneſs which augmented the horror of my condition vaniſhed, and the Sun began to give light to that day which was deſtined to be the laſt of my Life.

At day-break, the place where I was to dye was full of company, all the windows were taken up, and the people of Armenia accounting it a very extraordinary thing to ſee the Son of Anthony dye in publick, ran together in heaps to be preſent at that action. My Enemies to give ſome formality of honour to my birth, had cauſed the door of my priſon, the Scaffold where I was to loſe my life, and ſome other places where I was to paſs, to be hung with black. I had already taken all the reſolution that was neceſſary for me to go to dye, without ſhewing any tokens of weakneſs, and in expectation of my laſt hour, I paſſed the beginning of the day with ſome impatience. At laſt it came, to hold you no longer in ſuſpenſe, and the cruel Miniſters of Artaxus came to conduct me to my death; Eurilochus and Elpenor, the two chief of thoſe that guarded me, were in the head of them, and I ſaw them no ſooner appear, but advancing towards them: ‘Behold the day, ſaid I, that frees me from your cruelties, let us go Eurilochus, let us go Elpenor, I am prepared to dye for Artemiſa, and if the inhumanity of Artaxus hath nothing for me more terrible than death, he is too weak to terrifie.’ Eurilochus having acquainted me in a few words that it was time to go, cauſed a man to come to me with a cord to tye my hands: This indignity moved me, and turning my ſelf towards Eurilochus: What, ſaid I, will they add this ignominy too to the death of Anthony's Son? ‘Artibaſus, replyed Eurilochus, was loaden with Irons, and the King uſes you more gently than his Father was uſed by your Relations:’ I ſaw well enough it was [Page] to no purpoſe to oppoſe a thing which they would doin ſpight of me, in the weak condition I was, and not being willing to offer at ſuch actions as poſſibly might be imputed to want of courage, I moderated my choler, and ſtretching forth my hands to him that held the cord: Do, ſaid I to Eurilochus, cauſe theſe Princes hands to be bound, whom thou uſeſt unworthily to the very death, and do not ſuffer them to be free, if thou deſireſt to avoid that death which yet they may give thee. Eurilochus did what I ſaid to him without any reply, and when I ſaw my ſelf tyed, I was a little moved with ſhame, which ſent up a bluſh into my face: I turned my ſelf then to my Squires, who lying at my feet, bathed them with a ſtream of Tears, and endeavouring to oblige them to ſome conſtancy by the expreſſions of mine. Go my Friends, ſaid I, ſupport your deſtiny with patience, and expect from my Brother and the Princeſs Octavia the recompence which I am not able to give you for your good ſervices: tell them I do not deſire them to revenge my death, if Artemiſa diſapproves of any thing that may be done againſt her Brother: but if the Princeſs abandons his intereſts, I deſire of my kindred, and of Caeſar the ruine of this barbarous King, who revenges injuries upon the innocent, and lets thoſe that are culpable alone.

I ſaw divers of thoſe that guarded me weep at this diſcourſe, and turning my ſelf to the Commander, I bad them ſhew me the way I was to go, they conducted me out of my Chamber amongſt a great number of Javelins, and having paſſed the ſtairs I found at the gate a Chariot covered with black which waited for me, and in that I was mounted to march to the great place, I was followed and environed with a great number of men both on foot and on horſeback, and in this manner I advanced into the ſtreets, where by reaſon of the throng of People we could paſs but very ſlowly: there were few perſons amongſt thoſe that met me in my paſſing, but ſhewed divers ſigns of compaſſion, and highly blamed the cruelty of their King: ſome ſpake in pity of my youth wherein they ſaw me cruelly ſnatched from the faireſt hopes: others pauſed upon ſomething of gallantry that they ſaw in my face, and the greateſt part reflected upon my birth and the inconſtancies of fortune, which from the height wherein I had been formerly ſeen had thrown me down into ſo extraordinary a misfortune.

We arrived at laſt at the place where I ſaw the fatal ſcaffold erected, and the preſs was ſo great that we could not get thither without a great deal of trouble: I lighted from the Chariot, and mounted upon the ſcaffold with a very aſſured countenance, to ſhew my enemies that the fear of death had not much ſtaggered me, and when I was at the fatal place where I was to loſe my life, I walked a little and turned my eyes on every ſide upon the ſtanders by, who had filled all the place and windows adjoining, I looked upon them a while without ſpeaking, and then on a ſudden addreſſing my diſcourſe to thoſe which were neer enough to underſtand me: ‘Armenians, ſaid I, ſince it is the deſtiny of the innocent to ſuffer for the culpable, I believe you will one day undergo the puniſhment of your Kings cruelty, as I am expoſed to the reſentments he might juſtly conceive againſt my relation: you may poſſibly ſee your blood ſhed in his quarrel as I am upon the point of giving mine for Cleopatra: I do not wiſh this to you, nor to Artaxus himſelf, becauſe, as unworthy as he is, he is the Brother of the Princeſs Artemiſa: but I very well foreſee that the cruelty of your Prince will not remain unpuniſhed, and I adviſe you his people and ſubjects, either to arm your ſelves for his defence, or to quit his party.’ Theſe words were heard by Artaxus himſelf, who out of an horrible baſeneſs, had placed himſelf in an houſe adjoyning, and from behind a glaſs window ſaw all that paſſed in the place.

The infamous Miniſters of my death were already upon the Scaffold, and the chief of them coming to me, told me that it was time for him to do his duty, and prayed me to let him bind my eyes with a cloath he had for that purpoſe; ‘Friend, ſaid I to him, I am not ſo much afraid of death, that I cannot ſee its approach without being frighted at it, I will receive it with my eyes open, without putting thee to the trouble of cloſing them before death does it.’ After theſe words, diſpoſing my ſelf to take my laſt farewell. ‘O Artemiſa, ſaid I, I give you my life as willingly as you will beſtow ſome tears upon my death.’ Theſe words were followed with a mournful murmur of the greateſt part of the ſtanders by; and immediately after putting my ſelf into a poſture to receive the fatal blow, I commanded the Executioner to do his duty, and ſtretched out my neck under the inſtrument of death, which he lifted up into the aire to ſeparate my head from my body.

‘O Gods! cryed Caeſario, at this part of Alexander's Narration, O Gods, is it poſſible that you ſhould eſcape death after you were reduced to ſuch great extremities, and that fortune which had brought you to ſo near a precipeice, ſhould be ready to ſuccour you in ſuch a deſperate condition?’ ‘You ſhall hear, replyed Alexander, a very ſtrange event, and I am about to tell you of an action that can hardly be parallel'd by all antiquity.’ [Page] Divers attributed it to folly, others to a real and uncommon generoſity, and it is to that vertue, that in memory of him who did it for my ſake, I will abſolutely impute it, inſtead of robbing him of a glory which is due to him, which in ages to come they cannot deprive him of.

My neck, as I told you, was ſtretched out, and the Executioner had already lifted up his arm to give the fatal Blow, when he was ſtopped by a voice which cryed out, Hold, two or three times: He ſtopt his hand which he had advanced, believing it was ſome order from the King, and turning that way from whence he heard the voice, he ſaw a man who mounted upon the ſcaffold with a naked ſword in his hand, who preſently ran him through the body, and tumbled him dead at my feet. At the noiſe he made in falling down by me, I turned my ſelf towards him who had done that action, and no ſooner caſt my eyes upon his viſage, but I knew him to be Cepio, who animated by the moſt generous courage in the world, came to repair his imprudence by the boldeſt attempt that ever was undertaken. Narciſſus followed him, but could not get near the Scaffold by reaſon of the preſs which environed it, and the great number of Souldiers that hindred his paſſage. Cepio had no ſooner diſpatched the Executioner, but he ſeized upon his ſword, and coming to me; Alexander, ſaid he, here's Cepio who having by his imprudence brought you to your death, comes to ſuffer with you: I cannot preſerve you from it, but I will change the manner of it, and you will be more ſatisfied to die with a ſword in your hand, than by an infamous arm. Before he had ended theſe words, he had already cut the cord which tied my hands, and gave me a ſword: I felt my ſelf animated by this aſſiſtance with an extraordinary courage, and looking upon Cepio with a countenance full of acknowledgment: I am ſorry, Cepio, ſaid I, that you run upon your death, and you do not owe me ſuch a reparation as this for the ill you have innocently procured me: but ſince, through your generoſity, we muſt die together, let us ſell our lives dearly to our moſt cruel enemies. We had not time to make any longer diſcourſe, and we ſaw already the Commanders of thoſe that guarded me, followed by divers of their Souldiers, mounting the Scaffold with their ſwords in their hands: I no ſooner knew the cruel Eurilochus and his companion at the head of the reſt, but being ſeized with a motion of joy for the occaſion that offered it ſelf to me to revenge thoſe indignities they had done me, I flew to Eurilochus with a threatning cry; Barbarian, ſaid I, I have promiſed to be thy death, and thou ſhalt receive it at my hands, before I fall at the hands of thy companions. As I uttered theſe words, I put by a thruſt which he made at me, and ſlipping under his ſword, he thruſt mine up to the hilts; his which I ſeized upon in the paſs, I kept in my hand, and with that I laid Elpenor upon the head, who advanced to aſſiſt his companion, with ſo much ill fortune for him, that having cleft him to the middle of the face, after he had reeled a little way, he fell down dead upon thoſe who were neareſt to the Scaffold.

I received no ſmall conſolation at the death of theſe two enemies, over what I expected, and ſeeing that Cepio with two mortal blows had tumbled two Souldiers down from the Scaffold at the ſame time; Courage, cryed I, brave Cepio, we will not die alone to day, follow me into the thickeſt throng of our Enemies, and let us render our death famous by ſo many others, that we may have no cauſe to regret our own. Speaking theſe words, I threw my ſelf from the Scaffold, upon the neareſt of the Souldiers that environed it, and laying at all thoſe, without any difference which I found in my way, I quickly made way enough with my Sword. Cepio was preſently at my ſide, and ſeconded me with divers actions of admirable valour. 'Tis certain that there are no efforts comparable to thoſe that proceed from perſons which fear not death, and that when men have abandoned their lives, they are capable of doing prodigious executions: Upon another occaſion, when he ſhould have fought with ſome conſideration of our own ſafety, without doubt we ſhould not have done half we did upon this; but having loſt all hope, all deſire, and care but to revenge our death, we appeared to be ſomewhat more than men in this dayes work, and we did actions that would hardly find belief, if they had not the teſtimony of many thouſand witneſſes.

Our Enemies being intimidated by the great blows we dealt amongſt them, as much as if our number had been equal with theirs, made way for us on both ſides, and having no Commanders to encourage them, I believe they would have given us free paſſage if we had ſought it; but inſtead of Elpenor or Eurilochus, they were animated by a more formidable voice than of any of their Captains, and then it was that the baſeneſs of Artaxus rendred it ſelf manifeſt to all his people, for he opened the Window behind which he concealed himſelf to ſatiate his eyes with the cruel ſpectacle, and ſhewing his face to the Souldiers, he no ſooner ſaw the diſorder into which we had put them, but he cryed out with a terrible voice, Whither do ye flye, O ye cowards, whither do ye flye from two men? And a litte after ſeeing that at this cry they faced about and began to put themſelves into a condition to ſet upon us; Take them, added he, and if ye cannot take them alive, kill them. At theſe words, the Souldiers [Page] being aſhamed of the fear they had expreſſed, rallied up together, and began to environ us, and at the ſame time they turned the points of a thouſand Javelins againſt us, we knew then that our death was not far of, but that was no news to us, nor any more than for what we were fully prepared; and therefore, caſting a look upon Cepio, Let us die Cepio, ſaid I, ſince you deſire it, but before our death let us ſend ſome of our Enemies before us. I had ſcarcely made an end of theſe words when I ſaw my blood trickle down from ſome ſlight wounds, and poor Cepio having received two or three mortal ones, fell at my feet, where immediately after he expired.

This man certainly for his courage and admirable generoſity, deſerved a better deſtiny, and if I had been in a condition to make ſome reflection upon his loſs, I had without doubt, expreſſed all the reſentments of grief that his valour, and the aſſiſtance he had given me could merit from my acknowledgment: Adieu brave Cepio, cryed I, thou dyeſt for my intereſts, but it ſhall not be long before I bare thee company. With theſe words I flew much more furiouſly into the middle of my Enemies, diſpatching the two neareſt to me, with the two firſt blows I gave them; ſome others beſides bare them company, and I behaved my ſelf ſo amongſt them, that alone as I was, the boldeſt of them durſt ſcarcely venture within the length of my Sword. Nevertheleſs, my reſiſtance was to very little purpoſe, and though I had been more valiant than many Achilleſ's together, it was impoſſible for me to prolong my deſtiny: I retired my ſelf againſt a wall, that I might not be aſſaulted but only before, and there my Enemies made a ſemi-circle about me, and preſſed me ſo cloſe, that not being able to put by ſo many thruſts as they made at me, and finding already a great diminution of my ſtrength, I was even a ſinking under ſuch a number, when Artaxus himſelf came into the place, and advanced himſelf towards that part where I was, crying out they ſhould take me alive, and that they ſhould take care of killing me upon pain of death.

This command certainly ſaved me, and after I had defended my ſelf a little longer, having engaged my ſword in the body of a Souldier, who was forwarder than the reſt, his companions threw themſelves upon me in ſo great a number, that not being able to ſtir amongſt them, I was thrown down and diſarmed, a little after they tyed my hands behind me, and in this condition they preſented me to Artaxus, who came near us, and made the people give way that he might ſee me. After he had caſt his eyes upon my face: Thou ſhalt not die, ſaid he, as thou didſt deſire, and I am reſolved that thou ſhalt not have the ſatisfaction of changing the kind of death I had ordained for thee, againſt my will; thou ſhalt return into the hands of an Executioner from whom thou flyeſt, but it ſhall be to die there in torments. I heard his threat without any fear, and looking upon him with more ſcorn than before; I expect from thee, ſaid I, all that can be expected from a baſe and cruel man, and I know thou feareſt my reſentments too much to reſtore me to liberty.

Artaxus made no reply to this diſcourſe, but committed me to the cuſtody of Theogenes and Sarpedon, and putting them in the place of Eurilochus and Elpenor, he commanded them to carry me back to priſon, and to guard me there till he had deliberated what kind of death to put me too; fearing likewiſe leſt I ſhould die of my wounds, and ſo avoid the puniſhments he prepared for me, he gave order that I ſhould be carefully looked to; and thus his cruelty was every way for my preſervation, and by deſtining me to torments, he himſelf made way for my ſafety. I returned to the ſame priſon from whence I came ſome hours before, without hope of ſeeing it again, and a little after they brought thither to me Narciſſus and my two Squires, all three wounded, whom they had taken with their ſwords in their hands, endeavouring to force a way through the preſs to ſecond Cepio in his generous intention. I was much comforted to ſee them, and to underſtand the effects of their fidelity; but I much regretted the death of the generous and unfortunate Cepio, and was aſhamed to ſee my ſelf alive after I had ſuffered that valiant man to die for my intereſts: He had been ſomewhat imprudent in the conduct of his life, but in all his actions he expreſſed an admirable courage, and it was his courage capable of undertaking all things that Auguſtus feared, and for that reaſon made him leave Rome; the glorious end of his life, did certainly deſerve that I ſhould make him a long Elogium, but for fear I ſhould trouble you with too long a narration, I will ſpeak no more of it, and will only tell you, that the memory of this man will never come into my mind, without cauſing me a real affliction, and though he had been the cauſe of all the danger wherein I had been, and was then at the preſent, he had ſo generouſly repaired his fault, that all the reſentment I had for it, was changed into ſorrow for his loſs, which would hardly admit of any conſolation; I had divers hurts, but they were all ſuch ſlight ones, that they could ſcarcely oblige me to keep my bed, and having that knowledge that I had of Artaxus's cruel intentions, I ſhould never have ſuffered them to have been looked to, if they had been capable of ſending me into another world; yet there was great care taken of me by my Squires, and by the faithful Narciſſus, who, contrary to all appearances, had ſtill ſome hope of my ſafety.

[Page] 'Tis a long time ſince I ſpake to you of Artemiſa, though ſhe it is of whom I ought to make the greateſt part of my diſcourſe, and it was ſhe alone that had taken up almoſt all my thoughts in the midſt of my greateſt dangers: I had heard no news from her ſince her laſt Letter, and when I was returned into the priſon, I continued there divers days without receiving any: The Keeper who was wont to deliver me her Letters, could not render me that office any longer, becauſe Narciſſus from whom he received them, was priſoner with me, and all that I could know by his means was, that according to the common report, the Princeſs almoſt died for grief that day, upon which they would have taken away my life, and that if her women had not hindred her, ſhe would have poyſoned her ſelf; that ſince ſhe had been indiſpoſed, and ſeen by few perſons.

The Gods know with what inquietudes I paſſed the dayes of my laſt impriſonment, not being comforted with the tokens of her remembrance as I had been in the former, nor being able to gain any intelligence of my fortune, which I made abſolutely to conſiſt in her affection; ſometimes I complained to my ſelf, and began to ſuſpect her of a little forgetfulneſs: but after I had made a reflection upon the teſtimonies I had received of her goodneſs, and the freſh obligations I had to her, condemned my complaints and ſuſpicions as crimes, and confirmed my ſelf in the reſolution of dying for her without regretting it or repenting of it.

In the mean time my hurts were almoſt cured in a few dayes, and my ſervants were perfectly well, and then I underſtood by thoſe that guarded me, that the King, after he had wavered a while, was diverted by them who had ſome credit with him, from the deſign he had to make me dye in torments, and was reſolved then to make my head be cut off upon the Tomb they had built in Artaxata to the memory of Artibaſus, within four or five dayes, upon the very day (as it fell out) of the King his Fathers death; I received this news without trouble, being already prepared for it, and I reſign'd my ſelf as I had always done before, to the will of the all-juſt, and all puiſſant Gods; I detain you with things of ſmall importance, and it is neceſſary that I ſhould abridge this long diſcourſe.

I had no more than two dayes remaining of the time they had preſcribed to my life, and it was about the middle of a night which I paſſed with an interrupted ſleep, as you may imagine, that I was rouſed out of my ſlumber by a noiſe, and a great light that appeared upon a ſudden in my chamber: by great fortune I had not made my ſelf unready, but being in my cloths upon the bed, I leaped off as they entred into the Chamber: the firſt perſons that I ſaw appear were the Keeper that brough me the Letters, and one of his companions carrying each of them a light: after them came in Sarpedon their Commander who was put into Euriloohus his place, and after him (O Gods! I cannot call it to mind without tranſport) after him the Princeſs Artemiſa her ſelf attended only by Leucippe and another of her maids. At this unexpected ſight I certainly believed that I was aſleep, and ſaw but in a dream what was really preſented to my eyes, I opened them as much as I could to convince them of their error, or to diſſipate the miſt which hindred me from perceiving the truth: But when I had called all my ſences and my reaſon into conſultation, I diſcovered my happineſs, and believed that I ſaw Artemiſa without illuſion; my aſtoniſhment gave place to my joy, and being ſeized as much by that paſſion as I was by the other before, I threw my ſelf at the Princeſſe's feet embracing her knees with ſuch an ardency as deprived me of the liberty of ſpeech. The affection of Artemiſa at this meeting ſeemed to be no leſs than mine, and though Sarpedon, my Servants, and ſome of the guard were preſent at her action, ſhe made no difficulty before them whilſt I was fixed at her knees, to throw her arms about me, and embrace me with all the marks of the greateſt tenderneſs: the tears ſtreamed from her eyes abundantly, and her countenance did every way expreſs an uncommon paſſion: After ſhe had been a while in this condition when ſhe was recovered from the troubles which the ſight of me, and her compaſſion had raiſed in her ſoul, after ſhe had given me her hand to raiſe me up: Alexander ſaid ſhe, ‘that which you have ſuffered, and the dangers to which you have been expoſed for my ſake cannot be recompenſed either by the office I am about to do you, or the price of divers lives ſuch as mine: I will not tell you then that the grief I had for you almoſt brought me to my grave, nor that I come hither to free you from this priſon out of which by Artaxus's good will, you ſhould never go but to your death: but in acknowledgement of your ſervices I will offer you ſomething more worthy of your acceptation, and will teſtifie unto you by the moſt real proofs that you can deſire, that poſſibly my affection is not inferiour unto yours.’

She ſtopt at theſe words, and having put my ſelf during her diſcourſe into a condition to reply: ‘Madam, ſaid I, thoſe ſufferings, and thoſe dangers which you eſteem ſo highly are not worthy of the ſmalleſt effects of your goodneſs, and I thought to account them a thouſand times more dear than my life, ſince 'tis by them—'Tis enough, ſaid the [Page] Princeſs interrupting me, and I am forced to break off your diſcourſe, Time calls upon us to be gone: but in the firſt place Alexander, I will tell you before Sarpedon, to whom I am obliged for all I do in relation to your ſafety, before my Maids, and your Servants, that together with your liberty I will give you Artemiſa, and that I am diſpoſed abſolutely to follow your Fortune as you are a Prince, whom before theſe Witneſſes I here receive for my Husband: before Artaxus his cruelties I ſhould have found a great reſiſtance in my ſelf againſt this action, and though I had born you never ſo much affection, I ſhould never have received you for my husband without his permiſſion: but now, that by his horrible actions, he hath effaced all the characters of reſpect and friendſhip that were due to him from me, and that he hath reduced me to ſuch terms, as that I cannot live with him but as with a monſter, or a ſavage beaſt, I will make no difficulty to abandon him to follow you upon the confidence I have in your love and vertue, nor to eſpouſe you when we ſhall arrive at Auguſtus his Court, or at any other place where you ſhall make your retreat.’

If the ſight of Artemiſa, if her former words had filled me with aſtoniſhment and joy, judge you Cleomedon, to what a height of both I was raiſed by this diſcourſe, and paſſing in one moment from a priſon, and the expectation of a cruel death, not only to liberty but to the poſſeſſion of Artemiſa her ſelf, which I preferred before a thouſand liberties, and a thouſand lives, in what manner I could receive this ſtrange alteration of my condition: Truly it would be as hard for me to repreſent it to you, as it was then to expreſs it to Artemiſa, and I will content my ſelf to tell you, that being full of confuſion and tranſport, I threw my ſelf the ſecond time at the Princeſs's feet, ſo amazed at the exceſs of my good fortune, that I could give no intelligence of my thoughts, but by my countenance.

After I had continued a while in this condition, fixing my mouth upon one of her fair hands, which I held betwixt mine: ‘Madam, ſaid I, you have put me into ſuch a condition as is impoſſible for me to expreſs, and the fortune which you offer me, is ſo far above thoſe hopes I might reaſonably conceive, that I cannot receive it without trouble and confuſion: yet from thence I received this ſo little deſerved favour, and ſince it pleaſes you out of an exceſs of your divine bounty, to advance me to a quality whereof I am ſo unworthy, I proteſt before the ſame perſons whom you call as witneſſes of my fortune, that I will ſubmit my ſelf all my life long to your will with an abſolute obedience, and that I ſhall be ambitious of the honour to wait upon you, and conduct you to thoſe places where poſſibly you ſhall have no cauſe to regret the loſs of any thing that you leave in Armenia: I ſhall never regret any thing, replyed Artemiſa, ſo long as I have a part in you, and in your company (from whom I hope all manner of fidelity and diſcretion) I ſhall never be unhappy: but let us remit theſe mutual aſſurances till another time, and let us be gone from hence without any farther delay, our ſtay may yet ruine all, and I ſhall be in no quiet, till we be better aſſured of our liberty.’

With theſe words, not expecting a reply, ſhe gave me her hand, and cauſing thoſe to march before that carryed the lights, ſhe guided me her ſelf, being conducted by Sarpedon, down a little pair of ſtairs, which till then were unknown to me, into the ſtreet, where we put out our lights, and there about fifty paces from the Gate, we found a Chariot with ſix good horſes, and thoſe that were needful for Sarpedon, my ſervants, and the two Keepers that followed us, and ſeven or eight horſemen beſides, being the Princeſſe's moſt faithful Officers attending upon the Chariot.

She made me enter preſently with her two maids and Sarpedon, and the reſt being mounted on horſe-back, we ſet forwards, and marching with great ſpeed under the conduct of one of the Princeſs's men, who was very well acquainted with the way we were to go. We left Artaxata behind us in a very ſmall time, and when we ſaw our ſelves in the open fields, we made away with all the ſpeed our horſes could; At the break of day we came to a paſſage of the River Araxes, where we had boats attended us, and when we had paſſed the River, we brake the boats in a thouſand peices to deprive our enemies of the means to purſue us. About half a days journey farther, we found freſh horſes which had been ſent thither before, and thoſe we made uſe of inſtead of our own, which were already tired with the great haſte we had made.

We marched on ſtill a great pace the reſt of that day, and all the next on the way to Cilicia; for we would not take the way to Rome, ſuppoſing they would purſue us that way, and beſides we had intelligence that Auguſtus and all his ordinary Court was in Aſia, with whom I hoped to find thoſe perſons that were neareſt and deareſt to me, next to Artemiſa.

But why do I amuſe you any longer? We paſſed out of Armenia without any hindrance, and as we entred into Cilicia, we were informed that Auguſtus was then, or [Page] was to be ſhortly at Alexandria: This was the moſt convenient way we could go, and this way we took, having informed our ſelves of all paſſages, and expecting in that place the beſt retreat we could deſire.

I will not repeat to you the converſations, full of ſweetneſs, that I had with the Princeſs during our Voyage: 'Twas from her that I underſtood the means wherewith ſhe had ſerved her ſelf for my deliverance, and from her I knew, that having gained Sarpedon by her careſſes, by her preſents, and the inclinations he had to vertue, ſhe diſpoſed him to ſet me at liberty, and to follow her fortune and mine throughout the World, and that to this end, having drawn Theogenes his companion into a houſe without the City, he made him be detained priſoner there by ſome Souldiers that were at his diſpoſe, and returning into the City, about the beginning of the night, he placed all his guards, except thoſe that were privy to his intentions, upon the ſtairs of the great Gate of the priſon, with order to attend there upon pain of death till his return, and by this means he had the paſſage as free for us as we could deſire.

I thanked Sarpedon, as I was obliged to do, and promiſed him that I would never give him occaſion to repent himſelf of the good office he had done me. Sarpedon, who really is a perſon of honour, expreſſed himſelf much ſatisfied in ſerving me, and not only he, but the Princeſs's ſervants, and the Keepers that followed us, ſeemed to be wonderfully affectionated to our intereſts. The Princeſs carried with her all her moſt precious Jewels, and of them ſhe gave preſents every day to theſe People to oblige them to us with the greater fidelity.

In the mean while, after we were out of Artaxus his Dominions, we braved his cruelty, and being moved by the juſt reſentments I had againſt him, I added to my felicity the contentment I had of having done him a ſignal diſpleaſure, in carrying away the Princeſs his Siſter; yet I was not ſo ſatisfied with it, but that I ſtill retained a deſire to be revenged one day upon him for his inhumanities, and by that means, the affections which the Princeſs his Siſter had for him, were ſo alienated, that I had no fear to diſpleaſe her by the hatred I had for her Brother; ‘O Gods! what ſweetneſs did I taſt of in her company during this Voyage? and though I alwayes behaved my ſelf towards her with the ſevereſt modeſty, a thouſand vertuous Proofs that I received of her affection every moment, made me bleſs an hundred times a day the pains and dangers by which I was made capable of arriving to this ſupream felicity.’

In fine, after a long Voyage, which was not croſſed by any diſaſtrous accident, we arrived in this Country, where we were preſently informed that Auguſtus was not yet come to Alexandria, but that he was expected, and would be there within a few days; Artemiſa having no deſire to make her ſelf known, nor to ſhew her ſelf but as little as was poſſible, till ſhe came into the preſence of Caeſar, and of my friends to whom ſhe ſhould declare her ſelf, Tydeus, one of my Squires, to whom this houſe belongs, offered it to us, and prayed us to retire thither, which we did, finding a great convenience in the ſituation of the place which is very good, and in the nearneſs of the City where we may better provide our ſelves neceſſaries than herew hilſt we wait for Caeſar's arrival without being ſeen but by few perſons.

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA: OR, Love's Maſter-Piece. PART IV.
LIB. III.

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ARGUMENT.

Whileſt Alexander relates his Hiſtory to Caeſario, Artemiſa walks to take the air; She ſpies a Knight richly armed under a Tree, who at firſt glance miſtakes her for one Delia his Miſtreſs; but perceiving his errour, his grief throws him into an Extaſie, from which, by the aſſiſtance of Artemiſa and her Servants, he is recovered; and to gratifie his generous pity, at her deſire he acquaints her with the paſsages of his life and love. He ſpeaks himſelf to be Philadelph, Son to the King of Cilicia. He is deſigned by his Father to match with the Princeſs Urania, Daughter to the King of Cappadocia, whoſe Queen Dowager he had lately married. But one day weary of Hunting, and having loſt all his company, whileſt be ſeeks the ſolace of a ſhady Grove, he finds a moſt beautiful Virgin a ſleep; he is infinitely taken with her delicate ſleep and feature, ſtoops down to kiſs her, and ſhe awakes. He excuſes his incivility, ſhe retorts a ſhort, but civil anſwer, and immediately retreats out of his ſight. This ſhort interview renders him Captive to that unknown Beauty. At laſt he finds out her habitation, often viſits her, diſcovers his quality, and addreſſes his Loveſuit, with proteſtations of a pure and vertuous intention. She receives them reſpectfully, but coldly, and perſiſts in that manner with an inflexible reſolution. His Father ſends for him to Court, and upbraids his long abſence. He prevails with his Siſter the Princeſs Andromeda, under colour of divertiſement to viſit his Miſtreſs, who calls her ſelf Delia, and to ſolicit his Suit to her. She brings Delia to Court, under the notion of her Servant. Philadelph continues his amorous addreſſes, and Delia her former coldneſs. The King preſſes Philadelph to marry Urania. He pretends to court her, but ſo faintly, that the Princeſs perceives and ſlights it. He confeſses his praeingagement, and ſhe promiſes ſecrecy. The Court takes notice of his paſſion for Delia. The Queen complains of the diſhonour done to her daughter Urania. The King reſolves to make uſe of all means to reduce Philadelph to his duty.

WHileſt Alexander related, in this manner, his adventures to Caeſario, and that Prince being intereſſed in his Narration, both by the proximity of blood, and the eſteem he had of his perſon, was moved with paſſion at the moſt remarkable paſſages of it, as much as the pre [...]ing memory of his own misfortunes could permit him: the fair Artemiſa, who out of a rational modeſty would not be preſent at this relation, walked abroad attended upon by her two maids, and leaning upon the arms of Sarpedan and Tideus who ſhewed her the beauties of his houſe.

From a very curious Garden, finely kept, he cauſed her to paſs into a wood of high trees that was neer at hand, and the Princeſs finding there very fair Allies ſhe walked out divers furlongs from the houſe; ſhe entertained her ſelf at that time with Sarpedon to whom ſhe was obliged for the life of her dear Alexander, and with Leucippe the faithful confident of her moſt [Page] ſecret thoughts, about the ſtrange events and terrible dangers from which her beloved Prince was eſcaped, and ſeeing her ſelf almoſt in the Haven after the horrible Tempeſt which the cruelty of Artaxus had raiſed, 'twas a pleaſure to her to call to mind the cruel croſſes to which her love had expoſed her; and if ſhe trembled ſtill at this remembrance, the fear of the evils paſt was accompained with ſo much ſatisfaction in her preſent condition, that inſtead of moderating her contentments it mightily contributed to them, according to that infallible decree which never beſtows ſuch perfect bleſſings upon us, as when they have been preceded by evils which were capable to make us ſenſible of them.

She did not ſo much as once reflect upon the loſs of thoſe Crowns which were once in the poſſeſſion of her Alexander's family, and though fortune had left a leſs eſtate, and an inferiour degree of grandeur than what remained in the family of Anthony, yet ſhe found more in Alexander's perſon wherewithal to ſatisfie her ambition, than in the poſſeſſion of all the Empires in the world: She declared as much to Sarpedon and Leucippe, and in this diſcourſe having walked with them through part of the wood, Tideus deſired to ſhew her a pretty ſpring which iſſuing from between ſome points of a rock made up a little brook, whoſe clear and pleaſant waters ran with many windings, through divers parts of the wood, and afterwards being enlarged by the addition of ſome little Fountains, took their journey towards the Sea.

The Princeſs at Tideus his requeſt directed her ſteps that way, and ſhe was already come neer enough to behold the beauties of the Spring, when ſhe perceived upon the brink of it a man lying all along upon the ground, who leaning upon his elbow, and ſuſtaining his head with one of his hands, had his face turned towards the Fountain: He was clad in black Armour, but it was enriched in ſome places with Jewels, ſtones of great value, to which the fable colour added a greater luſtre: that which appeared of his Caſque, as well at the extremities of his Cuiraſs, as above his Vambrace, was likewiſe all black, covered with a very fair embroidery of Silver, but worn and ſpoiled in ſome places by the negligence of him that ware it, and his head piece being of the ſame materials with the reſt of his armour, and ſhaded with a great plume of black feathers, hung upon a branch of the tree under which its Maſter lay.

The Princeſs in that condition of her fortune fearing all manner of rancounters, ſtopt at this ſight, and would have gone back immediately, if her ears had not been ſenſible of ſome complaints that proceeded from the mouth of the Unknown, which made her believe that he might have need of their aſſiſtance: beſides, the gallantry of his Armour in which ſhe preſently perceived the precious ſtones, perſwaded her that the wearer was no common perſon, and ſeeing her ſelf fortified by the preſence of Sarpedon, and Tideus, and her two maids, ſhe thought in this company ſhe need not fear the meeting of a ſingle man: having re-aſſumed her ſelf ſhe advanced a few ſteps nearer to the Fountain, and being moved with a curioſity natural to her ſex, before ſhe went neer, ſhe ſtaid behind ſome tree, and ſome points of rock which environed it to give attention to his complaints.

It was not difficult for her to ſatisfie her ſelf in that manner; for beſides that the man had his face turned towards the fountain, he was ſo profoundly buried in the cogitations which poſſeſſed him at that time, that he would not have been put out of them by a greater noiſe than the Princeſs made in approaching to the place where he was: the paſſion which tormented him being violent might have produced ſtranger effects than to make him complain, and talk to himſelf, in a place where he believed that no perſon heard him and they that are ſick of a diſeaſe like to his do not conſult their reaſon in all the actions of their life.

A throng of ſighs accompanied all the words that came out of his mouth, and ſometimes addreſſing himſelf to the Gods, ſometimes to his fortune, and ſometimes to things inſenſible and innocent of his diſpleaſures, he made thoſe that heard him underſtand that never was any ſoul more powerfully prepoſſeſſed than his. ‘Will ye be, ſaid he, will ye be of an eternal continuance, ye misfortunes under whom I have groaned ſo long? and is not my fortune weary of tormenting me after ſhe hath made me ſuffer miſeries able to ruine any other courage than mine, and to ſatiate any other cruelty than hers? Where ſhall I ſeek henceforth that which the envious earth conceals from me with ſo much inhumanity; and who will open me the way either to Heaven, or to the infernal ſhades, where poſſibly my Delia is detained from me?’

He ſtopt a little while upon this conſideration, but perplexing himſelf with it the more, ‘Ah! without doubt, ſaid he, the Gods being jealous of the glory of men, would not any longer leave amongſt them the moſt excellent thing they ever gave them and that approaches neareſt to their divine nature, and if my incomparable Delia were ſtill in the world, nothing could keep her from my indefatigable pains, and the ſearch of an afflicted lover, who [Page] for her ſake viſits all the corners of the earth that his fortune can carry him to: poſſibly this inhumane deſtiny to make me loſe that which I received from it, hath exerciſed the utmoſt effects of its cruelty againſt her and finiſhed, in thoſe places whither ſhe vainly fled from its former anger, that, which without pity it had already begun: but if this be thy thought, added he with an higher tone, and that thou canſt imagine that which thou loveſt to be no longer in the world; Baſe, baſe lover, what conſideration can induce thee to endure the ſociety of men, and what ſweetneſs canſt thou find in a life which without Delia can afford thee no other company but darkneſs, horror, and deſpair? That beauty, whereunto thou rendreſt up thy arms without reſiſtance, and to which thou haſt dedicated thy beſt days, doth well deſerve an entire life, and all the moments thou canſt conſerve of it after the loſs of her's ought to be accounted by thee as ages of torments and puniſhments.’

The ſighs and ſobs that accompanied the complaint of this afflicted Lover broke off the progreſs of it, and the fair Princeſs, who hearkened attentively unto it, felt ſome motions of compaſſion which already ſtrongly intereſſed her in his diſpleaſure, and cauſed her to advance towards him to give him ſome conſolation: but as the cruel inquietudes which tormented his ſoul, did ſcarcely ſuffer his body to continue long in the ſame poſture, after he had tumbled about ſome while upon the graſs, he turned himſelf towards them that hearkened to him, and though he was buried in his profound cogitations, he diſcovered the Princeſs; all the preoccupation of his ſoul could not hinder the ſuſpicion which this ſight raiſed in him, the luſtre of Artemiſa's beauties moved him ſo at the firſt ſight, that he ſeemed to be dazled at them, and having his mind quite filled with the Ideas of his Delia, ſome ſimilitude of Artemiſa's beauties with hers immediately ſeized his imagination. He raiſed himſelf up with tranſport, and ran like a perſon amazed to throw himſelf at the feet of the Princeſs.

Artemiſa was much aſtoniſhed when ſhe ſaw and felt her knees embraced by this unknown, and ſhe was yet more amazed when that after he had embraced her a while with the moſt paſſionate tranſportations: Delia, ſaid he to her, my adorable Delia, is it poſſible that the Gods reſtore you to me when I leaſt hoped for it is a Phantaſm, is it an Illuſion that appears before mine eyes, or have I really found my Delia? Artemiſa by theſe words perceived the errour of the Unknown, and her aſtoniſhment giving place to pity, after ſhe had made ſome attempts with a great deal of ſweetneſs to diſ-engage her ſelf from between his arms which were ſtill faſt about her legs; I would with all my heart, ſaid ſhe, that inſtead of a perſon whom you know not, you had really found that Delia which you ſeek, I know not whether my viſage hath any reſemblance with hers, but I can certainly aſſure you that neither her name nor perſon are known to me.

The Unknown beginning to acknowledge his errour by the tone of her voice, lifted up his eyes to Artemiſa's face, and notwithſtanding the reſemblance it might have to Delia's, finding ſome differences which in his former ſurpize he had not diſcerned, he perceived his miſtake: but he perceived it with ſuch a grief as he was not able to ſupport, and lifting his eyes to heaven in a pittiful manner: O Gods, ſaid he with a feeble voice, O fortune will you eternally make your ſelves ſport with this miſerable wretch? He hardly uttered theſe words, and from the poſture wherein he was, letting himſelf fall to the ground, his face became pale, his eyes cloſed up, and he continued ſenſleſs at Artemiſa's feet.

At this ſight pity took full poſſeſſion of the Princeſſes ſoul, and ſitting down by the Unknown, to give him aſſiſtance, ſhe her ſelf threw upon his face divers times the water which Tideus and Leucippe brought her from the fountain, the Unkown continued a great while before he recovered his ſpirits, and in the interim, thoſe that employed themſelves in his ſuccour, had the leiſure to conſider him, and they viewed him with a very particular attention.

Through the mortal paleneſs which had overſpread his countenance, they perceived as gallant a Mine as ever their eyes had beheld, all the lineaments of it were formed with a compleat and juſt proportion, and when his eyes were freed from thoſe dark clouds, wherewith at preſent they were inveloped with a ſweetneſs that was natural to them, they breathed ſomething noble and great enough to imprint reſpect in the beholders, his hair that was long, and neglected by reaſon of his afflictions, which took from him all cares of ſmall importance, did admirably well become his viſage, and he was of the talleſt, ſtreighteſt, cleaneſt making that can be imagined; his age ſeemed to be about two or three and twenty, but they perceived well that his complexion, which was naturally very freſh, had received great changes by his toils and troubles.

After that he had been ſome while in the hands of thoſe that ſuccoured him, & that the Princeſs making a compariſon between this rancounter, and that ſhe had a few days before with [Page] Caeſario, officiouſly intereſſed her ſelf on his behalf; he came again to himſelf, and turning his eyes round about him, he perceived, together with the truth which was paſt, the obligation he had to that fair perſon, which a few moments before he had taken for Delia.

If upon the firſt Idea he formed to himſelf of her, he had her in veneration, at the ſecond view he conceived no leſs reſpect for her, and after he had beheld her a while with an attention which confirmed him in all the thoughts he might have of her, raiſing himſelf out of the poſture wherein he was, to accoſt her in another leſs unhandſome: ‘I know not, ſaid he, but you may be a Divinity deſcended from Heaven to my aſſiſtance; in regard of the firſt errour whereinto I am fallen concerning you, I am afraid to commit new faults, and thoſe beauties that dazled me at the firſt ſight, have more conformity with the heavenly beauties than thoſe of mortal perſons. This Beauty, replyed Artemiſa modeſtly, is too mean to expreſs any more than its own nature, and 'tis the reſemblance it may have to that of the perſon you love, which cauſes you to judge ſo advantagiouſly of it. 'Tis true, replyed the Unknown, that I have ſeen ſome features in your face, which in a ſoul totally poſſeſſed with the memory of Delia, immediately brought back her whole Idea, and certainly the reſemblance is not ſo ſmall, but that in a troubled imagination as mine is, it might very well produce theſe effects: 'tis that which made me commit a fault which poſſibly hath created you ſome trouble, and put me into a condition of having need of thoſe aſſiſtances which you have tendred me with ſo much goodneſs; out of the acknowledgment I owe you, I would preſent you with this life, in the preſervation whereof you have ſo officiouſly employed your ſelf, if it were not too unhappy to be offered to your ſervice, and he that ſhould offer it too unfortunate to hope from heaven any occaſion of expreſſing his acknowledgment to you.’

The Unknown uttered theſe words with ſuch a grace, that Artemiſa was extraordinarily taken with them, and deſiring to anſwer his civilities according to the eſteem ſhe had already conceived of him: ‘The aſſiſtance I have rendred you, ſaid ſhe, is due to all men, and particularly to thoſe who carry in their faces the marks that appear in yours: but if you believe that I have an obligation upon that account, which permits me to require any recompence of you, I would only deſire of you, that you would uſe ſome moderation in that exceſſive grief which we have obſerved in your diſcourſe and actions, and take ſome pains to ſearch out in your own courage, and the examples of thoſe who are more unfortunate than your ſelf, the conſolation that is neceſſary for you: Alas, replyed the Unknown, with a ſigh, alaſs! how juſt is this grief that is the cauſe of my death, and how difficult will it be to baniſh it out of a ſoul over which it hath poſſeſſed it ſelf of a moſt lawful Empire? I do not require that attempt from you, replyed the Princeſs, and the cauſe of it may be ſuch as it might be difficult for you to make an abſolute conqueſt of it; but yet your reaſon may furniſh you with remedies to ſweeten it, and if you be not afflicted by ſome loſs wherein all hopes are extinguiſhed, you may expect favourable changes in your condition with more likelyhood poſſibly, than divers perſons, whom I my ſelf have ſeen raiſed up contrary to their expectation, from the uttermoſt extremities of misfortune, to their higheſt ſelicity: Examples of that kind are not ſo rare but that you may ſet a good number of them before your eyes, and by all likely conjectures, I believe you have courage enough to ſerve your ſelf ſucceſsfully with them, if you will employ you ſelf about it. I am too much obliged, replyed the Stranger, to the judgement you make of me by marks not altogether infallible: but though the Gods had given me the courage to enterpriſe the higheſt difficulties, I have had ſo much occaſion to employ it in the croſſes, which my bad fortune hath raiſed me, that in the miſeries wherein I am now engulph [...]d, I receive but ſmall aſſiſtance from it: 'tis not becauſe my laſt hopes have abandoned me, nor that I am aſſured of a loſs, after which all humane conſiderations would not be able to preſerve my life one moment: It may be my good Fortune may be ſtill in the hands of the Gods, but after ſo much unprofitable pains as I have taken, I have ſo little likelyhood to hope it from them, that I have no rational ground to do it.’

‘'Tis a difficult thing, added the Princeſs, to ſee a man in your garb in ſo great an affliction without taking a great ſhare with him, or without deſiring a more perfect knowledge of a perſon, concerning whom our firſt ſight and this firſt diſcourſe hath given us very advantagious impreſſions, I ſhould not dare to expreſs my curioſity any farther, but I can really aſſure you, that it is leſs upon that account, than out of a deſire of comforting you in your diſpleaſures, if it be poſſible for us, that I deſire this knowledge.’

The Unknown, at theſe words, held his eyes a while fixed upon the ground, and afterwards raiſing them up to Artemiſa's face: ‘Since my misfortunes have made me, ſaid he, I have not declared them to any perſon, and beſides that, the ſecrecy of them hath been of importance to me in many places where I have paſſed. 'Tis ſomewhat ſenſible to me to recal to mind by [Page] this diſcourſelthe cauſe of my diſpleaſures: but a perſon ſo unordinary as you, may expect extraordinary differences from me, and beſides the obedience which thoſe divine beauties may hope for from the moſt ſavage ſouls; I know too well what I owe to your generous goodneſs, which you have expreſſed both in the conſolation, and the aſſiſtance you have given me, to avoid or neglect any occaſion of complying with your deſires. I will acquaint you without diſſimulation, both with my name and birth, but the relation of my adventures, if you deſire it ſhould be any thing large, it may poſſibly be of too tedious a length for you, and I fear I ſhall put you to ſome inconvenience, by detaining you here with a diſcourſe in which you are not certain to find any divertiſement. Without doubt, I abuſe your patience, replyed Artemiſa, in exacting this of you; but you may pardon it, if you pleaſe, upon the account of the intereſt I take already in your fortune, and if this place be inconvenient for the relation I deſire of you, there is a houſe hard by at your ſervice, where you may repoſe your ſelf as long as you pleaſe, and poſſibly find ſome conſolation to your ſorrows in very agreeable company.’

The Unknown humbly thanked the Princeſs for this offer, and after ſome words of obliging conteſtation: ‘The condition wherein I am, ſaid he, doth not permit me to receive the favor you do me, & I can neither ſtay nor take any repoſe in the moſt agreeable companies in the world, though ſuch as you offer me, ſo long as I am poſſeſſed with theſe tormenting cares, but ſince you deſire to underſtand the Fortunes of this miſerable perſon, if you pleaſe I will ſatisfie your expectation here in this place.’

The Princeſs having accepted his offer, the Unknown after he had called his two Squires which looked to his horſes hard by, and given ſome orders to one of them, came back and ſate down by her upon the brim of the Fountain. Sarpedon, Leucippe and Tideus did the ſame ſome paces from them, by Artemiſa's order, who prayed the Unknown to give leave that they might be preſent at his Narration; and a little after the Stranger having muſed a while upon the diſcourſe he was to make, he began in this manner.

The HISTORY of PHILADELPH.

I Would tell you, Madam, that by the relation which you deſire of me, and whereunto I diſpoſe my ſelf without repugnance, in obedience to a perſon for whom I feel ſo extraordinary a reſpect, you go about to revive my reſentments, if I could not ſay with greater truth, that nothing is capable to aſſwage them, and that of all the moments of my life there is not one wherein they are not preſent to my memory; neither my long travels, nor thoſe accidents which poſſibly would have produced this effect in a ſoul leſs prepoſſeſſed, were ever able to do it, and I ſhall infallibly ceaſe to live, when I ſhall part with a remembrance which entirely poſſeſſes me, and whereunto all my thoughts are chained by an eternal obligation.

Tarchoudemus King of Cilicia, well known for his puiſſance, and the amity and alliances he had with Anthony as long as he lived, is he that ſent me into the world, and not having any other children living by the Queen my Mother, but the Princeſs Andromeda my Siſter and my ſelf, I am now the lawful and ſole heir of his Grown: This reaſon hath obliged him to cauſe me to be brought up with ſuch great care, that never poſſibly had any Prince greater advantages in his education than I, nor more means to ſecond good inclinations, if I received any from nature: my firſt years, whereof I might tell you the employments, were it not for troubling you, were ſpent for the exerciſes of the mind and body whereunto my youth was formed, and when the King my Father thought that I had made a paſſable progreſs in them to frame my ſelf to a greater perfection, to renew the alliances he had made with Auguſtus after his coming to the Empire, he was about to ſend me to Rome, to ſpend ſome years there with divers young Princes which were brought up there, and to refine me from the barbariſm of our own Provinces, but he was diverted from this deſign by a report of a War, wherein he found himſelf ſtrongly intereſſed.

Artaxus, the young King of Armenia, inheriting the hatred which had along time been between his Family and the Kings of the Medes, made war againſt Tygranes newly come to the Crown, and conſerving the ſame reſentments againſt him, as he had done againſt his Father, (by whoſe ſollicitations, as they ſay, the Queen Cleopatra was obliged to put Artibaſus to death) he began to enter his Dominions, and to ruine all that came in his way with a great deal of cruelty. Tygranes is the King, my Father's Siſter Son, and beſides this proximity, there hath always been ſo ſtreight an alliance between our Families, that in the affairs that have happened to either, there was never known a ſeparation of intereſts: After two years of the War which paſſed ſo equally, that Tygranes had no need of our aſſiſtance, in the third, fortune began to be contrary to him, and having reduced him to the neceſſity of our ſuccour, the King my Father [Page] went to aid the King his Nephew in perſon, I attended my Father, and in this War I ſerved my firſt Apprentiſhip in Arms: There were many Battels fought, and many memorable Rancounters paſſed, wherein I had the happineſs to give good hopes of my future progreſs by my beginnings, and ſucceſs did ſo accompany our arms, that we chaſed Artaxus out of Media, and got very conſiderable advantages upon the frontier. Artaxus being extraordinarily exaſperated, and of an inclination naturally very cruel, waſted all he could, without pity, with fire and ſword, and more fully to expreſs his humour, two Princes of the greateſt proximity to our Family; being by fortune fallen into his hands, without any regard either to their birth, or to humanity it ſelf, he cruelly put them to death, and ſent their heads to Tygranes.

By this cruelty the King my Father was ſo enflamed with choler againſt the King of Armenia, that he ſolemnly ſware to be revenged, and in all that paſſed afterwards he endeavored to execute it without any conſideration. At laſt the weakneſs of either ſide did ſomewa [...]a [...] ſwage their fury, and when they were almoſt in a condition not to make War any longer, Anguſtus having ſollicited them to peace, and having interpoſed his authority to their allegations, obliged them to a treaty, which made them both retire, but could not baniſh the reſettlments which remained for things paſt.

When we were upon our return to Tharſus, the King, who ſome years before had buried the Queen my Mother, married the Widdow of the deceaſed King of Cappadocia, and Mother to Archelaus now reigning in that Kingdom, our Neighbor and Ally, and had a deſign to marry me to the Princeſs Uranina her daughter, whom the Queen her Mother had brought with her into Cilicia; ſhe was a Princeſs beautiful enough to create love in any ſoul that not been poſſeſſed before, and I doubt not but that my affections would have enclined that way, if things that befel me afterwards had not overthrown all the diſpoſitions I could have to it, and given my ſoul far different employments from thoſe it firmly had. 'Tis time, Madam, that I enter upon that diſcourſe; and I will not enlarge my ſelf any farther in the relation of things of ſo ſmall conſequence, whereof in reſpect of things of greater importance, I had hardly preſerved any remembrance.

In this time of repoſe and tranquillity of ſpirit, wherein I then was, I employed my ſelf in all corporal exerciſes, and particularly in hunting, whereunto I had a very great inclination: being retired upon this deſign for ſome days with the equipage which ſerved me for this divertiſement, to one of the King's houſes which is a days journey from Tharſus, and ſome furlongs from the Sea; I took great pleaſure in making War with the Beaſts, and as ſoon as the Sun began to diſplay his Beams upon the Earth, I went into the fields, and paſſed the whole day in purſuit either of a fearful Hart, or a furious Boar, or of ſome other creature. In this innocent kind of life I paſſed my days, without any other inquietude than what ſometimes the bad ſucceſs of my hunting might make me ſenſible of, and my ſoul was not agitated with any care that might diſturb its tranquillity: but fortune did not leave me long in this condition, and the will of the Gods was, that I ſhould receive a great alteration when I was leaſt prepared for it.

One day, ah! how many tears hath that day coſt mine eyes, and how many torments hath it brought upon my heart? ah! how fatal hath that day been to thoſe that followed it? and yet how dear is that day ſtill to my memory, though ſo cruel, and contrary to the repoſe of my life? One day, I ſay, whereof I had paſſed the greateſt part in the purſuit of a Boar, being ſeparated from all my followers, and having loſt my way in a wood of great extent, after I had ridden up and down the Forreſt a while in vain, I felt my ſelf more weary than ordinary, and incommodated by the violent heat, and an extream thirſtineſs: To eaſe my ſelf of both, I ſought, by-paths unknown to me, for a little brook which I had ſeen divers times in the wood, and when I was come thither I alighted, and having tyed my horſe to a Tree, I firſt quenched my thirſt, and when I walked gently along the Brook ſide, to find out a place free from the beams of the Sun, that I might repoſe my ſelf for an hour. I had gone but a little way in this intention, but I found the moſt convenient place I could deſire to that purpoſe, both in regard of the ſhade it received from ſome thick Trees, and of the green and pleaſant graſs that covered the bank of the Rivulet; I choſe out my place by the eye, and went forward to take it, but I ſaw it poſſeſſed by a perſon who had gotten thither before me: I believed at firſt that it was one of my hunters, and upon that belief, being come near enough to diſcern the truth, I perceived it was a woman clad in plain cloaths, ſuch as Country-women were in thoſe parts. This accident did not at all diſpleaſe me, and out of a curioſity conformable to my age, and the condition of life I then lived; I went nearer to view her upon that ſide whereunto ſhe had turned her face. 'Twas my deſtiny that guided me thither, and I was fatally conducted to that ſight that ſhould blot out of my ſoul all that I had ſeen before.

[Page] I no ſooner diſcovered ſome part of her face, but I felt my ſelf extraordinarily troubled, and I had preſages of this adventure which made me know of what importance it ought to be to my life: but I had no ſooner ſeen all that could appear to my eyes in the poſture ſhe was, but there iſſued a brightneſs thence which abſolutely dazled my ſight. Yet her glories were for the moſt part covered, and her eyes being cloſed by a profound ſleep, could not dart out thoſe beauteous rays which at other times proceeded thence as from their original; but without their help the reſt of her beauties were capable to raiſe attention into admiration, and admiration into the primitive motions of a violent paſſion.

This fair, or rather this Divine perſon, was careleſly laid along upon the bank, and the earth which ſuſtained this beautiful body, ſeemed to produce new graſs to receive her the more agreeably. Her head leaned upon one of her arms, and the other was ſtretched out towards the rivulet, whoſe clear waters ſhe touched with the tops of her fingers; but in this action, her ſleeve being favourably tucked up, gave me liberty to behold as high as the elbow the whiteneſs and ſhape of an arm which might eclipſe all manner of beauties, if it had not been equalized by her neck, which appeared half naked to my eyes by the help of a little wind that jealouſly blew aſide the linnen that covered it, and from thence paſſing over her cheeks amorouſly ſported it ſelf with her fair hair which fell upon them; her mouth her complexion, and all the parts of her face might not only out brave envy in regard of their abſolute perfection, but inſpire a kind of Idolatry, and ſome opinion of divinity in thoſe that beheld them; and in fine, every thing in this admirable perſon ſeemed to me ſo far above all that is mortal, that at firſt ſight I was ſtricken with ſuch a reſpect and veneration for her, as we do not uſe to have for creatures; I ſtood and viewed her a while with ſuch exceeding earneſtneſs, that all the objects in the world would not have been capable to divert me from it, and running over with my eyes amazedly the marvels that fortune preſented to them, I continued ſo confounded and aſtoniſhed, that I had hardly any remembrance left of what was paſt, or any knowledge of my ſelf remaining.

What rancounter, ſaid I, doth my fortune cauſe me to make to day? and what divinity doth ſhe preſent to my eyes under a mortal figure? Can it be poſſible that the Gods ſhould have placed in woman theſe admirable beauties, which thus dazle my eyes? or can it be poſſible that the Goddeſſes ſhould come and ſeek both ſhade and ſleep in our woods? In this uncertainty I beheld her with ſuch an attention as entirely took up my ſoul, and through my eyes I inſenſibly drew to my heart the poyſon which began to ſurprize it, and did unperceiveably ſpread it ſelf through a ſpirit where it found all manner of diſpoſitions to receive it: It produced its effects without any oppoſition on my part, and without any foreſight of the evils I ought to reſent upon that account, I ſuffered my ſoul to be engaged without endeavouring to defend its liberty.

If we muſt love beauty, ſaid I, we ſhall never find it in a more perfect figure, and if the ſenſes have any power to perſwade reaſon, nothing in the world can be more worthy of our love: but poſſibly, added I by way of reprehenſion to my ſelf, that which ſleep hides from our knowledge, is very different from what it diſcovers, theſe eyes, which the eye-lids cover from us, are it may be as full of cruelty as the reſt of the countenance is of ſweetneſs, and the mind whoſe beauties as well as thoſe of the body ought to contribute to the birth of a rational affection is poſſibly as defective as the body appears accompliſhed. I no ſooner had this thought but I repented my ſelf of it, and out of the defence I already had for this admirable perſon, I ſorrowfully deſired pardon of her for the offence I had done her; nevertheleſs I burned with a deſire of being more ampty ſatiſfied: but I was afraid to diſturb a repoſe which already began to be very dear to me; and I accuſed that importunate ſleep which robbed me of ſo many treaſures without having the boldneſs to interrupt it.

Yet I ventured to content my deſires in part, and after I had conſidered upon it a few moments longer, I approached her with a very ill-aſſumed pace, and putting one knee to the ground before this Divine beauty, I viewed over at the neareſt diſtance I could, thoſe wonders which had ſtruck me with aſtoniſhment farther off, and they appeared to me either really, or by reaſon of the impreſſion they had already made upon my ſoul, in a more advantageous condition than they had done before, and after I had viewed them over a while with a new amazement, not being able to retain a thouſand ſighs which my growing paſſion drew from my breaſt. Ah miraculous beauty, ſaid I, with a loud voice, what muſt thy powers needs be when thou doeſt employ them all entire, when as by this ſmall part of them thou doeſt totally deprive my ſoul of liberty? by this ſweet repaſe, which entombs thy cares, thou giveſt birth to mine, and by this fatal ſleep, to which without doubt I owe the ſight of thee, thou doſt eſtabliſh my watchings, and overturn the tranquility of my days.

As I ſpake theſe words the violence of my deſires and the convenience I had to content them would have perſwaded me to take a kiſs from a mouth that had the tincture of the [Page] pureſt Carnation in the world: but I reſiſted them out of a reſpect which grew together with my love, and though I was in a place where my birth gave me ſome particular authority, the conſideration or rather the veneration I had at the very firſt for this admirable perſon, re-preſented to me in that I could not abuſe its relation to her without offending my ſelf: yet it could not hinder me from giving my ſelf a more pardouable liberty, and after I had farther admired the fair hand which hung down into the brook, I raiſed it up with one of mine and fixed my mouth upon it with an action entirely paſſionate.

A touch ſo preſſing diſturbed the repoſe of the fair Sleeper, and ſhe awaking with a ſtart no ſooner opened her eyes but ſhe pierced my ſoul with a thouſand rays. Ah! with how much injuſtice did I diſtruſt their beauty, and how did thoſe flames which they darted at me preſently diſcover it to me by powerful marks? they were but too fair and too penetrative not to perfect my ſubmiſſion, and my eyes not being able to ſupport her firſt looks, I haſtily retired a few ſteps either out of weakneſs, or fear of being ſurprized in an action which my reſpect began to condemn.

This Divine perſon having caſt her eyes at her awaking upon all the neareſt objects, and ſeeing a man alone with her in that ſolitary place, ſhe was ſo much troubled that her countenance received divers different changes in a few moments: her fear, which I inſtantly took notice of, cauſed a very ſenſible diſpleaſure in me, and ſeeing that ſhe roſe haſtily, I ran before her, and kneeling upon one knee in her preſence, as well to put her out of fear by this action of reſpect, as to follow my own inclinations which carried me to thoughts of adoration towards her: Heavenly beauty ſaid I, whether you be deſcended from Heaven, or are born amongſt men, do not fly, nor fear: If you be a Goddeſs my intentions are known to you, and if you be a mortal perſon, you may expect from me the ſame reſpects and the ſame adorations as if you were a Goddeſs: the deſtiny which conducted my ſteps hither brought me to my own loſs and not to your damage, and if it be permitted to one of us two, 'tis I only that ought to fear, and 'tis I that ought to fly from before you.

By my action and by my words the fair Lady was ſomewhat re-aſſured, and having partly diſſipated the aſtoniſhment which had ſeiſed upon her: I am no longer affraid, ſaid ſhe, in regard of the opinion I have of your vertue, and I believe that this little beauty which you eſteem without reaſon, in ſtead of an enemy will find you a defender; and it is not fear that makes me go from you, but decency which doth not permit me to ſtay alone with a man in ſuch a place as this.

With theſe words, after ſhe had given me a look which had nothing of an enemy in it, and yet gave me deeper wounds than my moſt cruel enemies could have done; ſhe turned her back and fled between the trees with an admirable ſwiftneſs. I could poſſibly have run after her as faſt, but the fear I had to alarm her by my purſuit, and to put her into greater fears than ſhe was in before, made me continue in my place quite confounded and amazed, following her only with mine eyes, and obſerving as much as I could poſſibly the way whereby ſhe retired.

She no ſooner diſappeared from my eyes, but accompanying her with ſome ſighs, and ſeeking her in thought in thoſe places where ſhe concealed her ſelf from me: Thou flyeſt from me, divine beauty, cryed I, and after thou haſt given me a mertal wound, thou abandoneſt me to my fortune without thinking of my cure: thou carrieſt away from me the moſt precious thing I had, and for all thou takeſt from me thou leaveſt me nothing but thy image engraved in the very bottom of my ſoul: but thou flyeſt in vain, the thickeſt darkneſs cannot deprive my ſight of ſuch brightneſſes as thine, and my heart which follows thy ſteps with a ſweetneſs equal to thine, will find thee without doubt in what place ſoever thou wouldſt hide thy ſelf.

After theſe words I turned towards the ſide of the brook, and beheld with ſome Idolatry the place ſhe had quitted. The fair Idea which ſhe left me began then to aſſault me with invincible forces, and ſleep for whoſe ſake I had fatally addreſſed my ſteps to this place preſented it ſelf to my eyes no more: thoſe admirable beauties which had made ſo powerful an impreſſion upon my ſoul, were always preſent in my memory, and the tone of the voice which had ſo agreeably accompanied what my eyes had diſcovered, did ſeem ſtill to reſound ſomething of ſweetneſs in mine ears. O Gods! how was my ſpirit agitated in theſe beginnings of my love, and what commotions did I feel, till then unknown to me, ariſe in my ſoul whereupon love as yet had made but light impreſſions.

At firſt I was much amazed at this adventure, and a little after inſenſibly freeing my ſelf from the trouble whereunto it had put me, I reflected upon what had appeared to my eyes, and diſappeared again like a flaſh of lightning, againſt which all my ſtrength was weakneſs, and the reſiſtance I made very ſmall: In fine whether it were that this Celeſtial beauty was able to produce this effect with ſo much promptitude, or that the diſpoſitions of my ſoul were all ready to receive this paſſion, or that deſtiny acted in this engagement of [Page] my ſoul, but I began really to love without knowing what I loved, and without being able to make any other judgement upon it, but that what I began to love was the moſt fair and amiable thing in the world.

I was engaged in this meditation, upon which without doubt I ſhould have beſtowed the reſt of the day, when my hunters who had ſought me a great while, arrived at the place where I was, and obliged me by their troubling my agreeable muſing, to remount my horſe, and to quit this fatal place where I had loſt my repoſe and my liberty: I departed thence with regret, but by this departure I did not change my condition, but carried along with me the poyſoned arrow which kept my wounds open, and made it deeper ſtill. All the night that ſucceeded this day this image kept me faithful company, and if by reaſon of my wearineſs and ſome watchings before, it did afford me ſome moments of ſleep, yet did it not abandon me, no not in ſleep it ſelf, and it operated upon me with the ſame powers that it did when I was awake.

I had ſome combat in mine own defence, and I would have fortified my ſelf with reaſon, againſt thoſe powers to which, as I thought, I rendred my ſelf too eaſily, and I often repreſented to my ſelf, that I ought not lightly to engage my ſelf in this paſſion for a perſon unknown, and without doubt of a low and obſcure condition: but theſe conſiderations which poſſibly would have wrought ſome effect upon another ſpirit, had no power upon mine, and after I had made all theſe reflections; That which thou alledgeſt, ſaid I, that which thou ſetteſt before my eyes, O my reaſon, is full of likelyhood and truth, and this perſon for whom I have already ſo much weakneſs, is unknown; ſhe is, according to appearance of a low birth; I cannot love her according to thy counſel, but I am forced to love her by a power which is above thine, and if I have no other aſſiſtance but thine, I ſhall love her maugre all the conſiderations thou canſt oppoſe againſt me; if ſhe be not of a Royal or noble blood, her beauty doth advantageouſly ſupply the defect of her birth, we have nothing in our condition more ſublime, than the marks ſhe bears in her countenance, and it is not upon birth that love is uſed to eſtabliſh it ſelf, let us love, my heart, that which hath appeared great enough to my eyes, to ſubject thee to her Empire, and giving up our ſelves entirely to love, let us ſeek for no other perſons but his.

In this manner I abandoned my ſelf to the ſweet motions that drew me along, and without any longer deſcription of the original of my love, I will content my ſelf to tell you that I loved, and I had hardly begun to love but that I loved perfectly, then I ſought the opportunities of ſeeing again that which I loved, and upon that deſign addreſſing my chaſe always that way where I had been taken my ſelf, I paſſed divers times every day through the wood where I had this rancounter: but my ſearch was but in vain, and this beauty appeared no more in thoſe places where ſhe believed ſhe was imprudently engaged in ſome hazard: Alaſs! with what impatiences, with what inquietudes did I viſit the moſt ſolitary places, and how many times ſuffering my reaſon to wander through the force of my paſſion, did I ask the brook for her which ſhewed her me the firſt time, and how often did I addreſs my ſelf to all inſenſible objects to learn news of her? ſometimes laying my eyes, my hands, and my mouth it ſelf on the bank where ſhe had left ſome ſign of her figure; ‘O ſacred place, ſaid I, which I have beheld repleniſhed with glories, by the fair pledge which the Gods had committed to your charge; how have you loſt it, and how can you ſtill preſerve any freſhneſs, ſhade, or beauty, if theſe advantages which you have received from nature be not able once more to draw hither that which ſhe renders you ſo dear and precious to my ſpirit? Ah! without doubt, continued I, 'tis I which have done you this ill office, and 'tis I alone that have baniſhed from this agreeable place that which in vain I demand of you.’

I held divers other diſcourſes which blindneſs cauſed me to utter, and being full of an amorous inquietude I left no place in all the neighbourhood but I traced it over a thouſand times. In this reſearch I was accompanied but with a few perſons, and moſt commonly cauſing the reſt to ſcatter from me, I kept with me only one of my Squires whom I loved particularly, and to whom I had diſcovered my thoughts: attended by him alone after I had ſought up and down the wood in vain, and the places adjoyning in the day time, I ſpent part of the night in entertaining my ſelf with him about that which at that time poſſeſſed my imagination; and the Gods, which were moved to ſome compaſſion at my ſorrows, were pleaſed for my comfort and ſatisfaction, that one evening having no body but my Squire with me, I turned my walk towards a ſolitary valley, which is ſome furlongs diſtant from the wood which I viſited ſo often, and towards a ſide of it whither I had never addreſſed my ſelf before. It was about two hours after Sun-ſet, but the Moon ſhone very bright, & the weather was very fair and pleaſant; I rode ſoftly along with Dion, and drew near ſome trees which grew in the form of an Alley, where I overheard the voice of ſome women who diſcourſed hard [Page] by us: I ſtood ſtill to lend them the greater attention, and as my deſtiny would have it, at the firſt ſound that reached my ears, I believed I heard the voice of the perſon I ſought for, which in that little time ſhe had talked to me remained as deeply engraven in my memory as if I had been acquainted with it all my life time: Ah Dion! ſaid I quite tranſported, behold without doubt my divinity her ſelf: and at the ſame time caſting my eyes towards the Alley, I perceived, as well as the light of the Moon would give me leave, two women walking under thoſe trees.

Being quite raviſhed, or rather quite aſtoniſhed at this rancounter, I leaped down from my horſe, and leaving him in charge to Dion, whom I commanded to ſtay for me without coming on any farther, I crept along by the trees upon that ſide where I ſaw the two women as ſoftly as poſſibly I could, becauſe I would not fright them, nor give them time to ſlip out of my ſight: but at that ſame time their walk was interrupted by ſome flaſhes of lightning which our eyes unexpectedly met with, and the noiſe of thunder which began to rumble over our heads: The timidity of their ſex cauſed theſe perſons to apprehend the change of the weather: and ſhe, whom by the tone of her voice, I judged to be her to whom I had given my heart, taking up the diſcourſe; Let us retire, ſaid ſhe, to the other accompanied her, for I am extreamly affraid of thunder. After ſome claps more which redoubled their apprehenſion and haſtened their retreat to an houſe which was at the end of this Alley, they took one another by the hand and went away a great pace: but I followed them at a great diſtance amongſt the trees, and did not loſe the ſight of them till they entered the houſe, and preſently the door was ſhut after them.

If I was troubled at the loſing of them ſo ſoon, I was much comforted by the knowledge I had gained of their retreat, and having confirmed my ſelf in my belief, by the ſecond hearing of this voice, I walked in this Alley with more hope, and ſatisfaction than I had for diverſe days before: I returned to the place where I had left Dion, and having imparted my happy rancounter to him: 'Tis very much for me, ſaid I, to know the place where that I love is encloſed, but this doth not ſatisfie the impatience of my love, that would have me ſee her again, yea and ſee her again this very Evening; let us ſeek out ſome honeſt opportunity to do it if it be poſſible. It is no difficult matter for you, ſaid Dion, and you have power enough in this place to command the doors open, and to enter at what hour you pleaſe: No Dion, replyed I, this is not the way that I intend to act, I have already conceived a reſpect for the perſon I love, which will not permit me to ſerve my ſelf with the priviledges of my birth in relation to her: I would enter into the place where ſhe is if it be poſſible without troubling or moleſting her, and I ſhould be very ſorry to purchaſe my deareſt contentments at the rate of the leaſt of her diſpleaſures.

Whileſt I was talking in this manner, the favour of Heaven concurring with my deſires, after ſome more claps of thunder it began to rain, and the sky being covered with clouds the rain was very violent: Behold Sir, ſaid Dion, the moſt favourable occaſion you could deſire, and if you were not what you are, you might deſire ſhelter in that houſe againſt this ſtorm. I approved of his opinion, and thanked the Gods for the extraordinary grace they did me: we approached near the gate, but though I was not born without courage, and in ſome occaſions ſhould have given teſtimonies of it, yet my love had rendred me ſo fearful, that I went upon this buſineſs as upon a very dangerous enterpriſe, and my paſſion had poſſeſſed me with ſo much weakneſs that I trembled at every blow of the knocker that Dion gave againſt the gate. They made ſome difficulty to open it at ſuch an hour, and at laſt Dion was fain to tell them aloud, that it was the Prince Philadelph who deſired ſhelter from the rain: that name which was not hated in Cilicia gave us free entrance, and having croſſed the Court with ſome ſpeed I went into a low Hall, where I found divers women that carue to meet me at the door.

The Miſtreſs of this houſe was a good widdow woman, whoſe husband had been an Officer in the King my Fathers houſe, and ſince her widow hood, ſhe was retired to this private place to live there in tranquility and repoſe; my face not being unknown to her, ſhe received me with all the marks of reſpect and affection that could be, and it was out of the knowledge ſhe had of my humour which was not enclined to give diſtaſte, that ſhe would not permit thoſe perſons that were with her to conceal themſelves as they had an intention to have done at my arrival: after I had thanked her for her civilities, and the teſtimonies of her affection, I caſt mine eyes with impatience upon thoſe perſons that were by her, and at the very firſt thought ſhe kept at a diſtance, and partly covered her face with a vail, I knew her whom I fought for amongſt three or four others, and I ſhould have diſcerned her amongſt ten thouſand, and in the thickeſt darkneſs, by the marks I had of her in my heart: there proceeded a luſtre from her face much more glorious than from the tapers which gave us light, and uniting it ſelf to that which was already enkindled in my ſoul, [Page] it enflamed me in ſuch a manner that my ardor could not be covered, and what care ſoever I ſhould have taken, it was impoſſible for me to conceal my emotion; this fair perſon was alſo troubled at the ſight of me, and by the Idea's which ſhe might retain of my countenance, judging that I was the ſame man whom ſhe had found in the wood, and that ſpake ſome words to her full of paſſion, this unexpected rancounter ſurpriſed her with ſome aſtoniſhment.

Though I ſaw it was impoſſible for me to diſſemble what I felt, yet at leaſt, I deſired to conceal ſome part of it, making that paſs for an unexpected adventure which proceeded from a premeditated deſign, and feigning that Chance only preſented this fair Lady to my eyes, I made as if I were amazed, and in the condition I was then I had no trouble to accommodate my countenance to aſtoniſhment. O Gods! cryed I, am not I the moſt deceived man in the world, or do I ſee that divine beauty which fortune ſhewed me ſome days ago in the neighbouring wood, whoſe Image I have ſo dearly preſerved in memory?

At theſe words, this admirable perſon appeared more ſurpriſed than before: but deſiring to drive away all fear that theſe two rancounters might produce, and to diſcover her at the ſame time what I had upon my heart, I drew near her with a reſpect and a ſubmiſſion, in which I felt nothing of conſtraint, and having beheld her a while with a countenance which declared part of my thoughts to her. ‘Madam, ſaid I, I drew you lately very indiſcreetly from a place where you had ſought your repoſe: but if I diſturbed yours, I abſolutely loſt mine own, and I will make no difficulty to confeſs before the perſons which hear us, that I left at your feet a liberty, which till that day I had preſerved: I was bold enough to give you ſome knowledge of it at our parting, and I cannot reſtrain this impetuous motion, which forces me poſſibly againſt diſcretion, to open to you at firſt an heart which I have given you: theſe ſentiments are rendred much more powerful in my ſoul by this ſecond rancounter, and I believe that the Gods and the diſtinies, contribute to my engagement by very extraordinary accidents: I confirm unto you, Madam, the gift I made you of my ſoul, but I conjure you not to receive any trouble into yours, either by this conformation, or by my former declaration, you ſhall receive no diſpleaſure from my paſſion, and all the power that my Birth gives me in theſe Provinces, ſhall never give me a moments diſpenſation from the reſpect I have for you. I will love you to reverence in you thoſe miracles which the Gods have placed there; I will love you to ſerve you at the rate of my deareſt intereſts, and I will love you to obey the force of my deſtiny, which, though I ſhould have the will, does not leave me the liberty not to love you; but this love, whereof I make this publick confeſſion, ſhall not produce any effects which you may condemn, and I would ſuffer death a thouſand times, rather than give my ſelf the liberty of the leaſt action, or the leaſt thought that might diſpleaſe you: I will conſider you as if you were the Daughter of the greateſt King upon Earth, and thoſe marks of Virtue that appear in your countenance ſo dear to me, that I will employ my life in its defence, rather than conceive any deſire of oppoſing it: yet if the teſtimonies of an innocent affection, which I give you without artifice, may be diſagreeable to you, I will ſo impriſon them in my heart, and though this conſtraint ſhould bring me to my grave, you ſhall never be importuned by them.’

This fair perſon re-aſſured her ſelf by this diſcourſe, and finding nothing in it that the ſevereſt virtue could diſallow of, ſhe heard me with patience, and when I had done ſpeaking, caſting her eyes upon my face, which before ſhe had fixed upon the ground, and diſcovering to me by the light of the tapers, her admirable beauties more fully than ſhe had done before, after ſhe had been ſilent a while, to think upon what anſwer ſhe ſhould make me, ſhe replyed with a moſt incomparable grace: Sir, ſaid ſhe, all the trouble I could receive both by the former rancounter, and by your unexſpected arrival in this houſe, might have diſſipated in a ſoul much more fearful than mine, both by the knowledge of your condition, and by the marks of vertue which appear both in your countenance and diſcourſe, all the aſtoniſhment that remains, Sir, is to ſee what pains you take to give me aſſurances very contrary to all likelyhood, and poſſibly very far from the truth: Heaven hath beſtowed but a mean beauty upon me, and though it had ſomething capable of making it ſelf beloved, the accidents and diſpleaſures of my life have not left it in a condition to produce ſuch extraordinary effects: yet I received with all due reſpect, the praiſes which you beſtow upon it, and the eſteem you expreſs to a poor ſtranger, who, neither in reſpect of her birth, or fortune, did ever expect from a great Prince theſe effects of gallantry which he might employ upon a more worthy ſubject.

Whileſt ſhe ſpake thus with ſome difficulty to expreſs her ſelf in our language, which had already certified me that ſhe was no native of Cilicia, it ſeemed that all the graces compoſed her action, and the prepoſſeſſion of my ſoul made me believe that I ſaw new flaſhes of [Page] lightning proceed from her eyes, which abſolutely ſet me all on fire: this redoubling of my paſſion forcing me to interrupt her about the doubt ſhe had of it: I do not believe, ſaid I, divine perſon, that I can be guilty of a lye in your preſence, and do not attribute, I beſeech you, that to gallantry and artifice, which proceeds from the ſtrongeſt and the moſt ſincere affection wherewith a ſoul can engage it ſelf: this beauty which you cannot diſ-eſteem without burting me, may produce more ſudden and more ſtrange effects, and it is neither your fortune, nor the accidents of your life, that can make it loſe that miraculous power which ought to make all things ſubmit to it: I am yours, I call the Gods to witneſs, and I am yours in ſuch a manner, that nothing ſhall be able to hinder me from being ſo as long as I live. Suffer me, my divine Beauty, to live in this condition, and permit me ſometimes to give you real aſſurances of it: 'tis only the ſight of you and your diſcourſe I deſire of you, and if you ſee me give liberty to other deſires, or fail in the leaſt part of reſpecting you equally to the daughter of Auguſtus, I ſhall not onely not think it ſtrange that you ſhould caſt me off, but I condemn my ſelf to be eternally baniſhed from your preſence.

To theſe words I joyned a very ſubmiſſive and ſupplicating action, and the fair perſon to whom I addreſſed them, having hearkned to them with patience: I will believe Sir, ſaid ſhe, for fear of diſpleaſing you, that which you take ſo much pains to perſwade me to, and though all appearances are to the contrary, out of the reſpect I owe to you, I will not diſpute any thing againſt you; beſides, it will be difficult for me to refuſe to be ſeen by one who is an abſolute Prince in this Country, whoſe modeſty I ought not to abuſe, becauſe he deſires that with ſubmiſſion, which he might obtain with authority: but I will take the liberty to preſent to you, that this manner of carriage, in relation to a perſon ſo mean, and ſo far inferiour to you, to a Maid, whoſe diſaſters have made her to be of a very bad humour, will be little agreeable, or conformable to your grandeur, and if you pleaſe to give me a little more freedom, I will tell you, Sir, that vertue, wherewith I am willing to believe that you regulate all your deſires, will not ſecure me from reproach, and that a Maid born in a condition ſo diſproportionable to yours, cannot permit a Prince as you are, to have private conferences with her without ruining her ſelf. I deſire nothing of you ſo private, replyed I, but that in all our converſations, you may have by you as witneſſes all theſe perſons that hear us now; I have made an acknowledgement of my paſſion in their preſence, and by this fair and open way of procedure with you, you may judge of the innocency of my intentions: I requeſt nothing of you but what may brook the light, and howſoever you pleaſe to undervalue your ſelf, I am prompted by an interiour knowledge to diſcern you from perſons of ordinary conſideration and quality. Amongſt thoſe that are about you poſſibly there is ſome body, whom either friendſhip, or communication of counſels, will not ſuffer you to ſuſpect: if they diſapprove the requeſt I make to you, I will no longer perſevere in it, and my deareſt contentments would be odious to me, if I ſhould obtain them againſt your intentions.

The adorable Unknown caſt down her eyes at theſe words, and an ancient woman began to ſpeak who ſtood by her; Delia, ſaid ſhe, if this great Prince deſires nothing of you but to ſee you and diſcourſe with you, I ſuppoſe you cannot deny him, and in my opinion you will do nothing againſt your duty, when you ſee him and diſcourſe with him in our preſence.

Briſeis (that was the name of the Miſtreſs of the houſe) ſeconded theſe words, informed her fair gueſt, as far as ſhe knew, of my conditions, and prayed her to have no fearful apprehenſions of the viſits and converſation of a Prince, who in all his actions had appeared full of diſcretion and goodneſs, and preached ſo handſomely to her upon this Text, that in fine ſhe told her that ſhe might receive the Prince into her houſe when ſhe pleaſed, and that ſhe would not avoid his company ſo long as he kept himſelf to the terms he had propoſed.

In this manner I obtained the permiſſion of ſeeing her with incredible ſatisfaction, and I was reſolved to carry my ſelf ſo towards her, as if ſhe had been of a more ſublime condition than my ſelf. After this permiſſion for which I rendred her thanks in very paſſionate expreſſions, I deſired to be informed of her fortune, and I underſtood that ſhe called her ſelf Delia, that ſhe was born of noble blood upon the Frontier of Armenia, and that part of their Family conſiſting of a Son and two Daughters, and an Aunt, which was the woman which had ſpoken a little before, being at Sea upon an important voyage, their Veſſel by a terrible tempeſt was driven upon the Coaſt, and ſhattered to pieces upon the Rocks; that the Son and all his Servants had loſt their lives amongſt the waves, and the Aunt and her two N [...]eces laying hold upon ſome planks of the Ship, were caſt upon the ſhore, where the Miſtreſs of the houſe received them, and entertained them with a great deal of goodneſs, whilſt they expected ſome favourable opportunity to go to Sea again, and take the neareſt way into their own Country.

This woman by this diſcourſe did ſtrongly intereſs me in the diſpleaſures and fortune of Delia, and after I had comforted them the beſt I poſſibly could for the loſſes they had received: ‘[Page] You have found, added I, whatſoever you could deſire either in relation to your ſtay here, or your return into your own Country, if the incomparable Delia have ſo much goodneſs as not to flie ſo ſoon from a Prince who doth even idolatrize her divine qualities; ſhe may ſtay with you in Cilicia, in a condition poſſibly as advantagious and in as great tranquility as if ſhe were in Armenia: this is that which I conjure her to, and you likewiſe by that pity which may intereſs you in my ſafety, and doth not permit her to abandon a Prince ſo ſoon, who in ſo ſudden a ſeparation can find nothing but the loſs of his repoſe: and if by my ardent ſupplications, and ſome care of a life which I have devoted to her, I cannot obtain of her and you to continue here a while at the rate of my deareſt intereſts, I will cauſe you to be conducted back, and I will conduct you my ſelf, if you will permit me, into any part of the world whither you ſhall pleaſe to retire your ſelves. Delia and her Aunt were more moved with theſe words than with all my former diſcourſe, yet they contented themſelves to give me many thanks full of acknowledgement, without ſpeaking of their own intentions.’

After this we converſed together for ſome time, which ſeemed very ſhort to me, though it was for divers hours, in which ſpace having met with as many charms in Delia's ſpirit, as there were in her countenance, I abſolutely ſubmitted all that I was Maſter of to her power: the miſtreſs of the houſe cauſed a chamber to be made ready for me, believing that I intended to ſtay there that night; but I was afraid I ſhould have incommodated the Ladies, and have troubled Delia in making too free uſe of this firſt viſit, and ſeeing that the rain was waſt, and the night fair and clear, I cauſed my horſes to be brought forth, and took my leave of the company; giving goodnight to Delia, whom I quitted with a great deal of repugnance: Divine Delia, ſaid I, I leave you ſuch dear pledges that it is difficult for me to leave you without a great deal of affliction; If my viſits be not troubleſome I will come ſometimes to confirm thoſe proteſtations I have made to be eternally yours, if they do create you any diſpleaſure I ſhall forbear ſeeing of you; but I ſhall never do that without dying. I did not give her time to repl [...], but mounting my horſe immediately after, I parted and went from that dear houſe, where, together with Delia, I left the better part of my ſoul.

The Caſtle where at that time I took my divertiſements, was not ſo far diſtant but I could gallop thither in an hour, and there I paſſed the reſt of that night, and the beginning of the next in thoughts divided between the joy I reſented for my late good ſucceſs, and inquietude for the engagement of my ſoul: 'Tis certain for all that, that the beginnings of this paſſion are always ſweet, it flatters us at its birth, and concealing its cruelty from us, it diſplays onely what is agreeable. I ſufficiently experimented this in this adventure, and being drawn out of the firſt pleaſures that charmed me, I did not foreſee the croſſes and diſpleaſures which followed them in throngs, and for ſome contentments which any other ſoul but mine, would poſſibly not have been ſenſible of, have expoſed me to miſeries which would have infallibly ruined an ordinary conſtancy.

A few days after (for I would not indulge my paſſion which urged me that way every hour, for fear of diſpleaſing her I loved) I viſited the happy place of Delia's reſidence, and I had the good fortune to entertain her as freely as I could deſire; but ſhe ſtill appeared more fair in my eye than ſhe had done before, and at every viſit that I tendred her, me thought I diſcovered ſome new beauty: but I found her ſo full of civility and ſweetneſs in receiving the teſtimonies of my love, I likewiſe ſaw her ſo far from taking thoſe impreſſions which I endeavoured to work in her, that I began to foreſee ſome difficulties that I had not propoſed to my ſelf before.

One day (which I believe was that of my ſeventh or eight viſit) walking with her in the Garden which belonged to the houſe, and ſeeing that her Aunt, her Siſter, and Briſeis, came ſo far behind as not to underſtand our diſcourſe. ‘Divine Delia, ſaid I, if I had any thing more precious than my heart and ſoul, upon the knowledge of your admirable qualities, I ſhould have given you that too, as willingly as I have given you that which I was Maſter of till it was yours, and in this preſent you would have received no more from me, than what is due to you from all the perſons that have the honour to ſee you: I have given my ſelf to you, my dear Delia, without any intereſt or pretention, and Heaven is my witneſs, that it is not upon any hope that you can diſallow, that I have engaged my ſelf to love you. Neither will I ever have any thought which may make you doubt of the eſteem and reſpect which I have for your vertue, and I reverence it too particularly in you to have the leaſt thought of wronging it. But, Delia, 'tis ſo natural in the courſe of affection to deſire ſome acknowledgement, and love is ſo carried by its own inclinations to produce its like, that you cannot poſſibly with juſtice condemn the deſire I have to introduce into your ſoul ſome part of this affection, to which I have entirely ſacrificed my ſelf: I know that in the ſmall time I have been yours, I could not in reaſon oblige [Page] you to particular affection for me; a conqueſt of ſo great a value, merits without doubt, much longer ſufferings than mine have been, and many years of ſervice whereof as yet I have hardly given you an account of a few days. But O Gods! how happy ſhould I be? O Gods! how much ſhould I be ſatisfied: if I knew that you were really diſpoſed but only to wiſh me well? and if I could ground my hope upon appearances, that my love and ſervices might gain me ſome advantage upon a heart, which I deſire to encounter by that means, and by that means I might vanquiſh it, if your inclinations did not oppoſe me.’

Whileſt I ſpake in this manner, Delia bluſhed, and I had reaſon to conceive that it was only out of reſpect and conſideration that ſhe admitted of this diſcourſe; yet ſhe endured it without any mark of repugnance, ſeeing I converſed with her upon the ſame terms as I might have done with the greateſt Princeſs of Aſia, and after ſhe had quickly hearkned to me; Sir, ſaid ſhe, you can give me no opinion of the purity of your deſigns wherewith I am not already prepoſſeſſed, and when you gave me the firſt knowledge of a particular eſteem you had for me, if I had ſuſpected the contrary, thoſe very waves that caſt me from your Coaſts, ſhould have ſheltere▪ me from the puiſsance of a Prince, whoſe bad intentions could not but render him very formidable to a ſtrange Maid: the belief I have received of your vertue, both from the report of Briſeis, and the marks you have given me of it your ſelf, have made me receive the honour you do me, with the reſpect that is due to you, and upon this conſideration poſſibly, I tranſgreſs thoſe rules which my duty preſcribes both to my age and ſex. Theſe proofs of your affection (ſince in obedience to you, I muſt not oppoſe the opinion you are pleaſed to give me of them) which ought to affright a Maid reduced by her fortune to the condition I am in, have not produced that effect in me, and I have hearkened to the aſſurances you have been pleaſed to give me of them, out of the confidence I have always had of your vertue: This is all Sir, that you can deſire of a Maid whom you have judged worthy of your eſteem, and farther than the reſpect I have for your perſon and goodneſs, I know no thoughts that can be pardonable to a Maid of my condition. I am too much obliged, replyed I, to the opinion you have had of me before you knew me, and I have made no ſmall progreſs upon your ſpirit, if I have already planted an eſteem there, which cannot but be very dear, and very advantagious to me: by the means of that, poſſibly I may obtain ſomething more powerful of you, and neither the condition you are in, nor that duty you oppoſe againſt me, can in reaſon hinder you from what acknowledgement requires, or that I deſire of you onely in ſuch terms as can never offend you: if ever you ſee me tranſgreſs theſe bounds which I preſcribe to my ſelf, baniſh me from you as a perſon the moſt unworthy to love you in the world; but if I regulate my affection ſo, that you can no way diſallow of it, give me leave, adorable Delia, to hope for ſome more precious thing from you, than as yet I have obtained from your goodneſs. It will be very difficult for me. Sir, replyed Delia, to entertain any other thoughts than what I have already for you: they may render themſelves more powerful in my ſpirit by further knowledge, and the obligations we have to your goodneſs: but I do not think they can ever change their nature.

We had ſome farther diſcourſe upon this ſubject, but Delia could not be moved from her reſolution, and in all the ſucceeding viſits ſhe continued ſo ſtedfaſt, that I almoſt loſt all hope of engaging her to any affection for me as long as I lived. If theſe difficulties cauſed me ſome diſpleaſure, her virtue which I took notice of by a thouſand marks, engaged and enflamed me the more, and I did then firmly believe that I could not love more nobly, nor in any place more worthy of my love, though I ſhould have addreſſed my ſelf to the chiefeſt Princeſs of the Univerſe.

To render Briſeis the more favourable to me, I often made her great preſents; but I had always ſuch a reſpect for Delia, that I durſt offer nothing to her nor her Aunt, for fear of offending them, and I contented my ſelf to let her Aunt often underſtand by Briſeis, that ſhe might abſolutely diſpoſe of all things that were in my power, and that ſhe ſhould make no difficulty to make uſe of them, in regard of the loſſes they had received by ſhipwrack.

I lived in this manner, when I received a command from the King to return to Tharſus, and the order was ſo preſſing, that I had not ſo much time to take my leave of Delia: I comforted my ſelf in this diſpleaſure with the hope I had that I might ſee her again within a few days, and upon that confidence I ſent Dion to her with this Letter which I wrote to her.

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Prince PHILADELPH to the Divine DELIA.

A Preſſing and cruel order divides me from you for ſome days, and I ſhould ſpeak more truly, if I ſhould ſay that it divides me from my ſelf, ſince that the better part of me remains with you, and I cannot be torn from you without the ſeparation of my body, which is drawn another way from my ſoul which I left with you. I ſhould not have conſtancy enough to ſupport this diſpleaſure, if it were likely to be of any long continuance, and if I did not hope to overcome my ill fortune, by the abſence of a few days: but why do I call them a few days? they will be of ſo inſupportable a length to me, that I ſhall reckon every one of them for a year.

Dion carried this Letter to Delia, but he brought me back no anſwer, neither did I expect any, judging by the courſe of life that this Maid took with me, that her ſeverity would not permit her a long time to favour me with her Letters.

I departed from that place, and arrived at Tharſus the day following, where I received great reproaches from the King for not having ſeen him in ſo long a time, and I found him in ſuch an humour upon that account, that made me believe that he would not permit me to return to my ſolitude a great while. This fear afflicted me with a mortal diſpleaſure, but I was no leſs troubled at the command he laid upon me a few days after, to ſerve the Princeſs Urania in good earneſt, and to diſpoſe my ſelf to marry her within a ſmall time.

There was ſo little room in my ſoul for this new affection, that all the powers on earth could not give it entrance, and I found no diſpoſition in my ſelf to obey the Kings command; I began likewiſe to acquit my ſelf of what he deſired of me ſo coldly, that all perſons who had a mind to obſerve my actions, knew very well that I proceeded with a great deal of repugnance. The image of Delia engraved in the middle of my heart, made every thing elſe but her ſelf diſagreeable to my imagination, and not only the beauty of Urania, but all thoſe of the Court of Tharſus, inſtead of moving me, were looked upon with diſdain and overſion.

Within a few days her abſence began to make it ſelf ſenſible in good earneſt, and a little after, thoſe who would take notice, might have read as much in my face. Delia alone eternally poſſeſſed my memory, and in the beſt company I could come into, I fell into a profound muſing, which rendred me incapable of all converſation. If I deſired to entertain Urania according to the Kings intention it was neceſſary that by the force of imagination I ſhould ſuppoſe that I directed my diſcourſe to Delia, and when I could not work that effect upon my ſpirit, I came off ſo unhandſomely in what I ſpake againſt my own heart, that ſhe might eaſily take notice of my conſtraint, and the little diſpoſition I had to comply with my Fathers intentions.

I wrote to Delia divers times, and in my Letters I did inceſſantly expreſs the diſpleaſure I received in being ſeparated from her, but though ſhe received them courteouſly, and treated Dion who brought them with a great deal of ſweetneſs and civility, ſhe never returned me any anſwer, and contented her ſelf to ſend me word by Dion that ſhe was very much obliged to my memory, and that ſhe would perſevere as long as ſhe lived in the deſign of honouring and eſteeming of me as I deſerved. In all probability there was but little cauſe of contentment in this kind of treatment, but I could not diſ-eſteem any thing that proceeded from ſuch a vertue as Delia's, and that which would not have ſatiſfied me from another perſon, coming from Delia it was received by me as ſomething ſupreamly precious.

In the mean time, my languiſhing and the profound Melancholly that poſſeſſed me, made it ſelf apparent to all the world; the King asked me the cauſe of it divers times, but in vain, and he was the laſt perſon in the world to whom I ſhould have diſcovered it: but the Princeſs Andromeda my Siſter, for whom I had a very firm friendſhip, informed her ſelf of me with more ſucceſs. I really affected her, both as the rare qualities ſhe is miſtreſs of, might oblige all the world to do, and as the ardent affection which ſhe always had for me, did particularly oblige me. There are few perſons endowed with a greater ſhare of beautythan ſhe, and fewer endued with more rational intellectuals: She queſtioned me oftentimes concerning the change of my humour, and not being able to get any thing out of me at the firſt, ſhe did ſo intereſs her ſelf in my condition, that I believed my ſelf obliged at the laſt to diſcover the cauſe of it to her, eſpecially conſidering, as I imagined, that I might receive aſſiſtances from her upon that account, which might be capable of ſweetning my diſpleaſures.

Upon this deſign, one day having ſhut my ſelf up with her in her Cloſet, after I had meditated a while upon the diſcourſe I had to make to her: Dear Siſter, ſaid I, 'tis [Page] impoſſible for me to conceal my heart any longer from you, and the amity I have for you, hath rendred you ſo powerful over my ſpirit, that henceforth I ſhall not be able to diſguiſe any thing from your knowledge; yea, Siſter, I will diſcover to you my moſt ſecret thoughts: but by this teſtimony of my amity, I would oblige yours to render me all the aſſiſtance I may receive from it, and which I only deſire for the preſervation of my life. Doubt not, Brother, replyed the Princeſs, but that I ſhall be always diſpoſed to give you the moſt difficult teſtimonies of my affection, and I ſhall never be more ſatisfied, than when I ſhall be able to contribute any thing to your repoſe: Open your heart to me upon this aſſurance, and expect the utmoſt of my diſcretion in concealing your ſecret, and of my intentions to render you thoſe aſſiſtances you may deſire of me. I expected no leſs, dear Siſter, ſaid I, but I conjure you to perſevere in theſe intentions, and not to refuſe me that upon any ſlight conſideration, which I neither can nor will receive but only from your ſelf.

In the cloſe of theſe words, I plainly diſcovered to her the condition of my ſoul, I related her the rancounter I had with Delia, I deſcribed her beauty, and forgot nothing in the repetition of all the diſcourſes I had with her.

Andromeda was troubled at this Story, and not approving of a paſſion wherein I had ſo lightly engaged my ſelf, ſhe did her endeavour to oppoſe it, and alledged to me all the reaſons and conſequences that probably ſhe could ſet before my eyes: but after I had quietly hearkned to her; ‘Siſter, ſaid I, I know very well that my love hath ſtrangeneſs enough in it to ſurprize thoſe to whom I make a relation of it: but the ſight of Delia will diſſipate all your aſtoniſhments, and when the beauty of her ſoul ſhall be as well known to you as that of her body, you will confeſs not onely that I have committed no fault in loving her, but that withal powers of my ſoul, I am not capable to love her ſufficiently; however it fall out, Siſter, I am ſo far engaged, that all the powers on earth are not able to take me off, and though I had the power to do it my ſelf, yet I find ſo much ſweetneſs, and ſo much glory too in loving of Delia, that I ſhould ſooner chooſe to ceaſe to live, than ceaſe to love her: But brother, replyed Andromeda, if the Maid be endued with ſuch a ſevere vertue as you repreſent her to be, what can your deſign be? for when all is done, I do not believe you have any intention to marry her. Hitherto, replyed I, I have had no other deſign than to love her infinitely, and though I do ſufficiently eſteem her to make her my Wife, yet the difficulties, which without doubt, I ſhould find in gaining the Kings conſent, have hindred me from thinking of that: but yet certainly, I ſhould diſpoſe my ſelf to that much rather, than conceive any deſire that might wrong her Vertue. You cannot, anſwered the Princeſs, conſerve any inclination to ſo ſtrange and unequal a marriage, without incurring the Kings diſpleaſure, and the ſcorn of all your ſubjects, and I have too much confidence in your diſcretion and good conduct to fear that of you: but Brother, ſince you have given me this knowledge of your paſſion, what ſervice is it that you deſire of me, and what is it that I can do for your repoſe and ſatiſfaction? I deſire Siſter, replyed I, if you love me ſo well as to do me that good office, that you would entreat leave of the King to go and divert your ſelf a few days at Siloe (that was the name of that fatal Caſtle which had cauſed me to know Delia) which he will eaſily grant you, if you repreſent to him that change of air is neceſſary for you by reaſon of ſome indiſpoſition: and my deſire is, that amongſt the reſt of your walks, you would take one towards the place of Delia's retreat, which Dion will ſhew you, and that you would viſit that admirable creature, whoſe ſight, without doubt, will make your heart excuſe that fault which now your tongue reproaches me withal; and after that, by the knowledge of her ſelf, ſhe ſhall have produced in your ſpirit, part of that which ſhe hath already done in mine: I beſeech you, dear Siſter with all the earneſtneſs that is poſſible for me, that you would engage her to you, and oblige her in the company of her Aunt and Siſter (for it would not be eaſie, neither is it neceſſary to part them) to take their retreat for a while with you: Such a beauty as hers will be there in greater ſafety, than in a ſolitary houſe where ſhe is expoſed to a world of dangers, you will do an action of generoſity in entertaining and protecting ſtrangers, whom their Shipwrack hath expoſed to all manner of misfortunes, in which they will receive thoſe aſſiſtances from you without difficulty, which they refuſe to own from me; and to tell you that which imports me moſt, by your means I ſhall ſee the perſon I love without danger of diſpleaſing the King by abſenting my ſelf from the Court, or of injuring Delia's reputation, as without doubt I ſhould do if I continued to render her my viſits at Briſeis's houſe. Behold, dear Siſter, the good office I deſire of your friendſhip, it is not unworthy of your vertue, ſince, I proteſt before the Gods, all my thoughts are limited within the bounds of vertue, and if I ſee Delia by your means, I ſhall ſee her and converſe with her in ſuch a manner as ſhall never cauſe the honour of your houſe to be called in queſtion.’

[Page] In this manner I acquainted Andromeda with my intentions, and after ſhe had meditated a while upon the anſwer ſhe was to make me: ‘Brother, ſaid ſhe, you deſire a thing of me, which you would never have requeſted if my intereſts had been as conſiderable to you as your own contentments, and without doubt I expoſe my ſelf to divers troubles, both in regard of the Kings indignation which I ſhall draw upon my ſelf when the truth is diſcovered, and the report that will accompany this action which poſſibly may undergo a bad conſtruction, all which you might have eaſily foreſeen, if your paſſion did not cloſe up your eyes againſt all intereſts beſides your own: but to let you know that I love you better without doubt than you do me, I will do what you deſire, and it ſhall not be the fault either of my entreaties or endeavours, if the Maid be not with me within theſe few daies: but, Brother, when ſhe is with me, do not you pretend to any thing from her beſides her ſight and company, and ſo far I ſhall aſſiſt you; but believe me, I ſhould more eaſily conſent to ſee you marry that Stranger, then to ſee you expreſs any intentions to a Maid in my Family that may injure my Honour. If my intentions, replyed I, were not the ſame that I have repreſented to you, I would not have made my addreſs to my Siſter; and I will tell you farther, that whatſoever conſideration I have for you, I have no leſs for Delia, and I would not ſuffer for my life that ſhe ſhould take any leſs honourable, or leſs ſecure retreat, than ſhe is like to find with you.’

We had divers other diſcourſes beſides, whereby at laſt I diſpoſed her to all that I could hope from her amity. She acquitted her ſelf of all things punctually, and the next day having deſired permiſſion of the King to paſs ſome daies at Siloe, a little after ſhe went thither, and with a great deal of goodneſs endeavoured my repoſe.

It is not neceſſary that I ſhould enlarge my ſelf in theſe particulars: the ſecond day of her walking abroad ſhe viſited Briſei's houſe, which had a very agreeable ſituation, and the Miſtreſs of the houſe, who had ſpent ſome time at Court, was not unknown to her; ſhe ſaw Delia, and in this interview having found all things in her far above what I had deſcribed to her, ſhe deſired to have her near her for her own intereſt, as much as ſhe had deſired it before for mine.

The next day the Princeſs having ſent them a Chariot, Briſeis and her gueſts went to ſee her at Siloe, where having ſignified to Delia, that ſhe ſympathized much with her in her fortune, and deſired to render her all manner of conſolation, ſhe entreated her, together with her Aunt and Siſter, to ſpend their time with her as long as they ſhould pleaſe to continue there, aſſuring them of all mannner of accommodation and protection, and promiſing them that when they were weary of their continuance in Cilicia, ſhe would furniſh them with means of returning into their own Country. Delia and her Aunt returned their humble thanks in terms full of acknowledgement; but Delia calling to mind my love (though the Princeſs had made no mention of me to her, nor ſignified that ſhe had any knowledge of it) and believing that ſhe ought not to caſt her ſelf upon occaſions of receiving new teſtimonies of it, reſiſted her deſires a long time, telling her that in the condition of their fortune, and the grief they reſented for the loſs of ſome of their neareſt relations, they ought to avoid the Court and great companies, and continue in a ſolitude more conformable to their affliction.

This was all Andromeda could get from her the firſt day of their converſation, and this reſiſtance whereof ſhe might well ſuſpect the cauſe, made her eſteem Delia much the more, and conceive a real deſire to obtain her company, as well for love of her ſelf, as upon my conſideration; and having ſent for her divers other times, ſhe courted her with ſuch winning language, that at laſt, either by the charms which Andromeda is really Miſtreſs of in ſurpriſing of hearts, or by the hope ſhe gave her of cauſing her to be re-conducted into her own Countrey, when ſhe had no mind to tarry any longer with her, ſhe deſired, and from that day forward ſhe retained her, together with her Auut and Siſter, in her houſe, placing her Aunt with her women, and Delia and her Siſter among her Maids of honour. She continued a while longer in the Country to take away all ſuſpicion from Delia, that this was an affected action, and a deſign premeditated for my advantage: but ſhe wrote to me concerning the ſucceſs of her voyage, and by that news poſſeſſed me with ſuch a joy as I could hardly contain.

Why ſhould I detain you any longer with this diſcourſe; after ſome daies continuance at Siloe, in which time Andromeda having taken notice of the admirable qualities of Delia, gave her almoſt as full poſſeſſion of her own heart, as I had done of mine, ſhe returned to Tharſus, and brought Beauties with her to that Court, which gave a new luſtre to it, and in particular cauſed a new day to dawn in my benighted ſoul. I received Andromeda as the tutelary Demon of my repoſe and life, and I expreſſed my thankfulneſs for her goodneſs, in ſuch terms as made her clearly apprehend the greatneſs of my paſſion, and when we paſſed [Page] from theſe firſt actions of acknowledgement to ſome other kind of diſcourſe: ‘Well Siſter, ſaid I,’ have you found me real in the relation I made you concerning Delia, and have you not obſerved parts in that divine perſon, which have cauſed you to finiſh that without repugnance which you began for love of me? Delia is ſo amiable, replied the Princeſs ſmiling, that I love her already as much as you do, and if hitherto I have tendered her reputation upon my own intereſt, upon her own account for the future I will never permit that you ſhould entertain any thoughts that might be injurious to her. I tell you really, continued ſhe with a more ſerious look, I will permit you to ſee her, and ſpeak to her, as you have hitherto done to thoſe of my Maids which you eſteemed above the reſt: But if I can ever perceive any thing in this buſineſs that diſpleaſes me, or only ſignifies to me that your intentions are bad, as well as I love this Maid, I ſhall take order to ſend her away with ſo much diligence, that you ſhall never hear more news of her.

When I heard Andromeda threaten me thus, I confirmed the promiſes I had made to her, and after I had freed her from all fears ſhe might conceive upon that occaſion, I went to viſit Delia, who had not yet ſtirred from the Lodging aſſigned to her, it being the Princeſs's pleaſure that they ſhould not ſhew themſelves till they were habited like the reſt, and put in a condition to preſent themſelves in her Chamber. I could not ſee Delia again without tranſport, and whatſoever aſſurance her innocence might give her, ſhe did not ſee the without a bluſh. After the firſt complements of reception which I made to her Aunt, her Siſter and her ſelf in general, addreſſing my ſelf more particularly to her: ‘My adorable Delia, ſaid I, you have left your ſolitude, which your preſence rendred more glorious than the Courts of Kings, and by the luſtre you have brought into ours, you have diſſipated that darkneſs which in your abſence had taken poſſeſſion of my ſoul: I could not, replyed Delia, diſobey the pleaſure of the Princeſs, who hath commanded me to continue a while with her, and though poſſibly no place of reſidence were ſupportable to us in the preſent condition of our affairs, I have at the firſt ſight conceived too great a reſpect for her to do any thing that may croſs her deſires. Would it had pleaſed the Gods, anſwered I, that you had done that upon another motive, which you have done upon this conſideration, and that I had been indebted to your pity for what I owe to the affection you have had for my Siſter: yet I am obliged to her for this benefit, and do confeſs that I am reduable to her for all the repoſe of my ſoul, and for my life which I could not have preſerved any longer without ſeeing of you again: but I would, if you pleaſe, be beholding to you for the remainder of it, and hope that henceforward you will have ſome ſence of my ſufferings, and ſome regard of a condition, whereunto out of a ſtate of liberty and tranquillity, you have for ever reduced me. It will not be difficult for you, replyed Delia, to reaſſume that liberty which you have ſo eaſily parted with all, and when you ſhall make a reflection upon my fortune and my perſon, you will eaſily loſe thoſe impreſſions you have received without being acquainted with me. Ah! Delia, cryed I, I ſhall never ceaſe to love you till I ceaſe to live, and I cannot reflect upon the Subject of my love without ſtrongly conſirming my ſelf in this paſſion to which I have devoted all my daies: But Sir, added Delia, with a more ſerious countenance than before, do you not conſider that you are in a condition very different from that of common perſons, and that you have not ſo much liberty in your actions or affections as a private man? there is no law, anſwered I, that can force a mans inclinations, and though the King hath commanded me, and doth command me ſtill every day to love and ſerve the Princeſs Urania, he ſhall never obtain of me an effect of obedience that will never be in my power, and though he were more powerful than he is, he ſhall never be able to deprive Delia of that heart which I have given her, and which cannot be tranſported to any other place by any duty, or upon any other conſideration. Ah Sir! replyed Delia, I ſhould be very much afflicted if I ſhould be the cauſe of diſobedience or diſorder in your family, and if for the ſake of an unfortunate ſtranger you ſhould draw upon you the indignation of the King your father; I will not contribute to the trouble you may receive upon that account, and it were much better that you ſhould engage your ſelf in ſome affection wherein you might find your eſtabliſhment and repoſe, than to amuſe your ſelf about a ſmall ill-grounded inclination, which in reaſon you cannot beſtow ſo much as a thought upon: I will never have any thought for you, anſwered I, that you may juſtly condemn, and though (to make you an ingenuous confeſſion) I have loved you hitherto without any other deſign than to love you, I ſhall be capable of whatſoever you approve, rather than you ſhould not be capable of ſome ſence of affection for me; I proteſt it to you by all the Gods, that if in the courſe of this love which layes me at your feet without an intereſt, I can be but ſo happy as to underſtand that you diſpoſe your ſelf to love me, you ſhall quickly know that my deſires aim at nothing ſuperior to your ſelf, and as there is no dignity to which you may not rightfully aſpire, ſo there is no conſideration which can hinder me from placing you there, when [Page] my perſon ſhall be ſo agreeable to you, as to cauſe you to receive the effects of my love without repugnance.’

Delia bluſhed a little at theſe words, which poſſibly ſhe had not expected ſo promptly from me; and after ſhe had continued a while without replying: ‘I ſhall never have any repugnance, ſaid ſhe, either for your perſon or the teſtimonies of your affection; but what deſign ſoever you may have to my advantage, I will never approve of it ſo long as other perſons may have reaſon to condemn it, and the ſplendor of preferments and dignities cannot poſſibly charm me ſo much as to make me willing to purchaſe it with the diſpleaſure of ſeeing a fault committed by a perſon whom I eſteem and honour as my duty is.’ By theſe words, which proceeded from a courage infinitely high, Delia augmented the reſpect I had for her, and regarding her with a new admiration: ‘You are worthy without doubt, ſaid I to her, of a much higher fortune that I can advance you to, and I know you too well to believe that the hope of greatneſs is more powerfull upon your ſpirit, than the proofs of a faithful and reſpectful paſſion: but if beſides his heart and ſoul, the gift whereof hath exceeded all that he can do more, a Prince ſhould offer you.—'Tis enough Sir, anſwered Delia, interrupting me, and I beſeech you pardon me if I oppoſe the ſequel of your diſcourſe; I do neither expect nor deſire theſe propoſitions from you, and as you may content your ſelf, if you pleaſe, with the reſpect I have for you, ſo I ſhall be ſatisfied with the particular eſteem which you expreſs to me, without framing deſigns contrary to appearance and reaſon.’

This was all I could obtain of Delia, not only at this firſt converſation, but in all the reſt that I had with her a long time after, and ſhe kept her ſelf ſo within the limits of an immoveable moderation, that by all the proofs of my love I could never incline her ſpirit to a complatency which might cauſe her to remit any the leaſt thing from the higheſt and ſevereſt vertue, yet for all this ſhe treated me with a great deal of ſweetneſs, ſhe alwaies looked kindly uppon me, and expreſſed by all her actions that ſhe eſteemed my perſon upon other conſiderations than that of my birth; but this was all that I could get of her, and ſhe was ſo far from giving her ſelf the liberty of granting me the ſmalleſt favours, that ſhe did not ſpeak ſo much as one word to me that proceeded from terms of good-will, and I confeſs that I contented my ſelf with this fortune, and maugre the inequality of our conditions, I had formed an Idea of this admirable perſon to my ſelf that rendred the ſmalleſt thing that related to her, precious to me.

In the mean time this miraculous beauty appeared at the Court like a reſplendent Star, which with its luſtre eclipſed all the reſt; and after ſhe had been there a few dayes, there was no diſcourſe but of the fair Stranger which was in the Princeſs's ſervice. The King and Queen beheld her with admiration, and ſhe had hardly begun to ſhew her ſelf, but ſhe had made a thouſand ſighs for her and adored her: they all crowded to her to give her the firſt teſtimonies of it, but ſhe treated them all with ſo much indifference and diſdain, that the boldeſt amongſt them had hardly the confidence to renew their ſuit. I ſaw her every day with facility enough, but never without the company of her ſiſter, or ſome of her companions, and in all the converſations that I had with her, though ſhe were of a ſofter ſex, and younger years than I, yet ſhe gave me examples and precepts of vertue, which might have ſwayed my inclinations that way, if I had capacity enough to profit by them.

Alas! how many times in this happy ſeaſon, after I had paſſed ſome hours in her company with incredible raviſhments, have I cried out to my ſelf with tranſport, that all kind of employments and conditions in the world ought to give place to the glory of ſerving Delia? how often have I prayed the Princeſs my Siſter that ſhe would intereſs her ſelf, and often bear a part in our ſociety, and to confeſs that the world had nothing comparable to Delia, and that ſhe was a thouſand times more beholding to me for the occaſion I had given her of gaining the company of this admirable perſon, than I was obliged to her for the benefit ſhe had procured me by it? She likewiſe took no notice of the precautions ſhe had made for the honour of her family, and repoſing an entire confidence in the vertue of Delia, ſhe left her to the conduct of her own life, without troubling her ſelf in relation to the intereſt ſhe might have taken in it. In the mean while ſhe loved and careſſed her in ſuch a manner, that this Maid being obliged to her amity, whatſoever deſire ſhe had to return into her own country, durſt not require the performance of the promiſe which was made of conducting her back again thither, and alwayes when ſhe was about to open her mouth to that purpoſe, Andromeda entertained her with ſuch fine expreſſions, and repreſented her with ſuch tender and preſſing careſſes that ſhe could not live without her, that ſhe inſenſibly engaged her to a much longer ſtay than ſhe had intended.

In the mean time I had ſo abandoned my ſelf to my love, that I had no thoughts left but for Delia only, and I did leſs intereſs my ſelf in the affairs of Cilicia, and all thoſe things which [Page] in all likelihood might concern me, than thoſe would have done which were the meereſt ſtrangers to them: Though I ſaw Delia divers hours every day, I did not think I ſaw her half enough, and alwayes when I was conſtrained to part from her, I could not diſpoſe my my ſelf to it without ſtrange reluctancies and violences: Nevertheleſs I deſired to render to decency and duty part of that which they required of me, and this was that which often times deprived me of that which I acknowledged to be my only felicity.

The King being ſollicited by the Queen his Wife, preſſed me every day to ſerve Urania: but he found no diſpoſition in my ſpirit to obey him, and though out of complacency to him I forced my ſelf ſometimes to expreſs love to that Princeſs, the violence I did my ſelf was ſo eaſie to be taken notice of, that thoſe who were never ſo little clear-ſighted might plainly have perceived it.

Urania, who together with a rare beauty and a thouſand excellent qualities which accompany it, hath likewiſe an admirable Wit capable of making all manner of diſcoveries, diſcerned my diſſembling very readily, and having a courage worthy of her birth, ſhe could not ſatisfie her ſelf with a forced complacency, in ſtead of that which in reaſon ſhe believed ſhe juſtly merited, and upon this account ſeeing me often by ſome ill-compoſed diſcourſe endeavour to perſwade her to that which was contrary to my heart, ſhe received it in ſuch a faſhion as made me very well perceive, that her obedience only made her endure it.

This continued a long time before we made any farther diſcovery to each other, and I was ſenſible, with a great deal of diſpleaſure, of the wrong I did to the beauties of that Princeſs, affording her nothing but groſs diſſemblings, in ſtead of an affection whereof I really judged her exceeding worthy: But in fine her courage could not any longer ſubmit it ſelf to diſſimulation, and one day when I had made her ſome verbal proteſtations, to which my heart gave no conſent, through which the violence I offered to my ſelf might eaſily appear, by reaſon of the little skill I had in the Art of diſſembling, the Princeſs ſhaking her head, and looking upon me with a ſmiling countenance: Philadelph, ſaid ſhe, You make me pity you a great deal more than you intended, and this cenſtraint, to which I ſee you cruelly expoſed, creates a real paſſion in me for you: to pleaſe an unreaſonable Father, you conceal your thoughts, but you conceal them in ſuch a manner, that it is eaſie for perſons of ordinary perſpicacity to obſerve them. Offer no more violence to your ſelf for the ſake of a Princeſs, who hath to [...] good an opinion of her ſelf, to thank you for the conſtraint you lay upon her ſelf, and you may believe that ſhe would hardly afford that to your affections, though real, which ſuch an obedience as yours is, makes her beſtow upon your diſſemblings. You ſhall never be forced in your inclinations for Urania's ſake, and if you have ſo much eſteem for me, as to open your heart freely to me, I promiſe you that for my part you ſhall never receive any oppoſition in your real affections: I ſhall content my ſelf, without putting you to farther trouble, with thoſe devoirs, which in obedience to the King, you ſeemingly render me, and I will not exact any thing of you wherein you may find repugnance, and I very little ſatisfaction.

Urania ſpake in this manner to me, and by this diſcourſe ſhe ſurprized me ſo, that I was ſo far from returning her a preſent anſwer, that for a long time I had not the confidence to look upon her: I found ſo much reaſon and truth in her diſcourſe, that I could not diſallow of it, and though I could not repent my ſelf of the paſſion I had for Delia, I acknowledged that Princeſs ſo worthy of better uſage than ſhe had from me, that a criminal ſurpriſed in the very fact, could not appear more aſtoniſhed than I ſeemed to be at that time. At laſt this firſt perturbation being overblown, and my eyes being open to the reaſon and freedom of the Princeſs, which I could no longer abuſe without baſeneſs, I reſolved ingenuouſly to diſcover to her the condition of my ſoul, and to excuſe the faults I had committed againſt her by reaſon of my pre-ingagement. Upon this deſign, fixing my eyes upon the ground (for I had not the confidence to look her in the face whileſt I made this confeſſion) ‘Madam, ſaid I, It is not eaſie for me to conceal my confuſion in a condition whereinto you have put me by a procedure ſo full of generoſity and freedom, and if I had not an abſolute confidence in that goodneſs whereof you give me ſo many teſtimonies, I ſhould never have the courage to make a diſcovery to you, which cannot handſomely be done: but ſince you are pleaſed to give me ſo much boldneſs, if the reſpect I owe you may give me permiſſion, I will tell you that I really acknowledge the admirable qualities of your perſon, and that I am not ignorant of the glorious advantages I ſhould receive in devoting my life entirely to your ſervice: I have had all the diſpoſitions, and all the deſires to do it that I ought to have, but I had not the liberty, and ſince you give me leave ingenuouſly to confeſs my weakneſs, I will diſcover to you, Madam, that for a long time I have not been at mine own diſpoſing, and that my ſoul being pre-ingaged in a paſſion which enentirely poſſeſſes it, hath not found it ſelf in a condition to receive thoſe glorious impreſſions, which without diſpute, you would form in all free ſouls It is eaſie for you to know [Page] ſo much, by taking notice of your own powers, and it would have been a difficult thing for me to have converſed with you ſo long, without being captivated by your divine beauties, if I had not been abſolutely enflamed before by another object which hath hardly left me either eyes or underſtanding. If I had had any remaining power over my engaged heart, the Gods know, Madam, with how much ſatisfaction I ſhould have ſubmitted my ſelf to your Empire, and for how great an honour I ſhould have acknowledged it to dedicate my dayes to your ſervice, according to the intention of the King my Father, but Madam,—No no, Philadelph, ſaid the Princeſs, interrupting me, do not juſtifie your ſelf any farther, I receive your excuſes as favourably as you can deſire, and I ſhall no way hinder your former inclinations, ſo as to oblige you to any conſtraint: I ſhall find no great difficulty to quit the pretenſions I have to you, and I do not think you have perceived any other thoughts in me in relation to your perſon, than of eſteeming you as you deſerve: I might poſſibly in time have received other impreſſions, if you had obliged me to it by your affection and ſervices, but that was not yet come to paſs; and I find my ſelf as free, as you can be, and as much Miſtreſs of my will as when I came into Cilicia: In compliance to the King, you may make what uſe of it you pleaſe, and as your paſſion will permit, and we will continue upon the ſame terms we now are, without enraging our ſelves farther in relation to any thing that either of us ſhall do in obedience to the King and Queen’

This was the reſolution of the fair Princeſs of Cappadocia, and I found it ſo rational, that in ſpite of all my paſſion, I could not hinder my ſelf from crying out: O Gods! how generous are you, and how unfortunate am I, that by the pre-ingagement, of my ſoul, I am rendred unworthy of the glory which my fortune hath offered me: but at leaſt ſince that by this fatal engagement the thoughts I ought to have for you are forbidden me; permic me, Madam, by a continuance of your goodneſs, that in ſtead of thoſe paſſionate reſentments, I may conſerve others for you of another nature, and intereſs my ſelf in the occaſions of doing you ſervice, as if I had the honour to be your brother.

Urania did not refuſe me what I deſired, and appearing ſatisfied with the confeſſion I had made to her, ſhe was well pleaſed that I ſhould follow my inclinations without laying any conſtraint upon my ſelf. I did ſo too thenceforward, and though I did ſeemingly render her my reſpects out of deſign, and that in publick I pretended to ſome intereſt in her, when no body heard our diſcourſe, I talked to her as to the Princeſs Andromeda, and converſed with her very differently from the Kings and Queens intentions. I could not forbear diſcovering all to Delia; but at the relation I made her of it, ſhe was troubled in good earneſt, ſhe proteſted to me ſhe would not ſuffer that for the love of her, I ſhould fly out into diſobedience to the Kings pleaſure to my own hurt, and that ſhe would rather quit Cilicia, than ſee me ſhun my advantages upon an amuſement which could not have any good ſucceſs. This indifference, wherewith ſhe anſwered the proofs of my paſſion, afflicted me with a ſenſible diſpleaſure, and looking upon her with an air that ſignified a little diſcontent: ‘I did not think ſaid I, that theſe teſtimonies of my love ought to be diſagreeable to you, and though beſides Urania, I ſhould diſeſteem all the world for your ſake, I do not believe you could make it any juſt cauſe of complaint. This poſſibly would have had ſome operation in any other ſpirit but yours, and I am very unfortunate, if, by putting my ſelf in danger of incurring the Kings diſpleaſure, I ſhould likewiſe incurr yours, in ſtead of a little acknowledgement which I might juſtly hope. I am not wanting Sir, replied Delia, in the acknowledgment that is due to you, and poſſibly 'tis only in regard of that, that I oppoſe thoſe deſigns that are diſadvantageous to you; the proofs of your affection are exceeding glorious to me, but I cannot approve of them if they be incommodious to your ſelf; and I do ſo far conſider your intereſts, as never to give way that you ſhould abandon them for an unfortunate ſtranger, or that for her ſake, you ſhould expoſe your ſelf to thoſe troubles which your diſobedience, without doubt, will raiſe in the Court if you perſevere in it. Ah Delia! ſaid I, with a geſture all compoſed of paſſion, the troubles of my ſoul ought to be more conſiderable to you, than thoſe of the Court, and I am far enough from finding any repoſe or felicity in that obedience to which you would oblige me, ſeeing I can proteſt to you before the Gods, that I ſhall never find it but in your ſelf, and that if I loſe the hopes of gaining your affection, I ſhall loſe all pleaſure and deſire to live. Do not oppoſe then any longer what the Gods have ordained as to my deſtiny, do not vainly endeavour to introduce another Image into a heart which yours will abſolutely poſſeſs to the end of my life, all the obedience I have for you, would be unprofitable upon this account, and by all the power you have over me, you ſhall never divert my thoughts from Delia for one ſingle moment. Theſe were the conteſtations that moſt commonly I had with her, and if out of complacency ſhe forbare to contradict me in this deſign, yet ſhe continually aſſured me that ſhe would not contribute to the diſpleaſure, which by that means, I might receive.’

[Page] In the mean time whatſoever diſcretion. I uſed to regulate the conduct of my love, it could not long continue ſecret, and as you know, the actions of perſons of my rank being much more obſerved than thoſe of private men, it was a difficult thing that Delia ſhould be ſo fair, and that they ſhould ſee me render her offices full of aſſiduity and reſpect, without ſuſpecting that I loved her. The fame of it ſpread it ſelf largely about the Court, and quickly came to the ears of thoſe perſons who were moſt intereſſed in it. Urania, who had ſuffered my engagement with a great deal of moderation, and little reſentment, could not take notice that I diſ-eſteemed her for a perſon who was ſo inferiour to her, without being a little moved with deſpite, and without expreſſing as much to me upon ſome occaſions: but when ſhe had well conſidered the perſon of Delia, ſhe began to accuſe me, and believed that there were but few ſpirits that could defend themſelves againſt the powers of ſo admirable a perſon; but the Queen her Mother, who had often complained of the coldneſs I ſhewed in the courting of her Daughter, could not give credit to this common report without being netled at it, and without complaining to the King: at firſt he heard without much taking notice of it, and excuſed that to the Queen as the fault of my youth, which ſhe condemned with a great deal of ſharpneſs: But the Queen in proceſs of time being confirmed in her opinions, and having preſſed him by her continual ſolicitations, wrought upon his ſpirit, and obliged him abſolutely to declare his will. Upon this deſign having one day detained me in his privie Chamber, and cauſing all other perſons to withdraw, that he might ſpeak to me with the greater liberty: ‘Philadelph, ſaid he, I ſhall tell you no news, when I ſhall acquaint you, that to preſerve and augment the alliances which we have with the King of Cappadocia, I have reſolved upon your marriage with the Princeſs his Siſter; but I deſired to put you in mind that it is time to make preparation for it, and that for very important reaſons I am obliged to haſten the deſign: I believe that you are fully diſpoſed to it already, and that you acknowledge as well as I, that there cannot be a more advantageous offer made you, than of ſuch a Princeſs as Urania is.’

Whilſt the King ſpake in this manner, it was eaſie for him to read in my countenance the diſpleaſure I received at his words, and when he had done ſpeaking, I continued a long time with my eyes fixed upon the ground, without making him any reply; he took two or three turns about the Chamber in expectation, but when he ſaw I did not open my mouth to give him an anſwer: ‘What Philadelph, ſaid he, are you ſurprized at this propoſition, and beſides the knowledge you have already received of my pleaſure, have you found nothing in the beauty and rare qualities of the Princeſs Urania to engage you in her ſervice with ſatisfaction? Sir, replyed I, at laſt, the Princeſs Uurania is worthy without doubt, both in reſpect of her beauty, and all manner of advantages, of a better fortune than is intended for her, and mine receives but too much glory in having been deſtined to her ſervice: but Sir, that which I have already rendred her, hath been entertained by her with ſo few marks of inclination, that I confeſs mine is unedged by it, and if your Majeſtie does not allow me time to diſpoſe my ſelf to it, I ſhall never engage my ſelf any more that way without repugnance.’ The King ſhaked his head at this diſcourſe, to ſignifie to me that he gave no great credit to it, and looking upon me with an action which expreſſed ſome diſcontent: ‘Urania is too wiſe, ſaid he, to nouriſh any inclinations that are different from the intentions of the Queen her Mother, and the King her Brother; and I know ſhe hath received your ſervices as ſhe ought to receive them: But, Philadelph, I underſtand you are diverted by other paſſions which cannot be approved of by any perſon, and though hitherto I gave little belief to the report that was made me of it, and thought that a ſlight affection which beauty might produce for ſome moments in a young man's mind, had made no conſiderable impreſſion in yours; now you confirm me in the opinion which I was perſwaded to have of you, and you make me believe that it is this unjuſt preoccupation that hath rendred you inſenſible of Urania's beauties, and diſobedient to my will.’

This diſcourſe of the Kings, though I was a little prepared for it before, ſurprized me, and made me bluſh in ſuch a maner, that by the change of my countenance the King received great confirmations of his ſuſpicions, and was ready to open his mouth to tell me ſo much, when I began to ſpeak: ‘Sir, ſaid I, they which made theſe reports to your Majeſty are ill acquainted with my intentions, and I have received no impreſſions which hinder me from obeying you as my duty is: you may underſtand the truth of what I have ſaid to you, if you pleaſe to inform your ſelf about it, and whatſoever deference the Princeſs Uranea had to the Queen her Mother's will, ſhe her ſelf will not, poſſibly, deny what little diſpoſition ſhe hath to love me: I will know that, added the King, and if thoſe diſpoſitions be wanting, her duty, without doubt will prompt her to receive them, as I would have you reſolve upon that account to obey me without repugnance.’

He ſpake no more to me at that time, but permitted me to retire my ſelf ſo ill ſatisfied [Page] that I had not the power to diſſemble it. I went immediately to the Princeſs my Siſter, who perceived my alteration by my countenance, and having prayed her to cauſe Delia to be ſent for, when that fair creature was come, taking Andromeda's hands, and preſſing them betwixt mine with ſuch an action as diſcovered to her the agitation of my ſpirit: ‘Siſter, ſaid I, I deſire your aſſiſtance in my misfortune, and if you love me you will not refuſe me your conſolations in the inquietudes which torment me. The King juſt now hath imperiouſly declared his pleaſure to me, and his will is that I ſhould diſpoſe my ſelf to marry Urania within a ſhort time; but he ſhall ſooner throw death into my boſome than that reſolution, and all the powers of the whole world combined with his, ſhall never introduce any other affection into my heart, than that which I have for Delia. This Maid (if ſhe will permit me to accuſe her of it before you) repays me with an inſenſibility, to which poſſibly I have not obliged her, and ſhe perceives in me the moſt real and pure affection that ever was, without being moved to ſo much as a ſingle acknowledgement of it: I deſire you, dear Siſter, and conjure you by all the amity you have for a brother, who deſires wholly to rely upon you, that you would work other thoughts in her in my favour, and that by all the credit you have upon her ſpirit, you would perſwade her that ſhe ought to intereſs her ſelf more than hitherto ſhe hath done in the life of a Prince, who hath abſolutely devoted himſelf unto her. In ſtead of being pleaſed with the deſign which I have to diſ-eſteem all things for her ſake, ſhe oppoſes it out of a principle which I dare not attribute to ingratitude, and by a prodigious exceſs of misfortune I ſee my ſelf reduced not only to ſuffer the perſecutions of the King: but I ſee likewiſe with an incredible grief, that ſhe for whom I would ſuffer them, in ſtead of comforting me in them, rejects them with diſdain. Dear Siſter, inſpire other thoughts into this divine perſon, ſeeing all thoſe I can deſire of her cannot be diſadvantagious to her, and do not ſuffer me, if you love me, to be ruin'd all at once both by the Kings authority and Delia's inſenſibility.’

Andromeda hearkned to me with ſome inquietudes which might eaſily be obſerved in the countenance, and when I had done ſpeaking: ‘Brother, ſaid ſhe, you need not doubt but that I intereſs my ſelf in whatſoever may concern you, and render you all the aſſiſtances that you can juſtly deſire of me: but Brother, I am able to do nothing with the King, and I believe I have no greater power over Delia's ſpirit: hitherto I have not ſeen you deſire any thing of her, which I might not, and do not counſel her to grant you; and ſo long as your affection ſhall contain it ſelf within theſe bounds, I will do what I can poſſibly to intereſs her in what you ſuffer and are like to ſuffer for her ſake. Madam, ſaid Delia, interrupting her, I have all the obedience and deference for you that may be, and all manner of acknowledgement and reſpect for Prince Philadelph: I receve the affection, wherewith you are pleaſed to honour me, as my duty binds, and I am not inſenſible of his, as he accuſes me: I deſire no greater teſtimonies of it than thoſe which he himſelf reproaches me withall, and if I did not look upon it as I am obliged to do, poſſibly I ſhould find glory enough in the affection of ſuch a Prince as he is to make me cloſe my eyes to the conſiderations of his repoſe. 'Tis becauſe I eſteem him according to his merit, that I ſlight mine own advantages to promote his, and that I would not ſuffer, if it were poſſible for me, that he ſhould expoſe himſelf to the Kings anger for my ſake, and to thoſe diſpleaſures which he may receive by oppoſing his will. I will ſuffer them all for your ſake, replied I, with ſuch a joy as ſhall keep me from being ſenſible of them, and I ſhall never be happy ſo as when I ſhall be able by ſome extraordinary proof to teſtifie that to you which hitherto you have only taken notice of in my diſcourſe. It were much better, anſwered Delia coldly, that by my departure hence I ſhould take away from the King the matter of his indignation, and from you the occaſion of drawing it upon you: it will be with this intention, which really proceeds from the care of you, rather than from any other motive, that I ſhall beſeech the Princeſs to permit me to retire my ſelf, and to give me her aſſiſtance in relation to my retirement, as ſhe promiſed me. You are, ſaid I, with a very ſad countenance, abſolutely at liberty, and at your own diſpoſing, whenſoever you ſhall deſire to return: but will you be pleaſed that I ſhould wait upon you over all the world, or that I ſhould die by mine own hands in your preſence at your departure? I ſpake theſe words with ſo paſſionate an action, that Delia ſeemed to be moved at it, and the Princeſs taking her turn to ſpeak next after me:’ ‘No Delia, ſaid ſhe, there is no neceſſity of ſo ſudden a ſeparation, and if you love me as you ſay, and as you are obliged to do by the amity I have for you, you will not afflict me with the double diſpleaſure I ſhall receive by your abſence, and my Brothers deſpair. But Madam, replied Delia, what does he deſire of me, and what end can he propoſe to himſelf in an affection which cannot chooſe but ruine us both? I have often told you, anſwered I, that my love ſhould never aim at any thing that your vertue might diſallow of, and I will tell you more plainly before my Siſter, that if it were [Page] in my power I would marry you, and in expectation of that liberty, I will never entertain that deſign for any other perſon. You can never expect that power, replied Delia, but by wayes which you ought not to deſire, and when you have obtained it, you will not poſſibly have ſurmounted all difficulties. O Gods! cnyed I out at theſe words, to what a pitileſs ſpirit hath my fortune ſubjected me! Cruel Maid, continued I, looking upon her in a very ſad and dejected manner, if you diſdain and ſcorn the heart I have given you, and all that I can offer you, where ſhall I find any thing that may be worthy of being preſented to you? I pronounced theſe words with ſuch an afflicted air, that Delia's heart was a little moved at them, as I perceived by her action, and by the ſweetneſs of a look, which glanced upon me contrary to her deſign:’ ſhe kept her eyes a while fixed upon the ground, and then on a ſudden looking upon the Princeſs: ‘Madam, ſaid ſhe, ſince you have made me wholly yours, defend my cauſe, if you pleaſe, againſt the Prince your Brother, and I beſeech your goodneſs to take the pains not only to juſtifie me from the ingratitude with which he would reproach me, but to repreſent to him, that he cannot in reaſon deſire of me more acknowledgement than I have for his affection.’ Having ſpoken theſe words, ſhe intreated her to give her leave to retire her ſelf for ſome moments, and ſo ſhe left me much grieved for the ſmall progreſs I had made upon her ſpirit, but my Siſter and I continued in admiration of that vertue whereof ſhe gave us a thouſand teſtimonies every day: By making ſo ſmall accompt of the hopes I gave her of a Crown, ſhe ſtrongly perſwaded us, that ſhe deſerved ſomething much more great, and confirmed me more and more in the deſign of never deſiring the poſſeſſion of it, but only to ſet it upon her head. Andromeda oppoſed this reſolution as ſhe ſuppoſeth it was her duty to do, by all manner of conſiderations: but her oppoſition was all in vain, and I ſaw nothing in Delia, which did not make me judge her worthy of all the world.

I did not leave Andromeda, till I had engaged her to ſuffer much for my intereſts, and to oppoſe her ſelf to the uttermoſt to the deſign which the King might have to take Delia from her, and I was much comforted with the promiſe ſhe often made me to do it. The King upon the accompt of her Vertue, and the good qualities ſhe was Miſtreſs of, had very particular conſiderations for her, and expreſſed more than an ordinary affection to her. In the Interim, the firſt time that the Queen had any diſcourſe with him about my marriage with her daughter, he told her that Urania had no great inclination to it, and related to her what I had told him concerning her coldneſs, and the little liking ſhe had of me: The Queen who deſired our marriage above all the things in the world, ſpake to Urania of it the ſame day, and deſired to learn from her mouth, if the report which ſhe had heard were true: Urania, either not to wrong her own merit by declaring how ſlightly I valued it, or not to do me a bad office, freely told the Queen her Mother, that it was true, that ſhe had no inclinations to love me, and that excepting what decency and the eſteem ſhe had for my perſon required, it would be difficult to bend her ſpirit to any greater teſtimonies of affection. At this diſcourſe the Queen grew angry with her, and after that ſhe had ſharply blamed her for the little care ſhe had to ſhew her obedience, ſhe imperiouſly commanded her to do better for the time to come, and proteſted that ſhe would make her ſenſible of her diſpleaſure, if ſhe made too long a reſiſtance againſt her will.

For ſome dayes following ſhe perſecuted her in the ſame manner, and the Princeſs had courage enough to ſuffer much from her before ſhe would confeſs the truth, telling her alwayes that ſhe did what poſſibly ſhe could to overcome the repugnance ſhe had to affect any man: but at laſt ſeeing her ſelf extraordinarily preſſed to it, and expoſed to ſome uſages, ſhe thought ſhe was no longer obliged to endure them for his ſake who did not love her, and after ſhe had hearkned to a long and ſharp reproof which the Queen beſtowed upon her: ‘Why? ſaid ſhe, would you have me love a man who had no affection for me, and that confeſſed as much himſelf, after that he had ſufficiently expreſſed it by his actions? Does not Philadelph love you, replied the Queen? what mean then the publick teſtimonies he gives of it, and the complaints he hath made of your coldneſs? I am unwilling, ſaid ſhe, to do him this bad office to you, and to the King whoſe intentions correſpond with yours: but if we have a courage worthy of our birth, we ſhall offer no farther violence to the inclinations of Philadelph, and we may find elſewhere as great advantages as thoſe which we expect from him.’

The Queen being exceeding angry at this diſcourſe, gave no ear to her Daughters counſel, but preſently went to the King, and made great complaints to him of me, telling him that I had made a fool of her Daughter, and of him too, in perſwading him to things far from truth, that Urania was not of a birth to be abuſed in this manner, and that all the Court thought it ſtrange that I ſhould prefer a poor ſtranger of a baſe and obſcure birth before her: that it was murmured up and down every where, and if order were not taken in time I [Page] would render my ſelf a laughing ſtock and a ſcorn to her ſubjects. The King who in all things took the Queen's part, was particularly moved at the complaints ſhe made againſt me, and proteſted to her that if I did not readily diſpoſe my ſelf to obey him in the deſire he had to engage me in the ſervice of the Princeſs Urania, and if I did not abandon all manner of affections for her ſake, he would reduce me to my duty by making me ſenſible of his reſentments, and from that moment he began to uſe all his authority to make me ſubmit to what he deſired of me, or to expoſe me to thoſe cruel croſſes, under which I have ſo much groaned ſince, and by means of which I find my ſelf in a deplorable condition.

Philadelph related the hiſtory of his life in this manner, when the Princeſs Artemiſa, who hearkned to him with a great deal of pleaſure and attention, judging that this diſcourſe would be long, and fearing left Prince Alexander ſhould be in ſome care by reaſon of the length of her walk, ſhe ſent Tideus to him to let him underſtand the truth, and to put him out of all apprehenſions for her. After this order which ſhe readily diſpatched in Tideus his ear, ſhe turned her ſelf towards Philadelph, and after ſhe had asked pardon for the interruption ſhe had made in his diſcourſe, ſhe heard him purſue it in theſe terms.

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA: OR, Love's Maſter-Piece. PART IV.
LIB. IV.

ARGUMENT.

The King makes uſe of all politick, mild, and rigorous courſes to divert Philadelph's affection from Delia; but all in vain. The gentle, modeſt, and diſcreet behaviour of Delia, makes her the Courtwonder. Philadelph proffers privately to eſpouſe her, which ſhe refuſes, till he had gain'd their friends conſent; and gives him ſome hints that her Birth was greater than be imagined. She is poiſoned by ſome malicious inſtruments about the Queen. Philadelph loudly exclaims againſt that black Treachery, and vows not to ſurvive her. Beyond expectation ſhe recovers. Philadelph falls ſick of a Feaver. His danger ſoftens his Fathers heart, who promiſes him no longer to oppoſe his Love, whereupon he is cured. Delia ſtill renders the ſame reaſons for her refuſal of Hymen's Ceremonies, and highly indears her ſelf to the King by her vertue. Philadelph is ſummoned to the Median Wars. At his departure Delia gives him a paper ſealed up, but forbids him to open it till he had order from herſelf or his Siſter Andromeda. He goes on ſucceſsfully in the War, and brings it to a period. He receives intelligence from his Siſter that Delia was retired from Court, and had given him leave to peruſe his paper. He calls for his Cabinet, but finds that by accident it was loſt. He was extreamly afflicted at it, betakes himſelf to travel, and reſolves to range the world in her ſearch. He tells Artemiſa what Countries he had already travers'd, and ſo ends his Story. The diſtreſs of an unknown Lady invites him to her reſcue, which he gallantly performs. He takes leave of the Ladies, and goes on in ſearch of his Delia. Artemiſa invites the unknown Lady to her habitation, which ſhe gratefully accepts.

[Page] THE King in compliance to the Queens humour, had no ſooner taken the reſolution to torment me, but he ſent for me, and after I was come into his preſence, receiving me with a frowning countenance: The chear, ſaid he, which you have put upon me is diſcovered to your confuſion, and if you had had as much obedience as the Princeſs Urania, you would not have expoſed me to the diſpleaſure which I have lately received: That Princeſs ſubmits her ſelf, as her duty is, to the will of the Queen her Mother, and you do not render what is due to your Father, though the things which he deſires of you are only for your own advantage. We know now Philadelph, the truth which you concealed from us, and we are no longer ignorant what the ſubject of your diſobedience is: This is not that which I expected from the inclinations which I thought I obſerved in you, and from the education you have received; and theſe baſe thoughts whereby you diſgrace the beginnings of your life, give a ſenſible diſpleaſure to thoſe who had eſtabliſhed their deareſt hopes upon you. Reflect upon it in good earneſt, and with a reſolution worthy of your birth, diſcard theſe uncommendable affections, whereby you will expoſe your ſelf to your Fathers anger, and the ſcorn of the whole world.

The King ſpake to me in this manner, walking up and down with ſuch an action as ſignified his diſpleaſure, and I continued unmoveable, with my eyes caſt down, and in an uncertainty what anſwer I ſhould make him: I had a mind at firſt to diſſemble ſtill with him, and to deny my paſſion, hoping that in time I might work his ſpirit to a ſweeter temper, and bring him inſenſibly to give permiſſion to it: but in fine, I perceived that there was little likelyhood for me to hope ſo; and beſides that, it was impoſſible to conceal that from him any longer, which was come to the knowledge of the whole Court, and that it could not remain ſecret any longer, if I did not forbear viſiting Delia, I believed that that fair perſon was very worthy of my owning, and that ſhe might juſtly be offended if I did any longer ſtifle the thoughts I had for her: upon this account, beholding the King with greater aſſurance than before, ‘Sir, ſaid I, the fear I had to diſpleaſe you, hath hitherto conſtrained me to diſguiſe the truth from you, and if I had not a great deal of confidence in your goodneſs, I ſhould never have had the boldneſs to confeſs it to you: 'Tis true Sir, I have failed, if to love the moſt beautiful and amiable creature that ever the Gods ſent into the world, without your command, be to commit a fault: but this fault was not voluntary, and all the conſiderations I could have, were not ſtrong enough to defend me againſt the powers of Delia. If you, ſaid the King, had oppoſed any vertue againſt the birth of this paſſion, you would have preſerved your ſelf from it, and you might have fortified your ſelf, if you would have made uſe of them, with good examples, and noble education, ſo as not to ſuffer your mind to be overſwayed by vicious inclinations: Vice, replyed I, hath no intermixture with thoſe inclinations which I have for Delia, & if her vertue which ſhe poſſeſſes poſſibly in an higher degree than ever perſon did, were known to your Majeſty, without doubt you would never judge injuriouſly of it: She never inſpired me with any thoughts which were not very conformable to it, and I ſhall never have more reſpectful conceits, nor more advantageous intentions for the greateſt Princeſs upon earth, than I have for Delia. And what are your intentions, added the King, with a more ſevere countenance than before, have you a deſign to Marry her? I know too well, anſwered I, the difference I owe to the will of my Father, and my King, to form theſe deſigns without his permiſſion: but I will tell your Majeſty plainly, that if I had obtained your conſent, I would Marry Delia before all the Princeſſes upon Earth.’ The King ſtept two or three paces backward at theſe words, and looking upon me with eyes full of the marks of his indignation: ‘O Gods, ſaid he, what is this that I underſtand? and what baſeneſs do I now find in a Prince whoſe Father I am, and of whom I had conceived ſuch fair hopes? What Philadelph, could you caſt your eyes upon Delia, with a deſign to Marry her? I have told your Majeſty, replyed I, that I would never have that deſign if it were contrary to yours: but I will tell you again, if you pleaſe to give me leave, that without doubt I ſhould marry Delia if I had your conſent, and I judge her worthy of more ſublime advancement than to be the Queen of Cilicia.’

The King was more amazed than before at this confirmation, and in a crowd of things which he had to ſay, not being able to expreſs himſelf without diſorder and confuſion, he made divers turns about the Chamber without ſpeaking, caſting his eyes upon me every moment with an action which ſufficiently expreſſed his choler, and after he had kept ſilence a while in this manner, compoſing his countenance upon a ſudden: ‘I know, Philadelph,’ ſaid he, that I ought to inflict ſuch puniſhments upon you for your fault, as might make you ſenſible of it, and you have not ſo ſlightly offended me, but that I might without blame let you feel the effect of my reſentments againſt you; but I will content my ſelf to give you ſuch a puniſhment as may poſſibly reduce you to your duty, and I will cure you of this paſſion which is deſtructive [Page] to your repoſe and honour, by removing the cauſe of it out of your fight; to morrow, without any farther delay, I will ſend away this ſtranger from my Court, where ſhe hath been the cauſe of diſobedience and diſorder, and I ſhall do her no wrong when I ſhall ſend her out of this Country, and cauſe her to be ſafely re-conducted into her own.

Theſe words pierced my very ſoul with grief, but yet they increaſed my boldneſs, and I anſwered the King without much trouble; ‘It is in your power, Sir, to drive Delia out of your Country, but I will not ſtay behind her, and into what part of the world ſoever ſhe retires, I will follow her to the laſt moment of my life, and will never be torn from her by any violence or conſideration: I ſhall hinder you from that well enough, added the King, enraged with choler, and I ſhall poſſibly put you in ſuch a place, where you ſhall have little liberty to run after Delia. That is likewiſe in your power, replyed I, but you ſhall never be able to make me live without Delia; and if you deprive me of the liberty of following her, all the authority you have cannot hinder me from dying, as without doubt I ſhall do if you exerciſe this rigour againſt me.’

The King was almoſt beſides himſelf at this declaration, and in the violence of his choler he threw ſo many reproaches upon me, that the length and diſorder of them hinders me from relating them; at laſt, when his paſſion had a little ſpent it ſelf: Philadelph, ſaid he, your inſolence and your baſeneſs, render you unworthy of the affection I have for you, but I ſhall bridle that to reduce you to your duty, get you gone out of my ſight, and come no more into it, till you have diſpoſed your ſelf to render what you owe me as your Father, and as your King.

In this manner he drave me out of his preſence, and I retired in ſuch a confuſion of thoughts, that for a long time after, I could not calm my ſpirits: yet for all that, I made a firm reſolve, either to conſerve my intereſt in Delia, or to periſh, and not to recede from the deſigh I had for her, for any menace, or any uſage that I might receive from the King. That very evening I made a relation of all to Delia, and to the Princeſs Andromeda, and upon this diſcourſe, Delia renewed the requeſts ſhe had formerly made to my Siſter, to give her permiſſion to retire: but I hindred the progreſs of her requeſts, when I ſaid to her with a countenance wherein, through the marks which a violent paſſion imprinted there, ſhe might perceive the ſigns of a ſtrong reſolution: Delia, I have often told you, that it is in your power to leave me; but I proteſt to you before all the Gods, that if you ſhow ſo much inhumanity to a Prince, who hath given you no cauſe, and if, contrary to what you owe to acknowledgment and pity, you can reſolve to leave me in the ſhipwrack, whereinto you have thrown me, this ſword ſhall pierce my heart in your preſence, and I ſhall poſſibly mollifie yours by my blood, if I cannot do it by the proofs of a paſſion, which upon thoſe terms I am at with you, would not poſſibly be ſo cruelly diſdained by any other perſon but your ſelf.

Delia, if ſhe had no ſence for love, ſhe had ſome for compaſſion, and always when I made her this diſcourſe, ſhe ſeemed to be moved at it, and did very much ſlack the deſign ſhe had to quit us, but it was not without the teſtimonies of a ſmarting grief, that ſhe ſaw her ſelf to be the cauſe of our troubles, and without grand proteſtations of the little deſire ſhe had to contribute to them.

In the mean while, the King, out of the affection he had for me, fearing the effect of what I had threatned, either to follow Delia, or to make an attempt upon my own life, if he deprived me of my liberty, had a deſign to croſs me ſome other way, and ſeeing divers of his Courtiers, or almoſt all of them enflamed with love for Delia, he inſpired them with courage to ſerve her, and promiſed them all manner of favour and aſſiſtance upon that account. He had a mind particularly to employ Antigenes one of the moſt amorous, and moſt capable to make himſelf beloved. He was handſome enough of his perſon, and he had a nimble and bold Spirit, and the King judging him fit to ſerve his turn in his intended purpoſe, promiſed him that if he could prevail upon Delia's ſpirit, and break the union which he believed was between that Maid and I, he would not only make a Match between them, but amply repair by his munificence, whatſoever the ſtranger wanted, ſo that he ſhould have no occaſion to be unſatisfied with his Fortune. With this encouragement Antigenes embarqued himſelf in the reſearch without repugnance, and having acceſs to Delia, as perſons of his quality uſually had to the Maids that attended upon the Queen and Princeſs, and having already given her divers proofs of his love to no purpoſe, upon the hopes which the King gave him, he engaged himſelf more than before, and began to render his devoirs to Delia with a great deal of aſſiduity: at firſt he was ſomewhat reſerved in his addreſſes, fearing to incenſe me againſt him; but when he ſaw how I left Delia to the liberty of her converſations, he proceeded more boldly, and declared his love, and the deſign he had for her, with more aſſurance than before; he believed that the moſt effectual engine he could uſe to advance himſelf in her opinion, and to ſerve the Kings intentions, was to cry down mine, and to caſhier all the hopes ſhe could have of my affection. Upon [Page] this account he repreſented to her that according to all the laws of prejudice ſhe ought not to amuſe her ſelf about me, and that I could have no deſigns for her, but what would prove ruinous to her reputation and fortune, that the ſoul of a perſon of my age eaſily took fire, and did as readily loſe thoſe impreſſions; and though I ſhould have the moſt favourable and advantageous deſigns for her that could be, yet I had not the liberty of mine own actions, nor could hope that the King would any longer endure that I ſhould beſtow the expreſſions of my affection upon her. By this diſcourſe, which he eternally reſounded in her ears, Antigenes might have wrought ſomething, if he had been to deal with any other ſpirit but Delia's: but that admirable perſon, though ſhe judged that there was ſomething of truth in what he ſaid, yet ſhe was not at all inclined by it to favour him, and ſhe received the proofs of his paſſion with ſo much diſdain, that unleſs he had been intereſſed by his love, and backed on by the Kings promiſes, he would eaſily have been repulſed.

There were divers others beſides Antigenes, that employ'd themſelves in the reſearch of Delia, and beſides the poſſeſſion of her, the King had promiſed great gratuities to them who could diſ-ingage her from the pretenſions which I made to her. I ſaw all this at the firſt without being moved at it, and I did not fear that Delia, whom I had found unbatterable by the proofs of my love, ſhould ſurrender to thoſe perſons who were ſo inferiour to me. But by little and little, the report came to me that Antigenes pretended to Marry her within a ſhort time; that the King was reſolved upon it, and that all things diſpoſed themſelves that way, as to a buſineſs of great certainty. This diſcourle ſtruck me with a ſenſible diſpleaſure, and the firſt I acquainted with it was Delia, to whom I complained in a very ſad manner, which made her judge, that the common opinion had made ſome impreſſion upon my ſpirit, but ſhe ſatisfied me by a diſcourſe for different from thoſe terms which ſhe was wont to make uſe of. Philadelph, ſaid ſhe, you do not know me yet, and you may believe, if you pleaſe, that ſince you honor me ſo much, I will never love any thing that is inferior to you. At the ſpeaking of theſe few words, which ſhe uttered with a differet air from that humility, wherewith till then, ſhe had conformed her ſelf to her fortune, there appeared ſomething in her countenance of more than ordinary Grandeur, and I perceived the reſpect I had for her to be much augmented. I am charmed, ſaid I, with this reſolution of yours, but, O Gods! how much ſhould I have been charmed, and into how happy a condition tion would you put me, if inſtead of making me hope that you will love nothing below me, you had promiſed me that you would love nothing beſides me? I will not promiſe to love you, replyed Delia, but I will tell you really, that if I am not ſenſible of ſuch a Prince as you are, I believe I ſhall never take notice of any other perſons whileſt I live. Theſe words were very innocent, yet Delia could not utter them without bluſhing, and they gave me a great deal of ſatisfaction; I confirmed her as much as I could poſſibly in the diſdain ſhe had for thoſe petty Rivals, which her beauty, and the Kings will, raiſed up againſt me, and ſhe was ſo naturally inclined that way, that I had no difficulty to diſpoſe her to it.

But a little after, the Kings favour did ſo openly appear upon Antigenes his behalf, that though he was far from obtaining Delia's conſent, all the world believed that he ſhould Marry her, and the King having met her in the Princeſs's Chamber, whom he was come to viſit: ‘Fair Delia, ſaid he, your beauty hath produced great effects in the Court, but I believe you have prudence and reaſon enough to diſcern the true Lovers you have gained, from thoſe who have the deſign to deceive you. Sir, anſwered Delia, there will be ſo little advantage in deceiving a ſtrange Maid, that I ſhall never ſuſpect that any perſon ever had any ſuch deſign; Philadelph hath ſuch an intention, added the King, but Antigenes hath none but what is legitimate and I dare own. Delia changed colour at this diſcourſe, with a little emotion of choler, and caſting down her eyes with a diſdainful action: I ſhall underſtand very well, Sir, ſaid ſhe, to make a difference between Antigenes and Prince Philadelph, both in reſpect of their intentions and of their perſons.’ Take heed, replyed the King, that you do not abuſe your ſelf upon that account, and that for a fallacious ſplendor you do not abandon the true happyneſs you may meet withal in eſpouſing Antigenes. I do not deſerve that fortune, anſwered Delia with an air full of diſdain, and if I muſt have a husband in Cilicia, it will not be ſuch a man as Antigenes.

The King, who ſaw very well that this diſcourſe was troubleſome to her was not willing to preſs her any farther, and though he was netled with reſentment againſt her, yet at the ſight of her admirable beauty he could not follow his paſſions, nor defend himſelf from the reſpect which it imprinted in all thoſe who were capable to take notice of it: But a little after he cauſed her to be importuned in favour of Antigenes, and ſent her word by one of his attendants, that if ſhe were willing to do him a pleaſure, ſhe ſhould diſpoſe her ſelf to marry him within a few days: Delia made this anſwer to him that made her this diſcourſe: You may tell the King, if you pleaſe, that I am too much obliged to him for the care he takes of my fortune; [Page] but that it is not in his Dominions that I deſire to eſtabliſh it, and that I was born under the authority of another Prince to whom I leave the diſpoſing of it.

I was very much ſatisfied with this anſwer of Delia's, whereby ſhe expreſſed to the King the ſmall deſire ſhe had to ſubmit to his will: but I was ſo nettled at the inſolent and importunate perſeverance of Antigenes, that I could no longer endure it. At the firſt I contented my ſelf to look ſcurvily upon him, and to receive him with coldneſs and ſcorn enough, whenſoever he came neer me: but when I ſaw that he made as if he was ignorant of the cauſe, and that inſtead of deſiſting from his deſign he rendred his viſits to Delia more aſſiduouſly, and preſſed her more obſtinately than ever, I loſt the conſideration I had had till then of the Kings will, who openly upheld him, and meeting him one day in the Anti chamber as he came out of Delia's Chamber, I ſtayed him by the arm, and looking upon him with a countenance which partly diſcovered what I had upon my heart; ‘Antigenes, ſaid I, whence come you? Sir, anſwered he with an ill aſſured countenance, I come from Delia's Chamber. And what is the deſign, replyed I, that carry's you thither ſo often? Sir, ſaid Antigenes, I thought you had known it, and the King hath made his inteneion ſo publick of marrying met to Delia, that I did not believe your Highneſs was ignorant of it. You marry Delia, ſaid I to him, looking ſcornfully upon him, you marry Delia?’ Antigenes was very much troubled at theſe words, and after that I had repeated them to him again: Do you ſee that Door, added I, ſhewing him Delia's Chamber-door, I charge you never ſet your foot within it more, nor to ſpeak to Delia while you live: Remember the charge I give you, and if you chance to do otherwiſe prepare your ſelf to receive death by theſe hands of mine. Antigenes grew pale, and trembled at this threat, not having the aſſurance to reply one word, and he was no ſooner gone from me but he went to throw himſelf at the Kings feet relating what had happened, and proteſting to him that he had not the boldneſs to conteſt with me, nor to croſs my inclinations. The King upon this diſcouſe fell into the moſt violent choler that ever had poſſeſſed him, and after he had uttered part of that which his paſſion put into his mouth againſt me, and the innocent Delia, he commanded Geſippus a Captain of his guards to go find out Delia preſently, and to give her order to diſpoſe her ſelf to depart from Tharſus within three days, and to return toward her own Country, or any other ſhe would chuſe out of his dominions.

A way went Geſippus with this order, but it was not given ſo ſecretly but that I had intelligence of it before it could be executed, and going immediately to prevent Geſippus, I met him before he had reached the Princeſs Andromeda's houſe: Geſippus, was amazed at the meeting of me: but he was much more ſurprized, when ſtopping him in his paſſage: ‘Whither go you Geſippus, ſaid I? Sir, anſwered Geſippus, I do not think it neceſſary to conceal my Commiſſion from you, the King hath ſent me to command Delia to retire: and I command you ſaid I to him, to return immediately, and never whileſt you live to take any ſuch commiſſions: I cannot refuſe Sir, replyed Geſippus, the orders of the King my Maſter, but ſince you are pleaſed to hinder the execution of them, what would you have me ſay to the King to give him an account of the charge which he hath given me? Tell him, replyed I, that I have taken your Commiſſion upon my ſelf, and that Delia will receive the diſmiſſion they give her more handſomely from my mouth than from yours, that I will ſpare her the ſhame to ſee her ſelf baniſhed from a place which ſhe hath too much honoured with her preſence, and that ſhe will willingly quit this place ſo unworthy of her, though he do not employ his authority to drive her away. The King, added Geſippus, offers her all neceſſaries for her conduct, and hath commanded me to tell her, that he will give her his aſſiſtance to return into her own Country. The King is too officious, replyed I, and Delia hath no need of his aſſiſtances: ſhe ſhall never want conduct nor Conductor; and you may tell the King that by the order he hath given you, he hath driven away Delia and his Son too for ever, and ſeeing that I have neither the intention nor the power to make Delia continue in his Dominions againſt his will, I ſhall inſeparably follow her, and never leave her to the laſt moment of my life. Ah! Sir, anſwered Geſippus, what a kind of reſolution is yours? I deſire none of your Counſel, ſaid I, go your way and let me have no more replies. Geſippus went from me without anſwering, and went to give the King an account of the truth how I had hindred the execution of his orders.’

I retired my ſelf to my apartment, knowing my ſelf to be in too bad a condition to preſent my ſelf to Delia, and not deſiring to acquaint her with the Kings intention, for fear of confirming her in the deſire ſhe had to leave us: but I paſſed the night in the moſt cruel diſquiets that ever had tormented me, and the day appeared before that any ſleep preſented it ſelf to my eyes. A thouſand deſigns full of irreſolution paſſed through my fancy, but I pitched only upon this, to endure all things rather than to abandon Delia, and never to ſeparate my ſelf from her to my very laſt gaſp. Cruel Father, ſaid I, thy authority ſignifies little in oppoſing a [Page] heart, which acknowledges no other power but Delia's, and whatſoever command nature given thee over me ſhall never obtain that from me which thou exacteſt with ſo much tyranny. Ab Delia! how much rather would I ſuffer a thouſand deaths, than loſe the will I have to be eternally yours for one moment? and how much rather would I loſe all the pretenſions which I have to the Crown of Cilicia, or that I can have to my life it ſelf, than the deſire I have to be always your faithful ſervant? That fair image graved in eternal characters in the middle of my heart, will expel from thence all other impreſſions that an unjuſt authority would form there, and in brief there is no duty nor obedience that can ſtand in competition with the powers of my Delia.

The next morning I was hardly ready when Adraſtus entred my chamber; he was a man who had ſometimes been my Governour, and who afterwards by his vertue rendred himſelf one of the moſt conſiderable perſons in Cilicia, in the opinion of the King and of the whole Court; I had a particular eſteem for him, and expected ſome conſolation from his ſight, when ſaluting me with a viſage which ſignified little ſatisfaction: ‘Sir, ſaid he, I have lately left the King in ſuch a choler againſt you as will difficultly be appeaſed by you, if you do not conform your intentions unto his: and your hindring of the order which he gave to Geſippus, hath put him into the ſtrangeſt humour that I ever ſaw him in my life: in the firſt eruptions of his indignation he fell upon reſolutions which would have created you a great deal of trouble, and he is not pacified but upon the hope we have given him, that for the future you will carry your ſelf with more compliance to his will: Upon this hope, Sir, I have taken upon me a charge which he would have given to others, not, as you may well judge, to ſeek occaſions to diſpleaſe you, but to acquaint you more mildly with a thing which poſſibly would incenſe you more if you underſtood it from any other mouth than mine: What is that Adraſtus, ſaid he to him with precipitation, and what intentions can the King have againſt me more cruel than what he hath declared? His will is, replyed Adraſtus that you ſhould ſee Delia no more, and he hath commanded me to forbid you to do it upon pain of his eternal diſpleaſure. Let him forbid me to live agen, cryed I, and he ſhall find more obedience in me to that prohibition, than to the other of ſeeing Delia. No, Adraſtus, never pretend any complacency with me upon this intention of the Kings; I know he is my Father, I know he is my King, but I was not born in a condition like to the reſt of his ſubjects, neither was I born a ſlave. When he ſhall only exact ſuch things of me as I can do without offering violence to thoſe inclinations which are more powerful over me than all his authority, I will obey him to the hazard of that life which I have received from him, and poſſibly he ſhall not find more deference and ſubmiſſion in the ſouls of his meaneſt ſubjects than in mine: but when he ſhall order me neither to love nor to ſee Delia more, all the power he can have over me, both as my King and as my Father, ſhall never oblige me to obey him: I will ſee Delia as long as I behold the light, though ſhe were environed with a thouſand walls, and there is but that only mean which I have propoſed to hinder me from it. Sir, replyed Adraſtus, the firſt motions of ſuch a paſſion as yours are excuſable in a perſon of your age: but when you ſhall pleaſe to conſider a little better with your ſelf, you will take notice, that by this perſeverance in provoking the King you will throw your ſelf into great diſorders, and you put your ſelf in danger of drawing great diſpleaſures upon your ſelf. All the diſpleaſures I can fear, anſwered I, cannot but be light in compariſon of that which you propoſe to me, and the King cannot uſe me worſe by all the authority he hath, than to hinder me from ſeeing Delia, No, Adraſtus, I ſhall never acknowledge any thing to be more cruel whileſt I live, and if you love me, you will repreſent to the King, that he ought not by this cruelty to caſt his only ſon, and poſſibly a ſon that is not unworthy of his birth, into a certain deſpair. I will do what I can poſſibly, replyed Adraſtus, but if you would hearken to the counſel of your ſervants—, I am not any longer capable, ſaid I, interrupting him, of receiving counſel, and my friends ought to intereſs themſelves in my repoſe much more than in the Queens projects, eſpecially when my life lies at ſtake; in the mean while, Adraſtus, do not expect any obedience from me to the command you have lately made me, I will ſee Delia, I will ſee her preſently, to proteſt to her that all the perſecutions which I ſuffer for her ſake are ſweet and glorious unto me, and to tender her thoſe proofs of my affection, which I have not yet offered her.’

Adraſtus could prevail no farther wth me, & at the ſame time that he parted from my lodging, I went out likewiſe to go to Delia. Both ſhe and the Princeſs, with whom ſhe was at that time, obſerved immediately an extraordinary trouble upon my countenance; and as they were ſufficiently troubled already with the news that was brought them concerning the order which the King had formerly given to Geſippus, and how I had hindred it, by the paſſion they obſerved in me, their aſtoniſhment was redoubled. I no ſooner came to them, but addreſſing my ſelf to [Page] Delia; ‘My dear and inſenſible Delia, ſaid I, all engines are ſet on work to undo me; and if you contribute to my miſery as you have done hitherto by the little ſenſe you have expreſſed of it, I am the moſt undone, and the moſt deſperate Prince that ever was: they would take you from me, they forbid me to ſee you, and in fine, they prepare againſt me the moſt inſupportable cruelty they can: Will you leave me, Delia, in theſe extremities, whereunto I am reduced for the love of you; and will you not give me ſome hope that theſe ſufferings whereunto I will expoſe my ſelf, even to death, that I may continue eternally yours, will mollifie your hard heart? Ah Delia! if you be immoveably reſolved to look upon my miſeries with a cruel indifferency, and if you have no regard of the diſpleaſures which I will affront to preſerve my ſelf totally yours, 'tis unprofitable, 'tis unjuſt to ſpin out this deplorable life to a more tedious length, and I may in one ſingle moment content at once both the King's cruelty and yours.’

Though this paſſionate diſcourſe did not produce all the effect that I deſired, yet Delia was not abſolutely inſenſible of it, and I obſerved the compaſſion ſhe had of me by divers marks: then caſting her eyes upon my face with an action full of tenderneſs: ‘You reduce me, ſaid ſhe, to as hard extremities as your own, and by the complacency which poſſibly contrary to my duty, I have for this blind paſſion which you have conceived for me, you put me into ſuch a condition as poſſibly never Maid was in. What would you have me do to avoid your reproaches, and obſerve my own duty? and if your thoughts have not changed their nature, what can you deſire of me at a time and upon an occaſion wherein all things are contrary to your intentions? I have continued hitherto, in ſpite of thoſe reaſons which obliged me to be gone, of which you know not the moſt important, and in a place where 'tis my misfortune to be odious to thoſe perſons who have the Soveraign power: but what means have you to make me ſtay any longer againſt the Kings will, who orders me to be gone, and who for your ſake expoſes me to the ſhame of ſeeing my ſelf driven out of his dominions; and what blame can you lay upon me; when I ſhall give way to a power from which all yours cannot defend me? I will never lay any blame upon you, ſaid I, but I will ſubmit to your will as long as I live without murmuring: but give me leave to tell you really, that if you leave me in the condition whereunto you have reduced me, I ſhall breath my laſt at our ſeparation, and this ſoul which is totally yours, leaving this body which you diſdain, cold and pale in Cilicia, will follow you into what place of the earth ſoever you ſhall addreſs your ſelf.’

‘But what would you have me do, replyed Delia, and what power have you to oppoſe the King your Father, or to cauſe me to continue in his dominions in ſpite of him, if I ſhould have complacency enough to ſtay me her upon your conſideration? I have poſſibly more than you believe, anſwered I, and I have not ſo little intereſt in the hearts of the Cilicians, but that I could arm a party of them in my favour, if the King ſhould offer to do you any violence. I would rather, replyed Delia, ſee my ſelf expoſed to all manner of hazards of my life, than to cauſe theſe diſaſters, and to kindle a war between the Father and the Son without any end or neceſſity. The neceſſity, ſaid I, would poſſibly appear great enough to any ſpirit but yours, when my preſervation is in queſtion, and it would not be without an End, ſince I have purpoſed one to my ſelf which you cannot diſapprove, if you have not a cruel averſion to my perſon.’

With theſe words giving the laſt reflection upon the deſign I had taken, I continued ſome moments without ſpeaking, in the poſture of a perſon fixed upon important thoughts: but a little after lifting up my head, and looking upon Delia with a more aſſured countenance than before. ‘Hitherto, ſaid I, I have rendred to the King my Father what I believed was due to him by the laws of my birth, and how ardent a deſire ſoever I had to gain you, I ſhould have deferred my ſupream and only happineſs in expectation of his conſent as much as it had been poſſible: but now ſince by his cruelty he diſpences with that obedience which nature hath injoyned me, I will no longer regard that unjuſt duty to the prejudice of my repoſe and life, and without any farther delay, I will tell you before my Siſter, that I am ready to make you my wife as ſoon as you ſhall be diſpoſed to receive me for your husband.’

Andromeda was quite ſurprized at this diſcourſe, and ſhe could hardly forbear expreſſing her aſtoniſhment by an exclamation, ſhe looked upon me with eyes which partly ſignified what judgement ſhe made of my precipitations, but Delia kept hers fixed upon the ground without ſeeming to be moved at my propoſition, and when ſhe had muſed a while, reſuming the diſcourſe with the ſame coldneſs: ‘Philadelph, ſaid ſhe, I have told you once that you do not know me, I tell you again, and proteſt to you that the offer of an hundred Crowns ſuch as you preſent me, ſhall never incline me to an action contrary to my duty. What, Madam, replyed I, crying out with tranſport, ſhall you offend againſt your duty when you receive the Prince of Cilicia for your husband, and can there be any doubt henceforward of the [Page] repugnance you have for him if you continue as inſenſible of the laſt offers he could make you, as you were of his firſt actions? Both your former actions, and your laſt offers, anſwered Delia, are very conformable to the opinion I have of your vertue, I am not ſo inſenſible, nor have I ſo much repugnance for your perſon, but that I would prefer it, if I may have permiſſion to ſay ſo, before all that I have known: but, Sir, whatſoever ſplendor or advantage I may gain by the honour which you offer me, and whatſoever inclination I might have to receive for my husband a Prince more conſiderable for his qualities than for his Crown, I will never accept of him but by ſuch ways as may preſerve us from all reproach, and by the conſent of thoſe perſons to whom both you and I ought to ſubmit our ſelves. Ah pityleſs Delia! cryed I, ah hard heart! and impenetrable by compaſſion, what have I left to perſwade you, ſeeing the only means whereby I probably hoped to effect it are unprofitable, and ſince I find much ſtronger oppoſition in your cruelty than in the King my Fathers.’

Speaking theſe words with an action full of trouble, I fell upon Andromeda's bed ſide ſo feeble and ſo caſt down, that I had ſcarcely any ſenſe left. Delia did not at all change her reſolution at this ſight, but caſting a look upon me wherein I might obſerve that ſhe took ſome intereſt in my diſpleaſure: Do not accuſe me, Sir, ſaid ſhe, till you have a little conſulted with your ſelf, and in ſtead of looking upon me as a ſtranger of a mean birth, and as one who ought to have a courage conformable to the fortune wherein you ſee her, give me leave to tell you, that my thoughts are not inferiour to thoſe that may be owned by a great Princeſs, and how glorious ſoever it be to me, you ſhall never obtain what you deſire of me, otherwiſe then if you were to obtain it of the daughter of a great King. This is a reſolution, Sir, from which, as unjuſt as it appears to you, nothing ſhall be able to divert me: but to let you know that I am not inſenſible of the obligations I have to you, I will diſpoſe my ſelf to endure ſtill, for the love of you, as much as is poſſible for me, from the enemies which your affection hath raiſed me, and I will continue with Madam the Princeſs, as long as I can do it without reducing the differences be twixt you and the King your Father to extremities. You may do what you pleaſe, ſaid I in a very languiſhing manner, and your thoughts are too fair to leave any force in a ſoul abſolutely ſubject to you, to reſiſt them: but you muſt not think it ſtrange, if I loſt the hopes which I might have conceived without offending you, and that with them I abandon all the deſire I could have to live.

Having ſpoken theſe words, I retired into my Siſter's Cloſet, where I continued a while alone, buried in the ſaddeſt thoughts in the world. The Princeſs came to me a little after and forgot nothing that her amity could put into her mouth which might tend to my conſolation: but whatſoever intereſt ſhe took in my diſpleaſures, ſhe had the vertue of Delia in admiration; and reflecting upon it, ſhe told me, that if appearances did not contradict her opinion, ſhe ſhould have believed that ſhe was deſcended from ſome great King, rather than born in any meaner condition. I ſpent the reſt of the day, either with my Siſter, or in my own lodging, in ſuch inquietudes as left me no repoſe, and upon the morrow I received freſh occaſions, and ſaw my feet expoſed to new croſſes.

The King having underſtood the ſmall eſteem I made of his prohibitions, and how that, in oppoſition to them, I had viſited Delia the ſame day, fell into an extremity of choler, which made him reſolve to make uſe of his abſolute authority, and upon this deſign, he gave a new order to Geſippus to go and fetch Delia, either by fair or foul means from Andromeda's houſe, and ſhut her up by force in a Nunnery conſecrated to Diana, into which no men were permitted to enter, and thoſe Virgins which were once entred, were never ſuffered to come out again; and he gave charge to another officer at the ſame time to come and tell me from him, that I muſt take my lodging for my priſon, and that he forbad me from ſtirring thence without his order, upon pain of diſobedience.

By the ſpies which I had about the King, I was preſently advertiſed of it and upon that intelligence, I had almoſt flown beyond the bounds of my duty, and undertaken ſomewhat contrary to the exſpect due to my Father, which without doubt would have deſerved reproach, I made my ſelf Maſter of ſome of my reſentments, but not ſo but that I was reſolved to periſh rather than endure that Delia ſhould receive the leaſt diſpleaſure; and with this intention, in ſtead of reſpecting the Kings orders in my lodgings, I went thence to go to the Palace before that Geſippus could execute his. I had not gone far, but I met him in the ſtreet as before, followed by a great company of the Guards, and in a condition to enterpriſe any buſineſs, though of ſome difficulty. I had, notwithſtanding my diſgrace, a luſty troop of men at my heels, and I was ſo well beloved by the Cilicians, that I had at all times a Court almoſt as great as the King's. I had much a do to forbear falling upon Geſippus and his companions, and the choler whereupon this rancounter had put me, made me deſpiſe all manner of conſiderations, if I had not been hindred by ſome prudent perſons who were then with me; yet they could not keep me from addreſſing my ſelf to Geſippus, and ſtopping his paſſage [Page] with an action which ſufficiently expreſſed my choler: ‘Stay, ſaid I, and if thou loveſt thy life, make not one ſtep further, upon the deſign of offering me an outrage in the perſon of Delia: thou hadſt been well adviſed if thou hadſt received no more of theſe commiſſions, and thou wilt do but thy duty when thou returneſt to tell the King that 'tis I that oppoſe the execution of his cruel commands.’

‘Sir, replied Geſippus, your Highneſs knows very well that I cannot diſobey my Maſter, and I have been ſo ill treated for the obedience I lately yielded to your will, that I hope you will pleaſe not to take it ill, if I be more exact to day in executing the order which he had given me. I will ſee, replyed I, looking upon him with an eye full of fury, who dares ſtir further againſt my will.’

Speaking theſe words, I drew my ſword, and preſented it to Geſippus's eyes. Geſippus grew pale at this action, and ſtepping a little back with a troubled countenance: ‘Sir, ſaid he, I know my duty to your Highneſs too well, not to avoid the occaſions of diſpleaſing you as much as I can poſſible: your Highneſs may reſerve the orders which conſtrain me, if you pleaſe to take the pains to ſend one of your attendants to the King to repreſent to him the intereſt you take in their execution. Yes, ſaid I, I am going to do it my ſelf; and in the mean while, I charge you, upon pain of your life, not to make one ſtep further towards Delia's lodgings,’

Geſippus ſtay'd in the ſtreet with his companions, and I went to the place, where I had not been for divers days before, not having been able to diſpoſe my ſelf to ſee the King ſince he had begun to uſe me ill. I preſented my ſelf to him then, with a countenance wherein it was eaſie to perceive the alteration of my ſoul; and he no ſooner ſaw me appear, but advancing towards me, with an action all compoſed of terrour: ‘What Philadelph, ſaid he, is it thus that you obey my commands? and do you inſolently preſent your ſelf before me, when I have confined you to your lodgings? I have received no ſuch command, ſaid I, and though I had, in the condition I am, it would not poſſibly have hindred me from appearing now before you. I am come Sir, continued I, with a more abſolute. boldneſs, I am come to render you up that life which I hold of you, and to diſcharge my duty by ſuch things as are in my power, ſince I am not permitted to do it by thoſe you deſire of me: I had much rather lay down at your feet the life which you render ſo unfortunate, than preſerve it a time when the torments you impoſe upon it, cancels the obligation I might have to you for it. Satisfie your ſelf with that bloud which I have received from you, and uſe this body which I throw at your feet, according to the juriſdiction you have over it; but leave my ſoul, which I have received from Heaven, a liberty, over which, neither as my Father nor my King, you can pretend any Empire, and do not unprofitably employ your authority to force thoſe inclinations which acknowledge other powers than yours. This heart full of the image of Delia, will never receive any other impreſſion; but will ſooner expoſe it ſelf, either by your command, or through my own deſpair, to the point of a thouſand Swords, than render it ſelf up to the conſtraint you would impoſe upon me.’

I had ſpoken more with ſuch a vehemence as ſufficiently expreſſed the height of my paſſion, if the King, who had hearkned to my diſcourſe with a great deal of impatience, had not interrupted me: ‘O Gods! cryed he, what a fortune have I to be the Father of a Son ſo unworthy of his Birth, a Son, who by his baſeneſs hath cruelly deceived the opinion I had of him? Behold, vile ſoul, continued he, turning himſelf towards me, behold what a baſeneſs thine is, and bluſh, if thou beeſt any way capable of the ſhame thou doeſt to thy friends, and the eternal diſgrace thou doſt fix upon thy ſelf: Thou preferreſt ſome weak inclinations to an unknown Maid, before thy duty to thy Father, and that which thou oweſt to thine own rank and honour: And thou doeſt not conſider, that by this weakneſs, thou rendreſt thy ſelf unworthy of my affections, and the Scepter which I had deſtinied for thee. I ſhall alwaies have that reſpect to your affection, replyed I, that I ought to have; but though, together with the Scepter which you intend for me, I ſhould quit the Soveraignty of the whole world for Delia's ſake; ſo that I might have the liberty to love and ſerve her, I ſhould not be diſpleaſed to ſee my ſelf reduced to the condition of acquiring Crowns by the point of my Sword. Believe this truth, Sir, from the mouth of a Prince who is not in a condition to diſſemble; and aſſure your ſelf, that you will be really obliged to ſeek for other Succeſſors to that Scepter which you ſpeak of, if you do not ceaſe from tormenting Delia, and if you do not recall the cruel order you have given to Geſippus, and permit the Maid to continue in a place, where by her preſence, ſhe preſerves your Sons life. 'Tis not for her that I interceed, Sir, ſhe urges her departure more earneſtly a thouſand times than her moſt cruel enemies; and if ſhe would have permitted me to attend her, neither ſhe nor I, Sir, would have been in your Dominions: [Page] You would have received more ſenſible diſpleaſures, if ſhe had not oppoſed them, and you are obliged to her, Sir, not only for ſerving your intentions more powerfully than you your ſelf can do, but for puniſhing me too by her diſdain of me, and of all that I can offer her, more ſeverely a great deal than you could do for my diſobedience. In brief, Sir, I deſire either death at your hands, or the liberty to ſee Delia: I ſhall infallibly obtain either the one or the other, and I am not ſo fond of my life without Delia, but that I will ſacrifice it at your feet, as ſoon as you ſhall deprive me of all hope of prevailing with you. I have ſtayed Geſippus as he was about to execute your commands, and he could not have found a paſſage to go and do outrage to Delia, but through my blood, he ſtill waits upon your will, if that be not conformable to that which pity and the proximity of bloud inſpire you within my favour, you may be very well aſſured, Sir, that you are not like to have a Son long in the world.’

All the while that I ſpake in this manner, and when I had one ſpeaking too, the King walked up and down haſtily, he lifted up his eyes to Heaven, and ſtamped with his foot, and by all the geſtures of his countenance, expreſſed his indignation, and the divers agitations of his ſoul. The ſmall diſpoſition he ſaw in me to follow his inclinations, and to ſatisfie the Queens deſires by whom he was daily tormented, put him into ſo much choler, as made him partly forget what the nearneſs of bloud preſented to him on my behalf, and carried him out to more cruel reſolutions than the former: but at laſt, as he really loved me, and had placed all his hopes in me alone as his only Son, he feared likewiſe the Tragical effects of my paſſion, and perceived himſelf inclined to ſome indulgence towards me in ſpight of his own heart. After that his irreſolutions had a long time appeared in his countenance, he turned himſelf ſuddenly towards me, and breaking his long continued ſilence: ‘If I ſhould hearken to reaſon, ſaid he to me, rather than to fatherly infirmity, which I cannot well reſiſt, I ſhould make thee ſuffer ſuch exemplary puniſhments as are due to thy diſobedience, rebellion and baſeneſs: but I will give thee a few days longer to reduce thy ſelf to thy duty with leſs violence, and to experiment whether thou canſt do that by thy vertue, which at laſt I will do by my authority, when I perceive that my indulgence is unprofitable.’

Having ſpoken theſe words, after he had commanded Geſippus to retire, he entred into his Cabinet without entertaining any longer diſcourſe with me.

I ſaw Delia a little after, and told her all that was paſſed, not being able to conceal any thing from her, and I found her in her ordinary humour, from which ſhe could never be unfixed upon any conſideration. Some days paſſed without any great Croſſes as to me, and the Kings choler, though it was not extinguiſhed, ſeemed yet to be a little pacified: He ſaw the Princeſs my Siſter, upon whom he caſt a very ſevere countenance, and made a very ſharp complaint of her favouring me in my fooliſh affections. Andromeda apologized for her ſelf, and proteſted to the King that it was none of her fault that my mind was not cured, and that ſhe employed all her perſwaſions to reduce me to the obedience I owed to him. ‘You ſhould then, ſaid the King, have ſent Delia away from you, ſince you knew that it was my deſign, and you know well you cannot retain her, contrary to my intention, without diſpleaſing me. Sir, replyed Andromeda, I could not quit my ſelf of Delia, without making you loſe the Prince my Brother, and if your Majeſty had ſeen the condition wherein he appeared to us every time I propoſed it to him, and that Delia preſſed me to give her leave to be gone, without doubt you would have judged as well as I, that you could not deprive him of Delia without taking away his life. But Andromeda, anſwered the King, your Brother has a deſign to marry her, and that Maid, who receives too much honour by being in your ſervice, raiſes her pretenſions already to the Marriage of your Brother, and to the Crown of your Anceſtors. I know not, ſaid the Princeſs, whether my Brother hath any ſuch intention, but I can juſtly anſwer you for Delia, that ſhe will never give her conſent without you, and all thoſe perſons whom her birth hath given any command over her, agree to it. Whatſoever her Parents are, added the King, they will eaſily agree to this alliance, and without their conſent or mine, a Crown hath luſtre enough to dazle the eyes of a more conſtant mind than that Maid is of. You are not yet acquainted with her, Sir, replyed Andromeda, and ſhe doth ſo much deſpiſe that dignity which you ſuppoſe is capable to blind her, that it will never oblige her to any the leaſt complacence towards it as long as ſhe lives.’

The King admired at Delia's vertue, but his admiration reached no further than to aſtoniſhment; and he did not ceaſe to make me be tormented, to tear that paſſion out of my ſoul by all manner of wayes. I hardly viſited Urania any more; and if at any time I happened in her company, I entertained her only with words of reſpect, without intermingling any thing of love. The Queen was ſo moved with deſpight at it, that not being able [Page] to diſſemble it, ſhe ſpake no more to me, and looked upon me no otherwiſe than as an enemy; but ſhe continually whiſpered in the Kings ears, that could not connive at the ſlight eſteem I made of his will, without entirely abandoning his authority, and that he ought by all means to hinder me from making that unknown Maid, Queen of the Cilicians. She was not only of a proud and malicious nature, but ſhe had bad Spirits about her, and I believe it was by their ſolicitation that I received the diſpleaſure to which I ſaw my ſelf expoſed a few daies after.

The King, after he had tried divers means in vain to cure me of my paſſion, at laſt deſpaired of doing it, and either out of the reſentment he had of it, or by the pernicious counſels of intereſſed perſons, he permitted his ſpirit to be enclined to things contrary to his nature, through the deſire he had to retire my heart from its agreeable ſervitude: thoſe, who to pleaſe him, or to follow their own inclinations, had engaged themſelves in Delia's ſervice, appeared no more, and after the publick declaration of my love and uſage I had ſhewed Antigenes, there was none ſo bold as to preſent himſelf to her. I viſited Delia oftner than before; I had quitted all other care and thought but for her, and yet I could make no other acqueſt upon her ſpirit but of eſteem and a litle compaſſion, at ſuch time when I was likely to loſe her for ever by an accident, or rather an attempt, which I cannot call to mind without trouble.

I was in bed, and it was about break of day, when one of Andromeda's Officers came to my Chamber door, and having deſired haſtily to ſpeak with me, he told me that the Princeſs had ſent him to me to advertiſe me that Delia was a dying, and that ſhe had been tormented part of the night with ſuch violent pains, and was in ſo bad a condition at that inſtant, that it might be eaſily perceived that there was ſomething extraordinary in her diſtemper. Being ſurpriſed and amazed with this news, as you may well imagine, I made my ſelf ready, and flew out of Chamber to my Siſters Lodgings. The firſt perſon that I met with at the entrance of Delia's Chamber, was her Siſter, who running to me with loud acclamations: Ah! Sir, ſaid ſhe to me, Delia is a dying, Delia is poiſoned. Theſe words having redoubled my confuſion, I entred into the Chamber in a very great perplexity. Delia's bed was environed by divers perſons, and the Princeſs my Siſter being intereſſed in this Maids health by the friendſhip ſhe had for me, and that ſhe bare her her ſelf, had not ſtirred from her pillow ſince the beginning of her being ſick, and had ſent for her Phyſitians and mine, by whoſe report we knew that Delia was poiſoned. None of them had ſpared any care to give her help, and they knew well enough that my life depended upon hers, which made them to neglect nothing which might tend to her preſervation: but the poiſon was ſo violent, and had already produced ſuch grand effects, that Delia's complexion, as vigorous as it was, was not able to reſiſt it, and in the opinion of thoſe who ſerved her, there remained then but little hope of her life.

I approached her bed more like a dead than a living perſon, and I ſaw her in ſuch a condition as would have ſplit not only Philadelph's, but the cruelleſt Tigers heart with pity. The force of the poiſon had changed the admirable whiteneſs of her countenance, into a colour as pale and wan as lead, her eyes were dull and heavie; and her lips being dry and parched, in ſtead of their ordinary carnation, were covered with a deadly paleneſs. Yet in this condition ſhe ſeemed very fair to me, and no change could hide her natural beauty from my eyes; her fight was good ſtill, and her reaſon and remembrance was ſtill perfect. At the noiſe they made when I came near her bed, ſhe turned her eyes towards me, and ſeeing me in a caſe as worthy of pity as her own: ‘Prince, ſaid ſhe,’ with an aſſured voice, I muſt die; and this culpable Delia hath cauſed too many diſorders in your Family not to be puniſhed for them. Theſe words were more capable of giving me my death, than the arms of my moſt cruel enemies, had no anſwer, and grief had ſeized upon me with ſo abſolute a power, that having no ſtrength to reſiſt it, I fell into a ſwoon between their arms who ſtood near me.

Delia, though dying as ſhe was, intereſſed her ſelf in my ſad condition, and as I underſtood afterwards, ſhe expreſſed almoſt more reſentment for my diſpleaſure, than ſhe did for her own: by the aſſiſtance of thoſe perſons who employed themſelves about me, I recovered my ſences at the laſt, and having crept along with a ſtaggering pace to Delia's bed-ſide, from whence they had taken me, I no ſooner ſaw her again, throwing my ſelf upon my knees before her bed, and taking hold of her hand which burned like fire, whereupon I fixed my mouth with greater liberty than I had taken before, I expreſſed my grief to her with cries and ſobs, not being able to expreſs one diſtinct word: ſhe being moved with pity at my action, after ſhe had made ſome unprofitable endeavours to draw her hand from betwixt mine: ‘Sir, ſaid ſhe, you muſt be reſolved, and you ought to make uſe of your [Page] courage to give your ſelf conſolation in a diſaſter wherein you would need none, if you would but employ your reaſon. Delia does not merit the regret you expreſs for her loſs, as ſhe did not deſerve your affection, and by her death ſhe will reſtore quietneſs to your Family, and to your mind, from whence ſhe had innocently driven it. I pay that tribute to nature which we owe her, and if they haſten my end a few daies, I cannot hate them that render me that office, when I conſider the miſeries whereunto my life hath been expoſed, and the intention they have had of procuring the good of the ſtate, and your particular good by my death. Pardon them after my example, if you love me, and do not for the Maids ſake exceed the bounds which nature and your vertue preſcribe.’

She would have ſaid more if I could have ſuffered it, and if I had not interrupted her by riſing up before her with tranſport: ‘No Delia, ſaid I, no Delia, never hope for that from me, neither expect a baſe obedience from him whom you do not leave in a condition to take notice what he owes to nature, vertue, or your will. The cruel wretches ſhall die who tear away my life by an inhumanity and perfideouſneſs without example; and I will throw death into the boſom of mine own Father, if Delia be not preſerved for me. This is my reſolution, from which all the conſiderations in the world ſhall never ſtartle me, and I deſire of the Gods to live no longer after you, than to put it in execution; and when I ſhall have given my ſelf this reparation, I know how, Delia, to ſacrifice my ſelf upon the tomb whereunto I unfortunately draw you by the love I have for you.’

After I had ſpoken theſe words, turning towards thoſe which were employed about her cure, and had already given her ſome remedies: ‘My friends, ſaid I, either you muſt cure Delia, or diſpatch Philadelph, and for the recompence which you ought to expect for that action, caſt your eyes upon whatſoever is moſt precious in my power, and if you ask but the Crown of Cilicia for Delia's health, I promiſe it you before all the Gods, ſo ſoon as it ſhall be in my power.’ Theſe men who were well enough affected by me, to the hope of a great ſalary were much more encouraged, and employed all their skill and power to expel the poiſon out of that fair body; and that they might the more conveniently go about it, they prayed me to withdraw a while into the next chamber with the Princeſs my Siſter: the Aunt and Siſter of Delia ſtay'd with them to tend her, and in the mean while I paſſed thoſe cruel moments, or rather ages of torment in ſuch a condition, as is as difficult for you to comprehend as for me to expreſs. All the diſcourſe that Andromeds could make me found no attention, and I could not ſo much as think that Delia was ready to be taken from me by a ſtrange death, without abandoning my ſelf to a rage which could leave me nothing but furious reſolutions. ‘Siſter, ſaid I to the Princeſs, if Delia die, you will ſhortly be left alone in the royal family of Cilicia; this cruel father who precipitates me to my grave, ſhall ſhow me the way thither himſelf, and with the ſame ſword which my hand ought to draw againſt this unfortunate heart, I will pierce that Barbarian's who only gave me life to make me die cruelly.’ Theſe words were criminal and horrible, if they had been ſpoken at a time when reaſon had had any command upon my ſpirit; but in the condition I then was, all things were pardonable, and I was capable without doubt of executing whatſoever I ſaid in the tranſport that poſſeſſed me.

In brief, I made ſuch complaints as drew tears from all that heard me, and I interrupted them every moment to run to Delia's chamber door to enquire news of her health. Amongſt thoſe that came to me upon the report of my affliction, of whom there was a great number, ſeeing Adraſtus, whoſe vertue and affection were dear to me: ‘Adraſtus, ſaid I, with a viſage which ſufficiently expreſſed the diſorder of my ſoul, you may tell the King that he hath found out the aſſured way of deſtroying his Son by the moſt cruel death that the moſt perfidious enemies could have invented; Tell him, that I look upon him no longer as my Father, but as upon a Tiger who tears my enteral, and pulls out my heart; Tell him that I renounce with horrour and deteſtation all the ties of bloud I have to him, and that if Delia dies, he ought to look upon his Son as a man who only deſires to live to revenge her death. Adraſtus and the reſt ſhrunk their ſhoulders at theſe words, and I made them ſome other diſcourſe afterwards ſo full of trouble, and the mark of my deſpair, that the moſt rocky ſouls would have been moved to compaſſion at it.’

At laſt Delia growing weaker and weaker, and believing that her laſt hour was come, deſired to ſpeak with me, and cauſed me to be called. I entred into her chamber, and drew near her bed with a feeble and ill aſſured pace: I fell upon my knees by her, ſo forlorn and caſt down, that I was hardly able to hearken to what ſhe had to ſay to me: yet I did my endeavour, and Delia likewiſe ſtriving to expreſs her intentions with the little ſtrength ſhe had left: ‘Philadelph ſaid ſhe, I ſhould die with ſome regret, if I ſhould leave you in the belief that I have been inſenſible of your affection, and I have obſerved ſo much purity and ſo much vertue in it, that nothing could hinder me from the acknoledgement that is due to [Page] you: I proteſt to you before thoſe Gods whoſe will it is to ſnatch me from you, that I have eſteemed you more than all the perſons in the world; and that if it had been in my power to expreſs my more particular thoughts, and to accept the offers which you made me, I ſhould have made you loſe the opinion you have alwaies had of my ingratitude to you: this is a declaration which I owe to truth, and to the end that you may find ſatisfaction in it, I will make you one more which I owe to your affection before I die, wherein poſſibly you may find juſtifications againſt the reproaches that might be laid upon you for having too much debaſed your thoughts. No Philadelph, continued ſhe with a great deal of pain, Delia was not ſo unworthy of your affection as the King your Father imagined, neither have you ſinned ſo much againſt your ſelf, that either you or any of your relations need be aſhamed after my death, of the reſentments you have had for me; you have poſſibly rendred that to me before you knew me, which was partly due to me: and though you ſee me a ſtranger, and abandoned by Fortune, yet at the period of my life where I now feel my ſelf arrived, I will tell you—’

She could hardly finiſh theſe words, and when ſhe would have proceeded ſhe was hindred by violent fits, accompanied with ſuch cruel convulſions, that I made no doubt but that ſhe was ready to breath her laſt. Then I fell upon her bed embracing her knees with ſuch tranſports of love, as brought my ſoul every moment to my lips, and when I was conſtrained to leave her, to give them leave to give her their laſt aſſiſtance, I tore my face and rent my hair, and did a thouſand actions ſo full of rage and deſpair, that my beſt friends trembled, and did not think themſelves ſafe near me. ‘Delia cryed I, Delia, ſtay for me, or let me go before thee to the grave: thou canſt not leave me without cruelty, and if I did not owe the remainders of my life to thy vengeance, I would inſtantly lead thee the way to that death which ought to be common to us both.’

I was in this condition when they preſented a man to me from the King, who ſent to enquire concerning me; I could hardly forbear from flying in the face of that hateful meſſenger, and having been held back by thoſe which were near me, I took him by the arm, and leading him to Delia's bed in a very terrible faſhion: ‘See, ſaid I, ſee the condition wherein I am, by that wherein thou ſeeſt this innocent Victim of thy Maſters cruelty: tell that Barbarian, tell that Monſter that he ſhould come and glut his eyes with this agreeable ſpectable; he will receive a double ſatisfaction, in ſeeing both her which innocently croſſed his intentions, and him who of his Son is now become his moſt cruel enemy, die here before his face. Sir, replied the man all amazed, and moved with tenderneſs at what be ſaw: You do the King your Father great wrong to accuſe him of this cruelty, he doth not only proteſt before all the Gods that he is innocent of it, but he hath ſolemnly ſworn that if he can diſcover who are culpable of it, he will cauſe them to be puniſhed without any conſideration. I made no anſwer to theſe words, nor hardly gave any attention to them, being ſo intent upon Delia, in whom at that time nature was at its utmoſt plunge, that I was not capable of any rational diſcourſe.’

The Princeſs my Siſter, and thoſe who were moſt affectionate to me had drawn me by force into the next chamber, and I had ſtaid there above an hour in ſuch tranſports and impatiencies as you may imagine, having nothing but death before my eyes in all its moſt horrible ſhapes: when by a favour of Heaven which I expected not, my fortune began to change, and one of the men who was employed in waiting upon Delia, entring haſtily into my Chamber: Courage Sir, ſaid he, Delia may do well. I made a cry at this diſcourſe which ſufficiently expreſſed the ſpeedy effect it had wrought upon my ſpirit; and running to the chamber door like a mad man, I learned that after ſtrong agonies Delia had begun to vomit up the poiſon, and that by the vertues of the remedies which they had given her, they hoped ſhortly to expel it all. This ſucceſs was conformable to their hopes; and not to detain you any longer with this tedious paſſage, I will tell you, that a little after, Delia having caſt out all the poiſon, found her ſelf in ſo good a condition, that the Phyſitians aſſured me of her life. Certainly never was a Prince's pardon more ſweet to Criminals who already beheld the ſad preparations of death, than that aſſurance was to my ſpirit, which they gave me of the ſafety of my Delia, and thoſe from whom I received it, received teſtimonies of it which might make them remember my acknowledgement as long as they lived.

Delia ſaw her ſelf reſtored to a quiet condition, thoſe violent pains wherewith ſhe had been tormented ceaſed by little and little, her eyes partly recovered their accuſtomed brightneſs, the pale wan colour wherewith her fair face was covered went away, and if ſhe did not preſently regain all her beauties, at leaſt all the deſigns of death diſ-appeared, and we ſaw ſuch a change in her as put us out of all apprehenſions of danger. O Gods! how was I raviſhed at that time, and what diſcourſe can be able to make you comprehend the tranſports of joy to which I abandoned my ſelf? I was in ſuch an extaſie that I could not frame [Page] any rational diſcourſe, and embracing Delia's knees with paſſion much different from thoſe I felt a little before: ‘Delia, ſaid I, my dear Delia, you are reſtored to me, and the Gods have ſnatched you out of the arms of death, to leave you entirely to me, I know not, replyed Delia, to what intent they preſerve me: but the affliction you had for my death, makes me receive the life they leave me with more ſatisfaction than I ſhould have received it upon my own ſingle intereſt.’ Theſe words full of acknowledgement and goodneſs tranſported me to new raviſhments, and looking upon Delia with eyes enflamed with love, ‘Ah! Delia, ſaid I with a ſigh, ſeeing the Gods render you to me, and that 'tis at my prayers rather than yours, which were leſs ardent, and leſs paſſionate, that they reſtore your life, will you render the miracle which they do only in my favour uſeleſs to me? and will you henceforward oppoſe any obſtacle to a felicity for which Heaven hath openly declared it ſelf? Do you not ſee that the pity of Heaven hath exceeded yours, and would ſhew you by its example what compaſſion you ſhould ſhew to me?’ I had ſome other diſdiſcourſe with her upon this ſubject, and Delia having patiently hearkned to me, gave me her hand, and with a favour which ſhe was not won't to do me, preſſing one of mine: ‘Prince, ſaid ſhe to me, I am obliged to your affection, and I have received ſuch pregnant proofs of it this day, that I ſhould be the moſt ingrateful perſon in the world, if ever I ſhould loſe the remembrance of it: Aſſure your ſelf I will preſerve it more dearly than my life, and whenſoever it ſhall be in my power to expreſs my acknowledgment, I ſhall do it with all my heart: Some reaſons oppoſe it at the preſent which you would not condemn if they were known to you: but if I ever find my ſelf in a condition that I may declare my thoughts to you without reproach, I promiſe you before the Gods, that I will free you from all thoſe ſubjects of complaint which you ſuppoſe you have againſt me.’

I ſatisfied my ſelf with theſe words the beſt I could, but I did not underſtand them, and calling to mind, by the likeneſs of it, the diſcourſe which ſhe had begun when ſhe ſuppoſed ſhe was ready to die, and was interrupted by the violence of her pain, I requeſted her to proceed, and prayed her as earneſtly as I could poſſibly, that ſhe would perfect the diſcovery of her heart to me, and not repent her ſelf, now I might make uſe of them, of the good intentions ſhe had for me, at that moment when by reaſon of our approaching death I had loſt all hope of enjoying them. Delia continued a while without reply, and then on a ſudden turning her eyes upon my face with a ſigh: Philadelph, ſaid ſhe, I know not what it is you deſire of me, and I if made you any more particular diſcourſe, either the force of my diſtemper diſturbed my ſences, or took away the memory of it ſince, for I do not remember it. Whether ſhe ſpake truth, or would not truſt me any farther with her ſecret, I did not preſs her any farther for fear of diſpleaſing her; and immediately after the Phyſitians having told me that by reaſon of the violent fits ſhe had had, ſhe had need of ſome repoſe, we retired into the Princeſs's Chamber, who was little leſs intereſſed in the ſickneſs and cure of Delia than my ſelf.

The night was already come, and all that day I had eaten nothing, but then I ſupped with Andromeda, and a little after I retired to my apartment, where I took ſome repoſe. The next day Delia grew a great deal better, and we underſtood with much joy that within a few daies ſhe might leave her bed. Though I was moved with a juſt reſentment at the attempt they had made upon her life, and burned with a deſire of revenging my ſelf upon the Authors, the fear I had to diſcover the ſhame of our houſe, and to find the King culpable of ſo black an action, hindred me from making ſtrict inquiſition after it: and the King, whom I believed thenceforth to be innocent of it, and who had proteſted to do juſtice, ſuſpecting the Queen for it, not without great probability, was affraid of the ſucceſs of the buſineſs on her behalf, if he ſhould proſecute it any farther: but not being able to take my revenge upon thoſe cruel perſons, I reſolved at leaſt to hinder the new effects of their cruelty, and as long as Delia kept her bed, I would not ſuffer her to take any nouriſhment but what I firſt taſted of my ſelf, letting thoſe poiſoners know by that precaution, that they could not attempt upon her life without taking away of mine.

In the mean time I ſaw not the King, and the reſentments which my ſuſpicions had cauſed in me againſt him would have laſted a long time, if the ſame day that Delia left her bed, in the effects which my diſpleaſures had produced both in my body and mind, had not thrown me into a violent Fever. I neglected my diſtemper at firſt, but within a few daies it ſo augmented, that the Phyſitians began to be in fear of my life: In effect I had ſo tormented my ſelf for Delia's ſickneſs, that my body could hardly chuſe but ſuffer for it, and I had continued too long ſubject to ſuch paſſions as deprived me of repoſe, not to receive ſome alteration in my health: However it was, or whatſoever might be the cauſe, but I was ſo ill within a few daies, that they were in no leſs fear for me, than before they had been for Delia. The King out of the real affection he had for me diſſipated the hardneſs of his heart, [Page] and came to viſit me every day, but as I accuſed him alone for my ſickneſs and all the diſpleaſures which had cauſed it, ſo I could not willingly ſee him, and I received his viſits with little ſatisfaction. The Queen her ſelf to pleaſe him, viſited me divers times, and the Princeſs Urania, who bare her company, whatſoever cauſe of reſentment ſhe might have againſt me, out of an inclination worthy of her ſelf, and purely generous, was afflicted at my ſickneſs, and intereſſed her ſelf in the return of my health. Andromeda never ſtirred from my pillow, and for my greater comfort Delia, pale as ſhe was after her late ſickneſs, was often other with her. One day that ſhe was by my bed-ſide deſiring to animate me to a recovery: ‘What Sir, ſaid ſhe, will you make no reſiſtance againſt your diſeaſe for their ſakes who deſire your health, and did you only intereſs your ſelf ſo much in mine, to cauſe me a too juſt diſpleaſure by the abſence of your own? Ah! Delia, replied I, with divers ſighs, the Gods have taken notice that my ſufferings were uncapable of prevailing with you, and it hath been their will at laſt to put me into a condition which might move your pity: I will not tell you that I die for you, that diſcourſe would have ſome appearance of a reproach, and Heaven is my witneſs that I have no intention to make you any: but I will tell you, and truly too, that I ſhould receive death, from what cauſe ſoever it might proceed, with a great deal of reſignation, if by it I ſhould not loſe the means of ſeeing and ſerving you, or if thereby I might draw from you more particular thoughts for me, than thoſe which you have diſcovered to me, and if they were expreſſed to me by ſome efforts which proceeded from a little love, as now they proceeded from your goodneſs only.’

Delia at theſe words looked upon me with an eye full of the marks of her compaſſion, and laying one of her fair hands upon mine which I held out of the bed: ‘Sir, ſaid ſhe, in the name of the Gods do not accuſe me, that the reaſons which might juſtifie me to you are unknown to you: you ſhall know them as ſoon as I ſhall be permitted to diſcover them to you, and in the mean time, believe with all manner of certainty, that I will rather loſe my life a thouſand times, than fail in the acknowledgement of your affections: I only deſire you to have a little patience; if you love me, you will prevail ſo far with your ſelf for my ſake, and I proteſt to you before the Gods who hear us, that as ſoon as I ſhall be in a capacity to declare ſo much to you without meriting your diſdain, you ſhall know that all my inclinations have not proceeded from good nature and compaſſion only: I tell you more than with decency I may, continued ſhe with a little bluſh, but I will paſs by that for the repoſe of a Prince to whom I owe a great deal more.’ The real love and reſpect I had for Delia made me find ſome comfort in theſe words, and lifting her hand to my mouth, though ſhe endeavoured to hinder me: ‘I will not die, ſaid I, ſeeing there is ſome hope left, I will preſerve my life if it be poſſible, ſince you do not eſteem of it as a thing indifferent.’

Delia was not willing to make me ſpeak any more for fear of doing me hurt, and after ſhe had confirmed to me what ſhe had ſaid by a gracious look, ſhe retired her ſelf. She was ſcarcely out of the Chamber but the King came in, and having underſtood before he came near my bed, that my diſeaſe grew every day worſe and worſe, and that without flattering him, they could not conceal from him that I was in great danger, he drew near me full of tenderneſs, and having found me in a worſe condition than they had repreſented to him, after he was fate by the ſide of my bed, and had taken one of my hands which he preſſed a great while between his without ſpeaking: ‘My Son, ſaid he, is it poſſible that you will let your ſelf die? 'Tis time to die, anſwered I, ſince my life is odious to you. Ah! Philadelph, cried the King, with tears that came into his eyes with that approach, take heed the Gods do not puniſh you for the outrage you do me, and believe the proteſtation which I make you before them, that my own life is not ſo dear to me as yours. Ah! Sir, ſaid I, if that were ſo, you would not have abandoned it thoſe torments which have reduced it to that extremity you ſee, and you would not ſee your Son ready to die under the cruel perſecutions you have made him ſuffer. No Sir, continued I, ſtrugling with my weakneſs to expreſs my reſentments, No Sir, I could not live without Delia, and ſeeing I was not permitted to think upon her, without diſobeying you, and throwing her into the danger wherein I ſaw her a few daies ſince, I have been willing to prevent this misfortune, and the continuance of my diſobedience, by a death which is the dearer to me, and which I heartily embrace, ſince by that I ſhall be freed from the miſeries to which my life was expoſed. I leave it without any other regret than this, that it hath been diſagreeable to you, and I quit it the more willingly, becauſe it would be impoſſible for me to preſerve it without the hope of beſtowing it abſolutely upon Delia.’

I uttered theſe words with a vehemence above my ſtrength, and the King having hearkned to them with a great deal of grief and tenderneſs, fixed his eyes upon the ground, and continued a long while without being able to reply: At laſt, after a great conteſt in his ſpirit, [Page] having taken his reſolution, and turning his eyes towards me: ‘Philadelph, ſaid he, 'tis true, I oppoſed the paſſion you had for Delia, after I knew ſhe did not only divert you from the deſigns I had for you, but likewiſe that you had an intention to marry a ſtrange unknown Maid, of ſo different a birth from your own: the reaſons I had for it were ſo great, that if you had never ſo little reaſon left your ſelf, you could not diſ-approve of them, and they are ſo well known to you, that it is not neceſſary for me to repeat them: No Philadelph, there is no Father but would have done as much at leaſt, and would have employed his authority more publickly to divert his only Son, and the Heir of a great Kingdom, from a Marriage ſo unequal, and unſuitable to his dignity; Philadelph, I would ſtill give part of my Dominions, to wean you from this reſolution if it were poſſible, and if you could diſ-engage your ſelf from your paſſion, you ſhould know that I have a very rational intereſt in it to deſire to hinder the prejudicial effects of it: but if it be impoſſible for you to live without Delia, and if by Delia's means only I can preſerve my Son, I will cloſe my eyes to all reaſons of State to ſave him, and I had rather be blamed by my Subjects and Neighbours for this indulgence, than to be any longer in danger of loſing my Son. Recover upon this aſſurance, and receive the inviolable promiſe I give you, that if after your recovery Delia be neceſſary for the preſervation of your life or repoſe, I will no longer oppoſe the affection and deſign you have for her.’

At theſe words of the King I was ſeized with a tranſport of joy, which in ſpite of the paleneſs which my ſickneſs had cauſed, was eaſily ſeen in my countenance, and taking hold of the Kings hand, which I kiſſed divers times with raviſhment: ‘Ah! Sir, ſaid I, 'tis this day that I acknowledge you to be my Father, and I am a thouſand times more obliged to you for this ſecond life which you give me, than for the firſt: 'Tis certain, Sir, that the grace you do me, is neceſſary for the preſervation of my life, and that it is impoſſible for me to live without Delia: but, Sir, I may proteſt to you in requital of this goodneſs, that you will never have cauſe to repent of it, and whatſoever violence you offer for my ſake to thoſe conſiderations which my paſſion doth not permit me to take notice of, you will find your recompence, Sir, in the acknowledgement of Delia, and that ſtrange Maid is endued with ſuch qualities, that her vertue will be one day more dear to you than all the alliances you could make with your neighbours.’

I ſhould have ſaid more, if the King, who ſaw that I flew at random, had not hindred me and retired, after he had confirmed by oath the promiſe he had made me. I was ſo ſatisfied with it, that all the ſickneſs of my body was diſſipated by the contentment of my mind, and it contributed in ſuch a manner to my recovery, that the next night my Fever, in ſtead of being augmented by this days exceſs, diminiſhed very much, and the Phyſitians by this amendment, conceived ſuch hopes of my life, that they almoſt certainly aſſured the King of it. The ſatisfaction he received upon that account, confirmed him in the deſign he had conceived in my favour, and the ſame day, having met Delia in my Siſter's company, after he had accoſted her with a countenance very different from what he had formerly ſhown her: ‘Fair Delia, ſaid he, I have diſputed your conqueſt too long with you, but I will do ſo no more; you are worthy of my Son, and I leave him entirely to you as ſoon as he is recovered of his malady.’ Delia bluſhed at theſe expreſſions of the Kings, but ſhe received them with a great deal of moderation, and replied without being moved: ‘The gift of ſuch a Prince as Philadelph cannot be but very precious to a perſon who eſteems his merit and affection as ſhe ought and if I were as free as he is now through your goodneſs, I would let him know by all means poſſible that I am not ingrateful to the obligation I have to him. What Delia, added the King, are not you free to expreſs your reſentments to my Son in the deſign he hath for you, and have not you liberty enough to gain Philadelph, and a Crown too boot? 'Tis not his Crown, anſwered Delia, that I look upon; but I ſufficiently eſteem his perſon to grant him any thing I may, without any other pretention, if my duty did not bind me to render that to my friends in my own Country which he renders here to his, and to deſire of them the conſent which the Prince had obtained of your Majeſty.’

The King was amazed at this diſcourſe, and looking upon Delia with admiration: O Delia, cryed he, O Delia! 'tis this day that I acknowledge that you are worthy to be my Daughter, and for that Vertues ſake which you diſcover to me, I ſhall never repent whilſt I live of my indulgence to my Son.

See how the face of things was changed. From that day forward the King having begun to take real notice of the vertue of Delia, conceived ſuch an eſteem of her, as made him a little after deſire that which before he had ſo much feared and ſo much oppoſed, and in ſtead of hindring it, as he had formerly done, he ſaw himſelf reduced by the deſire he had of my recovery and repoſe, to entreat Delia every day to love me, and to offer her the Succeſſion [Page] of a Crown which ſhe ſlighted, as not having charms enough to ſtagger her from the leaſt of her reſolutions. The Queen ſeeing this change, and being extraordinarily netled at the injury which ſhe ſuppoſed was done to her Daughter, would not ſuffer her to continue any longer in Cilicia, but ſent her back with a ſtately equipage to King Archelaus her Brother, who had ſent for her divers times. She ſaw me before her departure contrary to the Queens intentions, ſhe graciouſly received my laſt excuſes, and aſſured me that ſhe went away without any reſentment againſt me.

Not long after I ſaw my ſelf perfectly recovered, and after the changing of the Kings mind, finding my ſelf free in the reſearch of Delia, I had nothing elſe to contend with but her ſelf: but then it was likewiſe that I met with the greateſt difficulties, and though ſhe did not ſeem inſenſible of my love, but flattered me with the ſweeteſt hopes, yet ſhe kept her ſelf conſtantly to the propoſition ſhe had made, and to the deſign of expecting that from time, which, as ſhe ſaid, was not yet in her power. She had at that time a glorious revenge for the diſpleaſures that the King had cauſed her, and if ſhe had been of the humour to draw any advantage from this change, ſhe would have had ſome pleaſure to ſee that Prince make her every day ſuch offers as ſhe ſlighted, and to be as forward to flatter her in my favour, and to ſecond the requeſts I continually made to her, as he had been eager to torment as formerly. At that time having no more complaints to make againſt others, I often complained of her, accuſing her of her hard-heartedneſs and ingratitude to me: but when I was moſt afflicted, and moſt diſſatisfied with her, ſhe quieted my ſpirit by the powerful Empire ſhe had acquired over me, and by the confirmation of the promiſes ſhe had made me. I lived in this manner enjoying the contentment of ſeeing her, which was permitted me with all liberty, and full of the hopes ſhe gave, wherein, though I could comprehend nothing through the knowledge of her vertue I had a great deal of confidence, when my Fortune raiſed me other buſineſs and employment.

Tygranes King of Media, our Ally and near Kinſman, as I have already told you, being deſpoyled of his Kingdom by Phraates King of Parthia, or rather by the valiant Artaban, General of his Troops, who with a prodigious valour had reduced Media under his Maſter's Dominion, in a leſs time than would well have ſerved to have ſeen it all, came to ſeek refuge among his Neighbours and Allies. He made ſome ſtay firſt in Cappadocia, and by the compaſſion which his misfortune wrought in the breaſt of King Archelaus, he not only obliged him to protect him, but intereſſed him ſo in his affairs, that Archelaus, a Prince of great Vertue, offered to raiſe an Army for his re-eſtabliſhment, and to march with him in perſon to re-inveſt him in his Throne. Archelaus alone was poſſibly too weak to put this deſign in execution, and Tigranes having engaged him in this manner to his ſuccour, came into Cilicia, believing he ſhould find all manner of aſſiſtance in the amity of the King his Uncle. He was received at Tharſus, not as a deſpoyled Prince, but as if he had enjoyed his former dignity, and the King, who had always dearly loved him, treated him as if he had been his Son or his Brother, and diſpoſed himſelf to render him whatſoever he might expect from his affection: he was already prepared by the news he had received of his misfortunes to aſſiſt and ſerve him, and during the ſtay he had made in Cappadocia, they had begun to make levies to that intention.

I will not ſpin out this diſcourſe into a tedious length, within a few months that Tygranes continued with us, all things were put into an handſome condition for his aſſiſtance, and Tygranes not being willing to permit that the King ſhould make this Voyage in Perſon by reaſon of his age, and for divers other conſiderations, I received the commiſſion, and diſpoſed my ſelf to march with Tigranes in the head of ten thouſand horſe, and five and twenty thouſand foot, which the King gave me for this expedition. You may well judge, Madam, that it was not without regret that I prepared my ſelf to leave Delia, and You will believe nothing but the Truth, when You ſhall believe that my ſoul was ſenſible of a cruel violence at this ſeparation: I could not without a mortal grief ſo much as think of being ſo far and ſo long diſtant from her whom I could not leave for a moment, and when I reflected upon the evils which this abſence would make me ſuffer, all my courage could hardly furniſh me with reſolutions enough to diſpoſe my ſelf to it. Beſides, I left Delia in a place where a little before they had cruelly made an attempt upon her life, and though by the care the King himſelf took of her, and the little intereſt the Queen had in the buſineſs, I was almoſt aſſured on that ſide, yet my love making me fearful for that I loved, raiſed ſuch fears in me, as all my reaſon was not able to deſtroy: but that which moved me moſt, was that I went from Delia without being able to oblige her to engage her ſelf to me any more than ſhe had done before, and underſtood ſo little of the reaſons ſhe [Page] alledged to me, and the hopes ſhe gave me, that I could receive but a very imperfect comfort from them. For all this I muſt be gone, the conſiderations of my honour were ſtrong enough to overcome all others, and I was of ſuch an age as obliged me, to the prejudice of my repoſe, and the peril of a thouſand lives, to purſue the occaſions of glory which called upon me.

Neither did I much waver in the buſineſs; but to ſhorten my diſcourſe, the day came which neceſſitated my ſeparation from Delia. All the time before I had ſollicited her in vain to declare her ſelf in my favour more fully than ſhe had done before, I had ſpared neither prayers nor tears to move her, but I could not by any expreſſions, either of my love or grief, remove her from her former reſolution. The laſt day going to take my leave of her, I really ſound ſome ſigns of ſorrow in her countenance, and ſhe expreſſed to me divers ways, that ſhe ſympathiſed with me in the diſpleaſure I had to leave her. After ſome paſſionate diſcourſes, whereby I expreſſed to her my juſt reſentments: I go, Delia, ſaid I to her, and what is moſt cruel and inſupportable to me, I part from You without any certainty of ſeeing You again, and unaſſured of the condition I ſtand in your thoughts. After ſuch teſtimonies of my love, as poſſibly would not have been ineffectual in relating to any other perſon but Delia, and which poſſibly might have prevailed with any courage but hers, I ſee my ſelf as ignorant of my deſtiny, as I was that moment that I gave my ſelf to you. I ſatisfie my ſelf as well as I can poſſibly with the hopes You give me, and ſeeing that I ſhall never have any deſire but what may be conformable to Your will, I endeavour to comfort my ſelf with the expectation of a good which I cannot conceive: but Delia, I cannot vanquiſh my grief, and what blind confidence ſoever. I have in You, 'tis hard for me to take notice without a mortal diſpleaſure, how little progreſs I have made upon Your ſpirit. I go from you with all manner of ill preſages, and if my fears deceive me not, I am in great danger of never ſeeing you again: if it be ſo, Delia, I ſhall abandon my ſelf to the moſt cruel death that ever was ſuffered, and You will live with the remorſe of having beſtowed ſuch a recompence upon the moſt real and perfect that ever was.

I had ſome other diſcourſe with her upon the ſame ſubject, the length whereof hinders me from repetition, and Delia having quietly hearkned to me, and endeavoured to hide ſome marks of pity which appeared in her countenance: ‘Prince, ſaid ſhe, I will willingly endure all your reproaches without complaining, and though poſſibly I might deſerve that you ſhould impoſe ſome belief in me, I will expect that from you when thoſe things you are now ignorant of are known to you. In the mean time you may go with this belief, that you have made a greater progreſs upon my ſpirit than you ſuppoſe, and I ſhould ſay you had done too much in that reſpect, if I did not believe that I cannot be too acknowledging of your affection; I ſhall not be always in a condition wherein I can only ſatisfie you with ſuch hopes as you cannot comprehend, and if fortune be not contrary to me, my condition will be changed at your return. I ſhall then be free from divers ſcruples which a Maid of my humour cannot tell how to overcome, and you will be at liberty to demand that of me without hurting me, which then I may grant you without fear of reproach. Give, if you pleaſe, an abſolute credit to what I tell you, and receive a thing which I will truſt no body with but your ſelf, that may in time make you change the unjuſt opinion you have of my humour. With theſe words ſhe preſented me with a paper folded up and faſt ſealed,’ and before ſhe put it into my hand: Philadelph, ſaid ſhe, here is the moſt aſſured mark that I can give you of the confidence I have in you. If Fortune ſeparate Us beyond Your intention, and you be not permitted to ſee me again ſo ſoon as you deſire, you will find news of me in the paper which I give You, and poſſibly you will ſee things there which will not be indifferent to You: but I would have you promiſe me, and will repoſe an abſolute aſſurance in your promiſe, that you will not open it till You have received permiſſion, either by word of mouth, or by writing from the Princeſs your Siſter, or my ſelf: I hope You will have ſo much reſpect to the requeſt I make You, and your Obedience in a buſineſs which may appear ſo ſlight to You, I ſhall look upon as an aſsured proof of Your affection.

I promiſe You, replyed I, what You deſire of me, and though my Life depended upon the opening of this paper, I proteſt to You it ſhall never be opened by my will, till I receive the permiſſion you order me. Upon theſe words ſhe gave me the paper, which I carefully put up, and a little after I took leave of her, with all the demonſtrations of love and grief for this ſeparation, that could proceed from a ſoul inflamed like mine: I did not bid the Princeſs my Siſter farewell, without giving her grand teſtimonies of my friendſhip and acknowledgment; but the greateſt converſation I had with her, was to recommend Delia to her a thouſand times, and to repreſent to her that my life did abſolutely depend [Page] upon the care ſhe had of her. I made the ſame requeſt likewiſe to the King, though not with ſo much liberty; and after I had received his laſt orders I got on horſeback with Tygranes, and departed out of Tharſus to march out of the Rendezvous of the Army, which was upon the frontire of Cilicia and Cappadocia, where Archelaus was to be with his. All was performed as had been propounded, the two Armies joyned at the place appointed, and by this conjunction made up a body of threeſcore and ten thouſand combatants: The interview between Archelaus and my ſelf was performed with all manner of civility and teſtimonies of affection, and though to appearance he might have been diſſatisfied with me for the repugnance I had to marry his Siſter, yet that fair Princeſs her ſelf had ſo handſomly apologized for me, and when we were a little more familiar, I ſo acquainted him with the greatneſs of my paſſion, which had hindred me from being his Brother by ſo many marks, that inſtead of being diſpleaſed with me for it, he was moved with pity at the relation I made him of my ſufferings, and his inclinations being ſuperlatively noble and generous, he highly eſteemed of my preferring Delia's vertue before the moſt advantageous alliances. We contracted a very firm friendſhip, whereunto I had a great diſpoſition at the firſt ſight. Archelaus is a Prince of a compleat perſon, about five or ſix and twenty years of age, endued with a real valour, and all the qualities that ought to accompany it.

We marched towards Media in the head of our Army, which we commanded all three equally, though by reaſon of their dignity I would have rendred to the two Kings thoſe deferences which they would not receive from me; and having coaſted the frontire of Armenia, and croſſed a part of Aſſyria, we entred into Media, where we were expected by the intelligences which Tigranes had in his Dominions; the Parthians being naturally cruel, had rendred themſelves ſo odious there, that the Medians groaned under their Government as under a hard Captivity, and we began no ſooner to appear but they ſhewed their good intentions to their Prince all the ways they poſſibly could. Some Troops that oppoſed us upon the borders were cut in pieces without trouble, and in divers encounters which we had in the beginning of that war, the advantage remained abſolutely upon our ſide. Few places ſtayed to be reduced into our hands by extremity, and after we had made our ſelves Maſters of thoſe which were in our way, we marched towards the Capital City, whileſt the others rendred themſelves every day to their lawful Prince, and ſet up his Standard with ſuch an alacrity as the like was never ſeen.

All the Garriſons by their compoſition having liberty to retire to Artanes, who commanded in Media for the King of Parthia, and Artanes having gathered together beſides, all the Forces he could raiſe, he formed a great and powerful body of an Army, wherewith he came to meet us a days journey from Praaſpa, and offer'd us battel. I will not deſcribe the particulars of it to you, you ſhall only underſtand, Madam, that Fortune which a long time had been contrary to Tigranes, declared her ſelf then in his favour, and beſides that, ſuch was the valor and good conduct of Archelaus, & I found my ſelf animated by a ſpur of glory which made me do ſomewhat extraordinary, that though the Parthians are without doubt more valiant than the Cilicians and the Cappadocians, they were overthrown with ſuch a general defeat that almoſt all of them lay dead upon the Turf, and I had the good luck, if I may ſpeak it with modeſty, to kill their General with my own hand in the head of his Troops, whileſt the victory was yet doubtful.

After the gaining of this battel, both the Capital City of the Kingdom, and all the reſt after its example yielded themſelves up to Tigranes, and he was already abſolute in his Dominions, when we had intelligence that the King of Parthia was ſending an Army againſt us under the conduct of Phrataphernes one of his beſt Captains, and that having loſt Artaban, by whoſe valour he had gained that Crown, and whom Tigranes more feared in that war than all the Forces of his Enemies, he was reſolved to come and preſerve or recover in perſon what he had conquered by his Lieutenant: Being both eager of occaſions of acquiring glory, and heated with our former victory, we marched againſt Phrataphernes with a great deal of joy, and Tigranes proteſted highly, that ſince Artaban was not among his Enemies, he made no doubt of the Victory.

I paſs over this relation very ſuccinctly, Madam, as of little divertiſement to you, and unneceſſary in relation to the more weighty particularities you deſire of me: but I plainly perceive that you expect with more curioſity that I ſhould ſpeak to you concerning Delia. You may well imagine, Madam, that her fair image was never abſent from my memory, and that in the moſt dangerous occaſions, the moſt preſſing objects were not able to baniſh it from my remembrance not one moment; I had written to her oftentimes, but had received no Letters from her, only in thoſe which the Princeſs Andromeda wrote to me, at her requeſt ſhe ſubſcribed a few words, whereby ſhe gave me ſuch aſſurances as I had received from her diſcourſe. I ſhould not have been contented with this from [Page] any perſon but Delia, and I ſhould have believed that after ſo many proofs of my love, and in the difference of our conditions I might have hoped for more from her: but I had clean contrary thoughts for Delia; the knowledge I had of her admirable vertue made me receive her ſmalleſt favours with an abſolute ſatisfaction, and I had entertained as great a reſpect for her in my mind, as if beſides her beauty and marvellous qualities ſhe had been poſſeſſed of an hundred Diadems: I obſerved it my ſelf more than I had done till then, by the religious obedience which I rendred to her will concerning the paper ſhe had given me, and though I was tempted every day with an impatient deſire of looking into it, and that I believed I might do it, and my diſobedience never have been known to Delia, I reſpected her commands with ſo much reality and honeſty, that I never had the boldneſs to infringe them. At the firſt I carried the paper about me, being extremely pleaſed to look often upon a thing that came from ſo dear a hand: but afterwards ſeeing my ſelf urged with a deſire to look into ſo important a ſecret, and diſtruſting that I was not able to reſiſt it; to avoid the occaſions of commiting that fault, I would no longer keep it about me, but locked it up in a Cabinet wherein I was wont to put thoſe things which were moſt precious to me, expecting to receive from Delia or Andromeda the permiſſion they made me hope for.

In the mean time we marched againſt Phrataphernes, we gave him battel, and gained it as abſolutely as the former; Archelaus had the ſame glory in the latter, by the death of the General, that I had in the former, and Tygranes made us know that it was by the default of his Fortune rather than of his Valour that he had been thrown from the Throne of his Fathers. After this Victory which perfectly re-eſtabliſhed Media under the power of its former Maſter, we advanced againſt Phraates, who had already ſet foot in that Kingdom, and came towards us full of threatnings. Archelaus and I were well pleaſed to march againſt that man, and having heard by report of the horrible cruelties which he had committed againſt his Father and Brothers, whom he had inhumanly butchered out of an inſatiable deſire of reigning alone, we had no repugnance to beat arms againſt a man ſo deteſtable. We hoped to come to a battel againſt him, and to that end we haſtned towards the place where he was, with all the diligence we could poſſible: but he having intelligence of our Forces, which were encreaſed by the one half, by the Medes who had taken up arms in their own defence, feared the event of the battel, and retired back to his own Kingdom; we appeared there almoſt as ſoon as he, and out of the averſion we had againſt his crimes, we prepared our ſelves with a great deal of ſatisfaction, to enter into his Country, and to carry the war into the heart of his Dominions, which poſſibly he would have hardly reſiſted, if the Gods had not otherwiſe diſpoſed it, and had not made uſe of the love which Tygranes had conceived and conſerved for Eliſa Princeſs of Parthia as a means to peace; In the formidable condition wherein he appeared to Phraates, he took his time to demand his Daughter, and though our inclinations carried us to make war againſt that cruel man, and to ſeek new occaſions to acquire ſome reputation: yet the conſideration we had of the repoſe of our friend, and of our people, prevailed over our order, and we conſented that Tygranes whilſt he held his Sword in his hand ſhould make propoſitions to Phraates of peace and marriage. We were upon theſe terms when I received the cruel affliction which hath put me into the condition wherein you ſee me.

I had received no news a long while from the Court of Cilicia, and I complained of their negligence of my repoſe, when there came a Meſſenger to me with Letters from the King and the Princeſs my Siſter; I opened that from the Princeſs, and in it I found theſe words.

The Princeſs Andromeda, to the Prince of Cilicia.

DElia is gone from us, and you may imagine that it is with grief that I ſend you this news; it was with a great deal of ſorrow that I ſaw a perſon go from me, who was ſo dear to me both for love of you and of my ſelf: All the Kings power and mine together was not capable to retain her, and we believed we ſhould offend you more by offering her ſome violence to ſtay her here, than by leaving her at liberty to retire her ſelf: We conſented to it ſo much the more willingly, becauſe ſhe proteſted that the care of your repoſe mode her leave a place where ſhe ſhould never be in a capacity to teſtifie her intentions to you, and that it was only in her own Country that you could receive the proofs of the good will ſhe bears you: We know the place of her retreat, ſhe only would be conducted to the Frontire of Armenia: but you may inform your ſelf by the paper which ſhe gave you at your parting, and ſhe gives you permiſſion to look into it as ſoon as you have received the news of her departure.

[Page] This was Andromeda's Letter, which I did not read but with apprehenſions of fear and grief, which might eaſily be obſerved in my countenance; and I could hardly give my ſelf time to read the Kings; which contained almoſt the ſame thing, but with greater proteſtations of the endeavours he had uſed to retain Delia; but I had recoutſe to the only comfort that was left me, and being full of impatience, I called for the Cabinet wherein I had incloſed the ſacred paper upon which my repoſe did abſolutely depend. But by a terrible diſaſter, at the ſame time that I called for it, ſad Meſſengers came into my Chamber to tell me that at the paſſage of a River which had overflow'd its banks, where divers of my horſes and men were drowned, part of my Equipage was loſt, and amongſt other things, that Cabinet to which I had intruſted all my happineſs. At this news, Madam, I almoſt died in the place, and all the diſpleaſure which the loſs of the moſt precious thing can imprint in a ſoul, ſeiſed upon mine ſo ſuddenly, and put me into ſo ſtrange a condition, that thoſe which were about me, doubted whether I could live a moment in ſuch grief as I expreſſed. At the firſt I being amazed by ſo unexpected a blow, ſilence expreſſed my firſt reſentments, and I continued a while like a perſon beſotted with a profound Lethargy: but when I began to open my eyes upon my misfortune, & it diſcovered it ſelf to me in its true form, I abandoned my ſelf to out-cries and tranſports, and all the expreſſions of an immoderate affliction. They which ſaw me in that condition, told me afterward that I had ſcarcely any thing left by which my friends might know me, and that I ſpake words ſo far from my ordinary manner of diſcourſe, that they feared I would quite loſe my reaſon, and fall into the extremities of fury and deſpair. In my moſt moderate intervals, or rather when my tired body had no more ſtrength to torment it ſelf, complaining in ſuch a manner as moved all thoſe to pity that heard me: Delia, cryed I, O Delia! I have loſt thee then for ever, and of all that I have ſeen, and ſuffered, and hoped, there remains nothing but an eternal flame in my ſoul, and the Idea of a flaſh of lightning which hath ſet me on fire as it paſſed by, and then diſ-appeared from my eyes for evermore. Thou haſt fled from me as from the moſt cruel enemy, from me who would have fled from all things, yea, from life it ſelf to follow thee, and it was in this flight that I ought to have eſtabliſhed the hopes thou gaveſt me. Ah Delia, ab ingrateful and unacknowledging Delia! what will become now, through thy cruelty, of this miſerable wretch whom thou expoſeſt to the worſt miſfortunes? and what remedy ſhall he find againſt that devouring fire thou kindledſt in his heart? what good Angel did guide him to trace out thy ſteps? and what favourable Star will diſcover to him thy retreat? But, retracted I a little after; why ſhould I accuſe Delia for the fault I have committed my ſelf? ſhe is not the cauſe that I am ignorant of that which might yield me comfort, I ſhould know now the place of her reſidence, and I ſhould poſſibly be more ſatisfied than ever I was in my life, if I had not loſt all by my own negligence, and if I had not imprudently truſted to things ſubject to the accident which is befallen me, that which I ought to have truſted to nothing but my own heart.

From this diſcourſe I paſſed to actions which expreſſed a great deal of fury, and really if that may find any excuſe in a juſt ſubject of diſpleaſure, mine was pardonable enough, and my condition had ſomething in it ſo ſtrange, that it was hard to reflect upon it without being tranſported. I had not only loſt Delia, I was not only ignorant where I might learn news of the place of her retreat, but I may truly ſay, that I loved more ardently than ever man had done, without knowing who it was I loved, and without having any means of coming to the knowledge of it. Delia's family, her condition, her country it ſelf, though ſhe had hinted the frontire of Armenia, were unknown to me, and the name of Delia was not ſufficiently known in the world, that I might go ſeek her by the name of Delia only. I was reſolved upon it for all that, and I fixed my ſelf upon the deſign of ſeeking her throughout the whole earth, and never to receive any repoſe, till I had found Delia or my death.

This reſolution was pitched upon, and I cauſed the meſſenger that brought this ſad news, to relate the particulars of Delia's departure, wherein I could not find any thing that might clear up my ignorance, when Archelaus and Tygranes, upon the report of my grief, the news whereof was ſpread all over the Camp, having left their quarters came together into my chamber, and found me in ſuch a condition as would have made me aſhamed, if I had been capable of other paſſions than thoſe which abſolutely poſſeſt me at that time. I diſcovered my misfortune preſently upon them; and as they were neither of them ignorant of the evils which were cauſed by love, in ſtead of entirely condemning my diſpleaſure, they partly excuſed it, and did all that poſſibly they could to give me comfort: they could not approve of the deſign I had to go ſeek out Delia, and they alledged all the reaſons they could deviſe to divert me from it: but their diſſwaſions were in vain, and I deſired to have my head no more troubled about it, nor to ſee my ſelf reduced to break through the [Page] obſtacles which they would have oppoſed me with diſpoſed my ſelf to be gone without bidding them adieu; and the next morning before day, after I had written a note, wherein I prayed them to take charge of the troops I left them, and not trouble themſelves at my departure, and a Letter for the King my Father, and another for the Princeſs Andromeda, wherein after I had reproached them with the little care they had of my ſafety, I proteſted to them, that they ſhould never ſee me more before I had found Delia, I mounted on horſeback, without any other company but Dion and another of my Squires, reſolving to find Delia or to wander over all the world. My firſt deſign was to viſit all Armenia, becauſe Delia had made mention of it, and though the King of that Country was our mortal enemy, the danger I might incur was not capable to ſtay me, and in the Equipage I then was, 'twas hard for them to know me, or to ſuſpect me to be the Prince of Cilicia.

I will not entertain you with the particulars of my journeys, nor of the complaints which eternally proceeded out of my mouth: the relation would be endleſs, onely be pleaſed to know that in Armenia, which I travelled all over, I found no perſon that ſo much as knew the name of Delia, and whatſoever deſcription I gave of her, no perſon could give me any light in what I demanded. Full of grief, or rather of rage, and abandoning my ſelf to the Gods and Fortune, I turned my courſe whither they were pleaſed to guide me, being reſolved that though I ſaw but little probability of ſucceſs in what I deſired, yet I would employ my whole life in that reſearch. Out of Armenia I entred into Aſſyria, which I viſited quite through without reſt, and to no purpoſe. After I had been in Aſſyria, I went into Syria, which I paſſed through from one end to the other, but in vain. I ſaw Tyre and Sidon, I had a ſight of Phoenicia and Palaeſtina, and coaſting the Sea, I am come into Aegypt, with an intention to ſearch exactly the moſt private places of this Kingdom, and if Fortune be as much my enemy here, as ſhe hath been elſwhere, I will go to Sea, and ſeek among the waves, either Delia or a Shipwrack, which may give an end to my vain reſearches.

This, Madam, is the narration of my life paſt, and the eſtate of my preſent condition; that which is paſt of it hath had ſome croſſes, and the preſent is deplorable; I love, without knowing the perſon beloved; I ſearch, without knowing in what part of the world to ſeek; and my Fortune is like to a dream, of which there remains nothing in the mind but uncertain confuſed Idea's; She hath preſented Delia to me to torment my ſoul, ſhe permitted me ſee her till I was abſolutely enflamed, and hath raviſhed her from me, without leaving me any light to find her again, and I ſhould ſay any hope, if that were not the laſt of all good things that leave us, or rather is not extinguiſhed in us but with her life. In the mean time the image of that wandring and unknown Delia continues in my heart, ſo lively repreſented, that the real Delia doth hardly more reſemble her ſelf, and by the force of my imagination, ſhe is almoſt as preſent to my eyes as to my memory: this it is which often expoſes me to ſuch faults as that I committed againſt you, and as really I never have ſeen any beauty that had more conformity to Delia's than to your own, ſo the eternal fixing of my ſoul upon the memory of Delia, repreſents her to me in all the objects that have any ſimilitude of her.

In this manner the Prince of Cilicia finiſhed the courſe of his Life with an admirable grace in his Relation, and the Princeſs Artemiſa, who had not only hearkned with great attention, but out of the effect which merit might produce, was particularly touched with the knowledge of his misfortunes, no ſooner heard the end, but looking upon the Prince with an action which partly expreſſed the generous reſentments ſhe had for his diſpleaſures. ‘I am too much obliged to you, ſaid ſhe, for the pains you have taken at my requeſt, and in requital of this goodneſs, I have ſo intereſſed my ſelf in your Fortune, that they are few things but what I would do to comfort and ſerve you in it: but if I may be permitted to declare my thoughts upon what you have related to me, I will tell you, that according to my opinion, Delia hath diſguiſed from you either her Name or her Country, and poſſibly her condition. That greatneſs of courage which hath appeared in all her actions, and the ſmall eſteem ſhe made of the Crown of Cilicia, ſignifie ſomething much above thoſe appearances which have deceived you; and there is little probability that that Maid eſteeming your perſon as ſhe did, and as ſhe ought to do upon all conſiderations, would have diſdained the condition you offered her, when by the King your Father's conſent ſhe might receive them without danger or reproach, if ſhe had not been born in ſuch a rank as engaged her to other formalities and precautions. Beſides, the diſcourſe ſhe had begun to make you, when ſhe thought the violence of the poyſon had brought her to her end, and that paper which you have unfortunately loſt, wherein, without doubt, ſhe diſcovered thoſe verities ſhe had concealed from you, do ſtrongly confirm me in this ſuſpition, and make me hope on your behalf, that the Gods will render [Page] you that which you ſeek for under another name than that of Delia, and in another condition than that you have formerly ſeen her in. The Prince, whoſe opinion was little different from Artemiſa's, was about to reply, when this diſcourſe was interrupted by an unexpected rancounter.’

A noiſe which they heard not far from them, made them ariſe from the place where they ſate, and they had no ſooner turned their ſight that way, but it was ſtayed by an object which put them in ſuſpence, and dazled their eyes. Two women, or rather a Divinity followed by a woman, croſſed the wood with all the ſwiftneſs that their ſtrength could lend upon their ſpeed, and from the viſage of the firſt, iſſued ſuch rays of brightneſs, as maugre the diſtance and precipitation of her flight, ſtruck the eyes of Artemiſa and Philadelph like lightning, and caſt them at firſt ſight into thoughts of Idolatry. All the aſtoniſhment that Philadelph had had at the beauties of Delia and Artemiſa, at that time was diſſipated, to make room for a more juſt admiration at thoſe of the marvellous Unknown; and though ſhe paſſed by his eyes with ſo much ſpeed, and at ſuch a diſtance as gave him leave to take but imperfect notice, yet he ſaw enough to perſwade himſelf that no mortal beauty could have any thing that might come near to that which appeared before his eyes. This perſon, whether humane or Divine, or participating of both natures, was clad in a habit beſeeming Ladies of the moſt eminent dignity, and the Jewels wherewith it was enriched, darted ſparkles into the eyes of thoſe that beheld her as ſhe paſſed by. Her Garment being of a very little Stuff, through the violence of her courſe ſwelled out behind, and lying cloſe before to the knees of the fair Fugitive, partly diſcovered the form of a body, in the ſtructure whereof Nature had employed all her ſciences. By this agitation, and the motion of a little wind, which freely kiſſed that celeſtial countenance, that part of her hair that was at liberty, flying back upon her ſhoulders, left her cheeks quite uncovered; and the envious linnen, which hid part of her neck, yielding to this violence, diſplayed to the face of Heaven ſuch beauties as might Eclipſe all that is there. Heaven and the winds could only be judges of them, and theſe miracles paſſed by the eyes of Artemiſa and Philadelph with ſo much ſpeed, that they could hardly have diſcerned them, if they had not been aſſiſted by thoſe rays which darted themſelves from a far off, and eaſily croſſing the diſtance which divided them, with their ſparkling lights conveyed reſpect into their ſouls. O Gods! cryed Artemiſa firſt, what's that I ſee, and Philadelph quite buried as he was in his thoughts of Delia, diſſipated all manner of remembrances at an object ſo extraordinary, and anſwering Artemiſa's exclamation: 'Tis ſome Goddeſs without doubt, ſaid he, ſince 'tis not Delia.

As they uttered theſe words, they kept their eyes fixed upon that which ſtill appeared to their view, though they could diſcern no more than the handſomneſs of her proportion: when at a noiſe much greater than the firſt, having turned their head the other way, they ſaw two men appear on horſeback compleatly armed, which ran at full ſpeed upon the track of the two Fugitives. They were not gotten ſo far off, but that before Philadelph and Artemiſa had loſt the ſight of them, the two men had already overtaken them: they alighted immediately, and one of the two having left the horſes to the other, ran to that fair perſon, and kneeling down before her embraced her knees, in all probability making ſome diſcourſe to her, which by reaſon of their diſtance could not be heard by thoſe who obſerved their action. The Lady turning her face from the man, oftentimes diſengaged her ſelf from his arms but ſhe was immediately re-taken, and ſaw her ſelf expoſed to the perſecutions of a man whom ſhe could no longer fly from.

Hitherto Philadelph ſaw nothing to oblige him to intereſs himſelf in the affairs of perſons that he knew not, knowing well that among thoſe that love one another naturally there might happen differences which might produce effects not unlike to thoſe he beheld: but a little after, the man, who, as one might imagine by his action, had entreated in vain, making him that followed him come neer to hold the fair Lady, he got upon his horſe, and immediately coming to her again, he held out his arms to the other who maugre her reſiſtance and her cries did his endeavour to ſet her up behind him. At the ſight of ſuch an action, and the womans cries, which reached the ears of Philadelph, his valour rouzed up it ſelf, and not being able to endure the violence which was offered to a perſon ſo worthy of his protection, he called to his Squire that held his horſe to come near, and inſtantly clapping on his Caſque, he put himſelf in a poſture to repel the outrage which they did to beauty. Sarpedon being full of courage would have gone with him: but beſides his being on foot and without arms, it was Philadelphs deſire that he ſhould keep cloſe by Artemiſa, who after this example might fear ſome like accident, and not permitting his Squires to go from her to attend him, he haſtned alone whither he was called, to the aſſiſtance of the marvellous Unknown. Artemiſa was already intereſſed upon her behalf, and though her Maids urged [Page] her to it, ſhe would not retire till ſhe ſaw her out of danger, and from the place where ſhe was, ſhe attended the ſucceſs, wherein according to her natural generoſity ſhe had made her ſelf much a party.

Philadelph came up to thoſe Raviſhers in a moment, and accoſting them with an action that breathed nothing but terrour: Hold Barbarians, cryed he, hold. He of the two, who ſeemed to be, and really was the Maſter, turning towards Philadelph, and ſeeing him hard by him in a condition to oppoſe his deſigns: ‘And what art thou, ſaid he with a furious countenance,’ who comeſt to croſs my reſolutions, and to intereſs thy ſelf in ſuch affairs as thou art not called to? I am called, replyed Philadelph, with a ſtomack as high as ‘his, by vertue, honour, and beauty which thou highly injureſt in this divine perſon, more worthy of the adorations of all mankind, than of the violence thou wouldeſt do her. Friend, added the Unknown, be not too officious to thy own coſt, and go thy ways if thou beeſt well adviſed, without informing thy ſelf of things wherein thou haſt no intereſt. If this Lady, anſwered Philadelph, will go with thee of her own accord, I will not hinder thee from carrying her away; but if thou uſeſt force to conſtrain her, I will employ all my abilities to divert thee from it: Employ them rather, replyed the fierce Unknown, in the defence of thine own life which thou ſhalt leave behind thee here as a puniſhment of thy fooliſh raſhneſs.’

With theſe words he put down the Viſor of his Helmet which he had lifted up, and drew out his Sword, and leaving his Companion to guard the Lady whom he contended for, he fell upon Philadelph with a great deal of fury. Philadelph, who was ready with his Sword in his hand, received him as a man whom the greateſt dangers were not capable to afright, and they began a combat which quickly made the valour of them both appear to the ſmall number of their Spectators: there ſeemed to be but little difference between the firſt blows that were given on either ſide: but a little after, it was eaſie to judge that the Unknown was inferior in ſtrength to Philadelph; and that valiant Prince defended the juſtice of his cauſe with ſo much courage and vigour, that his enemy began quickly to be weakned by ſome wounds, yet he made his choler ſupply the defect of his ſtrength, and he fought like a man that little feared death if he could not obtain the Victory. He had cauſe enough already to deſpair of it, and inſtead of aſſaulting his Enemy, he could hardly or but very weakly defend himſelf, when he that accompanied him, ſeeing the danger that he was in, and preferring his ſafety before the conſervation of that which was intruſted to him, left the fair Lady (who with the violence of her ſtriving had loſt all her ſtrength, or had hardly ſo much left as to carry her ſome paces off, where, through wearineſs, ſhe fell upon the graſs) and throwing himſelf upon his horſe, which he had held ſtill by the bridle, he ran to help his Maſter with his Sword in his hand.

Philadelph was not troubled at the arrival of this new enemy, having courage enough to engage a greater number without being daunted, and having only oppoſed his ſhield to a blow which the other made at him as he came up to him, he gave him a thruſt at the ſame time with ſuch favourable ſucceſs, that the Sword finding a paſſage at the ſide of his Cuiraſs, pierced him through his body, and tumbled him dead at his horſes feet. The Prince's Squires who from the place where they were with Artemiſa, ſaw this action, and prepared themſelves to go and aſſiſt him in that unequal combat, ſtayed themſelves when they ſaw that their Maſter had but one Enemy to deal with; and Philadelph who was filled with animoſity at this ſoul play, flying more fiercely than before upon him that oppoſed him; after he had drawn ſome more blood from him by a freſh wound, ſeized upon him with a ſtrong arm, and after ſome ſhakes he pulled him out of the ſaddle, and tumbled him upon the ground: he was likewiſe pulled down himſelf by his Enemy, who as he fell graſped him with all his ſtrength; but he quickly got up and ſaw himſelf in a condition to diſpatch his Enemy with eaſe, if he had had as much will as power to do it. Thou deſerveſt death, ſaid he to him, but I will not kill thee in this condition, and for the life I leave thee, thou ſhalt only promiſe me not to torment or offer violence to this fair perſon, or any other of her Sex. The Unknown ſighing with rage and deſpight for the loſs and ſhame he received, continued ſome while without reply. But he reſolved at laſt out of fear of death, and promiſed his Enemy whatſoever he deſired of him.

After this promiſe, Philadelph let him riſe, and helped him up again upon his horſe, and let him go the ſame way he came: He went away full of grief and confuſion, making ſuch imprecations againſt Heaven and Fortune, as made Philadelph take notice of the rage that tranſported him.

He was no ſooner gone, but the Prince of Cilicia, who had received no wound in this Combat, turned himſelf towards the Lady he had ſuccoured, and approached the place where ſhe was, juſt as ſhe, having taken a little breath, roſe up from the place where ſhe had ſate, [Page] to go and thank her generous defender. Artemiſa whoſe fears were all diſſipated by the end of the combat, advanced at the ſame time that Philadelph did, with all perſons that accompanied her, and came almoſt as ſoon as he into the preſence of the admirable Unknown. They continued all amazed at this ſecond view, and if at the firſt ſight, and ſo great a diſtance, and in ſo ſwift a courſe, they had diſcovered brightneſs which dazled their eyes, they ſaw themſelves then oppoſed to a glory which they could hardly endure to look upon. Upon the opinion of a Divinity imprinted in their minds by thoſe celeſtial lineaments, they had much ado to forbear falling at the feet of this perſon to render her adoration; and though the memory of Delia left no place for other impreſſions in the ſoul of Philadelph, and Artemiſa's beauties had much of that which ſhe admired at in others, yet this could not keep either of them from the aſtoniſhment and veneration, which ſo extraordinary an object might produce in moſt pre-occupated ſouls.

They continued fixed in the contemplation of this prodigie, not knowing where to begin the diſcourſe they had to make, when the divine Unknown being leſs diſcompoſed than they, addreſſing her ſelf to Philadelph whom ſhe knew to be her deliverer, and opening her mouth a thouſand times more handſome than imagination can conceive, to expreſs her reſentments to him: ‘I owe all to you, valiant man, ſaid ſhe, with a tone of ſpeech that ſpake ſomething more than humane, and if your vertue did not find its recompences in it ſelf, I ſhould be much aſhamed that I can render ſo little to him, who hath hazarded ſo much for me, and at the peril of his own life, hath drawn me out of thoſe cruel hands whereinto Fortune had made me fall. 'Tis certain, replyed Philadelph, more raviſhed and confounded than before, that this action, ſuch as it is, finds a high recompence in it ſelf, and all the rewards that can be propoſed, are infinitely below the glory I have received in rendring you this petty ſervice. This ſervice is not ſo inconſiderable, anſwered the Unknown, but that by it you have reſtored my liberty and repoſe, and poſſibly preſerved my life too, and ſomething elſe more precious.’

She had ſaid more to that purpoſe, if the beauties of Artemiſa, and the courteous reception ſhe gave her, had not diverted her to apply her ſelf more particularly than ſhe had done till then, to an object ſo worthy of her attention. Artemiſa knowing her ſelf to be what ‘ſhe was, diſpenſed with a part of the reſpect which had retained her,’ and ſtretching out her arms to this miracle, which ſhe could hardly yet behold without dazling: ‘Whoſoever you are, ſaid ſhe, (for in my opinion you are rather a Goddeſs than a mortal perſon) permit me, I beſeech you, to approach you with the reſpect that is due to you; and ſince I have been ſo happy as to be preſent at your paſſage, and poſſibly to contribute ſomething to the ſuccour you have received, do not diſdain the offers I come to make you of all the ſervices you can deſire of us, and of a retreat very commodious, and ſafe againſt thoſe enemies of yours that remain. The marvellous Unknown, who had not beheld the beauty of Artemiſa without aſtoniſhment, and really found in it part of that which Artemiſa admired at in hers, received her diſcourſe and obliging offers in the handſomeſt manner in the world. I might have more cauſe than you, ſaid ſhe, to make thoſe advantagious judgments of your beauty which you make of mine: I am not only a mortal perſon, but a perſon expoſed to very great diſpleaſures, and reſcued by your aſſiſtances from the greateſt misfortunes whereinto a Maid of my concondition could fall. I do not refuſe the offers you make me, and though I could find a ſure retreat in Alexandria, the obligation I have to your goodneſs, and the inclination I conceive for ſo extraordinary a perſon as your ſelf, will make me find more ſweetneſs and conſolation with you, than I could hope for in any other company.’ Having ſpoken theſe words, according to the liberty of her Sex, theſe two perſons embraced each other with emotions accompanied with ſomething more of tenderneſs than is uſually produced by the firſt interview, and in the careſſes of the admirable Unknown, Artemiſa found ſuch charms as inſenſibly ſtole away her heart.

They had ſome diſcourſe beſides full of offers and civility on Artemiſa's part, and full of expreſſions of acknowledgment on the part of the Unknown: but ſhe being tired with her long courſe, and the pains ſhe had taken in ſtrugling between the arms of her Enemies, and night drawing on, Artemiſa thought ſhe ought not to let her continue any longer in a place where ſhe might ſtill be expoſed to ſome diſaſter, and giving her her hand, ſhe entreated her to walk with her to Tideus his houſe. She deſired the ſame thing of Prince Philadelph, and preſſed him as much as poſſibly ſhe could to beſtow ſome dayes of his company upon ſuch perſons as knew how to render what was due to his birth and merit; but the Prince was ſtrongly fixed upon the thoughts and deſign which poſſeſſed him, that it would have been impoſſible for him to ſpend a day in any other employment, than of ſearching after Delia; and therefore making the bad humour whereinto his misfortunes had put him, [Page] his excuſe, and the condition of his ſpirit being incapable of all company and ſociety, he humbly beſought them to diſmiſs him, and to give him leave to retire, if his preſence were not neceſſary for their aſſiſtance.

Artemiſa, who upon his ſight, his conſervation, the relation of his life, and the marks of valour he had ſhown in her preſence, had conceived a marvellous eſteem of him, and had earneſtly deſired to make him known to Alexander, looked upon his departure with a great deal of regret; and the fair Unknown, who was ſo much obliged to him, forgot nothing at this parting that might expreſs her reſentments to him.

Philadelph having taken his laſt leave of them both, mounted his horſe, and took his way towards Alexandria, without ſo much as expreſſing (ſo great was his pre-occupation) any deſire of knowing the fair perſons he left behind, which might have moved that curioſity without doubt in any ſpirit leſs taken up than his.

The fair Ladies ſeeing him gone, took their way towards the houſe; but in the little way they had to go, Artemiſa viewed the marvellous Unknown a thouſand times over, without being able to ſatisfie her ſight with the prodigies which wholly took it up. Before they came to the houſe they ſaw Alexander appear, who having left Caeſario a little after he had made him a relation of his Life, and being full of an amorous impatience, came to meet Artemiſa.

We will leave them a while, and purſue the relation of what had paſſed, and did then happen at Tyridates his houſe.

HYMENS PRAELUDIA: OR, Love's Maſter-Piece. PART V.

[Page]

LIB. I.

ARGUMENT.

Tyridates is very careful of the recovery of his wounded Gueſts. Coriolanus quits his Chamber firſt, and with Tyridates viſits the valiant Stranger. By the relation of their own Stories they engage him to a recital of his Life. He ſpeaks his Name to be Britomarus, Son of Briton a Gaul, driven out of his Country by Julius Caeſar, and thereupon engaging in Pompey's party. After whoſe death he takes a private retreat into Egypt, where he employs all poſſible care and coſt in the education of his Son. The Wars in Egypt ſend him into Ethiopia, where Britomarus is received into Candace's ſervice. He falls in love with Candace, and upon that account falls out with Caeſario. They fight, and Britomarus is baniſhed. His Father and he retires into Arabia, where Briton is taken Priſoner by the wild Arabs. Britomarus endeavours his recovery, but in vain. He goes into the Armenian Army, where by his ſignal valour he gains great reputation and employments. The King of Armenia takes him to his Court. He there falls in love with the Princeſs Arſinoe, and Cinthia, a great Court Lady, with him, Cinthia reveals her paſſion to Britomarus, who excuſes himſelf as pre-ingaged. She finds out and reveals his affection to the Princeſs, who receives the diſcovery with ſcorn and anger. Britomarus returns with the King to the Wars in Media. He defeats the Army commanded by Ariſton and Theomedes, kinſmen to Philadelph, and takes them Priſoners. He begs their liberty of Artaxus, and upon his refuſal flies out into an high exprobation of his ingratitude. The King in a blind fury cauſes their heads to be cut off, whereupon Britomarus deſerts his ſervice.

THE officious Tyridates did ſo far intereſs himſelf in the health of his two illuſtrious Gueſts, and took ſo much care of that which they both neglected, that within a few days there viſibly appeared a great amendment in their wounds: Thoſe of Prince Coriolanus being much ſlighter than thoſe of the valiant Unknown, detained him in his bed but a ſmall time, and the cruel agitation of his ſpirit making him to hate repoſe, he had no ſooner recovered part of his ſtrength, but he deſired to walk abroad and take the air. All the eaſe he could poſſibly invent to his diſpleaſures was really neceſſary, and never poſſibly could a Soul be tormented with ſo violent diſquiets as his: He had a ſpirit naturally moderate, a great courage, and firm in the proof of the hardeſt attempts, and beſides the aſſuredneſs which he had received from Nature, he had fortified himſelf therein by the ſtudy of excellent Sciences, and of Philoſophy wherein he had knowledge even to admiration. But with all theſe advantages which ſecured him from deſpair, and partly defended him againſt his ſufferings, he had enough left to ruine an ordinary conſtancy, and few perſons pre-poſſeſſed by ſuch a paſſion as his, would have been able to have ſupported the like affliction without falling under it. He called to mind twenty times a day all the adventures of his life wherein Cleopatra had any intereſt, and the marks which he had received of the affection of that Princeſs in a thouſand occurrences; but reflecting upon her [Page] change, all the courage whereof he had given ſo many proofs, could hardly ſubmit to the Empire of his reaſon; and in the ſad effect of thoſe pitileſs thoughts which tormented him, lifting his eyes to Heaven, with a throng of ſighs: Ah hard change! cryed he, cruel change of the mind of Cleopatra, and of the fortune of Coriolanus!

Sometimes from the window of his Chamber, which was the ſame where Queen Candace had lodged ſome daies before, after the example of that fair Queen, he caſt his eyes upon the place where the Princes which he affected had received her birth, and could not retire them from thence, without receiving by that view a ſenſible reviving of his diſpleaſures. O what complaints did this object draw from his mouth, and ſighs from his breaſt, and how difficultly did ſhe ſhake off all thoſe who put him in mind of any particular concerning Cleopatra, without giving divers teſtimonies of his violent reſentments. Amongſt the ſubjects of his grief, he never accounted the loſs of a puiſſant Kingdom, which he had recovered by his valour, and loſt by his ill fortune, and amongſt all his complaints he hardly made ſo much as a ſlight mention of it.

Tyridates who was acquainted with all the accidents of his life, endeavoured to give him conſolation, and there being by their good offices and a mutual knowledge of each others vertues, a ſincere friendſhip eſtabliſhed between theſe two Princes, Tyridates unlocked his heart to Coriolanus, and by the confeſſion of the love which he bare to the fair Queen of Judea, he obliged him oftentimes to render him the like comforts. Between theſe two paſſionate Princes there often paſſed excellent converſations, and as neither of them was capable of noble and high thoughts, they could not communicate them without giving themſelves reciprocally new ſubjects of eſteem, and without finding excellent matter to entertain each other in their ſolitude. They were not for all that, long alone in their entertainment, and beſides the opinion which Coriolanus had already conceived of the brave unknown, Tyridates made him every day ſuch advantagious relations of him, that Coriolanus being impatient to be better acquainted with a man ſo extraordinary, haſtened the firſt going out of his Chamber to viſit him.

At the firſt view, he found things above all that which the report of Tyridates had made him a little to comprehend, and in the viſage, and all the diſcourſes of the Unknown, he ſaw ſuch eminent marks of the greatneſs of his courage, that at firſt ſight he had particular conſiderations for him: theſe apprehenſions were very reciprocal, and as the Son of Juba had moſt admirable parts both of mind and body, they ſuddenly cauſed the effects they were wont to produce upon the ſpirit of the Unknown, although pre-poſſeſſed with ſorrow. The firſt greetings were paſſed with all the civility which perſons buried in diſcontent could render each to other, but in the following viſits theſe admirable perſons mutually taking notice of their particular advantages, made friendſhip and confidence ſucceed their eſteem. They equally deſired to know each other; but they had not the confidence to ſignifie ſo much each to other, and if Tyridates, who had no leſs curioſity for the Unknown, and which by the frequent viſits he had rendred him, had more acquaintance with him, had not interpoſed, they had not for a long time diſcovered their deſires.

Upon this deſign, one day when the two Princes were by the Unknown, whoſe wounds were then in ſo good condition that he hoped in a few dayes to quit his bed; Tyridates beginning the diſcourſe: ‘It is not juſt, ſaid he, that perſons, which already highly eſteem each other, upon the proofs which they have mutually received of one anothers Vertue, ſhould continue any longer together without a more perfect knowledge one of another, and I ſhould believe, purſued he, turning himſelf towards the Unknown, that I did not ſet that eſteem I ought upon the excellencies which you Poſſeſs, if they had not inſpired me with a deſire to learn that from you, which hitherto we have not had the boldneſs to enquire. There cannot poſſibly be a perſon in the world, who hath greater reaſons than I to conceal himſelf, and yet to oblige you to the like confidence, and to let you know what I deſire of you, I will make no difficulty to diſcover unto you my Name, my Birth, and whatſoever you ſhall deſire to know touching my life: and this great Prince, continued he, pointing to Coriolanus, whoſe intentions he was acquainted with, though a great danger attend upon his diſcovery in theſe Countreys, will not refuſe to diſcloſe himſelf unto you in hope that you will afford the ſame ſatisfaction to his deſire. No certainly, replyed the Prince of Mauritania, and if his curioſity be equal to mine, there is nothing ſo ſecret in my life, which I will not willingly acquaint him with, to lay the ſame obligation upon him.’

The Unknown receiving the diſcourſe of the two Princes with very great civility: ‘You deſire a thing, ſaid he to them, not worthy of your curioſity, and wherein I can ſatisfie you without throwing my ſelf into greater dangers than thoſe whereunto I am reduced by my ill Fortune: I could wiſh to hazard and ſuffer ſomething in that which you require of me, [Page] to acknowledge your bounties by ſome more difficult proof of my obedience, than that you deſire; but in the condition whereinto I am precipitated by my misfortune, I have no reaſon to fear the acknowledgement of my Name, nor any other danger, than what I am already fallen into.’ The Unknown was about to have enlarged himſelf, if Coriolanus to keep himſelf to the propoſition they had made him, had not ſtay'd him: ‘It is juſt, ſaid he unto him, that we ſhould firſt acquit our ſelves of the promiſe we have made you; and afterwards we will not refuſe to underſtand from you, if you pleaſe, what may give us ſatisfaction.’

With theſe words he told him his Name, and that of Tyridates, with a ſmall abridgement of their fortunes, by which the Unknown, to whom the reputation of either was not altogether ſtrange, comprehended ſufficient to make him judge that he could ſcarcely find in the reſt of the world two Princes more worthy of his reſpect and affection. The ſame of the grand actions which the Son of Juba had done, as well for the ſervice of the Empire, as for the recovery of his own Kingdom, had reached the places where he had paſſed his life; and the virtue of Tyridates, which of it ſelf alone was able to attract the eſteem of all men, was accompanied with a birth wherein the Unknown had great intereſt: when he had patiently attended the diſcourſe of Coriolanus, regarding him as a great King, and as a Prince a thouſand times greater by his Virtue than by his Birth: ‘Sir, ſaid he unto him, the glory of our actions is ſo great, that a man muſt needs have paſſed his life in places more obſcure, than thoſe which gave me Birth, to have learned the name of Coriolanus the Son of Juba, without being partly inſtructed in what is due unto him; the ſublime appearance of your perſon, and that which I have found remarkable in your valour and generoſity, to my coſt and in my favour, had begun powerfully to perſwade me what your diſcourſe hath finiſhed: And you, O Arſacian Prince, continued he, addreſſing himſelf to Tyridates, beſides what mine eyes and the fame of the great things you have done, of which the relation came to us hath given me to know of your Vertue, you are born of a bloud which obliges the whole earth, and particularly this unfortunate which ſpeaks to you hath great conſiderations for you.’ He uttered theſe words preſſing one of the hands of Tyridates between his own, with a mark of extraordinary affection: and a little after ſeeing that the Princeſs having received the praiſes which he gave them with exceeding modeſty, expected from him the effect of thoſe hopes he had given them: ‘I am ſorry, ſaid he unto them, that I cannot acknowledge the confidence you have teſtified unto me by ſomething great and worthy of you, and that for the knowledge you have given me of a great King and a great Prince, I can render you only that of a private man, of a man hardly born of noble bloud, and of a man whoſe Name had never been known, if Fortune, as great an enemy of his as ſhe is, had not given him occaſion to do things remarkable enough, and which poſſibly have given him ſome repute: And ſo it is that you may ſooner learn what I am by the relation of my life, than by the diſcovery of my Name; and poſſibly you may find therein accidents worthy your attention, above what an ordinary extraction may make you expect.’

He made a ſtop at theſe words, to recall to memory the moſt remote accidents of his life, and after that he had put himſelf into a condition to make a long diſcourſe without incommodating himſelf, and that thoſe who had undertaken the cure of him, had aſſured the Princeſs that he might take this pains without endangering his health, he began the Hiſtory of his life in theſe terms.

The Hiſtory of the Unknown.

THe Heavens, Nature, and whatſoever concurs to the production of men, ſometimes regulates their Birth and inclinations by an order which would make the Supreme Providence to be called in queſtion, if it did not operate by reaſons which ſurpaſs our knowledge, and the capacity of our underſtanding. Oftentimes Princes extracted from the greateſt Kings of the earth, have come into the world with inclinations very mean, and leſs conformable to their Birth, than to that of their Slaves; and ſometimes in perſons of an ordinary Birth the Gods have planted a courage elevated above their Fortune, and an ambition, which would more juſtly agree with the conditions of great Princes, than with low or mean Fortunes. I have made an infallible experiment thereof in my ſelf, and that Heaven which hath made me behold the day without any of thoſe advantages which are drawn from Crowns, or a long ſucceſſion of Anceſtors, hath made me to be born with a courage which is alwayes elevated to higheſt Pretenſions, which hath never failed upon any conſideration, and which by an errour which poſſibly may be condemned, hath alwayes perſwaded me that by my ſword, which I have often drawn with ſucceſs, I might [Page] equal my ſelf with Princes, and that I ſhould find none greater than my ſelf among men, except he were more valiant and more vertuous. If this immoderate preſumption hath engaged me in actions which may poſſibly have acquired me ſome repute in the places where I have paſſed my life, it hath likewiſe expoſed me to diſaſters as great as my pretenſions; and I begin to acknowledge, that what I attributed to the injuſtice and ingratitude of men, hath proceeded from the hands of the Gods, who to humble a courage unſubduable by reaſon, and a juſt apprehenſion, have ſerved themſelves with ingrateful men, and enraged elements, and all things which might reduce my ſpirit within the bounds, which by my Birth they ſeem to have preſcribed to my ambition.

My Father was born in Gaul, of noble extraction, as he hath told me, and more I never knew, neither did I ever ſee the Countrey from whence I draw my original, nor any other of my kindred, beſides him that cauſed my production into the world. He quitted his Countrey in the times of the wars of Julius Ceſar, by whom his native Countrey was made deſolate, and out of the averſion which he had againſt the Enemy of his Country, he a little after engaged himſelf in the party of Pompey the Great, where he bare arms with honour, and applied himſelf particularly to his ſervice. Pompey the Great honoured him with his affection, and married him to a Lady of a noble Roman Family, and kept him inſeparably in his Retinue, to the end of his daies. This time was of no long continuance, for the unfortunate Pompey after the overthrow at Pharſalia found his death where he ſought for refuge, and periſhed upon the ſhore of Peluſium by the infidelity of Ptolomee. Briton, for that was my Father's Name, not being able to comfort himſelf for the loſs of ſo great a Maſter, nor to follow the fortune of his Wife Cornelia, who from aboard her own Veſſel ſaw with her own eyes the deplorable death of ſo illuſtrious an Husband, ſetled himſelf in a corner of Egypt with his Wife, of whom a few daies after I was born, and a little after death took her away, as my Father afterwards related to me. Briton having but one Son left of his whole Family, ſought all his conſolations in him alone; and ſeeing himſelf by the liberality of Pompey the Great, and by the gift of great ſtore of Jewels of great value, which he had received of him, to be in a condition to paſs his daies without being expoſed to any neceſſity, he employed part of thoſe goods, which might have been converted to other uſes, to the education of a Son in whom he had eſtabliſhed all his hopes.

Nothing was ſpared for my bringing up, no more than if I had been born of ſome great Prince, and my father very often perceiving that they with whom he was acquainted, blamed the exceſſive expence he was at for me, a little conformable to the condition wherein he then was, told them that he made all his goods to conſiſt in me alone, and that he could not employ them better than to put me into a capacity one day to repair the ruines of my Fortune by my Vertue. But I owed much more to his cares, than to thoſe of my Maſters which he gave me, and by his examples and inſtructions he formed both my mind and body much more advantagiouſly, than all the perſons of whom he cauſed me to learn either Sciences or Exerciſes. With truth I may ſay he nouriſhed me like Achilles, and though I fed not upon the Marrow of Lions, as by the care of Chiron the Son of Peleus did, at leaſt after the example of that famous Governor, he framed my body in my tender years to the moſt rough and violent Exerciſes. No ſooner could I go, but he led me a hunting, and after I began to have ſome ſtrength, he did not accuſtom me any longer to purſue the timorous ſort of beaſts, but thoſe which could not be approached without danger, and againſt which I might make ſome apprentiſhip of my valour. He made me with my Bow in my hand, and my Quiver at my back, to traverſe the Forreſts and Mountains on foot; and he did in ſuch ſort baniſh from my education all delicacy and effeminateneſs, that perſons of the age I now am, cannot poſſibly be more robuſtious, or more capable of all ſort of toil and travel than I was in my infancy.

Although I was brought up in Egypt, Briton was never willing that I ſhould come near the Court of Cleopatra, and he had ſuch an averſion from every thing that might bring again into his mind the memory of the murtherers of his Maſter, that all that was reported of the magnificences of Alexandria, where ſo many young Princes were brought up with the children of Anthony, never gave him any deſire to bring me thither. I confeſs likewiſe that I never moved him to it, and though I was tickled with the relation which I heard made of things more conformable to my humour, than my ſolitude and the mediocrity of my Fortune, yet I had inclinations like to thoſe of my Father, and whether he inſpired them into me by his diſcourſe or his example, or whether they proceeded from my own nature, I had a repugnance againſt thoſe perſons whoſe memory and name were odious unto him upon his Maſter's account.

In this while he perceived in me by many marks a courage elevated above our condition; he ſaw me diſdain thoſe things at which my ambition, according to all likelihood, ought [Page] to aim; to u dervalue thoſe which were my equals in Fortune, if by an extraordinary merit they were not worthy of a particular eſteem; to aſpire eternally to things above me, and in all my diſcourſes, and in my actions to expreſs reſentment very diſproportionable to the eſtate wherein we were. Sometimes he uſed endeavours to ſubdue that which he ſaw exceſſive and immoderate in my courage, and foreſeeing in part the evils to which it hath often expoſed me, he ſet before my eyes the condition of our Fortune, to make my ſpirit comply unto it, and in ſome ſort to reſtrain the impetuoſity of my nature. But when he ſaw that he had unprofitably employed his pains, and that all the docility and deference which I had for his inſtructions could not abaſe my thoughts, he repented himſelf of the endeavours he would have uſed to humble me, and regarding me with eyes wherein his affection ſometimes produced tears: ‘Go, ſaid he unto me, young man, worthy of a better deſtiny, follow thy haughty inclinations whither ſoever they may call thee; I cannot preſcribe limits to thy ambition, and by that I may poſſibly one day ſee thee above that envious fortune by which we have been ruined.’ In finiſhing theſe words he moſt times turned away his eyes from my face, and ſeemed in ſuch ſort mollified by his paſſion, that as very a child as I was I could not ſee him in that condition without being touched by an extraordinary emotion.

In this time by the famous War between Octavius Caeſar, and Anthony, the Countries of Egypt were covered with Soldiers, and this place beheld it ſelf the fatal field wherein the quarrel of the whole Univerſe was to becided. Although I was but 13 or 14 years of age, I did already burn with impatience to throw my ſelf into occaſions of getting glory: and though by the inclinations I had to follow the reſentments of my Father, both parties weere almoſt equally odious to me, yet the name of Caeſar, to the averſion from which I had been accuſtomed, made his ſide yet more my enemy, and I had followed Anthonies ſooner than han his, if the intentions of my Father had complied with mine. I was not unapt for any kind of Exerciſe, and I had acquired ſuch ſtrength by the laboriouſneſs of hunting, and other employments wherein my Father had continually exerciſed me, that a man of thirty years of age could not poſſibly have charged on horſe back more vigorouſly than my ſelf, nor have better come off from a troubleſome piece of buſineſs, wherein a ſtrong conſtitution was neceſſary. My father who was conſcious of it, feared leſt I ſhould give him the ſlip, and poſſibly I ſhould have done it after I had oftentimes unprofitably aſſayed to obtain his permiſſion; but at that time, whether it were for this conſideration, or to find a retreat, where he might peaceably paſs his dayes, or for other reaſons to me unknown, he quitted Egypt, and led me into places where I could not be tickled by near occaſions with a deſire to take up arms, whereby he was afraid to loſe me; he would not retire himſelf into any of the Kingdoms intereſſed in either of the two parties; he likewiſe avoided all thoſe which had any dependance upon the Roman Empire, and taking our way along the banks of Nile, he went to eſtabliſh our abode in Ethiopia.

We arrived at Meroe, where the Kings ordinary reſidence was, and it was in this Court that my father made no difficulty to produce me, believing through the affection wherewith he abuſed himſelf, that I had qualities whereby I might advance my ſelf, and reap ſome fruit of the generous inclination which he believed he ſaw in me. I was likewiſe ſo much favoured by Fortune, that in a ſmall time I was more favourably looked upon than I could expect from my condition; and my Father, by his acquaintance which his vertue eaſily procured him at Meroe, having found a means to cauſe me to be preſented to the King, this Prince found me ſo much to his liking, that after he had ſeen me divers times, and marked in me, as he ſaid, ſomething above my birth, by his ſpecial favour he placed me among divers young men of mine own age, born of the nobleſt bloud amongſt the Ethiopians, which he particularly dedicated to the ſervice of the Princeſs Candace his only Daughter, and the Inheritrix of his Crown.

Tyridates, who till then, had heard and beheld the Unknown with great ſuſpicions, finding the confirmation of them in theſe laſt words: ‘I doubt no longer, ſaid he, interrupting him, but that you are Britomarus, and I find in your fortune, your humour, and your perſon, all things ſo conformable to the relation I have heard made of him, that I take you for him with an almoſt entire certainty. The Unknown, though a little ſurpriſed with this diſcouſe, replyed to Tyridates without being moved. It is true, ſaid he, that my Father gave me the name of Britomarus, ſomething near his own, and which divers perſons of his Country and Conſinguinity too had born; but I never thought I ſhould have found perſons here who would poſſibly have known it. It is ſufficiently known, replyed Tyridates, and together with this name, I know alſo the moſt remarkable adventures which befell you in Ethiopia, and part of the firſt actions you did in other Countries; but beſides that the relation I have received is very confuſed, the King of Mauritania underſtands nothing [Page] of it, and you may, if you pleaſe, continue your narration without interruption, though ſome things may be come to my knowledge. I will obey you, anſwered Britomarus, and though the firſt action of my life may ſcarce be worthy your attention, yet I will recount them unto you, that you may comprehend the order of my Fortune, which in the courſe of my whole life hath contracted an habit in my affairs from which ſhe never departed.’

I was no ſooner in the ſervice of the Princeſs Candace, but that by all ſorts of cares I endeavoured to merit the honour which I had received; and though according to my ambition, all things of my capacity ſeemed below me, yet I found this Princeſs ſo worthy of all ſervices which could be rendred her in all ſorts of conditions, that I made my lofty humour comply without repugnance to all the employments which my companions had near her. There was none more aſtiduous nor more induſtrious to ſeek out occaſions to pleaſe and obey her; and though my inclinations carried themſelves to arms a great deal more than to other employments, they themſelves in a ſhort time engaged me in a place, and to things which I had never ſtaid upon, but only in conſideration of my Fortune. Candace was really one of the faireſt perſons in the world, and I would ſay ſhe was the prime beauty of the Earth, if ſome beauty had not afterwards appeared to my eyes which might equal it, and poſſibly in ſome reſpect ſurpaſs it.

To the perfection of the body was conjoined that of the mind, and all the qualities which might render a Princeſs accompliſhed: I know not whether it were through the propenſion which we naturally have to love things beautiful, that I ſuffered my ſelf to be taken, or through my pride, which perſwaded me that I could love nothing more low than the Daughter of one of the greateſt Kings of the world. This preſumption was ridiculous in me, and though alwayes in all the other actions of my life I may poſſibly have managed it with reaſon enough, yet it was never poſſible for me to vanquiſh it.

Howſoever it came to paſs, I became really amarous of the Princeſs of Ethiopia; and to accuſe my ſelf the more, I will ſay that all the appearances whereby I might condemn my love, were not ſtrong enough to oblige me to reſiſt it, and that I never oppoſed my reaſon againſt the birth of a paſſion, whereof I could not probably expect any good ſucceſs. I believed I might love Candace without offending her, and I thought my ſelf of as great a value as a Prince, although the conditions of a Prince was elevated above mine. ‘What tyranny, ſaid I, ought to oblige me to offer violence to a gallant inclination, and what conſideration can hinder me from loving Candace, if nothing but ſhe alone ſeem amiable unto my eyes? If I have not birth, I have a courage worthy of her, and if by my courage I cannot ſupply the default of my birth, it is better to periſh nobly, rather than to abaſe my thoughts. What know we for what the Gods reſerve us, and why may we not hope all things, if we find our ſelves capable to undertake all things?’

In this ſort I flattered my ſelf in my audacious thoughts, and if at any time by the reflection which I made upon the ſtate of my condition, I deſired to regulate and ſubmit them to more reaſonable terms, I repented a moment after, and bluſhed for ſhame to have offended, as it ſeemed to me, that courage by which my deſire was to equal my ſelf with the greateſt. All the Ladies attending upon the Princeſs (whom I might regard with more equality, and amongſt whom there were ſome who might paſs for very beautiful, if the brightneſs of their Miſtreſs had not defaced theirs) were not capable of poſſeſſing my thoughts for one moment: and if at any time I turned my eyes upon them, it was with ſo much indifferency, or rather with ſo much contempt, that they had all a juſt ſubject of diſcontent, and poſſibly of deriding my pride. I will ſay more, if modeſty permit me, that there were divers amongſt them who were not exempted from ſome affection for me, and gave me teſtimonies of it great enough to fortifie the good opinion which I had naturally for my ſelf. Nevertheleſs, this unreaſonable preſumption which flattered my haughty thoughts, did not carry me to manifeſt extravagancies, and if I believed that it was permitted me to love the Princeſs, and diſdain all that was inferiour to her, yet I knew well that I could not give her too viſible marks of my paſſion, without juſtly drawing upon me either her anger or contempt; and I was contented to endure the pain ſhe made me ſuffer without declaring it any other way unto her, than by my aſſiduity in her ſervice, accompanied with a grace which poſſibly was not ſo natural in my Companions, and by diligences which underſtandings more intelligent than Candaces was at that time, would have eaſily diſcerned from thoſe which are uſed for another intereſt. Some difference likewiſe which ſhe favourably found between my Companions and me, both for my perſon and my ſervices, cauſed her to receive mine with more approbation than theirs, and I remarked in divers paſſages that ſhe ſet an higher eſteem upon me, than upon many perſons which by their birth held a very conſiderable rank in Ethiopia.

[Page] I was in this condition, and had ſtayed a year at Meroe, when Cleomedon arrived there; I call him by that name, though his true name and birth are not unknown unto me: a more ample declaration might be fatal to him in this Country, where a few days ſince we have ſeen him, and though I be his enemy by a natural inclination, and for the reaſons wherewith I will acquaint you, yet I ſhould be ſorry by diſhonourable means to take a revenge upon him unworthy of my courage. This Prince born with all the advantages of nature, and compoſed of as great parts as any poſſibly could be, came into Ethiopia to drive me thence, and though it was not his intention, and that by the difference there was between our conditions, he hardly caſt his eyes upon me, it came to paſs rather by my fortune than his deſign, that he overthrew all my hopes, and made me go to ſeek elſewhere the occaſions whereunto I was called by my deſtiny.

This Prince, as I have ſaid, and as I am obliged to ſay to give teſtimony to the truth, had qualities altogether excellent and amiable, and yet I no ſooner judged that he loved Candace, (for by the intereſt I took therein, I took notice of his truth ſooner than others) but I conceived hatred againſt him in my heart, and it found a diſpoſition ſo natural to receive it, that ever ſince, though the cauſe of our differences be ceaſed, and that naturally I am apt enough to be reconciled, and of an humour inclinable enough to pardon my moſt cruel Enemies, I could never baniſh the repugnance which ſince that time eſtabliſh'd it ſelf againſt him in my ſpirit: It was augmented by a thouſand occaſions, and Cleomedon, though I believe without deſign, did me a thouſand injuries, which were never taken notice of either by him or other perſons, and which could not poſſibly have paſſed for injuries amongſt my Companions, whoſe courage was not ſo haughty as mine. He deprived me every day of the means of entertaining the Princeſs, who, out of a particular goodneſs, oftentimes diverted her ſelf to diſcourſe with me: if I had the honour to lead her, as it was permitted us by the employment we had near her, he came to do my office, and put me beſides a place which I muſt needs quit unto him out of reſpect, and in fine, he did me a hundred diſpleaſures, which I looked upon rather through my paſſion, than my reaſon, and which made me deteſt my unfortunate birth, by reaſon of which I could not probably hope for ſatisfaction from a great Prince; but this fear was unjuſt in me, and Cleomedon, whoſe vertue and courage is more ſublime than his birth, made me a little after acknowledge, that he was exceeding worthy of the advantages he had above me, and that he might highly conſerve by his valour whatſoever he could acquire by his Fortune. You will perceive the truth of what I have told you in the recital of the engagement between us, and by the diſcourſe which I will make you of his admirable generoſity; you will be amazed that by his noble procedure all the hatred I had for him did not quit my heart, or rather you will believe with me that it muſt needs be retained there by unknown cauſes.

Hereabouts Britomarus ſtopped to recall into his memory ſome particulars of his diſcourſe: and when they were come to his mind, he went on upon the ſame things which a few days before Etcocles had related to Tyridates. He told the two Princes the diſpleaſures he had received from Cleomedon, for the Noſegay he had taken from him to preſent to the Princeſs Candace, he added alſo divers of the ſame nature, and at laſt came to the relation of the offence which he did him at the publick ſports of his reſentments, of his complaint to Cleomedon, and of the gallant combat which they had together, wherein he exalted the generoſity of Cleomedon in terms which ſufficiently diſcovered his own to his illuſtrious auditors, and made them rightly judge that vertuous men acknowledge and reverence vertue even in the perſon of their enemies. He told them in fine, the command he had received to depart Ethiopia, whereby his reſentments againſt Cleomedon were revived, the combat he ſuffered in his ſoul, whileſt his wounds detained him in his bed, to ſeparate himſelf from Candace; He gave them the relation of his cure, of the leave he took of Cleomedon, of his departure from the Court of Ethiopia, and punctually all thoſe things which Eteocles had recounted, by the recital whereof, he cauſed in Coriolanus an attention and admiration for theſe beginnings of his life, which poſſibly adventures of greater importance would not have produced; and after he had related in this ſort that which Tyridates already underſtood; he purſued in theſe terms his diſcourſe concerning thoſe things which were as yet unknown unto him, or thoſe at leaſt whereof he had heard only by a common report, and not by any particular narration.

It was not without very great violence, that I diſpoſed my ſpirit to ſeparate my ſelf from Candace, and though the paſſion I had for her was not yet arrived to the point whither it might have come, yet nevertheleſs it was not ſo ſlight, but it made me reſent a great part of that which might be ſuffered by ſuch a ſeparation; and that which aggravated my grief the more, was to ſee my ſelf driven away by my Rival (I ſay my Rival, for the inequality which was between us cannot hinder me from calling him ſo) and reduced [Page] by an unjuſt authority to yield up a place to him which my heart had choſen, and a place which I had infallibly conſerved, if my power had never ſo little ſeconded my courage.

‘What, ſaid I, ſhall I flie then for him, and ſhall I by him be ever baniſhed from the ſight of Candaee? muſt I needs ſubmit to a cruel tyranny, becauſe my birth was unfortunate? and becauſe I am more weak in power than Cleomedon, muſt I needs beare to no purpoſe an heart as great as Cleomedons? Shall this Sword wherewith I have began to exact ſatisfaction for my injuries, and which, for its firſt eſſay, hath poſſibly ſhed the moſt noble blood of the world, hang unprofitably by my ſide, and not deſend me from the laſt offence that is prepared for me? I ſhall go exiled, I ſhall goe baniſhed, to ſearch out retreats and ſanctuaries far from Candace, whilſt my inſolent enemy may poſſibly ſtay near her, and ſhall not all my courage be able to preſerve me from this unjuſt and cruel oppreſſion? Ah my Birth! ah my Fortune! what Enemies are you unto me? and how little conformable are you to my reſentments, which ſhall eternally complain of you.’

To theſe firſt diſcourſes which my love produced, ſucceeded the memory of the indignities I ſuffered, and the ſcorn of Candace, whoſe thoughts were conformable to thoſe of the King his Father, who as well as he, blamed my inſolence, and viſited Cleomedon every day, whileſt his wounds detained him in his bed, without once informing her ſelf of the eſtate of mine. The deſpite I hence reſented, was neceſſary to diſpoſe me to quit Ethiopia, and without that, the fear of any hurt they could do me, would never have been capable to make me for ever abandon the ſight of that I loved. ‘They diſpiſe thee, ſaid I, they accuſe thee of preſumption, they never ſo much as ask whether thou beeſt alive or no, and canſt thou feel any regret to ſeparate thy ſelf from theſe ingrateful perſons which diſdain thee? The King, who at firſt thought he ſaw ſomething extraordinary in thee, treats thee now as the vileſt of all men, he ſhamefully baniſhes thee his dominions, and hardly leaves thee thy life at the requeſt of thine enemy, and Candace, to whom thou haſt given an heart and a life poſſible as worthy of her as that of a Prince, diſ-eſteems thee for default of thy birth and fortune, and ſuffers thee to be baniſhed from her ſervice and her Father's Territories, without making one ſingle petition to him in thy favour. Ah Britomarus! rouze thy ſelf from that ſottiſhneſs wherein thy blind paſſion hath intangled thee. Remember thy ſelf that thou art not born for contempt, and that thou art poſſibly called to occaſions of glory, whereby thou mayeſt merit other kind of uſage from perſons as high as theſe which diſdain thee, make them know that they never rightly knew thee, and make them one day repent that they ſtay'd upon ſalſe appearances, and did not know to diſcern a vertue more worthy of their eſteem: Thou ſhalt find abroad elſe where better conditions than in this Enemy-country, where thou haſt abandoned thy liberty; and if the Gods will favour thy courage, thou art born without doubt to greater things than thoſe to which thou haſt given the beginnings of thy life: make thy ſelf equal to Cleomedon by this ſword which thou haſt drawn againſt him, and when thou ſhalt have attained to what thy heart makes thee hope for, return to diſpute againſt him, not Candace who diſpiſes thee, not the favour of Hidaſpes who treats thee unworthily; but the glory which he would raviſh from thee, by the injuries he hath done thee.’ Theſe thoughts coming again into my mind, fortified themſelves there at laſt in ſuch ſort, that all the powers of Candace were not able to reſiſt them, and after a great combat, if I could not entirely baniſh her out of my mind, yet by the reſentments which rendred themſelves equal to the love I had for her, I diſpoſed my ſelf to abandon her without regret, or at leaſt to vanquiſh what might remain by the memory of her ſcorn, and entirely to remove my thoughts to other employments, and other objects than thoſe which I could not call to mind without ſhame and diſpleaſure.

With this reſolution I parted from Meroe with my Father, who would not leave me, though he had liberty to ſtay; and having laid the foundation of all his hopes in me alone, was reſolved to run my fortune through the whole earth. He had found in my engagement with Cleomedon ſomething of raſh and preſumptuous, and he gave me at firſt a very ſharp check for it; but in fine, as he had reſentments truly generous and noble, be could not abſolutely condemn it, and confirming himſelf by this action in the judgement he made of me: Our fortune, ſaid he to me, is too narrow for thee, and Heaven would not be juſt, if it hath not reſerved ſomething for thee more proportionable to thy courage. He often uſed theſe words and others of the ſame nature to me, ſighing and expreſſing by his viſage the diſpleaſure he had to ſee ſo little conformity between my thoughts and my condition, in all kind of occurrences he ſhewed me an ardent affection, and lived with me, as I thought, with more conſideration than Parents uſually have for their children, through the good opinion he had coneeived of me: He gave me, all the time I ſtay'd with him, inſtructions worthy of the vertue which the world took notice of in him, and preſſed, as much as was poſſible for [Page] him, the imperuoſity of my youth, yet without debaſing my courage which he ſaw with joy inclined to great matters.

But alas! the inſtructions and conſolations which I received from him were but of a ſhore continuance, and it was with a very ſenſible grief that I ſaw my ſelf deprived of him by an unexpected adventure. Departing out of Ethiopia we viſited a part of Arabia; and I was detained in a little village by a ſlight indiſpoſition, when my Father attending my recovery, was walking one day in the company of ſome inhabitants of the place where I was, with whom he was acquainted, was ſet upon by a troop of Arabians who were almoſt all Thieves and Vagabonds, and carried away with ſome of thoſe which were with him without my hearing any news of him: Underſtanding his loſs, and being ſeiſed by a mortal grief, I purſued after his Raviſhers, and I may ſay that there was hardly a place in all Arabia, whither I bended not my ſteps with an intention either to periſh or recover him who gave me birth: But all my excurſions were unprofitable, and with them I loſt all the hope I had conceived of ſeeing again a Father ſo dear, and to whom I had ſo great obligations.

I will not recount unto you the regrets which this loſs cauſed me for divers moneths, and this relation will be to you as troubleſome as unprofitable, in relation to the knowledge which you deſire of my life: He had left at the houſe where I was when he was carried away, money and jewels of a very great price, which remained in my power after his loſs, whereby I had means to defend my ſelf from neceſſity in my travels, and to put my ſelf into an handſome equipage to go and ſeck occaſions of acquiring glory in thoſe places whither the fame of War invited me. I coaſted Syria, I ſaw Meſopotamia, and Aſſyria, but finding theſe Countries at peace, I contented my ſelf to paſs through them without ſtaying there, and I came at laſt into Armenia upon the report which was ſpread abroad concerning the preparations which the King of this Countrey made to carry War into Media, I found the truth conformable to what I had heard, and the young Artaxus boyling with revenge for the death of his Father, who was ſaid to have loſt his life by the ſollicitation of the King of the Medes, Father to him whom he went to engage, threw himſelf into his Territories with a puiſſant Army, putting all to Fire and Sword; I put my ſelf in his Troops unknown, and though my Equipage was handſome enough, and that I had employed thereupon part of what my Father had left me, being neither able nor willing to convert it to any other uſe than what might ſerve to ſignazile me, I fought in perſon without any command in the firſt encounters. I quickly got acquaintance with the Officers of the Army, who ſound ſomething in my perſon worthy of their careſſes and their amity, and in a ſhort time I was ſo fortunate, that in the Battels which were fought, I having done actions which they ſaid were not ordinary amongſt them, the King upon the report which was made of them, had a deſire to ſee me. I was preſented unto him by the Officers with whom I had gotten acquaintance, who commended me above the truth; and the King, after he had let me know that he eſteemed me more than I could propably expect, a little after gave me the command of two hundred horſe. This was my firſt employment, and the Gods were pleaſed that I ſhould ſucceed with ſo much good fortune, that in leſs than two moneths, by the favour of the King, I ſaw my ſelf in the head of a thouſand horſe, in a condition to do ſomething conſiderable, and in hope of arriving quickly to higher preferments.

In the mean time I had ſo well endeavoured to baniſh the Image of Candace out of my mind, that by the aſſiſtance of my reſentments and my youth, which had but imperfectly received the firſt impreſſions of love, my ſpirit found it ſelf free and diſ-engaged ſooner than I durſt hope, or if any Idea remained of it, it gave me but very ſlight pains, and deſpight daily ſortifying it ſelf in my heart, weakned it in ſuch ſort, that at laſt it was no longer in a condition to give any conſiderable traverſe to my ambitious thoughts: I am no longer, ſaid I, I am no longer in thy fetters, proud Princeſs, which knoweſt not how to diſcern between vertue and fortune, and which wouldſt have treated me with blindneſs like to hers. I am aſhamed that I once gave thee ſo lightly this liberty which I ſhould have better defended; and though others poſſibly eſteem it glorious to paſs their whole life in thy ſervice, I cannot without bluſhing remember that I have given thee any moments of mine. Theſe were my real thoughts, and by little and little I ſo perfectly raſed her out of my Soul, that ambition and the deſire of glory remained there alone, and made me entirely apply my cares and my deſires to occaſions of acquiring honour, and of advancing my ſelf ſo by my valour, that I might ſee my ſelf no more ſubjected to the injuries whereunto I had been expoſed by my Fortune.

I had in this deſign all the good ſucceſs I could deſire, and if that we owe to modeſty did permit me to ſpeak of my ſelf as of another perſon, I would ſay that the Armenians poſſibly never ſaw a man ſignalize himſelf amongſt them by more advantag ous ſucceſſes than thoſe which enſued upon all occaſions whereupon I was employed: with the thouſand horſe which [Page] I commanded, I divers times cut in pieces far greater numbers of the enemy, and the King permitting me, through the inclination he perceived in me, to go out often upon Parties, I never returned back but loaden with the ſpoils, and covered with the bloud of my Enemies, and with all the marks of advantage he could deſire of me.

Once our Enemy having charged part of our Infantry in a narrow paſſage, I was ſent with my ſmall Body, and I fought there with ſo good ſucceſs, that more than two thouſand Medes remained dead upon the place, the reſt were put to flight, and all their baggage with a good number of priſoners fell into our power: Some daies after at a paſs upon a River which our Enemies diſputed with us, I threw my ſelf firſt into the River, followed by a party of men, and through the arrows which flew like hail having recovered the bank, I charged the Enemies which defended it, and amuſed them ſo, that I gave leiſure to all our Troops to paſs after my example, to reach the bank and obtain an abſolute Victory. By theſe petty actions I acquired great reputation in the Army, and much eſteem in the mind of the young King of Armenia, who conſidered theſe things ſo much the more, becauſe I did them at an age wherein few perſons had began to draw a Sword. But his affection was much augmented by the ſucceſs of a Battel which was fought near the City of Luſſa, whereof in part he gave me the glory, and certain it is that with three thouſand Horſe, which he gave me the command of that day, I had the good fortune to rout the Enemy on all parts where I encountred them, to ſave the lives of our principal Commanders, and ſo opportunely with my un-engaged Body to ſuccour all thoſe which were in a condition of wanting relief, that they aſcribed to me, more than to any other Commanders, the advantage of this day, which was entirely ours.

After this time Artaxus looked upon me as a perſon extraordinary, he admitted me into his Council in ſo youthful an age, as to appearance did little merit theſe advantages, and he had advanced me to fair preferments in his Army. Hitherto I did not only conſerve but greatly augment the Reputation which I had gained, and Fortune which at that time did intereſs her ſelf in my glory, would have it ſo, that at the ſiege of a very important place which we had ſate down before, and for the ſuccour whereof the King of Medes was advanced with his Army, Tigranes to ſpare the bloud of his Subjects, made an offer to Artaxus to decide the ſiege by a ſingle Combate of one of his men againſt one of ours, upon condition, that if his Champion were conquered we ſhould raiſe the ſiege, and depart out of the Province, and if the Victory happened upon our ſide, the City beſieged ſhould be put into our hands, and open us the Gates at the end of the Combat. The King of Armenia, who out of the animoſity which carried him on to this War, rejected all ſorts of Propoſitions, ſeeing himſelf in a ſeaſon, wherein by reaſon of the cold and the incommodities of the winter which was very near at hand, he ſhould be ſhortly conſtrained to retire, accepted this; and although the report was long before ſpread even in our Army of the valour of the Medes who was to fight; he made no difficulty to oppoſe one of his men againſt him, and believed he ſhould find as valiant as he in his own Troops. Divers brave Armenians preſented themſelves to their King to obtain this employment, and I caſt my ſelf at his feet among the firſt to demand it of him. I know not whether he choſe rather to hazard the life of a Stranger, than of the principal of his own Subjects, or indeed the good opinion he had of me rendred my prayer more efficacious than other mens: but however it was I obtained this honour being preferred before all thoſe that demanded it, and I received a permiſſion to go put my ſelf into a condition to fight the valiant Mede, in whom our Enemies had eſtabliſhed part of their hopes. I clad my ſelf for this occaſion in very fair Arms, and then it was that I began to carry theſe Lions which my Fortune hath rendred famous enough, and which have appeared ſince in an hundred Combats wherein Victory never abandoned them.

I will not detain you with the particular relation of this Action, having ſo many of greater importance to recount unto you, that I can only paſs over this very lighty. All the conditions being agreed upon, and the day come, I appeared upon the Field aſſigned in view of the two Kings, and both Armies, and after the accuſtomed Ceremonies, I fought with the Mede, and by great good Fortune made him tumble dead almoſt with the firſt blows I gave him. This action was glorious and ſolemn enough to tickle my ambitious deſires, and I received praiſes for it from the King and all our Troops, wherein a ſoul like mine might find its entire recompence. The King that very day gave the City which I had gained for him by this Combate, and proteſted publickly, that there was no employment in his Kingdom ſuperior to me, to which I might not lawfully aſpire.

A few daies after by the rigour of the ſeaſon the Armies were forced to leave the Field, and the King of Armenia having put good Garriſons in the places which he had taken, retired into his own Country, and took me along with him to Artaxata, where he kept his ordinary reſidence. At my coming, through the advantagious relation which was there made of me, I was treated better without doubt than I deſerved, and inſtead of being looked upon as a [Page] poor ſtranger without name, without eſtate, and without any advantage of Fortune, I was conſidered as a man rendred worthy, in a few moneths, of Commands which the beſt qualified perſons could hardly obtain in a great number of years. I had acceſs at my firſt coming to all the Grandees of the Court, and the King giving me ample Penſions to maintain my ſelf in an honourable condition, and according to the rank he would have me bear, I was as well received both among the Courtiers and the Ladies, as perſons of greater dignity than my ſelf. I was likewiſe well entertained and particularly careſſed by all the Royal Family, and through my ambitious humour the careſſes of theſe perſons made me deſpiſe all others, and did ſo powerfully fix me that I hardly caſt my eyes upon the reſt. The Royal Family was at this time compoſed of perſons admirably handſome made, the King though he appeared ſomething unpoliſhed in his aſpect, yet he had a high and lofty deportment: but the Prince Ariobarzanes his brother, and the two Princeſſes Arſinoe and Artemiſa his Siſters were admirable Maſter-pieces of nature, for their bodies, minds, and inclinations. Ariobarzanes was ſixteen years of age, Arſinoe one year leſs, and Artemiſa one leſs than her Siſter; it would be certainly a difficult thing to find any thing in the world more beautiful than the young Prince and the two Princeſſes, and all that which I had ſometimes admired in the beauties of Candace ſeemed to be parallel'd by thoſe of Arſinoe, and to have very little advantage over thoſe of Artemiſa. Other perſons would poſſibly have beſtowed longer time in paſſing a judgment upon theſe two Princeſſes, and the difference was not ſo great, that one could eaſily adjudge the ſuperiority to either; but whether it were by my inclination, or by the truth that I remained convinced, I did not doubt to give the preference to Arſinoe, and to judge her in all things more amiable than her Siſter. Arſinoe was ſo compoſed, that the eyes of Envy it ſelf could find nothing to carp at in the regularity of the lineaments of her Viſage, nor in all the ſtructure of her whole perſon: her eyes black but full of the quickeſt fire wherewith hearts are enflamed, had in their motion and conduct ſomething ſo ſweet and ſo imperious both together, that they caſt but few regards without effect; and it was hard to defend ones ſelf againſt their powers, if one were not fortified by ſome extraordinary aſſiſtance. Their blackneſs, with that of her hair being of the ſame colour, was made remarkable by a complexion to which it gave a luſtre, which nevertheleſs had no need of its aſſiſtance to dazle the eyes of the Beholders, and to carry away the pre-eminence from all the pureſt whites that nature ever produced; her mouth, her neck, her proportion, and all her parts were compleat even to the height of perfection, but the beauties of her mind were yet much more perfect then thoſe of her body, and if chaſtity and modeſty were depainted in her face, they were likewiſe ſo deeply engraved in her heart, and with them vertue was eſtabliſhed in her ſoul with ſo fair an Empire, that (according to the judgment I could make of it at that time by appearances, and not by occaſions) all the moſt powerful conſiderations would have been too feeble to ſway her ſpirit from the leaſt rule of her duty. All her diſcourſes were accompanied by a reaſoning infinitely above her age, and although her courage was ſublime above her Sex, yet it was elevated without pride, and full of a generous goodneſs. In fine, ſhe was amiable in all parts, and you will eaſily perceive by the following part of my diſcourſe, that I praiſe her now without paſſion, and without any other intereſt than what I have in the truth. I had at this time through deſpight, my youth, abſence, and warlike employments, to which I entirely gave my ſelf, baniſhed Candace from my heart, and if at any time ſhe preſented her ſelf there, ſhe found a reſiſtance in my reſentments which did not permit her to recover there the Empire which ſometimes ſhe had poſſeſſed. Impreſſions are eaſily defaced out of the heart of a perſon of the age that I was of when I parted from Ethiopia, and thoſe which I had received in mine were not ſo ſtrongly ſetled as to vanquiſh the deſpight which ſcorn enkindled in my heart. It was then almoſt free, when the beauties of Arſinoe preſented themſelves unto me with charms, againſt which it was difficult to make any defence. I likewiſe did but weakly defend my ſelf from them, and whether it were by their power, or my own weakneſs, or by my deſtiny which did not permit me to fix my thoughts upon any but Daughters of great Kings, but I ſuffered my ſelf to be taken without conſulting my reaſon, and without making any reflection upon thoſe things which might divert me. Neither this ſecond engagement, nor that which you will underſtand in the progreſs of my diſcourſe, proceeded from the lightneſs of my ſpirit, and naturally I have no inclination to change, if I be not carried to it by ſome more powerful motive than my love; I ſhould have loved Candace to my grave, if the love I had for her in ſo tender youth had had time to render it ſelf more powerful in my ſoul, than the averſion I had for her ſcorn: but as I have naturally this unreaſonable preſumption as to believe that the inequality which is between me and that I love, ought not to expoſe me to diſdain and evil uſage, ſo by the knowledge I received of it my reſentments were ſtrong enough to baniſh from my ſoul a paſſion not well ſetled; I ſay a paſſion ill ſetled: for the laſt I have received into my ſpirit, hath placed it ſelf there after [Page] another ſort and hath taken ſuch profound root there, that neither regret, nor deſpite, nor jealouſie, nor all that the Gods and Men can oppoſe to impede its courſe, will be capable to alter it for one moment.

In fine, I could not take notice of the amiable qualities of Arſinoe without loving her, and though recalling to mind the uſage I received in Ethiopia, I made ſome efforts againſt the birth of this love, whereof in probability I ought to expect no better ſucceſs than of the former, yet if this reſiſtance ſerved a while againſt the ſight only of the beauties of Arſinoe, it prevailed nothing at laſt againſt ſo many miracles of her mind, whereby the advantages of her body were ſurpaſſed. This inability of defending my ſelf was ſeconded by the flattery of my natural ambition, and looking with Pride upon the beginning of a Fortune which I believed due to my ſelf alone: What hinders me from hoping, ſaid I, but that by this valour whereof the firſt effects are ſo handſome, I may render my ſelf worthy of being an avowed Servant of Arſinoe? and what ought I not to expect from a Sword which hath already advanced me to a rank, where poſſibly it never placed a Perſon of my age in ſo ſhort a time? Undertake, daring Britomarus, all that thy courage can inſpire thee with, it is too good to betray thee, and by it thou mayſt one day ſee thy ſelf in a condition not to be diſdained neither by Arſinoe nor any Princeſs upon Earth: If Royal Blood and Crowns be wanting to thee, thy vertue may ſupply the defect of the one, and may poſſibly give thee the other; this Fortune is not without Example, and divers perſons of a Birth inferior to thine have attained by their valour to a royal Dignity: Arſinoe, whoſe Spirit is not of the common ſtamp, will know how to diſcern in thee that which is moſt precious and worthy of her eſteem, though perhaps concealed under diſadvantagious appearences; ſhe will conceive that if thou beeſt not a Prince, poſſibly thou meriteſt to be one, and thou appeareſt now before her in another condition, and in another kind of poſture, than thou didſt before Candace, by whom thou couldſt not be regarded but as one of her meaneſt Domeſticks, and to whom thou couldſt not be conſiderable by any action which could render thee ſuperior to thoſe of thy birth. I animated, or rather flattered my ſelf in this manner, and by indulging my paſſion, I ſuffered my ſelf to be but too deeply enengaged: all things contributed to it, and Arſinoe her ſelf was partly culpable of it by the kindneſſes ſhe ſhewed me, and the marks of a particular eſteem which ſhe daily gave me. As ſhe was perſwaded that I was owner of ſome vertue, ſo ſhe gave it as much reſpect in my perſon as ſhe would have done in a great Prince, and this was that which deceived me, and which made me conceive hopes in her goodneſs, whereby I found my ſelf abuſed.

Henceforward my love began to produce its ordinary effects: I loſt my repoſe and ſleep, and I ſaw my ſelf expoſed to all the inquietudes which accompany this paſſion; yet mine were greater than thoſe of other perſons who have permiſſion to eaſe themſelves by complaint and diſcourſe, and knowing my ſelf obliged, by the eminency of that which I loved to bury my thoughs in a rigorous ſilence, I ſuffered without doubt in this cruel conſtraint, what I ſhould not have ſuffered, if I had the liberty to declare my mind: I ſaw the Princeſs every day, and by the account the King made of me, and the ſtate he made me take in the Court, I had free ingreſs into places whither none but Perſons of Quality were permitted to come; the Princeſs did me the honour to ſpeak often to me, ſhe was pleaſed with my diſcourſe, and oftentimes preferred it before that of the Grandees of Armenia: by her goodneſs I was more enflamed, and though I received it with a reſpect which tyed up my tongue more and more, yet it could not hold my eyes nor my ſighs in the like conſtraint, and they continually ſpake a language to the Princeſs, which ſhe might eaſily have underſtood, if all appearances had not been contrary to it.

Amongſt the Perſons whoſe amity I had acquired during the ſtay I made in Armenia, Artamenes a Young Armenian, of a very ſublime condition, and allied divers wayes to the Royal Family, was the Man to whom I was the moſt engaged, and which teſtified moſt affection to me: He had inclinations altogether vertuous, and a great ſweetneſs of ſpirit joyned with a great and lofty courage, the rank he held in Armenia cauſed me at the firſt to uſe ſome ſubmiſſive reſpect towards him; but in a ſhort time he baniſhed all ceremony out of our Society, and eſteeming ſome quality in me which he preferred before Birth and Fortune, his abſolute will was that we ſhould live in an entire equality, and that we ſhould baniſh all conſtraint from our converſations; and ſeeing me without any other eſtate, than what I received from the King, and what I might hope for from my ſword, he would often have made me to participate of his, and have put me in a condition to out-brave neceſſity, if Fortune ſhould prove contrary to me: but I had but too much diſ-eſteem for things of ſo mean a value, and I alwayes aſſured Artamenes not onely that his friendſhip was conſiderable to me out of the ſingle intereſt of eſteem which I had for his vertue; but alſo that what the vulgar call goods could never paſs for ſuch in my ſpirit, or engage me in one ſingle thought of my ſeeking after them. We were almoſt every day together, and he having by his birth, and the eſteem which was due to his vertue, gained the beſt acquaintance in the Court, led me into all the beſt companies, [Page] and made me take my part in the divertiſements of the moſt eminent Perſons; but he began quickly to perceive, both by the familiarity we had together, and the little power I had to diſſemble my thoughts that theſe pleaſures which he gave me were not ſufficiently capable to touch me, and that I diſdained all that was common in Armenia, for that which was greateſt and moſt eminent there. He ſaw me ſigh, change colour, and expreſs in all things an extraordinary emotion at the ſight of the Princeſs Arſinoe; and when by the firſt notice he took, he had grounded his ſuſpicions, he obſerved me more curiouſly than he had done formerly, and found in all my actions great occaſions to confirm himſelf in them. Out of diſcretion he would not a long time diſcover his thoughts to me, but when our friendſhip had made ſo large a progreſs as that he believed that familiarity permitted him all things: Britomarus, ſaid he to me, it is not eaſie for perſons of Your humour to diſguiſe themſelves long from their friends, and what care ſoever You take to conceal from me the ſecret of Your ſoul, it appears to me by ſo many marks, that I can no longer be ignorant of it. Theſe words ſurprized me, as Artamenes might well judge by the ſilence I kept for ſome time before I returned him an anſwer; but a little after recollecting my ſelf: I ſhall never be ſorry, ſaid I him, that my moſt reſerved thoughts are known unto You, and that which I ſhall keep ſecret from all the World, ſhall be diſcovered unto You, ſince You have a deſire to underſtand it; This is an effect of Your amity which is very dear unto me, replyed Artamenes, and yet is not from your amity that I have drawn the knowledge of the thoughts which You have for the Princeſs Arſinoe: Bluſh not, Britomarus, continued he ſmiling, and looking upon me with more attention than before, this is an elevation of ſpirit worthy of you, and as I hold You capable of none but high and noble thoughts, ſo I think it not ſtrange that You have choſen that which is moſt great and beautiful in all Aſia for the object of your affections.

Theſe words did abſolutely put me in a kind of confuſion, but I put it off as readily as poſſibly I could; and as I have been all my life time ſo much an enemy of diſguiſe, that all the occaſions which might moſt powerfully carry me unto it, were never ſtrong enough to oblige me to tell a lye, ſo I believed that for a friend, as Artamenes was, I ought not to conſtrain my nature, and endeavouring to ſhew him a viſage full of the marks of confidence: ‘You have known my moſt particular thoughts, ſaid I to him, becauſe I have not taken the care to conceal them from you, and though you will not owe it to my friendſhip, yet by that you have penetrated into my heart, and by that I am not reduced, in relation to you, to a conſtraint which might poſſibly have hidden from you, as well as from others, part of my inclinations. I had not declared them to you ſo readily becauſe I judged that they might be too audacious, but ſince that, through my imprudence, you have been able to diſcern that which I ought to have kept undiſcovered from all the World,; I ſhall make no difficulty to acknowledge to you that which my mouth cannot handſomely utter, and confeſs unto you that the diſproportion of my Birth and Fortune have not been able to defend me againſt the powers of the Princeſs Arſinoe. I do not find it ſtrange, ſaid Artamenes to me, but I cannot comprehend what your deſign can be; and if you are yet in a condition to take counſel of the beſt of your Friends, you will conſult your reaſon before you engage any further: Your vertue renders you, and without doubt will render you conſiderable amongſt all thoſe which wear a Sword with Glory, but it doth not ſuffice to authorize your ambition; and the Princeſs Arſinoe is born with an heart ſo high, and with ſo great advantages, that ſhe will never caſt her eyes but upon a great King: I never hoped, replyed I to him, that my thoughts ſhould be approved of by the Princeſs (though I might truly ſay, that when they ſhall be known, ſhe will have no cauſe to condemn them) and I never had the intention to let her know them, ſo long as I had power enough to mannage my reaſon; but I muſt tell you, Artamenes, that though a common diſcretion might repreſent to me ſomething of raſh and extravagant in my paſſion, yet I do not find my ſelf capable of loving any thing inferiour to Arſinoe, and I have ſo much diſdain, without being able to imagine the cauſe, for all that is below her, that I am not able to turn my thoughts towards it for a moment with the leaſt engagement. I know I can hope for no fruit from an affection ſo diſproportionable; but this is fruit great enough for me, that I have the honour to love ſo amiable, and ſo great a Princeſs, and I will never complain of my paſſion, ſeeing that it hath not ſubjected me but only to that Perſon of the World which is moſt worthy of my ſubmiſſions. Poſſible it is, that a little vertue, which perhaps will raiſe me above the rank of common Perſons, may do ſomething more advantagious for me, and though I will expect nothing with too much confidence, yet I will deſpair of nothing from a Fortune whereof I will make a good part my ſelf. You are worthy, replyed Artamenes, you are worthy, Dear Britomarus, of all you can deſire. I find in you all the marks of a real Grandeur in ſo marvellous a luſtre, that there muſt needs be no Juſtice in the conduct of our deſtinies, if Heaven do not act for you after an extraordinary faſhion: Perſevere in your high [Page] inclinations, ſeeing that it is impoſſible for you to abuſe them, and that I cannot now counſel you to it my ſelf without repugnance; but remember that you ought to hope more from the advantages you ſhall gain upon the ſpirit of the Princeſs, than from the acknowledgment of the King her Brother; and though he eſteems your valour for the ſervice he receives from thence, and for an inclination ſufficiently warlike in himſelf, yet be pleaſed to know, that according to the judgment which is already made of his haughty nature, you ought to expect nothing from him by your ſervices which is not agreeable to his dignity.’ Artamenes ſpake to me in this manner, and we had had more diſcourſe upon this ſubject, if we had not been interrupted by ſome perſons which came into the place where we were, and intermingled themſelves in our converſation.

In the mean while my paſſion augmenting, made me more melancholy and ſolitary than ordinary, it made me oftentimes to avoid the aſſemblies of great companies, and the ſocieties wherein I was accuſtomed to entertain my ſelf, and for the moſt part when I paid the viſits to which I was particularly obliged, and could diſ-engage my ſelf from Artamenes, whoſe friendſhip and ſight were really very dear to me, I went alone to take my walks in the moſt retired places, and there I entertained my ſelf whole hours together, with the fair Idea which I had in my heart. I was often ſurprized there by Artamenes who took care to find me out, and though he oppoſed this change of my humour, yet he knew he had cauſe enough to pardon me for it.

One day having ſought my ſolitary walk in the King's Park, which is near one of the Gates of Artaxata, and ſuffering my ſelf to be carryed by my agreeable imaginations into the moſt private Allies, in a quarter where divers Allies met, I lighted upon the two Princeſſes, who with divers Ladies of her ordinary train, ſought their divertiſement in the Wood. Although I endeavoured to avoid other companies which might divert me from my flattering thoughts, yet that of Arſinoe had charms for me which I could not flie, and I no ſooner ſaw her appear, but inſtead of retiring, as I ſhould have done for any other encounter, I advanced before her with a little emotion which might have been perceived in my countenance if it had been curiouſly obſerved. The Princeſs looked graciouſly upon me, and receiving me with a deportment Majeſtically courteous: ‘What Britomarus, ſaid ſhe, are you then become melancholy ſince you came amongſt us, and do you now ſeek ſolitude in a Country wherein your vertue hath already gained ſo much acquaintance? At a diſcourſe ſo obliging, I expreſſed as much humility as I could poſſible, and endeavouring to vanquiſh a weakneſs which we naturally have for that we love:’ ‘Madam, replyed I, the ſatisfaction of the Perſons whom I honour, is as dear to me as mine own, and I do all that I can poſſible to ſpare my Friends the trouble of my bad company: Say rather, anſwered the Princeſs, that you find in your ſelf, that which you cannot find in others, and that your thoughts entertain you more agreeably than the company of your Friends can do: Your Highneſs, replyed I, hath ſpoken part of the truth, and certain it is that I can hardly find in the converſation of my Friends, the entertainment which my thoughts may furniſh me withal. But Britomarus, ſaid Arſinoe, ſhall not we be too curious if we ſhould deſire to know ſomething of theſe thoughts which we judge to be very ſublime by the knowledge which we have of your courage? And may it be permitted to ask you if it be Love or War which furniſhes you with the matter of them? my inclinations, anſwered I, lean no more to War than to Love, but in that which you call War, and that which you call Love, I find War altogether, and the God which is Preſident of War, doth not cauſe more cruel combats amongſt Men, than thoſe which the God of Love excites in our ſpirits: I believed, replyed the Princeſs, that that which you call Love, had been a more pleaſing paſſion than you preſent it to be, but ſeeing it is ſo dangerous by the effects which it produces, it ought to be avoided with precautions proportionable to the greatneſs of the evils which it may make one ſuffer. It is certhin, ſaid I, that Love hath its ſweets; but it hath likewiſe its bitterneſs, capable at leaſt to counter-ballance its ſweetneſs: and as there is no felicity comparable to that of a ſpirit ſatisfied in its Love; ſo there is no ſuch hard condition as that of a Lover to whom Fortune is contrary in his paſſion: Divers things in Love contribute and concur to our felicity, the ſatisfaction of loving a thing amiable to our eyes and judgement, the facility of giving teſtimonies to it for our Love, and that which is yet more powerful, the aſſent of the Perſon beloved, and the correſpondence to our affection; and it is very true, that when a Lover is arrived to this degree of happineſs, there is nothing amongſt all the things in the world which is not infinitely below him: but thoſe benefits are ſufficiently equalized by evils as powerful, and we are not more happy by theſe good ſucceſſes, than we render our ſelves unfortunate by the cruel inquietudes which torment us by pains of abſence, the vexation of jealouſie, and more than all by the inſenſibility or repugnance of the Perſon beloved. Upon this account, ſaid the Printeſs Artemiſa, who till now had not ſpoken, [Page] they which are well adviſed, being in a peaceable and quiet condition of life, will never caſt themſelves into this paſſion, wherein good and ill are confounded together, and wherein the evils far exceed the good. The choice of theſe two conditions, replyed I, is not ordinarily in our power, and it is neither by the counſel of our Friends, nor of reaſon it ſelf, that our minds are moſt frequently engaged; but by a violence which beauty exerciſes upon our Souls, and by forces which ours are not capable to reſiſt: but if the election ſhould depend upon our will, I ſhall never be of their party, who prefer this tranquility or rather indolency of life before the benefits purchaſed by ſome afflictions, and I ſhall never complain of the dayes and years of my ſufferings, if they be only accompanied with hope which may ſweeten them, and if by them I may attain to the leaſt degree of this ſupream fortune. You diſcourſe of this paſſion, anſwered Arſinoe ſmiling, as if you had grown old in it, and yet you have paſſed ſo few years, that you have hardly had time to take notice of what you deſcribe, having performed ſo many brave actions as you have done in ſo ſmall a time. By this preference, ſaid I, which tranquility may have in ſome ſpirits above a diſquieted life, I ſhould be happy if the judgement which your Highneſs makes of my condition were true: but although in this paſſion whereinto I am fallen by my deſtiny, and by powers wholly caeleſtial, beſides the evils which I have ſpoken of, divers others more great and more formidable do yet prepare themſelves againſt me, and that by my laſt misfortune I am abandoned by the hope which might render them ſupportable, yet I ſhould be verry ſorry to return to my former condition, and to change theſe torments, which for me are glorious, with the repoſe wherein I have paſſed the firſt years of my life: Can it be poſſible added the Princeſs, that you ſhould loſe it in this Court, and that during the little ſtay you have made here, there ſhould be found a beauty capable to ſtay you with us? you, who by the report of thoſe who are acquainted with your inclinations, are of an humour to tranſport your ſelf into all places whither the occaſions of honour and war invite you: It is certain, Madam, ſaid I to her, that I have found their chains ſtrong enough to captivate the freeſt ſouls, and that all the power which the conſiderations of glory can have over our ſpirits is not capable to defend us againſt the prevalency of a divine beauty: I hope, anſwered Arſinoe, that we ſhould one day know the beauty which hath done us this good office, and if we have not credit enough to learn it at this time from your own mouth, time and your actions will diſcover it to us hereafter. That ſhall be, replyed I, as late as poſſibly I can, and if this too audacious flame doth not of it ſelf bring to light the cauſe which kindled it, my mouth will hardly diſpoſe it ſelf to betray it, and to diſcover the ſecret of an heart, which hath no way to eſtabliſh the remainder of its repoſe, but only in ſilence.’ We had, during the walk of the Princeſſes whom I had the honour to accompany till their return, divers other diſcourſes upon the ſame ſubject, without any farther declaring of my ſelf, and the goodneſs of the Princeſs made me loſe nothing of the reſpect and fear, which kept my tongue in reſtraint. From this day forward ſhe queſtioned me a little upon what I had confeſſed, but it was always with an obliging diſcretion, and the marvellous moderation with which ſhe regulated all her actions hindred her from preſſing me, for fear of creating me a diſpleaſure.

In the mean while it was the pleaſure of fortune that in the Court of Armenia there were Ladies by whom I was not hated, and amongſt thoſe which were neither of a mean rank nor beauty, there were ſome which gave me teſtimonies of their friendſhip, whereof poſſibly any other but my ſelf would not have been inſenſible: but my ſoul being prepoſſeſſed, and I being tranſported by the immoderate ambition which hath always elevated my thoughts above my ſelf, I diſ-eſteemed that which other perſons in a condition like to mine would without doubt have looked upon with obligation. Yet Cinthia a Lady really very beautiful, of an excellent ſpirit, and born of an illuſtrious family amongſt the Armenians, obliged me both by the proofs of her affection, and the qualities of her perſon, to conſider her with more attention than others, and remarking in her parts good enough to perſwade them that might obſerve me, that ſhe was capable to make me love her, I was not ſorry that ſome ſmall ſervices which I rendred her, ſerved as covering to my true paſſion, and took away all knowledge and ſuſpicion of it from perſons who without doubt would not have approved of it. Cinthia, not without reaſon, being prepoſſeſſed with a good opinion enough of her ſelf, and flattered by the inclination ſhe had for me, eaſily believed that I loved her, and to keep me in this humour ſhe forgot nothing on her part which an honeſt Maid might contribute thereunto. She was always near the Princeſſes, and particularly engaged to Arſinoe, who eſteemed and favoured her above all the Ladies of the Court. The merit of this Lady, and the obligation I had to her gave me really particular conſiderations for her; but as I have a ſoul incapable of all kind of diſſimulation, I never inclined my ſpirit to counterfeit tranſports and torments which ſhe never made me ſuffer. [Page] I ſhould have had too much repugnance for this action, and beſides the impoſſibility which I have to diſguiſe my ſelf, I ſhould have thought it contrary to good breeding to abuſe the ſpirit of a Lady worthy of other uſage, and of a real eſteem: but only having noted by divers very evident marks that ſhe had affection for me, I was willing to teſtifie unto her above all others that I was not ingrateful to her goodneſs; I rendred her viſits with great aſſiduity, and gave her often to underſtand by my diſcourſes, the advantages which were remarkable in her perſon; and if at any time I intermingled any thing which might ſeem to proceed from any other original than acknowledgment and eſteem, it was with ſo much reſervation, and ſo little engagement, that ſhe could find no reaſonable ground to perſwade her ſelf that I was paſſionate for her. Yet for all that ſhe was apt to believe it, and obſerving the difference between the manner of my converſation with her, and my carriage towards others, ſhe eaſily imagined that ſhe had produced in me part of that which was obſerved in the change of my humour.

I upheld her, as I told you, in this belief ſo long, as I was not importuned upon that account, and that it ſerved to conceal my real paſſion, and during this time there paſſed divers converſations betwixt us, which I will not repeat unto you, becauſe the diſcourſe would be too long, and amongſt the great things I have to tell you, I hold it not important to the relation of my life: but when ſhe would appropriate all my cares to her ſelf, and have me quit all things to attend and ſerve her, and that ſhe her ſelf made propoſitions to me of nearer engagement in relation to Marriage, I made conſcience of ſuffering her to continue any longer in her errour, and endeavoured to put her out of it by the ſweeteſt ways poſſible.

One day after ſhe had made me a long diſcourſe to oblige me to deſire the conſent of her Parents, that I might be engaged to a tie to which I had no thought to ſubmit my ſelf: Fair Cinthia, ſaid I to her, methinks you ſhould not uſe precipitation in an affair of ſuch importance: I have been ſo ſmall a time in your ſight and ſervice, that you hardly have any knowledge of my nature: beſides, I am in a condition wherein, without doubt, your Parents will diſapprove of my pretentions: I am born without eſtate, in a fortune diſproportionable to yours, and without any other advantages than what I may hope for from my Sword: It hath begun to do me ſucceſsful ſervice, and before the twentieth year of my age, by that alone I find my ſelf prompted to conceive the higheſt hopes; let us attend ſome effect thereof with patience, and give me leave to ſee my ſelf in a condition to obtain the approbation of your Friends, before I put my ſelf in danger of being expoſed to their diſ-eſteem. You need not fear, replyed Cinthia, the diſ-eſteem of thoſe who already eſteem your perſon much more than riches, for want of which, you believe they might diſdain you; and beſides that, your vertue, which is more conſiderable to me than all the advantages of fortune may produce the ſame effect in the minds of my parents: they ſee you in ſuch a degree of eſteem with the King, that by his favour you may aſpire to the higheſt dignities. If there be any apparent reaſon, anſwered I, to conceive theſe hopes, let us attend ſome part of them, to the end that I may, with better grace, offer to you and others a perſon more worthy to be preſented unto you.

By theſe diſcourſes I ſtaid for a while the impatience of Cinthia, and defended my ſelf againſt her propoſitions, not having confidence enough to declare unto her the ſmall power I had to ſubmit my ſelf to what ſhe deſired of me, but by the continuance of theſe purſuits, though founded upon a very great appearance, and by diminiſhing my addreſſes wherein ſhe ſaw me grow the colder for her preſſing me, ſhe began to open her eyes to part of the truth, and to perceive that all the ſervices I rendred her might proceed only from eſteem and good will, without my being poſſeſſed with any ſtronger paſſion for her. She daily confirmed her ſelf in this opinion with a very ſenſible grief, and at laſt all her modeſty could not hinder her from declaring to me with ſome earneſtneſs the regret ſhe had for it. She had obliged me one day by a very preſſing ſolicitation to fall into a diſcourſe with her little different from that which I related unto you, and this laſt time hearing me with impatiance: ‘Britomarus, ſaid ſhe to me, pay me no more with theſe reaſons, which I cannot conceive from you any longer as current, after I have ſo much reſiſted them, and alledge nothing to defend your ſelf from the teſtimonies of my affection, but the only want of your own: there it is only that you can find your excuſe, and I ſhould be ſtark blind if I did not clearly perceive that you never loved me.’ Theſe words at firſt ſurpriſed me, but after I had digeſted them a little, I was not altogether ſorry that they gave me opportunity to free my ſelf from a very great difficulty, and having taken a reſolution whereunto my mind did not apply it ſelf without ſome trouble: ‘Cinthia, ſaid to her, you may really believe that I love you, and ſhall love you ſo long as I live, as the qualities of your perſon and your goodneſs hath obliged me, and when you ſhall ſee me wanting in this acknowledgement [Page] and reſentment, I give you leave to account me the moſt ingrateful and unworthy of all men: This is a truth which I will ſeal unto you with my blood, if you require it of me: but Cinthia—make an end, ſaid ſhe, interrupting me with impatience, and tell me, as I expect, that I muſt be contented with a ſingle acknowledgment, and the good will only of a man which hath other pretentions. I will not make my confeſſion to you in theſe terms, replyed I to her, and I ſhould not have courage enough to acknowledge the truth, if you your ſelf had not removed the difficulty; but ſeeing you will have it ſo, and that I eſteem you too really to abuſe you, I will tell you that deſtiny rather than reaſon hath diſpoſed of my ſoul, and before that ever I had ſpoken to you, I was in a condition to receive no other reſentments for you than thoſe of eſteem, reſpect, and good will.’

I made Cinthia this diſcourſe with my eyes caſt down, and ſhe was ſo touched with it, that having beheld me ſometime with all the marks of a violent regret, and not having the power to expreſs her ſelf by any diſcourſe, ſhe roſe from the place where ſhe ſate, and retired into her Cloſet and ſhut the door after her: I was really moved at this diſpleaſure, which I noted in her action and her viſage, and all that day, and divers others, I was not able abſolutely to free my ſelf from ſome ſmall remorſes; but in the concluſion, I was not born for Cinthia, and by my deſtiny I was ordained for other things than to paſs my days with Cinthia.

In the interim, this Lady, tranſported with deſpight, reſolved to break off all kind of ſociety with me, and when I would have viſited her again, ſhe oftentimes ſent me word that ſhe was indiſpoſed; and at laſt prayed me to render her no more viſits: though this order was not capable to afflict me much, yet I received it with ſome trouble, and I told the Maid that brought it, that I would conſtrain my ſelf to obey her Miſtreſs, and that all the repugnance ſhe had for me, ſhould never hinder me from honouring and loving her, and applying my ſelf to her intereſts all the days of my life.

In the mean time, ſeeing my ſelf diſcharged of a trouble very contrary to my nature, I purſued as I thought, the motions of my love with more liberty, and of two conſtraints being now obliged to one only, I conſidered Arſinoe directly, without diverting at all my thoughts from her: ‘O Gods! what did I ſuffer by this rigorous violence, which I was conſtrained to exerciſe upon my ſelf, and how often ſhould I have had my mouth open to ſay unto the Princeſs, I die for you, if fear had not ſtopped me, and taken away all the boldneſs which I received from Heaven?’ For ſomething ſhe found in a converſation which did not pleaſe her, ſhe often did me the honour to diſcourſe with me, and in theſe agreeable moments, if my tongue did not give my heart the ſuccour which it demanded, my eyes did expreſs for it thoughts, which Arſinoe being ſo intelligent as ſhe was, might eaſily have perceived, if the diſ-proportion between us had not diverted hers, or if ſhe could have imagined in me an ambition ſo little conformable to my life, with ſome luſtre, and gave me hope of being advanced to the higheſt dignities, if the actions I ſhould do for his ſervice ſhould be anſwerable to the beginnings. The Prince Ariobarzanes his Brother, who was then about ſeventeen or eighteen years of age, and in whom, beſides his beauty, and one of the moſt ſublime deportments of the world, all admirable qualities were remarkable, teſtified a particular affection unto me, and let ſlip no occaſion of rendring me all kinds of good offices: He did me the honour to make me one in all the parts of gallantry, which he performed either in courſes on horſe-back, or the combats of divertiſement; and if he found that I came off with ſome addreſs, I muſt needs confeſs that his alſo, not without reaſon, was admired by the whole world, and that in all particulars he gave marvellous hopes of his future excellency. Artamenes and I were ſeldom aſunder, and at this time he acknowledged that he had unjuſtly blamed in me the effects which Love could produce without conſulting with reaſon, and what reſiſtance ſoever he would have made, at laſt he yielded himſelf to the powers of the Princeſs Artemiſa, and out of the confidence he had in me he preſently diſcovered his paſſion to me, and inſtead of condemning it, I found therein matter of great conſolation to my ſelf, I encouraged him to it as much as poſſibly I could, and repreſented to him divers times that a good courage ought to fix it ſelf upon ſublime thoughts, and that to deſpiſe common things, and to aſpire to the higheſt, was the only means to exempt a man from the rank of the vulgar. Artamenes defended himſelf a while by the knowledge which he had, that it was only for Kings, and not for the ſubjects of their Brother that the Princeſſes of Armenia were deſtined: but he defended himſelf to no purpoſe, and at laſt laid his liberty at Artemiſa's feet: We began thence forward to ſympathize, and to entertain our ſelves reciprocally with the effects which our paſſion produced in our ſpirits, without concealing any thing from each other. Becauſe of the rank which Artamenes held in Armenia, there was leſs temerity in his thoughts than in mine, and except the Siſters of his King, he [Page] might without preſumption pretend to any of the Ladies of the higheſt quality, yet this did not encreaſe his boldneſs, and he ſuffered as well as I, during the time we paſſed together, without daring to open his mouth to diſcover his Love.

Mean time the ſeaſon approached for our Army to take the field, and the King, whoſe will it was as in former years to return thither in perſon, after the winter was paſt, haſtened all the preparations for our departure. All this time was ſlipt away, and I had never the confidence to ſpeak, and certainly I had gone away in the ſame condition, if my deſtiny which called me to other things had not preſented me with occaſions to diſcover my ſelf, which I never expected. Cinthia in whoſe ſoul deſpight had powerfully operated, though poſſibly ſhe had extinguiſhed all the affection ſhe had for me, yet ſhe was not ſo far intereſſed but that ſhe had great deſire to know the ſubject of my real inclinations: and as ſhe was privy to all the acquaintance I had, and knew all the Perſons whoſe company I frequented, ſhe believed it would not be very difficult to diſcover the truth. She began to be very induſtrious therein, and as it is much more hard to deceive perſons intereſſed, than thoſe which obſerve us without any particular deſign, and that beſides I had little diſpoſition, or adreſſe to diſſemble my thoughts, that which had been concealed from the eyes of others began quickly to appear to hers; and if ſhe were not certainly aſſured of the truth, ſhe conceived at leaſt great ſuſpicions, wherein by the obſervation of all my actions ſhe confirmed her ſelf more and more: I believe ſhe found ſome conſolation in this diſcovery, and the dignity of the cauſe made her ſupport my uſage towards her with greater patience, than ſhe did whilſt ſhe was ignorant of it. She was almoſt continually with the Princeſſes, and ſeeing me there every day ſhe had leiſure enough to take notice of my regards, my ſighs, and all the other ſigns whereby a paſſion might be diſcovered. All the Court knew the familiarity between us, but I diſcovered our rupture to none but to Artamenes, and though I did not viſit Cinthia at her own houſe, yet in the preſence of the Princeſſes I accoſted her as before: and ſhe conſtrained her ſelf before the World to carry her ſelf towards me in appearance as ſhe had been accuſtomed to do, and not to make her reſentments break out, the cauſe whereof would have been diſadvantageous unto her. This was that which retained part of the Perſons of the Court in the opinion which they had conceived, that I had affection for her: The Princeſſes themſelves, and particularly Arſinoe, with whom Cinthia was more familiar than with her Siſter, oftentimes queſtioned her about it; and though by this diſcourſe the deſpite of Cinthia was augmented, yet ſhe durſt not expreſs it, and ſhe ſuffered it a while with a ſeeming patience: but at laſt this moderation failed her, and whether it were by reſentment, which poſſibly had animated her againſt the imprudence of her age, ſhe was carryed away contrary to my thought, and whatever might probably be expected from her. The Princeſs was walking upon a balliſtred Terrace belonging to her lodging, leaning upon Cinthia's arm, and the reſt of her train believing ſhe would entertain her particularly, retired to the other end, and left them free in their converſations. They had been diſcourſing ſome time together when I came, and the Princeſs, who at that time was ſpeaking of me, no ſooner ſaw me, but called me to her, and did me the honour to make me the third perſon in their entertainment. Cinthia bluſht at my coming, and the Princeſs taking occaſion to continue the war ſhe had made her: Ah well Cinthia, ſaid ſhe to her, you bluſh at it, and by your countenance diſcover that to me, which your mouth hath ſo long diſavowed: I make no further doubt but that you are the cauſe of the melancholly and all the inquietudes of Britomarus, and beſides what I have learned from the publick voice of the Court, I ſee marks which ſufficiently declare the truth. Cinthia was almoſt quite out of countenance at this diſcourſe, which the Princeſs made her in my preſence, and not being able to imagine whether ſhe queſtioned her upon appearances and the common opinion, or whether having knowledge of the truth, and the little eſteem I had of her affection, ſhe would joyn with me to mock her, and make her ſerve for divertiſement in an occaſion wherein ſhe found ſo much ſubject of diſpleaſure, ſhe was ready to dye with diſpite and could hardly find in all the reſpect ſhe had for the Princeſs, ſo much power as to contain her ſelf. I was but a little more aſſured, and the confuſion of us both confirming Arſinoe in her ſuſpicions: you confeſs enough both of you, continued ſhe with a very good grace, To remove all uncertainty that might remain in my mind, and I hope Cinthia, from the amity I have for you, that henceforth you will not uſe ſo much ſubtilty and diſſimulation with me. At this recharge Cinthia loſt all patience, and after ſhe had ſeveral times changed colour in a few moments: Madam, ſaid ſhe to her, your Higneſs diverts it ſelf at my coſt, and poſſibly you well know that it is not to me that Britomarus addreſſes his thoughts, and that he hath far higher pretentions: At theſe words knowing that out of the deſpite which tranſported her, ſhe tranſcended the bounds of diſcretion, and was about to ſpeak things in my preſence, which could not but put me into a confuſion, I would have retired; but the Princeſs ſtaying me by the arm: ‘Tarry Britomarus, ſaid ſhe to me, and ſeeing that I [Page] intereſs my ſelf in your affairs, ſuffer me to underſtand a little more of them: Ah! well Cinthia, continued ſhe, turning towards her, you perſevere then in your diſſimulation towards me, and you would have me believe that Britomarus hath higher thoughts than Cinthia: Perhaps you know better than I, replyed Cinthia, but if you do not, your urgency poſſibly will force me to tell you more than the reſpect I have for you ought to permit me: Ah Cinthia, ſaid the Princeſs to her ſmiling, provided you ſatisfie my curioſity I pardon you for all things; but ſeeing it is not to your ſelf, I will not let you reſt in quiet till I know to whom the thoughts of Britomarus are addreſſed:’ Cinthia out of the violence of her deſpight totally loſt all reſpect and diſcretion, and looking upon the Princeſs with a more aſſured countenance than before: It is to your ſelf Madam, ſaid ſhe to her, and Britomarus, ſince you force me to tell you ſo, hath preſumption enough to aſpire to your ſelf: At theſe words ſhe parted from us, and left me alone with the Princeſs in an aſtoniſhment which can hardly be repreſented. Arſinoe remained in no leſs confuſion, and repenting that ſhe had drawn this diſpleaſure upon her ſelf by preſſing Cinthia ſo far, ſhe continued a long time without daring to look up in my face. My eyes were fixed upon the earth with an action whereby I was more convicted than by the diſcourſe of Cinthia, and when the Princeſs began to look upon me, ſhe ſaw me in a condition that perfectly expreſt to her the diſorder of my ſoul: this ſight cauſing her to make a reflection in a moment upon divers of my actions, preſently gave her ſuſpicion, and joyning to Cinthia's diſcourſe and my troubled countenance, the memory of a great many things which then appeared to her in another form than they had done formerly, ſhe believed part of that which this enraged Maid would have perſwaded her to: yet as ſhe was of an admirable prudence and reſervedneſs, ſhe believed her ſelf to be obliged for divers reaſons to diſſemble her belief, and endeavouring to diſſipate her aſtoniſhment as ſpeedily as poſſibly ſhe could: I did not believe, ſaid ſhe to me, that Cinthia had had ſo little diſcretion, and you muſt needs have done her ſome ſignal diſpleaſure, ſeeing that her reſentment hath made her commit ſuch follies: The Princeſs ſpake theſe words to me with an action ſo full of ſweetneſs, that I was deceived thereby, and my Spirit, which till then ſtood in great awe of her, aſſumed from theſe appearances of goodneſs, a boldneſs above what I naturally had. At laſt whether this confidence obliged me to it, or whether I had not force enough in this encounter to reſiſt the impetuoſity of my Love, my indiſcretion followed that of Cinthia, and giving an anſwer to the words of the Princeſs without daring to look upon her: It is certain Madam, ſaid I to her, that Cinthia's reſentments againſt me muſt needs be great, ſeeing that they carry her on to ruine, and make her publiſh a crime for which I ſhould hardly hope from a leſs goodneſs than your own: The Princeſs at theſe words was much more troubled than before, and breaking ſilence with a great deal of precipitation: ‘What Britomarus ſaid ſhe to me, are you then culpable of that which Cinthia reproached you with? I ſhould ſooner have ſuffered death, replyed I, then have declared it, and I ſhould yet expoſe my ſelf to all kinds of pains rather than confeſs it, if your Highneſs, whom I cannot diſobey, did not demand the truth of me. I am not ignorant of the diſproportion which renders my thoughts criminal, and thoughts in adorations proportion is not neceſſary, and that with thoughts like thoſe I have for you, we may raiſe our eyes even to the Gods themſelves, yet out of a more profound reſpect than what we uſually pay the Gods, I ſhould have concealed even to my grave, that which out of fear to diſpleaſure you, both my heart and mouth ought eternally to keep ſecret from you, if by Cinthia's indiſcretion my crime had not been diſcovered contrary to my intention, and if by her fault I did not ſee my ſelf neceſſitated to acknowledge my own whereby poſſibly I expoſe my ſelf to torments equal to my ambition;’ I ſhould have ſaid more, and the aſtoniſhment of the Princeſs gave me time enough to make her a long diſcourſe, if out of a little aſſurance which I recovered I had not advanced my eyes to her face, wherein I beheld all the marks of a violent diſpleaſure.

At this bold declaration, which appeared very offenſive to her from a man infinitely inferior to her, reſentment took the firſt place in her mind, which preſently repreſented to her, that ſuch an inſolence as mine ought not to remain unpuniſhed; and in this thought ſhe continued ſome time unreſolved which way to proceed to my chaſtiſement: but by the moderation of her ſpirit, ſhe repreſſed her firſt emotions, and having an admirable command of her ſelf, ſhe quickly reduced her choler to ſuch terms as ſhe was pleaſed to give it, and whether it were in relation to her ſelf that ſhe feared the publication of a thing which might redound to her ſhame and diſhonour, or out of a real effect of her goodneſs ſhe would not expoſe me to all the pains which in her opinion were due to me, ſhe diſpoſed her ſelf not to pardon my fault, but to puniſh me without noiſe, and to cut off all poſſibility of a relapſe. Having framed this reſolution, after ſhe had kept ſilence a great while: ‘I am ſorry, ſaid ſhe, that by your preſumption you have made me loſe the diſpoſitions I had to eſteem you,’ out [Page] of the good opinion I had of you, and if I did as I ſhould, I ſhould reduce you to the knowledge of your ſelf by ſuch wayes as you have obliged me to; but the ſame goodneſs, which you have ſo imprudently abuſed, leaves your fault unpuniſhed, upon condition that you ſpeak no more to me as long as you live, and that you do not permit your ambition to aſpire higher than Cinthia or her equals: Ending theſe words with an action and a look which ſufficiently expreſſed her diſdain, ſhe retired her ſelf towards thoſe which were at the other end of the Terrace, and left me alone in a condition full of diſpleaſure and confuſion: In effect I was ſo moved with this accident, that all my natural conſtancy was not capable to preſerve my ſoul from a great diſorder: Grief, ſhame, and regret firſt took their place there, and I know not which of theſe paſſions did moſt powerfully poſſeſs me: I was extreamly afflicted at the ill ſucceſs of my declaration, and the little hope I ſaw in the purſuit of my love, being aſhamed to ſee my pride checked, and my ambition humbled, and ſtung with the reſentment of diſdain whereunto my ſpirit could never accuſtome it ſelf, neither for love nor any other paſſion. All the enemies of my repoſe began to torment me with violence, and upon this Terrace from whence the Princeſſes a little after retired themſelves, and whereupon I walked alone a long time, I found my ſpirit much more agitated than it had been in all the other paſſages of my life: All the night which followed this day, I could not get ſo much as a taſte of ſleep, and the change which I found in my condition preſenting it ſelf continually to my memory, left no repoſe at all in my ſoul, and tormented it with the moſt cruel inquietudes that it ever yet had felt. ‘What wilt thou do, ſaid I, what wilt thou do unfortunate Britomarus in a deſign ſo unluckily miſcarried, and in an occaſion wherein thou art repulſed,’ diſdained, and forbidden to ſpeak for ever? ‘Thou haſt raſhly raiſed thine eyes to a Princeſs worthy of other adorations than thine, and by too audaciouſly advancing thy ſelf, thy fall is become much greater and more dangerous: Arſinoe not without reaſon hath humbled thy immoderate pride, and from theſe ambitious thoughts, whereby like a new Icarus thou tookeſt too high flight, there remains nothing to thee but ſhame, diſorder, and confuſion: This Princeſs whom thou haſt offended by thy love, and the fooliſh declaration of it, and whom by the laſt action thou haſt made to loſe the opinion ſhe had conceived of thee for the former, juſtly reduces thee to the knowledge of thy ſelf, and ſhe does it with ſweetneſs, when poſſibly thou haſt obliged her to do it with rigour. Beſides, what hope couldeſt thou conceive in this conduct of thy life, and with what aſſurance couldſt thou believe, that one of the greateſt Princeſſes of the world, and a Princeſs born with a courage worthy of her birth and the admirable qualities of her perſon, could approve the paſſion of a man of no name, of no birth, and without any dignity which might render him ſuperior to the common ſort of men? I accuſed my ſelf a while in this manner, but a little after I underſtood alſo my own defence, and out of a natural inclination which we have to excuſe and flatter our ſelves, I ſought wayes to juſtifie my preſumption, and reaſons to combat with the rigour of Arſinoe: Thou wert not ſo low either by thy birth or fortune, ſaid I, that Arſinoe ought to look upon thy love as a great crime, and if ſhe had a ſpirit ſo remote from common thoughts as thou didſt believe, ſhe might well have underſtood that by thy Vertue thou mighteſt equalize thy ſelf with thoſe whom chance had put above thee: thy paſſion in this condition of reſpect and veneration wherein it kept it ſelf, could not be offenſive to any Princeſs in the World, and if thou didſt not merit acknowledgement, thou didſt not likewiſe deſerve diſdain and indignation. The Gods onely puniſh thee by that which is moſt unſupportable to thy courage for the fault thou haſt committed in embarking thy ſelf ſo lightly in a ſecond Love, after thou hadſt ſcaped ſuffering ſhipwrack in the former: Thou art without doubt, called by the deſtiny to ſome other thing than Love; and thou oughteſt not to ſpend thy beſt days in this paſſion, whereby thou wilt never attain neither to the reputation thou aſpireſt unto, nor to thoſe ranks which may put thee out of danger of diſdain and bad uſage: follow then thy inclinations, which draw thee to employments more worthy of thee, and more conformable to thy courage; quit Arſinoe, who diſdains thee, for glory, who opens her arms to receive thee; and by this valonr, the beginnings whereof have been ſo fortunate, put thy ſelf into a condition, that thou mayſt no longer ſtand in fear of the diſdains either of Arſinoe or any other perſon in the world.’ This reſolution wherein I encouraged my ſelf as much as was poſſible, was a little after over-thrown by the memory of Arſinoe, and diſſipated by powers againſt which I had not as yet drawn up my laſt reſerves; but in few moments my reſentments, and the natural averſion I had againſt diſdain returned it again into my ſpirit, and fortified it there in ſuch ſort, that, before the day appeared, I found my ſelf greatly inclined to follow it: I diſcovered my diſgrace to Artamenes only, who bemoaned me and comforted me the beſt he poſſibly could, and who trembled at this example in relation to his own intereſt, though by the rank which he held in Armenia he might with more likelihood declare [Page] his affections to the Princeſs Artemiſa. My misfortune ſenſibly afflicted me, and kept me ſome days in a very bad condition: but at laſt I ſought neither dagger, nor poyſon, nor precipices but by an effort of my courage I confirmed my ſelf in the reſolution either to render my ſelf ſuch by my ſword as that Arſinoe, as great a Princeſs as ſhe was, ſhould have no more reaſon to diſdain me, or to uſe all my endeavours by time, abſence, and by the memory of her ſcorn to deprive her of the Empire which ſhe had over my Soul. I was confirm'd in this deſign by the after uſage that I received from this Princeſs, who in the places where I chanched to be at her paſſing by, did not ſo much as vouchſaſe to give me a look, and in thoſe places where ſhe believed I might accoſt her, ſhe ſo abſolutely took away all aſſurance from me by a viſage full of coldneſs and diſdain, that I eaſily underſtood, that in the condition wherein I then was, all hope of hope for me was extinguiſhed. She would not ſo much as ſuffer me to take my leave of her when we parted from Artaxata to return to the army, and ſhe ſaid to one of her Ladies who deſired permiſſion for me: Tell Britomarus that I have concealed his inſolence for fear of making the King my brother loſe a valiant ſervant and that he ought not to hope that I will ſee him, till be hath learned to know himſelf. All theſe uſages in a ſpirit like mine certainly produced effects capable to advance my cure, and I was already determined to ſeek by it all manner of wayes when we returned into the field.

The King of Armenia marched at the head of the laſt troops he had raiſed, toward that ſiontire of Media, where he had begun his progreſs, and I followed him with one of the beſt employments in his Army: The King of the Medes came in perſon, as he did in the precedent years to the defence of his Country; and in the beginning of our taking the field were divers battels fought, wherein fortune was as favourable to me as I could deſire, and wherein I rendred my ſelf ſo conſiderable to the King of Armenia, that to the prejudice of divers perſons which by their birth and ſervices might aſpire to higher dignities, his pleaſure was that I ſhould command a Body of an Army ſeparated from his own, and compoſed of the better part of his troops; with this employment wherein I engaged my ſelf with great inclination and fixedneſs I endeavoured to ſhake off the yoke which Arſinoe had impoſed upon me, and if I could not eaſily accompliſh it, yet certain it is, that I made great progreſs in it: One only thing made me ſerve under Artaxus with repugnance, and that was the rigour which he obſerved in this war, where under pretext of revenging the death of his Father, he cauſed all the enemies which fell into his power to be put to the ſword without mercy. The averſion which I naturally have againſt cruelty, made me often take the liberty to condemn his: but though he attributed very much to my thoughts in matters of war, he would not hearken to them when I preached clemency unto him, but remained firm in his reſolution to purſue with fire and ſword the hateful bloud of thoſe who contributed to the death of King Artibaſus.

At this time by the great advantages we gained, Media began to totter, and Tigranes was really in great danger to ſee himſelf entirely ruined, if the Gods had not ſent him ſuccour: The King of Cilicia his ally, and the Prince Philadelph his Son came with a puiſſant army to his aſſiſtance, and revived his almoſt dying hopes. By ſo great a ſupply, the face of things began to be changed, and we having to deal with a power greater than our own, we proceeded with more caution than before, and thought now upon defending our ſelves, whereas before all our thoughts were only bent upon aſſaulting the Enemy. Several bettels were fought the ſucceſs whereof was doubtful, wherein the advantage inclined ſometimes to the one, ſometimes to the other party; but in the laſt, wherein I was for the King of Armenia's ſervice, the glory was intirely mine, which not withſtanding was counterballanced with one of the moſt ſenſible diſpleaſures that ever I received in my life.

Ariſton and Theomedes two Nephews of the King of Cilicia, being departed from their Camp with 2000 Horſe and 5 or 6000 Foot, to go and ſurprize a ſmall place which we had taken the year before, and the King of Armenia having intelligence of their march, and the condition they were in, thought good that with a number of men little different from theirs, I ſhould go and encounter them, and fight them as I ſhould find occaſion. I departed; I marched with great diligence, and met the enemies before they were arrived at the place which they went to ſurprize. The fight began, and was maintained doubtful a long time, but at length the victory fell to us, and it fell to us ſo entire, that almoſt all the Souldiers of the enemy were cut in pieces, and the two chief Commanders being preſerved alive in the battel, by the care I took of their ſafety, remained my priſoners. I comforted them for their diſgrace, I promiſed them all manner of good uſage, and I returned from thence with my troop being victorious and laden with ſpoils, to the King of Armenia; he made me a wel-come which ſufficiently teſtified what notice he took of this action, and expreſſed an exceſſive joy for my good ſucceſs and the taking of the two Cilician Princes, whom he preſently put under a ſtrict guard, and employed almoſt all the reſt of this day in praiſing and careſſing me. [Page] Upon the morrow I no ſooner appeared before him, but he fell again upon my praiſes, and in terms full of Elogies extolled in the preſence of the Principal Commanders this laſt action, promiſing me for it exceſſive recompence. I then took my time for a requeſt which I had to make, and after that I had anſwered the praiſes he gave me with as much modeſty as I poſſibly could: ‘Sir, ſaid I to him, this ſlight action whereupon your Majeſty ſets ſo high an eſteem, is too well recompenſed by the goodneſs you ſhew in accepting of it; but if your Majeſty judges me worthy to obtain any thing as a reward of this petty ſervice, I requeſt of you the liberty of the two chief Commanders of the enemy, which I brought priſoners, and which yielded themſelves to me upon the hope I gave them of being treated conformable to their condition: Britomarus, replyed the King to me, with an action which expreſſed the little intention he had to grant me what I had deſired of him, your ſervices are worthy without doubt of a greater recompenſe than what you deſire of me, and I ſhall requite you for them in ſuch a manner that you ſhall have no reaſon to judge me ungrateful; but I cannot grant you this you demand of me without violating an oath, which all humane conſiderations are not capable to make me infringe; and I do not ſo much eſteem the other fruits of your victory, and all the progreſs we have in the beginning of this Campania, as I do the means I have to let the King of Cilicia know by the preſent I will ſend him of his two Kinſmen's heads, after what manner I mean to make war with him, and how ill adviſed he hath been to bear arms againſt a Prince which never offended him. Theſe cruel words of Artaxus made me tremble, and beholding him with ſome horror:’ ‘What, Sir, ſaid I to him, can you find in your heart to put to death two priſoners of war ſo highly deſcended as Ariſton and Theomedes? And though I ſhould not requeſt their lives of you for all the ſervices I have rendred you, can you take them away from Princes eſcaped from the heat of the battel, taken with their Swords in their hand in a juſt war, and which never did you any particular offence? The King did not approve of the liberty of my ſpeech, and anſwered me with a more ſerious countenance than before: I ſhall be able to do it without doubt, and in revenge of my Father, I ſhall yet do things which may ſeem to you more cruel, which nevertheleſs paſs for juſt in my lawful reſentments: but do not alarm your ſelf any more at it, and be not ſo earneſt for a thing wherein you have ſo little intereſt. Have I but little intereſt int it, Sir, replyed I, Ah! I have intereſt in it as in the defence of my own life, as in the conſervation of my own honour, and when either of them ſhall be in the extremity of danger I ſhall not be more intereſſed: It is by my means that you have theſe priſoners in your power; it was to me they rendred themſelves whileſt yet they had their arms in their hands, whereby they might have found either ſafety or a glorious death, and I cannot ſee them come to be put to death upon my parole, without expoſing my ſelf with them to the greateſt cruelty that your reſentment prepares for them: you forget your ſelf, ſaid Artaxus to me, bending his brows, and poſſible it would be better for you to contain your ſelf within the bounds of reſpect, and not fly out in this manner for enemies, which muſt and ſhall Periſh, though all the world ſhould joyn their ſolicitations with yours for their ſafety: And I will periſh with them, replyed I ſo tranſported, that I had hardly any underſtanding left to conſider his dignity, and I cannot part with my life with leſs regret than in ſacrificing it to my word, and compaſſion for theſe men, and the diſpleaſure to ſee my ſervices ſo ungratefully acknowledged: you have received them from my inclination and not from my duty, and it is by my own will only that I am engaged to give you that reſpect you require of me, which by my birth you cannot exact of a man that was not born your ſubject:’ The choler of the King of Armenia was mightily moved at theſe words, and looking upon me with eyes ſparkling with indignation: ‘Inſolent, ſaid he to me, it is the rank whereunto by an exceſs of favour I have advanced thee, that puts thee beſides the knowledge of thy ſelf: but know that I ſhall find ways to humble thee as much as I have unjuſtly advanced thee, and that I ſhall lay thee ſo low, if thou doſt not ceaſe from provoking me, that poſſibly thou ſhalt ſerve for an example to thoſe whom immoderate preſumption makes to tranſgreſs the limits which their birth hath preſcribed them:’ Ending theſe words full of diſdain and outrage to an heart like mine, he turned another way without giving me time to reply. I ſhould have done it for all that, how Tragical ſoever the reply would have been to me, if Artamenes had not oppoſed it, and with divers others of my friends which had been preſent at this converſation, had he not led me to my Tent, ſo inflamed with choler and tranſported, that I was hardly capable of ſuffering the violence they did me with any moderation. When I was in my Tent, and that I had made a reflection of ſome few moments upon my adventure, and the unworthy uſage I received, turning my ſelf to Artamenes, and thoſe that were with him: My friends, ſaid I to them, [Page] behold me ſubjected to more outrage and indignity than I ought to expect from my ſervices; and beſides the injurious words wherewith Artaxus had a mind to humble me, I ſee my ſelf by the death of theſe two unfortunate men which he is about to ſacrifice to his cruelty, expoſed to the moſt ſenſible diſpleaſure that my ſoul is capable to receive: I do little eſteem the words and diſdain of Artaxus, upon whom I never had any deſign to bottome my Fortune: Henceforward the favours of a King is he is, ſhall be leſs dear and glorious to me, and I diſ-eſteem them too much to purchaſe them with the leaſt compliance, or to receive them when they ſhall be offered me; but in things wherein my honour is engaged, I will ſpend my blood to the laſt drop to defend it, and though I ſhould infallibly loſe my life in this deſign, I will leave nothing unattempted to ſave the two Cilicians whom I have imprudently delivered up to his cruelty. All thoſe that heard my words could not condemn my reſolution, but they ſaw me in no capacity to execute it, and I was able to do it ſo little alone againſt Artaxus, that all I could deviſe in this deſign, proved but ridiculous propoſitions: Artamenes endeavoured to repreſent ſo much to me, and appeared intereſſed in my diſpleaſure as much as a good and generous friend could be, but he could not bend my ſpirit to an unworthy and baſe complyance with the intentions of a cruel ingrateful King and I could not conceal from him that I was reſolved to arm a party of the Souldiery, whoſe affections I might conceive I had gained, and go and free the Priſoners by force from the place where they were detained, or of I could not find ſufficient courage and affection in the hearts of the Souldiers for ſo bold an execution, I would go and make my ſelf be killed in defence of theſe infortunate men, whoſe death in my opinion ought eternally to be objected to me as a reproach. Artamenes wanted no reaſons to oppoſe againſt this reſolution, neither was he forgetful of them; but our diſpute was as unprofitable as any deſign, and preſently after I had quitted Artaxus, this cruel man, or rather monſter of cruelty, whether it were that his ſpirit was more exaſperated by the reſiſtance I made againſt his will, or that he feared leſt I ſhould attempt and execute ſomething for the ſafety of the priſoners, ſent the Executioners who beheaded them in Priſon without any further delay. The memory hereof makes me tremble, as well for the compaſſion I had of the deſtinies of theſe two men, and the horrour I have had all my life of cruel actions, as for the reproach I might receive from my own conſcience, though I was innocent, for having contributed to their deſtruction, after I had promiſed them life, and uſage conformable to their condition.

Artamenes, and the reſt of my friends, were ſtill in my Tent when I received this news, and I confeſs they ſaw me break out into diſcourſes and actions wherein there appeared no remainder of reaſon, which made them fear ſome Tragical event from the grief and choler which tranſported me. In theſe firſt emotions, I thought and threatned no leſs than to revenge the blood of thoſe poor wretches upon the perſon of Artaxus, from whoſe cruelty the remembrance of my ſervices could not free them: and if thoſe which were preſent at theſe menaces, had not been my real Friends, upon the leaſt intelligence given to Artaxus, I had undoubtedly found the death I deſpiſed. Artamenes would not abandon me, and guarded me all that day as if I had been a mad man, doing all he poſſibly could to quiet my ſpirit from theſe violences: by his diſcourſes indeed he made me abate the raſhneſs of them; and put me into more moderate terms than before; but for all our friendſhip, he did in vain oppoſe the reſolution I had taken to quit the ſervice of Artaxus for ever, and to go over to the Enemy, it the remembrance of the miſchief I had done them would permit me to hope for a reception there. I will ſooner ſuffer a thouſand deaths, ſaid I, than continue any longer in the ſervice of this Barbarian this blood-thirſty Tigre, whom a man cannot ſerve without rendring himſelf a complice of his cruelties, this ungrateful Prince, who requites mens ſervices with diſdain, rage, and unworthy uſage: The only cauſe which might make me own his intereſts, ought not any longer to engage me: Arſinoe diſdains me as much as her Brother, and if I cannot ceaſe from loving her; yet I ought to ceaſe from ſeeing and deſiring to pleaſe her, and to ſeek a cure far from her, which poſſibly I may find in an eternal abſence, and in other employments, than in ſuffering unprofitably at her feet.

Although, in the complaints which I made againſt Artaxus, I mingled ſome too againſt Arſinoe, yet I know well how to put a difference between them, and I did not confound the ingratitude and inhumanity of the Brother, with the ſeverity of the Siſter, who was really born with all the great qualities which might render a Princeſs accompliſhed. I was not cured of my paſſion by the uſage ſhe had ſhown me, but I was deſirous to be cured, and I did ſo confirm my ſelf by the injuries which I received of her Brother, that I not only deſired, but conceived hope to find repoſe in my mind, by ſeparating my ſelf both from Artaxus and Arſinoe for ever. My deſtinies, whereby I was called to ſomething more important than theſe beginnings of my life which I have related unto you, gave birth to this deſign, and it was by my deſtinies that I was diſengaged from Artaxus and Arſinoe, to be conducted into places where fortune was as advantageouſly ſerviceable to me as I [Page] could deſire, where I found honours and dignities above my expectation, where I found this ingratitude fatally entailed upon my life, and where I fell into a later engagement, which made me forget Arſinoe, and all things elſe to give my ſelf entirely up to my laſt ſervitude: A ſervitude a thouſand times more dear and more glorious to me, than all the grandeur I could have acquired by my Sword amongſt men: a ſervitude whereof I made but a light eſſay in my former affections, and whereby at laſt, after divers uncommon croſſes and events, more worthy of your attention than what I have related to you, I might have ſeen my ſelf advanced to an happineſs more ſublime than my pretentions, if cruel fortune had not overturned in a moment, and by the laſt accidents of my life, had not precipitated me into a more deplorable condition than ever my perſon had been reduced unto.

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA: OR, Love's Maſter-Piece. PART V.
LIB. II.

ARGUMENT.

Britomarus being diſcompoſed by the memory of his diſaſters, deſires to reſpite the reſt of his ſtory; which is granted. Coriolanus and Tyridates walking abroad, light upon a wounded Knight vichly arm'd. Tyridates invites him to his houſe, which the Stranger accepts. The next day Coriolanus taking a ſolitary walk, is inſenſibly engaged in a pleaſant Wood, where by a Brook-ſide he lies down and falls aſleep. Cleopatra and Artemiſa accidentally come that way and ſpie him. Cleopatra knows him, and with a loud exclamation of wonder awakes him. He humbly addreſſes himſelf to her. She highly upbraids his infidelity. He deſires to know his offence, and as ſhe is about to tell him at Artemiſa's requeſt, ſhe is interrupted by twelve Horſemen, who ſeiſe upon the Princeſs. Coriolanus enterpoſes in their defence, kills five or ſix, but their number prevails, and they carry away the Ladies. Coriolanus purſuing the raviſhers, meets a Knight who quarrels with him; they fight, Coriolanus ſtrikes off his Head-piece, and knows him for Marcellus. Their expoſtulations and parting. Coriolanus having loſt his Horſe, wanders all night in the Wood. The wounded Stranger gives Tyridates his Story. He diſcovers himſelf to be Artaxus King of Armenia, who reſolving to revenge his Father's death upon the Children of Anthony and Cleopatra, goes only with twenty men in ſearch of them. At Sea he meets with Cleopatra, and as he is ready to execute his revenge, he is captivated by her Beauty, He reſolves to carry her into Armenia. She feigns her ſelf ſick, and deſires to go on ſhore; where taking an advantage, ſhe gets away. He purſues and overtakes her, but ſhe is reſcued by Philadelph.

AT theſe words, Britomarus being touched with a ſad and preſſing remembrance, changed colour, and his countenance appeared to the two Princes his Auditours, in a condition which made them apparently fear, that he found himſelf more ill than [Page] ordinary. Coxiolanus moved with this fear, and intereſſing himſelf very much in the health of this valiant man: ‘I am fearful, ſaid he unto me, leſt you have incommodated your ſelf by the long diſcourſe you have made us, the extraordinary paleneſs which I take notice of in your viſage, gives me apprehenſions for your health. The repoſe of my body, replyed Britomarus, hath received but little alteration by my diſcourſe; but that of my mind is not of the ſame condition, and I confeſs, that being upon the point of entring upon the recital of my grand misfortunes, whereof theſe ſmall ones which I have related unto you, are but a kind of a preface, to proceed to the unfortunate eſtate whereunto my life is now reduced, I find my ſelf ſo much moved and troubled, that I ſhall account it no light obligation, if you will pleaſe to permit me to refer the remainder of my narration till to morrow: I ſhall prepare my ſelf againſt that time, to acquaint you with things undoubtedly more worthy of your attention, than thoſe which I have recounted unto you; and I will recover my ſpirit as much as I can poſſibly from the trouble and the perplexity whereinto a ſad and deplorable remembrance hath put it.’

‘Doubt not, replyed the Son of Juba to him, how ſtrong ſceven the deſire is in us to underſtand the reſt of your adventures, but that the care we have of your health and repoſe is yet more powerful, and that we ſhould be very ſorry to purchaſe the ſatisfaction which we might receive from thence at ſuch a price. We will hear the concluſion of your fair beginnings, when it ſhall pleaſe you to relate them, and when you can do it without doing your ſelf any inconvenience, and in the mean while, I will aſſure you that if the actions of your life, which yet we have not underſtood, are anſwerable (as I doubt it not) to thoſe wherewith you have already acquainted us, and the proofs we our ſelves have ſeen of your valour, you had a great deal of reaſon to believe, that by the advantage of Birth and Crowns, no man could be greater than your ſelf. It was poſſibly my errour and preſumption, anſwered Britomarus, to believe ſo, but I believed it only of them, in whom vertue doth not accompany dignity, not of thoſe, which like you Sir, are much leſs conſiderable for their Birth than for their Vertue: and for ſuch I always have as much acknowledgment and reſpect, as I have diſ-eſteem for thoſe who are beholding to their fortune for all their ſplendour.’

We would have ſpoken more to this purpoſe, if the two Princes to whom his health was ſo dear, had not thought that he had need of ſome repoſe, and deſired him to take it, remitting the remainder of his relation, as he had deſired, to the day following. They left his Chamber, but returned not to their own; and becauſe it was a fair day, and Coriolanus his ſtrength permitted him already to walk up and down, they went upon this deſign to the ſide of a Wood of high Timber-trees which was near the houſe, where there were divers private places, and very fair paths, where they might take the advertiſement of a walk. In the beginning of theirs, the two Princes fell upon the diſcourſe of Britomarus, and could not forbear admiring at once, that which appeared in the beginnings of his life, in his viſage, and in his diſcourſe, of the greatneſs of his courage.

‘Certain it is, ſaid Tyridates, there is nothing but ſubjects of eſteem and edmiration in the perſon of Britomarus, and all things appeared in him ſo great and ſo ſublime, that in ſpight of the confeſſion he hath made us, it is hard to take him for a man of obſcure birth: I have already underſtood from other mouths than his, the greateſt part of the actions which he hath recounted unto us, but I know nothing of what is arrived unto him ſince his departure from Armenia, and I judge by his beginnings, and his diſcourſe it ſelf, that the actions he did afterwards, are yet more remarkable than the former: I am of your opinion, anſwered Coriolanus, and from ſuch extraordinary beginnings I expect very great things in the purſuance of his relation.’

‘But what is your judgement, replyed Tyridates, of the little conſtancy he had in his former loves? and how can we comprehend that he tranſported his affection from Candace to Arſinoe, and ſince that, as far as I conjecture by his diſcourſe, from Arſinoe to a third, without accuſing him of ſome lightneſs? By that which you underſtand of my life, added Coriolanus, you may well judge that inconſtancy will have but a bad advocate of me, and I am engaged to that I love with a fidelity too exact to excuſe a change: but yet I will tell you, that according to my opinion, Britomarus hath no inconſtant ſpirit, and that I give an entire belief to all that he hath told us concerning his inclinations upon that ſubject. Divers things in this adventure ſerve for his juſtification; his tender years, wherein he was not capable, and had not time to engage himſelf in a ſtrong paſſion, and the reſentment of diſdain, which in ſouls like his, might produce very ſtrong and very excuſable effects: I believe that in the ſervice which I have render'd Cleopatra, I have teſtified [Page] a very entire perſeverance, and I will likewiſe tell you that ſince I have been engaged in my love, all difficulties, dangers, ill uſage, and all humane conſiderations, have not been capable to divert me from it: but I will confeſs unto you (if I may confeſs it without offending the powers of that divine Princeſs) that if in the birth of that love which I have for her, and at that time when I was no more ſtrongly obliged than Britomarus might be to Arfinoe and Candace, I had noted any diſdain in Cleopatra towards me, it would have been capable to have broken off the courſe of a growing affection, and have made me beſtow elſewhere what that Princeſs had diſdained. Britomarus did ſcarcely love Candace at all, and Arſinoe but a very little; and beſides that he was but a child in his firſt affection, and a very young man in his ſecond inſtead of meeting therein with ſome part of thoſe ſweets which do engage us yet more powerfully if it be poſſible than the perſon beloved merits, he found nothing in the one or the other but repulſe inſupportable to a courage like his, which had not enſlaved it ſelf in ſuch ſort, but that it retained liberty to withdraw what before it had beſtowed. I will add to this, that deſtiny, in my conceit, works extraordinary in the courſe of this life, and that to out-brave or mock at fortune, ſhe would ſerve her ſelf of the high inclinations of Britomarus, not permitting him to apply his thoughts but to the daughters of Kings, and given him thoughts altogether diſproportionable to his condition.’

The King of Mauritania ſpake in this manner, and was about to enter into a diſcourſe with Tyridates upon this matter which would have continued a long time, when by the path wherein they walked they ſaw coming to them a man on horſeback, clad in magnificent armour, by the riches whereof one might partly judge of the quality of him that bare them. He followed his way very ſlowly, and when he was neer enough to the Princes, to give them leave to take notice of his condition, they ſaw that he kept himſelf in his ſaddle not without ſtaggering, and that from ſome wounds that he had received, the blood ran down his armour in divers places.

The two Princes at this ſight touched with a generous motion, which was very natural unto them, approach this Stranger, and they believed themſelves yet more obliged to ſuccour him, when through the viſer of his helmet he had put up, they ſaw a viſage, which, though it were pale through loſs of blood, gave many marks of an eminent perſon. One and the ſame intention made them advance towards him, and Tyridates having taken hold of the bridle of his horſe to hinder him from paſſing any further: ‘Take it not ill, ſaid he to him, that I ſtay you to repreſent unto you that you are not in a condition to go on your journey, and that you have need of repoſe, and the aſſiſtance we offer you, rather than the pain to which you expoſe your ſelf:’ The Unknown leaning upon the bow of his ſaddle, and looking upon Tyridates with eyes which his feebleneſs rendred more pleaſing than they were naturally: I have no long journey to make, ſaid he to him, to go to my veſsel which I have left upon this coaſt; but I feel my ſelf ſo feeble, that I ſhall not have ſtrength to conduct my ſelf thither, and though I know you not, neither am known of you, in the neceſſity I have I will not refuſe the aſſiſtance you offer me: you will find it there without doubt, added Coriolanus, in the ſame manner as I received it in a condition like to yours; and this generous and obliging Prince, ſaid he, ſpeaking of Tyridates, is never ſo well ſatisfied as when he finds occaſions of exerciſing his generoſity.

This word Prince fell from Coriolanus contrary to his intent, and he had no ſooner ſpoken it but he bluſhed, looking upon Tyridates, and demanding pardon of him by that action for the imprudence he had committed: but it was much taken notice of by the Stranger, and looking upon them with more reſpect than he did before: ‘The Gods have put me into good hands, ſaid he to them, ſeeing it is from Princes that I receive theſe ſuccours, but I will likewiſe tell you that you render them to a Prince, and to a Prince which holds a very eminent rank amongſt men.’

After theſe words the two Princes cauſed him, being ſtill on horſe back, to follow the way which led to the houſe, and they marched by his ſide to ſuſtain his feebleneſs, which rendred him not very ſure in his ſaddle. Arriving at the gate, Tyridates called his ſervants, and by their aſſiſtance the Unknown diſmounted from his horſe, and leaning upon their arms was conducted to Tyridates his chamber. The obliging Prince quitted it to him out of reſpect, not having any great number of rooms in this little manſion, and took another for himſelf leſs fair, leſs commodious.

It ſeemed that this houſe was become a retreat of wounded and afflicted perſons and ſince a few days it had ſerved illuſtrious perſons enough to render it as famous as the Palaces of Kings. The hurts of this Stranger having been viſited by thoſe who ſerved Britomarus were not found dangerous, and it was by the loſs of blood only that he was enfeebled; they gave them the firſt dreſſing, and a little after they left the wounded man to that repoſe [Page] which was neceſſary for him, but before Tyridates parted out of the chamber he prayed him to lend him one of his Servants to ſend to the place where he had left his own, and to give them notice of the place and the condition wherein he was. He ſent only for two of his men to come to him, Tyridates having told him in few words, that he was obliged for divers important reaſons to keep his abode ſecret.

This Stranger ſeemed to be poſſeſſed with the ſame violent paſſion, and he diſcovered it by ſo many marks, that it was a hard matter for thoſe which were near him not to take great notice of it. Whileſt they were dreſſing of him, he beholding the Chirurgions with eyes wherein they beheld ſomething of fierce and terrible, ſaid to them, ‘Your remedies have ſome efficacy in relation to the wounds of the body, but thoſe of my ſoul are above your ſcience: And after that Tyridates was retired, thoſe which he had left in his chamber to ſerve him heard him ſigh every moment,’ and uſe interrupted diſcourſes whereby the tranſport of his Soul die eaſily diſcover it ſelf: ‘Muſt it needs be, cruel woman, muſt it needs be that thou ſhouldeſt eſcape my love and my vengeance, and that my love having oppoſed it ſelf againſt my vengeance, I ſhould loſe the hope both of the one and of the other by the rigour of my deſtiny? Ah pityleſs woman! purſued he a little after, and more pityleſs a thouſand times than he whoſe cruelty thou haſt ſo much deteſted! how much are thy reſentments greater than mine! and how much more rigorous doeſt thou puniſh intentions, than I would have puniſhed real offences! This blot, wherewith thou reproacheſt me, will quickly paſs from me upon thy ſelf; and thou art more hard and inſenſible of pitty, than that monſter of inhumanity, which thou canſt not look upon but with horrour.’

But if he tormented himſelf in this ſort, and teſtified by his diſcourſe that the wounds of his body were not the moſt painful that he felt, the amorous Coriolanus paſſed not his time more agreeable than he, and though by an extraordinary conſtancy he diſſembled, and ſubdued two parts of his diſpleaſure, yet he ſuffered enough to ſoil any other courage but his own. He was then well enough cured of his hurts to get on horſeback, to take arms again, and to run the courſe which his paſſion called him to; but beſides that he was reſolved for ſome days to expect the return of Strato his faithful freed-man whom he had ſent for news; he had learned by a general report, that Auguſtus, after he had eſcaped a violent tempeſt wherein he had loſt part of his veſſels, was landed at Peluſium, and was expected at Alexandria where he was to arrive within a few days. He had given notice by Emilius of the place where he was, and the Maſter of the houſe whither Strato was to come, and the ſtay of this man, whoſe voyage by all likelyhoods needed not have been ſo long, redoubled his impatiences and diſputes: that night he was extraordinarily tormented, and the evils of his body having entirely given place to thoſe of his mind, he could hardly find ſome moments of interrupted ſleep.

On the morrow, a little after he was ready, deſiring to find ſome comfort in the free entertainment of his thoughts, he left Tyridates buſied in the officious care which he took for his gueſts, and went to ſeek ſolitude in the ſame place where Tyridates and he had walked the day before. It was a wood of high timber trees which extended it ſelf over the plain more than two hundred furlongs in circuit, and it was bordered upon by divers houſes of the inhabitants of Alexandria built upon the outſides of it. As it had ſometimes ſerved for the divertiſement of Kings, and did yet ſerve the Praetors of Egypt in that nature, it had divers large and fair ways, in which a walk was no leſs agreeable than in the allies compoſed with more artifice, and there were a great number of paths whereby one might retire into the moſt ſolilitary and wild parts of the woods. It was alſo embelliſhed with divers rivulets, which riſing from divers ſprings not far off, after their pleaſant winding amongſt the trees went to emboſome themſelves in the Sea.

In this ſolitary place Tyridates had often entertained the Idea of Mariamne, and in this place the ſaid Coriolanus entertained himſelf a long time in the remembrance of his ungrateful Cleopatra. He quitted the greater ways for the private paths, and that part of the wood which was moſt ſhady and deſart, did beſt agree with the condition of his Spirit. In this ſad walk keeping his thoughts ſtrongly fixed upon his fortune, he found in all ſorts objects a renewing of his diſpleaſures, and few things preſented themſelves to his view, which did not bring back to his memory ſome new ſubjects to conſider of the change of his fortune. By the ſight of thoſe great trees under which he walked, he was put in mind of the fair allies upon the bank of Tiber, wherein he had had ſuch ſweet converſations with Cleopatra, and by this preſſing Idea which this conformity did preſently imprint in his mind, addreſſing himſelf to thoſe inſenſible objects: Under a ſhade like yours ſaid he, I have an̄ hundred times taſted the ſweetneſs which you cannot repreſent unto me without touching me ſenſibly; and under branches which like yours defended us from the beams of the [Page] Sun, Cleopatra often gave me aſſurances of that precious affection wherein I have eſtabliſhed my life. In thoſe places which for me were fortunate, ſhe had proteſted an hundred times that nothing was more dear to her than Coriolanus, and in thoſe places upon a bark like yours, ſhe hath permitted me divers times to engrave in her preſence the glorious marks of my happineſs: But O Gods! replyed he preſently to himſelf, how much leſs reſemblance bave you to thoſe fair places, the dear witneſſes of my felicity, than to the fatal wood of Syracuſe where I received the cruel ſentence of my death? Ah! 'tis of that without doubt, you repreſent me with the figure, and you want but little of bringing back to my ears the ſound of thoſe pitileſs words whereby I ſee my ſelf ſo unjuſtly condemned.

This ſad accident of his, or rather this ſad part of his life, whereby that which remained was expoſed to ſuch cruel pains, imprinted it ſelf at that time ſo ſtrongly in his imagination, that it rendred it as much preſent to his thoughts, as if time and the accidents which had befallen him ſince had not removed it from him for one ſingle moment, and all that which in ſome ſweet interval might have refreſhed him with ſome agreeable remembrance, was diſſipated by this laſt reflection, and left him almoſt in the ſame condition wherein he had appeared the laſt time before the eyes of his pityleſs Princeſs: Ah my remembrances, cryed he, after he had kept ſilence a while, ab remembrances of my fortune paſt! good reaſon is there that ye ſhould quit your place to the memory of my preſent miſeries, and ye would do well never to return into a mind wherein you can leave nothing but matters of eternal grief: that which ye have preſented to it is but a dream and a vapour; if ye have ſometimes made it ſee Cleopatra good, and Cleopatra affectionate, thoſe remembrances which have ſucceeded you, ſhew it now with more truth, Cleopatra without affection, Cleopatra incenſed, or Cleopatra changed: all the ſweetneſs and acknowledgement ſhe had once for me is vaniſhed with the changing of her mind; and if I were once Coriolanus more conſiderable to Cleopatra, than all ſhe could hope for from the ſupport and alliance of Livia, I am now no better than a monſter of Africa, more odious and abominable to Cleopatra, than her moſt cruel enemies, or the vileſt perſons upon the earth. Return then no more, ye enemies of that ſhadow of falſe repoſe, wherewith my ſollitude hath flattered me, and permit your cruel companions to finiſh what they have begun, and can perform without your help.

At this ſad conſideration he continued mute a while, ſearching with ſlow ſteps in the moſt obſcure places that which did beſt agree with the darkneſs of his ſpirit. From the reflection he had lately made, and did eternally make upon his misfortune, he paſſed to a ſearch of that which might be the cauſe of it, and after that he had examined his whole life even to his moſt ſecret thoughts, and finding nothing therein but innocence: ‘No Cleopatra ſaid he, the Gods are my witneſſes that I have not failed in any thing towards you, or if there be any thing of criminal in my life, I am and have been always ignorant of it: the Gods alone are offended at the reſentments I have had for you, and without doubt they juſtly puniſh me for having rendred you the adorations which are due to the Divinities alone: nothing more pure, nothing more diſ-intereſſed, and nothing more paſſionate ever eſtabliſhed it ſelf in a ſoul, than the thoughts I have had for you, and I may truly ſwear, that by all the misfortunes of my life they have not been alter'd one moment: But why, added be, paſſing from this thought to another, why do I ſeek for juſtifications, if all things plead for my innocence, and if that poſſibly I be not accuſed in the judgement of Cleopatra? All my crime without doubt is, that I have appeared leſs amiable than Tyberius to the inconſtant Cleopatra, that I have been declared the enemy of Caeſar, and of the Roman Empire, and that I have ſeemed ill confirmed in the Throne whereunto I remounted by Arms, as by Arms my Father had fallen thence. My Fortune alone hath committed all my offences, and the ungrateful Cleopatra remembers not how I have deſpiſed all for her, and how for her ſake I refuſed thoſe Crowns which a little after I recovered with the price of my blood, and have ſince loſt through her cruelty only.’

He ſtaid himſelf ſome moments upon this thought, but a little after he repented himſelf of it: ‘Ah Cleopatra! replyed be upon himſelf, can I make this judgment of you without offending you, and ſince I have ſerved you, ought not I to have taken notice ſo far of your generous inclinations, as never to ſuſpect you of baſeneſs and diſloyalty? Ah! without doubt, you are not capable of it, and for this unfortunate, who complains of you, I have ſeen you refuſe advantages great enough to move me not to have this unworthy belief of your courage. Whom ought I then to accuſe, and to whom ought I to impute my diſgrace? To whom, replyed he, but to Tyberius, to the cruel, cunning Tyberius? and it is he alone, it is he alone which by ſome trick of his diſſembling and perfidious ſpirit, hath ruined my Fortune, and thrown me headlong from the place whereunto by my love [Page] and ſervices I was mounted above him: It is to Tyberius that I ought to addreſs my ſelf; and it is of Tyberius that I ought to demand for my juſtification that life which I have ſo unluckily left him: He ſhall give the remainder of it to the reparation of that repoſe which he hath ſo cruelly deprived me of, and to morrow, to morrow it ſelf (ſeeing my ſtrength permits, and I have no more wounds to retain me) I will go to ſeek out that tormentour of my days, and ſacrifice him before the eyes of that ambitious Livia, and that Tyrant which contrary to juſtice, and his own word upholds him, and perſecutes me. If I muſt periſh in this deſign, as the appearances are very great that it muſt be ſo, in the ſad condition wherein we now are, we ſhall periſh without regret, and we ſhall loſe no more than life, the loſs whereof merits not at this time the leaſt reſentment of grief.’

In theſe diſcourſes and thoughts, which took him up a part of the whole day, he engaged himſelf ſo into the wood by the private paths, that he loſt all knowledge of thoſe ways by which he ſhould return, and being arrived to one of the extremities of the wood, he ſaw it was bordered upon by a little meddow, which ſeparated it from another grove more verdant, and in appearance more ſhady than that he had croſſed through. It was that which appeared to him more truly like the fatal wood of Syracuſe, whereof he made mention, and wherein he had the laſt ſight of Cleopatra: The thought he had of it drew ſighs from his breaſt, and looking upon it with an emotion, which had ſomething of extraordinary in it: If as thou haſt the reſemblance, ſaid he, of that cruel place, where I ſaw my ſelf condemned to ſo many deaths, ſo the Gods have given the ſame glory, and did permit thee to contain Cleopatra within the circuit. I ſhould reverence thee as a ſecret place, and I ſhould kiſs with Idolatry the graſs which her feet had preſſed: In ſaying theſe words, whether it were out of ſome curioſity which in his ſadneſs was not ordinary with him, or the little care he had of quitting his ſolitude to return to his company, but he croſſed the little meddow and entred into the grove: there he found the trees greater, the graſs feſher, and the ſhadow more delicious than in the wood which he had quitted; he ſaw there likewiſe divers allies artificially compoſed, and other beauties capable to retain him there longer than he was reſolved to ſtay. He ſought there, as he had done elſewhere, the moſt ſolitary places, and did nothing but croſs the allies which lay in his paſſage; and being arrived at a pleaſant ſtream which had its original in the wood, after he had walked a while by the ſide of it, a little wearineſs which his long walk had cauſed, made him take notice of the green bank that lay by the water ſide, with the deſign to repoſe himſelf there for ſome few moments.

He let his languiſhing body fall upon the graſs, and after he had waſhed his mouth with a little water to quench his thirſt which began to trouble him, he leaned his head upon one of his hands, and beholding the clear water of the brook which ran along upon the gravel with an agreeable murmur: My fortune hath paſsed like you, ſaid he to them, and the ſwiftneſs of your courſe can be compared to nothing better than to that of my happineſs, which hath appeared and diſappeared in my ſoul, without leaving any thing but the cruel traces of its paſſage: As he uttered theſe words with divers ſighs, he lifted his eyes to Heaven with a very pitiful action, and a little after, laying his head at the foot of an old Oak, the ſad thoughts, to which he abandoned himſelf, laid him inſenſibly a ſleep, and whether it were through the pains of his walk, or his watching the night before, his eyes were cloſed with ſleep, which for ſome moments charmed his diſquiets.

Whileſt he ſlept, two Ladies fair, though with ſome inequality, above all that ever the Heavens framed beautiful walking along by the ſtream lighted unawares upon him. She which was leaſt poſſeſſed with ſad thoughts, and who, though ſhe were very fair even to admiration, yet was inferiour in ſome reſpect to the beauty of her companion, did firſt perceive the Prince aſleep, and ſtopping her ſelf at this adventure: Siſter, ſaid ſhe to her companion, See, here lies a man in our paſſage, what ſhall we do: Let us take our walk elſewhere, replyed that divine creature, ſeeing that after the perils we have ſcarcely yet eſcaped, we ought to fear the worſt of all adventures: Our enemies, anſwered ſhe who had ſpoken firſt, are not in a condition to do us any great diſpleaſure, and our defenders are not far from us; this is that which makes me a little bold, and to tell you the truth of it, I received a few days ſince, ſo much ſatisfaction from an adventure like to this, that I ſhall hardly hinder my ſelf from looking upon this man a little more narrowly: With theſe words ſhe quitted her hand, and went ſome ſteps forward by chance on that ſide whither the Prince had turned his face: and ſhe no ſooner ſaw that ſweet majeſtical countenance, compoſed of all the moſt accompliſhed features that nature had ever framed in a perſon of his Sex, but ſhe remained exceedingly ſurpriſed; and out of a curioſity which the firſt view cauſed, approaching a little nearer, ſhe contemplated more at eaſe, that which ſhe had but imperfectly taken notice of at a farther diſtance. The Prince was pale and a little changed by the greatneſs of his diſpleaſure, but not ſo much but that the fair Lady which viewed him, [Page] found in his perſon great ſubjects of admiration. When ſhe was confirmed in her opinion by her attentive beholding of him, ſhe deſired to make her companion participate of the ſight, returning to her with marks of aſtoniſhment which appeared in her face: Siſter, ſaid ſhe to her, either I ſhall have no credit with you, or at my intreaty you ſhall ſee the man by all appearances the moſt worthy to be looked upon in the whole world: Appearances, replyed this fair Lady with a ſigh, are moſt commonly deceitful, and it is not upon appearances that we ought to ground our judgment.

Speaking theſe words, ſhe ſuffered her ſelf to be led, though with ſome repugnance, within ſome few paces of the ſleeping Prince. She caſt her eyes upon his viſage, which on that ſide might be entirely ſeen, but ſhe had not viewed it many moments, but that there appeared in hers all the marks of a ſtrong aſtoniſhment, and maugre the change he had ſuffered, knowing him eaſily by the image which ſhe carried of him in her memory, at firſt ſhe remained mute and unmoveable, not being able better to expreſs her firſt apprehenſions than by ſilence and immobility: but a little after, having confirmed her ſelf in her knowledge, O Gods! cryed ſhe out, ſlepping back, O Gods! it is Coriolanus. She uttered theſe words with ſo high an accent, that the Prince was awakened by them, and liſting up his head to look about him, the firſt object that preſented it ſelf to his view, was that of the two Ladies who had raiſed him from his ſleep. Their brightneſs cauſed in him ſuch a reſpect as made him riſe from his place, and his profound ſadneſs not being able to hinder him from caſting his eyes upon ſuch ſparkling beauties, he had no ſooner fixed them upon the two faces, but that upon the faireſt of the two he perceived all the features of Cleopatra.

Never was there aſtoniſhment like to that of the King of Mauritania in ſo unexpected an encounter, and if the Princeſs Cleopatra (for it was ſhe indeed) was ſurpriſed at this adventure, Coriolanus, who probably had little cauſe to hope for it, was ſo touched therewith, that he could ſcarcely preſerve any remainders of knowledge in ſo ſtrong a ſurpriſe. He continued ſome time for action little different from the Oak againſt which he leaned, and like to perſons under ſome charm, which ties up all the functions of the body and ſoul, whileſt that Cleopatra between the arms of Artemiſa, upon whom ſhe had caſt her ſelf, ſhewed all the ſigns of a confuſion like that of the Prince; and feeling her ſelf deprived of part of her ſtrength, ſhe face her down at the foot of a Tree, where by the aſſiſtance of the Princeſs, ſhe endeavoured to recover her ſelf.

Coriolanus could no ſooner open his mouth, but that with a great cry he invoked the name of his Princeſs, and following his firſt emotions, he moved from the place where he was, to run whither his love called him, and go caſt himſelf at Cleopatra's feet: but at the ſame inſtant, his misfortune came again into his memory: he remembred that he was in diſgrace, that he was odious to Cleopatra, and that he was baniſhed from her ſight, and by this remembrance, the impetuoſity which ſeconded his deſires was moderated; and from this firſt heat, he fell into a coldneſs which kept him more confuſed and timorous than before. Many different thoughts preſented themſelves to his mind, but he found them all either difficult or dangerous, and in the uncertainty wherein he was, either to accoſt her whom he adored, or to flie from the incenſed Cleopatra, he quaked and trembled with deſire and fear both at once. He armed himſelf at laſt with ſome reſolution, and believing that the Gods might have ſent him this adventure for his juſtification, and that he might put himſelf in danger to loſe it, either by his negligence or timorouſneſs, he adventured himſelf, and with a ſlow and uncertain pace he adventured to the place where Cleopatra ſate. Yet he approached but within ſome paces of her, not believing himſelf in a condition of preſuming upon any greater liberty; and failing upon his knees with an action altogether ſuppliant, and conformable to the thoughts of veneration which he had for his Divine Princeſs, without daring to lift up his eyes upon that awful countenance, he began to ſpeak with a trembling and aſſured voice. ‘It is not my deſign, Madam, ſaid he to her, it is fortune that preſents me to you, and I was too religious in the obedience which I owe to you, to ſeek occaſions of appearing before the eyes of my incenſed Princeſs: I had no longer languiſhed out this unfortunate life of mine, ſince I know that it is odious to you, if I had not believed that I ought to employ the miſerable remainders of it, which your change hath left me in my juſtification; and if by the inviolable fidelity which hath always engaged me to you, I had not been obliged to uſe all my endeavours to die in the teſtification of my innocence. I know not, Madam, whether I find you ſtill in the ſame eſtate wherein you were when this miſerable received his condemnation; and poſſible it is, that by the reflection you have made upon all the actions of my life, or by the goodneſs of the Gods which never abandon an oppreſſed innocence, you may have ſatisfied your ſelf that I have not merited thoſe miſeries to which you have condemned me. I ſpeak to you, Madam, as a criminal in your thoughts, and I had much rather ſubmit my ſelf to accuſations, againſt which my conſcience fortifies me, and againſt which the truth [Page] it ſelf will defend me, than to imagine that the change of my fortune proceeded only from the changing of your mind. I have received too great proofs of its conſtancy, to believe that it hath been capable of ſo cruel a revolution, and I ſhould conceive a thought, which without doubt, might offend you, if I ſhould judge that the fortune of Tyberius hath deſtroyed mine, and attribute that to inconſtancy, which without doubt, you have done for the reaſons to me unknown.’

The Prince had ſaid more to this purpoſe, if the Princeſs which till then had hearkned unto him without looking upon him, had not lifted up her eyes and interrupted him in part of his diſcourſe: ‘You have had reaſon, ſaid ſhe to him, to make this judgement of me, and though you have been capable of a black infidelity, yet you have been ſufficiently aſſured that Cleopatra had an heart too well ſetled for being ſuſpected of any ſuch thing, I ought not to have opened my mouth ſo much as to have ſpoken to you, and whether it be chance or deſign which preſents you again unto me, contrary to my expectation and deſire, I ſhould have fled from your firſt view, as from the ſight of my moſt cruel enemy; but that I may render you yet more black, and more criminal before the Gods, and before men, I will, as unworthy as you are, proteſt unto you once for all, that if by your ſhameful perfidiouſneſs you had not merited my hatred, and my diſdain, in ſtead of that affection which I have blindly given you, I ſhould have deſpiſed not only Tiberius, and all men beſides, but even the Empire of the Univerſe for you alone. If it be ſo, replyed Coriolanus, and that by the infidelity wherewith you reproach me, I have rendred my ſelf unworthy of that fortune, there is no death cruel enough for the puniſhment of my fault: neither will I flie from it, and you ſhall ſee me, Madam, to repair my crime in part, fall upon the point of my Sword without repugnance, and without any other reſentment of my death, than that I have merited it by my perfideouſneſs: But firſt Madam, I beſeech you by the memory of thoſe former goodneſſes, which by your accuſation, I have ſo unworthily abuſed, do me the favour to inform me what the crime is, which by your accuſation I have ſo unworthily abuſed, do me the favour to inform me what the crime is which renders me ſo black, and ſo odious. Heaven is my witneſs, that it is ſo far unknown to me, that I could never ſo much as imagine the leaſt ſubject of this reproach, and it is but to learn this truth, that I linger out my unfortunate daies, and that I wander, ſince I have the liberty, into places where I may receive ſome knowledge of it. I will not repreſent unto you, to move you either with intereſt, or compaſſion, the condition wherein I am for the love of you: It is a ſmall thing that for your ſake I have armed the powers which govern the earth againſt my ſelf: It is a ſmall thing, that having recovered for you only a very puiſſant Kingdom, I have loſt it again for want of ability to go and defend it in the condition wherein you had put me; and it is a ſmall thing to ſee me exiled, ſtript of all, a wanderer and vagabond in Countries which are all my Enemies, without ſupport, without retreat, and without Sanctuary againſt ſuch great adverſaries: Theſe evils are ſcarcely conſiderable for Cleopatra, and they are too light to ſet before her eyes, with any hope that ſhe will make any reflection upon them▪ but beſides the loſs of all that, I might have acquired either by my Sword, or by my Fortune, beſides the loſ [...] of my repoſe, together with the loſs of Cleopatra, which expunges all the reſt out of my ſoul, to conclude my pitiful deſtiny with the loſs of my life, without having any knowledge, without having any ſuſpicion of the cauſe of my fortunes, this is it, which poſſibly is worthy of your pity, and it is for this only that I will implore it, with a final proteſtation that I will draw no other advantage thence but this, to ſee my ſelf condemed with reaſon, by her whom at the laſt end of my life I neither can nor will accuſe of any injuſtice.’

The Princeſs Cleopatra, as obdurate and pre-poſſeſſed as ſhe was with a cruel opinion, could not hear this diſcourſe of Coriolanus, without manifeſting ſome marks of tenderneſs, and the roots of the only affection ſhe had had in her whole life, were ſtill too well fixed in her mind to leave her without pity, and without reſentment at the ſight of this deſpairing Prince, and the remembrance of thoſe things which he repreſented to her. Nevertheleſs, ſhe ſtrove againſt paſſions, and hardly retaining ſome tears which were ready to overflow her eye-lids: ‘Wherefore doeſt thou return, ſaid ſhe to him, wherefore doeſt thou return, unfaithful Prince, to renew my ſorrows, and oppoſe thy ſelf to the repoſe, which reaſon poſſibly had re-eſtabliſhed in my mind? What intereſt haſt thou (after thou haſt ſo unworthily abandoned me) to act the paſſionate lover before me afreſh, and needleſly to require new marks of that weakneſs which hath precipitated me into thoſe diſquiets wherein I have paſſed but too much of my life for thy ſake, and to plead both innocence and ignorance of a crime, which thou haſt endeavoured to publiſh to all the world: As long thou wert faithfull to me, my acknowledgement and my affection could never be moved by any conſideration whatſoever, and I as well as thou have oppoſed and incenſed for thy [Page] ſake alone, thoſe ſoveraign powers, to whom the Gods having given an abſolute command over me. I had done more yet, if by thy black infidelity thou hadſt not too far diſpenſed with me; and if fortune had replaced upon my head the Crowns which ſometimes were in the diſpoſing of Anthony, thou ſhouldeſt have ſeen me uſe them more generouſly, than thou haſt done that which the Gods had reſtored to thee whilſt thou wert innocent, and which they have made thee loſe, ſince that, by thy diſloyalty, thou haſt rendred thy ſelf unworthy of their protection. It is by their Juſtice alone that thou art ſtript of all, and exiled, wandring without retreat or place of ſafety; but though theſe miſeries are too light for thy crime, they witneſs for me that I have not contributed to them, and that I have had no more part in them, than I had in thoſe Kingdoms, which thou hadſt deſtined, and didſt offer with thy ſelf to more happy perſons. Do not reproach me then with evils which I have never been the cauſe of, and which I never ſo much as wiſhed thee: I am contented to accuſe thee of ingratitude and unworthineſs, and to manifeſt marks of ſorrow for thy ſhameful change, which poſſibly thou hadſt not deſerved, without wiſhing any greater puniſhment to thy treaſon, than my forgetfulneſs and diſdain.’

‘But at laſt, the tranſported Prince cryed out, ſhall I not know this treaſon, and ſhall I ſee my ſelf condemned, and condemned by a Judge whom I cannot call unjuſt, without having any knowledge of my crime? What, replyed the Princeſs, wilt thou ſtill, for a concluſion of thy perfidiouſneſs, deride her whom thou haſt ſo unworthily abandoned, and art thou not aſhamed, by a baſe and unprofitable diſſimulation, to make as if thou wert ignorant of a crime, which thou haſt manifeſted thy ſelf to the whole world, and which thou haſt endeavoured to conceal neither from my knowledge, nor from the whole Roman Empire? Anſwered the Prince, if it be known to me, as without doubt it ought to be, if I have ſo publickly committed it, aggravate by your laſt reproaches, which you will heap upon me for it, the remorſe I ought to feel; and if not, to inform me of it, ſeeing I am not ignorant, yet to convince me before this fair Lady which hears us, let us underſtand from your mouth the treaſon which I have committed againſt you.’

Artemiſa who heard this dialogue with wonderful attention and ſuſpenſe, and did favour Coriolanus, as much out of the eſteem and amity which his preſence might cauſe in all thoſe which ſaw him, as for the advantageous relation ſhe had heard made of him a thouſand times by her Alexander; at this laſt diſcourſe turning her ſelf towards Cleopatra: ‘Siſter, ſaid ſhe to her, this Prince demands ſo ſmall a matter, that, if he were yet more criminal than you repreſent him, you could not refuſe it him; and whether he makes himſelf ignorant, or is ſo really, you will do him but little favour, when you ſhall ſet before his eyes the offence he hath committed againſt you: Ah Siſter, replyed Cleopatra, though this man little deſerves any ſatisfaction how ſmall ſoever, and though you oblige me to a thing, to me painful and unprofitable, when you deſire that I ſhould inform him of that which he himſelf hath diſcovered to the whole world: yet I will do it to pleaſe you, and I would willingly make him bluſh, if it be poſſible, at the laſt reproaches I owe to his unworthineſs.’

The Princeſs was about to proceed, and Coriolanus hearkning to her with all the confidence his innocence could give him, expected from the end of this converſation either his death or his juſtification, when ſhe was interrupted by a great noiſe, which obliged the Princeſſes to ariſe affrighted from the place where they were. Their fear was not without reaſon, and they were hardly got up upon their feet, but they ſaw themſelves ſet upon by ten or twelve horſemen which were in ſearch of them, who having left a party of their Companions engaged in Combat againſt them from whom the Princeſſes might hope for ſuccour, had run over part of the wood to find them out. They had no ſooner diſcovered them, but that he which marched in the head of them cryed out with joy to his Companions, See here they are: and with theſe words having cauſed them to be environed on all ſides, he had no ſooner caſt his eyes a little nearer upon them, but that he knew, not only Cleopatra, whom he fought for, but the Princeſs Artemiſa likewiſe: He appeared aſtoniſhed at this ſight, and recovering his ſpeech, after ſome moments of ſilence; ‘Ah my friends, ſaid he, how happy are we to day! Behold the Princeſs Artemiſa; ſhe muſt accompany her whom we ſeek, and our fortune will be accompliſhed.’ He had ſcarcely uttered theſe words, but four or five of his Companions alighted, and whilſt thoſe which remained on horſeback ſtopped the paſſage to hinder the flight of the two Princeſſes, they advanced towards them to take them.

Coriolanus, who ſince the moment that he had been interrupted, had beheld their action without being aſtoniſhed: no ſooner ſaw theſe enemies approach Cleopatra and Artemiſa, but he put himſelf before them and drawing his ſword, which at that time was all his arms, he [Page] Preſented himſelf in their defence: The number of his enemies and the advantage they had over him of horſe and arms was not capable to daunt him; but only caſting a look upon Cleopatra: ‘Madam, ſaid he to her, this accident hinders my juſtification, but the death I go to ſuffer for you without regret, will poſſibly juſtifie me in part. He had not ended theſe few words, but that one of theſe Barbarians had already ſeized upon the daughter of Anthony:’ but his boldneſs was fatal to him, and the valiant King of the Moors giving him a blow with his ſword upon the arm which he had advanced, ſeparated it from his body, and put him into a condition to do no more outrage to that he loved. After this blow, with an admirable readineſs, he fell upon another who held the Princeſs of Armenia, and finding free paſſage for the point of his ſword whither he directed it, he thruſt into the hilts. They which continued on horſeback having ſeen the ſudden fall of their companions, advanced to revenge them, and two amongſt them ſpurring on their horſes upon the valianteſt Defender of the two Princeſſes, had overthrown him with their ſhock, if he had not been ſheltered by a tree, againſt which he threw himſelf; from the foot whereof ſingling out one of the Barbarians in his paſſage, he reached him with the point of his ſword, where his Curiaſſe was defective, with ſo much ſucceſs, that he pierced him to the heart, and made the Barbarian fall down dead to the ground.

From this place Coriolanus by his admirable valour might have defended his life; but he heard the cries of the Princeſſes, and ſeeing them between the arms of divers men, he neglected his own ſafety to run to their defence: Mars, the God of War himſelf could not have performed actions like to thoſe of this great Prince, and his deſpair redoubling his forces, made him paſs amongſt the Barbarians for a Daemon of valour, or a whirle-wind which mingling it ſelf amongſt them with unconceivable fury, preſented death unto them on all ſides where they would aſſail him. ‘O how might then incenſed Cleopatra have found in theſe miraculous actions, if ſhe had the liberty of taking notice of them, great occaſions to be appeaſed, and how well might ſhe have judged, that with ſo noble a courage infidelity could hardly find a place! She was already in the power of one of her enemies, when ſhe beheld his throat pierced by the ſword of Coriolanus, and was all covered with the bloud that he vomited out upon her, as he fell at her feet.’ Preſently after this action the Prince was violently juſtled by divers horſes at the ſame time, and being near Cleopatra, he was overthrown with her upon the graſs, though as he fell he raiſed up his arm to hold her: The Princeſs fell upon Coriolanus, and her ſall fell out well for the Prince's ſafety, who without doubt had periſhed either by the ſwords of his enemies, or under the feet of the horſes, if they had not been affraid of killing the Princeſs with him, and if their Commander had not cryed out unceſſantly to them to take an eſpecial care of her. Cleopatra got up again very readily, and Coriolanus making uſe of his left hand in that action, and holding his Sword in his right hand for his defence, had ſtill one knee upon the ground, when as he feeling himſelf preſſed upon by one of his enemies, who went to run his horſe over him behind, he turned himſelf half towards him, and with the edge of his ſword gave the horſe a back blow over the noſe, the horſe being hurt ſtood up on end, and his Maſter pulling the bridle too hard, pulled him backward upon himſelf with ſo rough a fall, that for a long time he was not in a condition to hurt Coriolanus. In the very ſame poſture he thruſt his ſword into the belly of another horſe; but at the ſame time he could not hinder himſelf from being thrown to the ground the ſecond time; and one of his enemies on foot whom he took hold of as he fell, and drew along with him to the ground, falling upon him, endeavoured to draw his ſword from under him, to thruſt it into his throat, whilſt another turning about on horſe-back ſought ſome way to kill him, without hurting his companion. This was that which ſaved Coriolanus his life the ſecond time, and holding him cloſely embraced who was upon him, he took from him all means of doing hurt, and covered himſelf with his body againſt the ſword of his companion. He was extreamly weary with the great pains he had taken, and under whom he lay was a man of extraordinary ſize and ſtrength; but that did not hinder, but that, after a long diſpute, Coriolanus brake his Enemies ſword, juſt as he had almoſt diſengaged it from under him, and thruſt him twice into the body with the Truncheon of it. The Barbarian wrung him with the rage of a dying Enemy, and Coriolanus thruſting him with a ſtrong arm, eaſily turned him over on the other ſide.

After this action he had need of all his diligence to get up, and which was on horſeback, putting towards him, when he ſaw him no longer covered by his companion, was likely without doubt to trample him under foot, if the Prince as he aroſe, had not preſented the point of his ſword to the Horſes eyes, who being afraid of it, durſt come no neerer, though his Maſter ſpurred him on. When the Prince was quite got up upon his feet, the Barbarian [Page] which ſaw him victor over ſo many Enemies, and took him for ſomething more than an humane Creature, had not the outrage to expect him, but put on his horſe at full ſpeed, following the tracks of his companions, which retired with the Princeſs they had taken away.

Coriolanus ſaw himſelf then without Enemies, but he had no longer the ſight of Cleopatra, or at leaſt he had but a glimpſe of her afar off between the arms of her raviſhers, and he perceived with unſpeakable regret that ſo many actions of valour that he had lately performed, had only ſerved for the ſafety of his own life, and not for the defence of Cleopatra. He ſighed at it with grief and rage, but he did not long amuſe himſelf in complaints, and ſeeing himſelf by a prodigious felicity eſcaped from ſo great a combat without wounds, he reſolved to purſue after her, without expecting any longer ſuccours; but becauſe being on foot, and without arms, he was not in a condition to make any great haſte, nor give her any great aſſiſtance, he was minded to put on the arms of one of thoſe he had ſlain, and to accommodate himſelf with one of the horſes which after their Maſters death were grazing in the Wood at liberty. He went to one of the Barbarians, who was of a ſize little different from his own, and deſpoyling him of his arms, he began to arm himſelf with them with all poſſible ſpeed.

He had juſt done faſtning the leathers of his Head-piece, and caſt his eyes about him to chooſe, amongſt three or four horſes which he ſaw without Maſters, that which was moſt proper for his deſign, when he ſaw coming towards him at full ſpeed ſix horſemen armed Cap [...]a pe, that way which the Princeſſes came. Their approach did not one jot diſmay him, and in the grief he then felt, all danger whatſoever was uncapable of terrifying him. Theſe men after they had beheld the dead bodies, and the marks of the combat which he had performed, they drew near the Prince, and one of them coming forwarder than the reſt, asked him news of the the two Princes: ‘If you are of the company of their raviſhers, ſaid the Princeſs unto him, finiſh that which your companions have begun againſt me: and if you ſeek them to ſuccour them, behold the way, ſaid he to them, pointing towards the Sea-coaſt, which thoſe cruel wretches carry them, and whither I am about to follow you.’ In another condition and at other time theſe men would not have quitted the Prince without longer diſcourſe, and without informing themſelves more fully of divers things capable to cauſe their aſtoniſhment and their curioſity; but the impatience which ſpurred them on gave them no leiſure; and he had no ſooner ſhewed them the way that the Princes were carried, but that without hearing more, they put on their horſes upon the track which yet appeared freſh, and before that Coriolanus could catch one of the horſes that were feeding, they were quite got out of ſight.

Being mounted at laſt upon a ſtrong bodied horſe, which he believed to be in a condition to do him ſervice, away he went with all the ſpeed he could poſſibly make, and followed amongſt the trees the track of the Barbarians, which carried away with them hishopes, and all his life. A throng of redoubled ſighs proceeded from his breaſt, and imputing his bad fortune ſometimes to himſelf he found himſelf in a more violent agitation, and a thouſand times more cruel combat, than that he had lately finiſhed. He made reflection, as much as the ſwiftneſs of his courſe would give him leave to do, upon the ſtrange adventure of this day; and not know whereat he ſhould be more aſtoniſhed either the meeting or the loſs of Cleopatra, he found a double occaſion to deſire death, both in the perſeverance of Cleopatra to hate him, and in the carrying away of Cleopatra, to which he believed himſelf to have contributed, by the feebleneſs, which as he thought, he had ſhewed in her defence. The great and prodigious efforts which he had made uſe of in this occaſion, ſeemed unto him unworthy of his ordinary valour, and looking upon himſelf with disdain, ‘Ah my hand! ſaid he, ah my ſtrength! in what neceſſity have ye baſely abandoned me, and in what occaſion could ye have been more neceſſary than in the defence of Cleopatra! ye have ſeconded my courage with ſucceſs; when I have fought for the intereſts of Caeſar, and when I have employed you for the recovery of a Crown; and you diſgrace your ſelves and quit me when the conſervation of my Princeſs is conſerned! Ah ye Gods, which vouchſafe no pity to the miſeries of my life, by what crimes could I poſſibly draw your eternal wrath upon my head? was it not enough for the unfortunate Coriolanus to be expoſed to the hatred and diſdain of Cleopatra, but that he muſt have alſo the diſpleaſure to ſee Cleopatra between the arms of thoſe inhumane raviſhers, which poſſibly may rob him of her ſight for ever.’

He continued ſome moments in judging, wherein he was moſt unhappy, whether in his diſgrace, or in the carrying away of Cleopatra: but after he had reaſoned with himſelf a while: ‘Ah! ſaid he, let us make no judgment upon it, we are unfortunate in the ſame degree, both in the one and the other, and the misfortune of being hated and diſdained by Cleopatra, could not have been equalized but by the loſs of Cleopatra, Alas! added he, in purſuance of a thought which ſucceeded the former, but for this misfortune, I had poſſibly [Page] been upon the point to give a ceſſation to the former: when theſe Barbarians interrupted us, I was about to have learned of my Princeſs the crime whereof I am accuſed, and no doubt but in the evidences of my innocencé which ſhe would have diſcovered, I ſhould have found my juſtication. But Fortune, that Enemy of mine, which without pity hath declared her ſelf for my ruine, could not diſſemble in this accident, and it was not from her that I ought to expect this favour, ſeeing it is by her means that I loſe all, and by her it is that I ſee my ſelf expoſed to eternal miſeries. She did not preſent Cleopatra to me, contrary to my expectation, but to redouble my misfortunes by this laſt aſſurance of her indignation, and to ruine me utterly with the regret of ſeeing that which I adore, totally changed as ſhe is, and as to me inſenſible, fallen into the power of thoſe Monſters, which have raviſhed her from my eyes: Let us follow nevertheleſs, added he, let us follow that we love even to the utmoſt end of our life, and let us render the ſuccours we owe without any conſideration: Cleopatra is poſſibly no more loſt to us in the arms of her raviſhers, than ſhe will be in the embraces of Tyberius, or of ſome other rival to whom ſhe may have deſtined her ſelf; and we ſhall reap no advantage to our ſelves, by the ſuccour which we give her, if it pleaſe the Gods that we be ſo happy as to give her any; and yet we ought to employ our ſelves in her ſervice even to the laſt drop of our bloud: and though we ſhould take her out of the hands of our raviſhers only to put her into the hands of Tyberius, we muſt cloſe our eyes to our own intereſt, blindly to involve our ſelves in hers, and leaving her all the remorſe which her change may cauſe in her, die in the glory and ſatisfaction of having done our duty even to the end of our life.’

In theſe diſcourſes, and theſe thoughts which accompanied his courſe, the afflicted Prince traverſed all the Wood, and came to the Sea-ſhore, where, by a misfortune like to that of Caeſario ſome dayes before, he loſt all track of the horſes, which till then he had exactly followed. He continued in this place unreſolved, looking about him on every ſide, and conſidering upon the choice of the way he was to take; and he was in this condition, when a Cavalier clad in rich and ſtately armour, and gallantly mounted, paſſing ſome paces from him, made a ſtop to take a view of him; Coriolanus to refreſh himſelf from the heat which he had endured, had his beaver up, and his face was almoſt entirely diſcovered; this was that which ſtayed the Unknown, who preſently knew the lineaments which he had engraved in his memory, and whilſt that Coriolanus marched by the Sea-coſt, but much more ſlowly than he had done till then, out of the uncertainty he was in which way to take, the Unknown marched ſeven or eight paces from him by his ſide, having his eyes ſtill fixed upon his viſage, and marking in his action a great deal of uncertainty and irreſolution.

The King of Mauritania being attentive only to the purſuit of Cleopatra, ſcarcely took any heed of him, and when he did perceive him, he took him for one of thoſe, which he had ſeen a little before go in purſuit of the raviſhers. In this thought and others wherein he was too profoundly engaged, he followed the way he had taken, without ſpeaking to him, and they paſſed ſome furlongs together in this condition; till the Prince lifting up his head, and ſeeing this man ſtill by his ſide with all the appearances of a perſon that had to me deſign againſt him, he began likewiſe to view him with ſome attention, and was about to ask him what he was, and to what intent he followed him, when the Unknown preventing him, and breaking ſilence firſt, which till then he had kept: ‘Ah! I have conſidered too much, cryed he, I muſt die;’ or be the death of this perfidious, whom I have fought ſo long: Speaking theſe words he drew his ſword, and oppoſing the Prince in his paſſage: Defend thy ſelf, Son of Juba ſaid he to him, I muſt give death or receive it, The Mauritanian Prince who was not naturally over-patient, and who had at that time his humour exaſperated by his diſcontent, eaſily diſpoſed himſelf to the Combat; and he would with all his heart have made the efforts of his choler to have fallen upon the firſt object that preſented it ſelf, if he had not found it an obſtacle to the ſpeedineſs of his purſuit. This hindrance did ſomewhat abate the firſt motions of his anger, and looking upon the man which ſtood before him with his ſword advanced: And what art thou, ſaid he to him, as he was putting down the Beaver of his Helmet, and laying his hand upon his Sword, ‘Thou which demandeſt the Combat of me at a time wherein my ſtay is worſe than the death thou threatneſt me withall? I am, replyed the Unknown, the greateſt of thy Enemies; that's enough to oblige thee to fight: Yes, 'tis enough, anſwered the furious Coriolanus, and it may be too much for thy life.’

Speaking theſe words he drew that famous Sword, upon which Victory had attended in ſo many Combats, and clapping ſpurs to his horſe, which he found very good and proper for his purpoſe, he threw himſelf upon his Enemy, who let fly at him with the like impetuoſity. Their Shields ſuſtained the firſt blows, but if they fell without any other effect, they made the two Warriors know at leaſt mutually the force of the arms that gave them: they gave one another divers others at the ſame time with the ſame ſucceſs, and if the [Page] Unknown found nothing new in the valour of Coriolanus whereof he had ſeen ſufficient proof, Coriolanus found that in the courage of his Enemy, which he had never met with but in the Combat which he had ſome few dayes before with the Valiant Britomarus. Their choler on either ſide quickly appeared in their mutual precipitation, and if the Unknown was animated by a violent paſſion, the cruel obſtacle which he brought to the ſuccours of Cleopatra, quickly made the reſentment of Coriolanus mount to a degree which rendred it little different from his. They employed on both ſides more force than art in their Combat, and yet neither of them forgot any thing which might conduce to the Victory: Their blind fury without doubt was advantageous for them, and if it had permitted them to ſearch the defect of their Arms, they would have drawn bloud each of other in divers places, whereas beſtowing their blows without choice and judgement, they fought a long time without any hurt.

Coriolanus, whom this delay put into deſpair, and who well perceived that the ſucceſs of this Combat would not be ſo ſpeedy as he did imagine, preferring the ſuccour of Cleopatra before all other conſiderations, and the repugnance he had in himſelf againſt the action which he was about to do, retired ſome few ſteps, and making a ſign to his Enemy that had ſomething to ſay to him: ‘Though thou ſhouldeſt be Tiberius, ſaid he, (for thou canſt be no other than Tiberius, if thou art the greateſt of my Enemies, and it is only to be thy death that I have preſerved my life) permit that our Combat may ceaſe for one hour, and join thy ſelf with me in a buſineſs, wherein poſſibly thou art no leſs intereſſed, than my ſelf: Afterwards we will finiſh our quarrel, and thou art not ignorant, that no peace can be eſtabliſhed between us but by the death of one of us. Tiberius, replyed the Unknown, is not more thine Enemy, than my ſelf, and all the reaſon he had to attempt thy life, is now centred in my ſelf, and ſince it is for this deſign only that I have ſought thee through the whole World, our Combat cannot end but with the life of one of us. Ah! it ſhall be with thine then, anſwered the enraged Prince, and it is by this uncivil refuſal, that, maugre thy baſe diſſimulation, I know thee to be Tiberius.’ Theſe words were ſcarcely ended, but they fell one upon the other afreſh like two Lions, and the Mauritanian Prince being out of patience with the length of the Combat, ſpurring up his horſe to the ſide of his Enemy, and having avoided the point of his ſword which was preſented at him, he ſeized upon his body with ſuch force, that by all his ſtrength he could not diſ-engage himſelf from between his arms: and though Coriolanus his horſe had received the blow which was aimed at his Maſter, which wounded him mortally in the neck, the bounds he made through the pain of his wound, could not hinder but that the King of the Moors pulled his Enemy out of the Saddle, juſt as he was conſtrained to quit his own, for fear his horſe ſhould fall upon him, whom he perceived to fall between his legs. They fell both to the ground, and their fall was ſo boiſterous, that it amazed them both, and made them let go their hold, they got up again with great ſpeed, and prepared to finiſh their combat on foot; but the Unknown found himſelf troubled with his Caſque, the leathers whereof were broken by the fall, and by a weighty blow he received being turned upon his head, did hinder his ſight more than it ſerved for his defence, therefore ſtepping back a little, he pulled it off himſelf, and left his face uncovered and his head diſarmed.

Coriolanus, maugre the heat that animated him, had no ſooner caſt his eyes upon the viſage of his Enemy, but in ſtead of Tiberius, or ſome other moſt odious perſon that he expected to ſee, he beheld with an unparalell'd amazement his dear and well beloved Marcellus. In the whole courſe of his life he had never lighted upon any adventure which ſurprized him like this, and when he ſaw that his Enemy which had appeared ſo eager, and full of animoſity to deſtroy him, was next to Cleopatra the deareſt perſon to him in the World, and that friend upon whom he had founded his laſt hopes, his grief ſailed but a little of executing that, which the arms of ſo many Enemies could not do in that dayes action. The firſt teſtimony he gave of it was by a loud exclamation; ‘Ah Marcellus, cryed he, ah my Brother is it you! Yea, perfidious Man, replyed Marcellus, it is Marcellus, but no longer thy Brother, or thy friend; and that Tyberius, for whom thou haſt taken him was never more thy Enemy, than Marcellus is: O Gods! cryed the Prince with a very ſad and pitiful geſture, and do you likewiſe Marcellus, do you abandon me, and after the loſs of my Kindom, and the loſs of Cleopatra, doth this Marcellus a thouſand times more dear to my ſoul than my own ſelf, this Marcellus from whom I expected my laſt refuges, and my only comfort, not only abandon me with my fortune, but aſſault my honour and my life more cruelly than ever Tyberius did? Ah pierce then, continued he, caſting his ſword upon the ground, pierce, cruel and inconſtant Friend, this heart which I preſent thee, this heart which thou accuſeſt of treaſon and unworthineſs, and this heart which yet was never capable of a change like yours. May it pleaſe the Gods that I may never defend againſt thee the life which is ſo [Page] precious to thee, and if it create any impediment to thy intentions, let us ſacrifice it a thouſand times rather than ſuffer that it ſhould any more croſs the deſigns of my ungrateful Friend. I had not preſerved it, after the loſs of all that the Gods and fortune had given me, but that I believed that the amity of Marcellus was ſtill left me. But ſince that beſides the loſs of all other things that I could call good, I am deprived of the amity of Marcellus, who contrary to his promiſe eſpouſes the quarrel of his Uncle my enemy and my perſecutor, and that poſſibly by my death ſeeks to regain Cleopatra, whom he had ſo generouſly beſtowed upon me, let us offer up our life either to his repoſe or to his fortune, and let us diſpute nothing with him, to whoſe benefits all was ſometimes due, and to whom, in memory of them, we can refuſe nothing: Though I am ignorant of all other crimes, I cannot be ignorant of this, wherewith my conſcience reproaches me, that I have lifted up my ſword againſt thee, and my friendſhip which is not altered by the attempts which thou haſt made againſt my life, though thou knew'ſt me, will never pardon me thoſe which I made againſt thine, though I knew thee not.’

Whilſt Coriolanus ſpake in this manner, Marcellus who had ſtay'd himſelf after he had ſeen him caſt away his ſword, looking upon him with an hundred different motions, which were remarkable in the changing of his countenance; but his ſoul being pre-poſſeſſed with an opinion, which made all the diſcourſes of Coriolanus to paſs for falſe and full of artifice, they did not work that effect upon his ſpirit, which according to the excellency of his nature they ſhould have done, and after he had hearkned to him with impatience enough, taking the word with an action altogether paſſionate: ‘Ah unworthy and unfaithful Friend, ſaid he to him, to what end doth this diſſimulation ſerve thee? haſt thou found any thing in this encounter which thou didſt not expect, and canſt thou hope for any remainders of friendſhip in the ſoul of Marcellus, after thy ungrateful and unworthy uſage of him? and hath he made it appear in the affairs thou haſt had with Caeſar, that his intereſts were more dear to him than thine, and could he have any thought of depriving thee of Cleopatra, after he had done all that he had done to make her thine? No, Coriolanus, never ſeek farther for an artificial diſguiſement of a perfidiouſneſs which thou wouldſt not have concealed from any man: Retake rather that ſword which thy remorſe, and not the remainders of thy friendſhip, hath made thee quit, and if it be not to defend a life which was more dear to me than my own, let it be to make him periſh, who, as long as he lives, will juſtly reproach thee with thy infidelity. But tell me, ſaid Coriolanus interrupting him, Tell me in the name of the Gods, what infidelity is that which I have committed againſt Cleopatra, and againſt my ſelf? What is the crime for which I wander up and down as a vagabond, and expoſed to all manner of misfortunes, without having received any knowledge of it? and what have I done, that could make thoſe perſons for whoſe ſake only I live, to become my moſt cruel and implacable enemies? I deſire, O Marcellus, either this favour of thee or my death, and in ſtead of that reſiſtance which thou deſireſt of me, that thou mayeſt give me the more honourable death, I will caſt away not only my ſword, but theſe arms too, which oppoſe the paſſage of thine.’

The reſentment, and the natural goodneſs of Marcellus, made at that time a combat in his Spirit, which Coriolanus might take notice of by ſome tears which trickled from his eyes, and all the indignation that tranſported him could not hinder him from ſeeing in the viſage of his Enemy, the reſemblance of that perſon whom he had moſt dearly loved in the World. Yet he oppoſed himſelf to theſe motions as much as poſſibly he could, and beholding him with eyes, wherein, through his choler and deſpite, ſomething of tenderneſs and compaſſion might be diſcerned: ‘Go unworthy Man, ſaid he to him, the Gods ſhall puniſh thee for me, and ſeeing it is not for the hand of Marcellus, who unfortunately was thy friend, that the vengeance of thy crimes is reſerzed, Heaven, which begins to puniſh thee with evils which I never wiſh thee, will beſtow upon thy infidelity better than I can do, the pains that are due unto it:’ With theſe words, without looking any more upon Coriolanus, he ran to his horſe which was not far diſtant from him, and getting upon him with admirable readineſs, he put him to full ſpeed, and in a few moments diſappeared from the eyes of Coriolanus.

The Prince remained ſo confounded and ſo afflicted both together at this laſt accident, that he could find no means to ſerve himſelf of that great courage, from which in the miſfortunes of his life he had received ſo great aſſiſtances, and repaſſing his memory in a moment over the deplorable condition of his life, and thoſe things which had happened unto him that day, from the aſtoniſhment which theſe ſtrange events produced in him, he fell into a paſſion of grief that all his conſtancy was not able to ſupport. Beſides that Cleopatra was incenſed or changed, and raviſhed from his eyes by her barbarous Enemies, he found Marcellus, in whoſe amity alone he had founded his laſt hope, more changed than Cleopatra, and [Page] as much his Enemy as Tiberius could be. He could not make this reflection without abandoning himſelf to grief, and breaking ſilence wherein his aſtoniſhment had kept him a long time: Ah cryed he! ‘This is it to diſpute too much againſt the deſtinies, there is a neceſſity of dying, ſince our life is odious to all the perſons we love, and the earth which might furniſh me with places of refuge from the powers of Auguſtus, hath none for me againſt the hatred of Cleopatra, and the enmity of Marcellus. I muſt content this pitileſs Fortune, which after it had raiſed me enemies which I might have reſiſted by force and valour, arms Enemies to my utter ruine, againſt which my courage and my valour are not capable to defend me; I owe my blood to Cleopatra to repair that offence, whatſoever it may be, which I have committed againſt her: I owe my bloud to Marcellus, to waſh away that infidelity wherewith he reproaches me, and I ſhall give it unto them both without regret, if by my death I may juſtifie my life, and teſtifie unto them by my end, that I never had a ſoul capable of ingratitude and treaſon.’

He took up then, full of a deadly reſolution, the ſword which he had caſt upon the ground, and in the tranſport which then poſſeſſed him, he had poſſibly executed ſome horrid thing againſt himſelf, if he had not called to mind at the ſame time that Cleopatra was the prey of Barbarians, amongſt whom her Honour and her Life were in hazard, and that he owed her his aſſiſtance even to the extremity of his life. This remembrance ſtay'd the effects of his deſpair, and fixing all his thoughts in an inſtant upon the aſſiſtances which he he owed to this Princeſs: ‘Stay Marcellus, ſaid he, I will acquit my ſelf towards thee, when I ſhall have acquitted my ſelf towards Cleopatra: I have no leſs a quarrel with her than with thee, and beſides the reparations which I owe to the infidelity wherewith ſhe reproaches me as well as thou, I am obliged, in the condition wherein I have ſeen her, to ſuccour her to the laſt of that bloud which thou demandeſt of me.’ At theſe words, ſheathing his Sword, he dreamed of nothing more than to puſue after the raviſhers of Cleopatra; but by a redoubled misfortune he found himſelf on foot, and caſting his eyes upon his horſe, he ſaw him a few paces off, approaching near his end upon the ground where he had poured out all his bloud. This ſurcharge of diſpleaſure awakened in him new thoughts of deſpair, and hardly could he vanquiſh them by the laſt reſolution he had taken: Ah cruel Heaven! cryed he, being tranſported beyond his ordinary moderation, by the violence of his grief, ‘O deſtinies without pity! are ye not ſatisfied? have ye any affliction left to throw upon this infortunate, whom ye take for the mark of all your cruelties? Ah too cruel Marcellus, how ſharply doſt thou revenge the offence wherewith thou reproacheſt me, in depriving me of the means to ſuccour Cleopatra, or to go and ſeek my death in the occaſions of ſerving her!’ Then he turned his eyes on every ſide, uncertain what to do; he was alone on foot, covered with heavie arms, ignorant of the way that his Enemies had taken; and for his laſt hindrance, the day was ſhutting in, and darkneſs began to ſpread it ſelf over the Earth. The Prince, after he had ruminated a while, believed at laſt, that the ſhorteſt and ſureſt way for his deſign was to return to Tyridates his houſe, which according to his judgement could not be far from that place, where he might find horſes and other arms, and men to accompany him in his purſuit. After he had taken this reſolution, he returned himſelf that way which he believed was the ſhorteſt to bring him to the houſe.

Since his departure thence, Tyridates and his two gueſts had paſſed the day there in leſs violent employments than his, although they were tormented with the ſame paſſions, and the courteous Prince of the Parthians had ſpent the better part of it in the entertainment of the two wounded ſtrangers. He had endeavoured upon this deſign to vanquiſh the redoublings of his ſadneſs which had ſeized upon him by reaſon of ſome evil paſſages, and fearful dreams, which had perſecuted him all the night, and ſtriving to diſſemble in part the effects which they had produced in his mind, he had rendred his firſt viſit to the valiant Britomarus, whom for his admirable qualities he reſpected, and cauſed to be ſerved with extraordinary conſiderations: he had without doubt engaged him in the purſuance of his hiſtory according to his promiſe, if the King of Mauritania, whom he would not deprive of his part of this ſatisfaction had been preſent, and if he had not feared to create him the trouble of making the relation twice; yet he put him in mind of it, that he might be prepared at the Princes return, and after he had entertained ſome time with him, he paſſed into the Chamber, who came at laſt: he found him in a good condition as to his health, and his hurts were neither great nor dangerous; but his ſoul ſuffered cruel inquietudes which were remarkable in his diſcourſe and in his countenance. His two men, which he had ſent to ſeek for, were come, of whom he retained one only to ſerve him, and had ſent away the other with Commiſſions which he had given him: Upon the hopes he made him have of the ſucceſs of his enjoyment, he had repoſed himſelf a little, and he was newly awaked from a ſhort ſleep when Tyridates entred his Chamber: That which they had learned each [Page] of other concerning their Birth, obliged them to treat each other with reſpect, and Tiridates being approached near the bed of the Unknown, enquired of him concerning his health with all manner of civility and ſweetneſs. The Unknown, as fierce as he was of his own nature, could not look upon the continuation of Tyridates his bounties, whom he know to be a Prince, without teſtifying to him ſome acknowledgment of them: and when he was ſate down by his bed-ſide, ‘I am in a pretty good condition, ſaid he, in reſpect of thoſe evils whereof by your officious cares I may receive remedy: but as for them which depend upon the Gods or Fortune, I find my ſelf far enough from the cure of them: I would, replyed Tyridates, it lay in my power to yield as much eaſe to the diſquiets of your mind, as you have received in relation to your bodily hurts, and I would ſpare nothing that ſhould be in my power, for the ſervice of a perſon, whom I judge by many marks to be of [...] very ſublime condition. My Birth and Rank are great enough, replyed the Unknown, and if I knew to whom I ſpake, and from whom I have received ſo great aſſiſtance, after you have laid the obligation upon me, I ſhall make no difficulty to give you a perfect knowledge of it. I know you are are a Prince, continued he, taking Tyridates by the hand, but I am ignorant both of your name and the blood whereof you are deſcended; and you will add not a little to the good offices you render me, if by informing me plainly to whom I am reduable, you will give me the means to open my heart unto you, and to acquaint you not only with my name and birth, but alſo with the adventures, which put me into a condition of having need of your ſuccour.’

Tyridates had no deſign to diſcover himſelf to this Unknown, and the cruel intentions of his Brother, were reaſons great enough for him to conceal himſelf, but, in the condition whereunto he was reduced, his life was little valued by him, and in reſpect of any thing that had been more important to him, he hardly could have denyed that which the Unknown earneſtly requeſted. He continued ſome time without replying, and then of a ſudden fixing his eyes upon his face: ‘There are but few Perſons, ſaid he, to whom I would make my ſelf known, if I were in love with my life; but I have too much regard to your deſire, and too much deſire my ſelf to obtain the ſame thing of you, not to grant you that which you demand of me: my name is Tyridates, I am Son of the unfortunate Orodes King of the Parthians, and Brother to the cruel Phraates, who at this time weilds the Scepter of that great Monarchy.’ The Unknown at theſe words looking upon Tyridates with greater attention than before, and with ſome marks of aſtoniſhment: ‘What, ſaid he, are you the Prince Tyridates, Brother to Phraates, he who being perſecuted and purſued by that cruel Brother, hath ſought for refuge in all the Courts of Aſia? I am the very ſame, replyed Tyridates, he which hath wandred theſe twelve years to beg retreating places, and the ſame, ended he with a ſigh, to whom the cruelty of his Brother hath created but the leaſt of his misfortunes. Is it poſſible, replyed the Unknown, that you being Tyridates, ſhould not mark ſome features in a face, which was once familiar unto you, and that years ſhould make ſuch a change in yours as ſhould hinder me from remembring it? Certain it is, replyed Tyridates, that I find ſomething in the tone of your voice, rather than in your viſage, that is not altogether ſtrange to me: It ſhould not be, anſwered the Unknown, neither will it be ſo, when you ſhall remember, that we paſſed together the beginnings of your exile, and that it was in the Court of the King of Armenia my Father, where you took your firſt retreat; you are then, added Tyridates, the Son of Artibaſus King of Armenia: I am, replyed the Unknown, Artaxus his eldeſt Son, and the ſucceſſor of his Crown.’

At this knowledge of the King of Armenia, Tyridates riſing from his Chair, to conſider him a little nearer, and remembring by little and little the ancient Ideas which time had blotted out of his memory: ‘Ah Sir, ſaid he, what Fortune have I to have given you this poor retreat, in exchange of that which I found in your houſe? and how I am obliged to my Fortune ſince ſhe hath given me-occaſion to render ſome ſervice to a King with whom in our youth I had framed ſo dear acquaintance: It is a great comfort to me, added the Armenian, affectionately embracing him, and I ſhall now with an entire confidence acquaint you with the particulars of my life, and the ſecret of my affairs which have brought me hither, and retain me here in this Country.’ From theſe words they paſſed to an entertainment full of civility and mutual offers, wherein the King of Armenia obliged Tyridates to give him a relation of his tranſactions, which he did, without ſpeaking of his love, which was the moſt important thing of his life, and when Artaxus was ſatisfied in what he deſired to know of him. ‘It is juſt, ſaid he, I ſhould make you a recital of thoſe things which obliged me to quit my Kingdom, to paſs unknown into ſtrange Countries: I will do it, after a ſhort recapitulation of my life, and though by ſome things which too juſt a reſentment hath made me do, poſſibly I expoſe my ſelf to ſome reproach from a ſpirit whoſe inclinations have been all to ſweetneſs, yet I will paſs over this difficulty, to declare my ſelf wholly to you, and I will acquaint you with the pure truth without diſguiſe or artifice.’

The Hiſtory of ARTAXUS King of ARMENIA.

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I Will not ſpeak to you at all concerning the firſt years of my life, the beginnings whereof are paſſed away without any memorable event, and you have learned the particulars of my education during the time you ſojourned with us, when flying from the cruelty of the King your Brother, you took your firſt retreat at Artaxata. You know the deplorable accident of our houſe, and how by the cruel ſurprize of Anthony, the unfortunate Artibaſus, together with the Prince Ariobarzanes my Brother, and the two Princeſſes Arſinoe and Artemiſa my Siſters, was taken priſoner, and led to Alexandria, where after two years captivity, he loſt his head by the ſolicitation of the King of the Medes, and the command of Cleopatra. I was ſeventeen years of age, when the King my Father was taken, and during his Impriſomnent the Armenians having acknowledged me for their lawful Prince, I employed all my power for the liberty of the King my Father, and I forgot neither the ſolicitations of the Friends of Anthony to free him by fair means, nor the way of arms wherein I joyned my ſelf with Caeſar his enemy, to deliver him by open force. In fine, it was the will of the Gods, and our unlucky deſtiny, that this deplorable Prince, againſt all manner of example, and againſt all Law divine and humane, died publickly by an infamous hand, and left in his family not only grief and deſolation, but alſo too juſt ſubjects of eternal reſentments for ſo bloody an injury, and for an injury whereby the dignity of all Kings was unworthily violated.

I no ſooner received the Crown, which the Armenians preſently after ſet upon my head, but I received therewith moſt natural and moſt lawful deſires of vengeance, and upon the very day of my Coronation I engaged my ſelf by a ſolemn oath, to employ all my power even to the laſt drop of my blood to repair our diſgrace, and not to ſpare for any conſideration, either age or ſex, in any that ſhould fall into my hands, of the blood or alliance of Cleopatra or the King of the Medes.

A little after, the Gods did in part revenge me, and the ſatisfaction I received by the laſt misfortunes of Anthony and Cleopatra, is ſo well known to you, and to all the world, that I need not ſpeak of it to you. The cruel perſons periſh by a juſt indignation of Heaven, which ſacrificed them to the Manes of the two Kings, and to the complaints of ſo many perſons upon whoſe ruine their power was eſtabliſhed.

A little while after, the wicked King of the Medes died miſerably: Tygranes his Son, a young Prince of my age ſucceeded to his Crown, and I ſaw my ſelf without any other object of my revenge than the children of the horrible murtherers of Artibaſus. The misfortune of their Fathers, which poſſibly might have ſatisfied me, if it had happened unto them by my means alone, being befallen them by other hands, was not capable of contenting me, and I continued in a moſt firm reſolution to revenge my ſelf of the outrage they had done me, upon their children, and whatſoever had any relation to them, either of alliance or amity. As for the children of Cleopatra, I loſt the means of my revenge by their retreat with Caeſar, and by the ſupport they found with the Emperor, the Senate, and the people of Rome; they had no Provinces left which I might waſte with fire and ſword for my ſatisfaction, and to take it upon their perſons, I muſt force them in Rome it ſelf, and overturn the powers of the Empire, and the Emperour which protected them, with whom I had made an alliance very neceſſary for the conſervation of my eſtate.

I was then conſtrained to turn my thoughts againſt the Son of the unfaithful Median and when I ſaw my ſelf confirmed in my Kingdom, I dreamed of nothing but War upon him, and after very great preparations, I entred into his Country with a conſiderable power, where I began my vengeance by all manner of acts of hoſtility: I will not entertain you with the particulars of this War; the events thereof were a long time doubtful, and two years paſt wherein much blood was ſhed on either ſide, Fortune not abſolutely declaring for either party. The third year I had very great advantages, which made me expect ſome part of that ſucceſs I had deſired. I took Towns, I gained Battels, and the fourth year I hoped with all appearance for the entire ruine of my Enemy, when the Gods fortified him with great ſuccours, and weakned me by the loſs of ſingle Man, which was more hurtful to me, than the loſs of a good part of my Troops would have been.

The King of Cilicia and his Son, with a great Army, came into Media, in defence of Tygranes their near Kinſman, and a little after, upon ſome effect of my revenge, which I intended, following my reſolution, upon all my Enemies, having had ſome jar with Britomarus, who at that time commanded the greateſt part of my Troops, this young Warrior, who in an age ſcarcely diſtinguiſhable from infancy, might already be really accounted the moſt valiant that ever wore a Sword, quitted my ſervice, and to my misfortune carried elſewhere [Page] the effects of an admirable valour, which would have been very neceſſary for me againſt the re-inforcement of my Enemies. The courſe of my good ſucceſſes was ſtopt, and my Enemies being ſtronger than I, had ſome advantages which made me loſe all that I had gained in Media, and after ſome Combats, wherein Fortune was not very favourable unto me. I was conſtrained to retire upon my frontire, where I made preparations for the laſt deciſion of our quarrel, when Auguſtus employed his authority to appeaſe our differences, and ſent Mecenas and Domitius with order not to depart from our Countries, before they had concluded a peace between us. I had that repugnance againſt it that you know of, and the Kings my Enemies bing exaſperated by the death of ſome of their near Relations, whom I had ſacrificed to the Ghoſt of Artibaſus, had no more diſpoſition to it than my ſelf. But we muſt needs yield to the will of Caeſar, and when it was declared on his part, that he would arm in favour of him who ſubmitted firſt, againſt him who made moſt reſiſtance, neither of us was bold enough to oppoſe it any longer, and having ſigned the Articles which Mecenas and Domitius preſented to us, we both of us laid down arms, and contented our ſelves to keep our animoſity in our breaſts, without making it appear any more.

I retired to Artaxata, whither a little after, Caeſar (whether it were that he deſired to have them as hoſtages of the treaty we had made, or that from the relation he had heard made of them, he had conceived a deſire to ſee them, and have them with him) ſent to demand of me the Prince Ariobarzanes my Brother, and the Princeſs Arſinoe my Siſter, to have them brought up at Rome, to frame in them inclinations to the Roman party, and to treat them like divers Sous and Daughters of the Kings, his Friends and Allies, which were brought up with him and the Empreſs Livia. This effect either of the amity of diſtruſt or Caeſar troubled me at firſt, and yet the pretence was ſo fair, that I could not handſomly refuſe that which he demanded, and the Prince and Princeſs, at the firſt propoſition which was made to them of it, having expreſſed no unwillingneſs to the Voyage, I cauſed a magnificent equipage to be prepared for them, and ſent them from Artaxata; they croſſed a part of Armenia, and coaſted Licia and Pamphilia by Land, and afterwards they embarqued upon the Egean Sea; but they embarqued in an unlucky hour, and a few days after, by means of a terrible tempeſt, they ſuffered a cruel ſhipwrack, and loſt under the Waves their lives, which were worthy of a better deſtiny. You may well believe, that an accident ſo deplorable, the relation of blood only might produce in me very ſenſible diſpleaſures; but beſides this natural reſentment, Ariobarzanes and Arſinoe were two perſons ſo uncommon, and ſo accompliſhed in the perfection of mind and body, that it would have been hard for any to have known them without ſhedding abundance of tears for their death. The Gods took out of the world all that was great and amiable in our family, and depriving me of a Brother and a Siſter worthy of the eſteem and the affection of the whole world, they have left me only one Siſter worthy of the general ſcorn, a Siſter, which by her baſeneſs and infidelity, hath ſtained with a ſhameful blot the illuſtrious blood from whence ſhe is deſcended, and hath raiſed me all theſe troubles of ſpirit for which I have abandoned my Kingdom, and by the means whereof I find my ſelf in a ſtrange condition.

Time had now given ſome conſolation to the grief which I had ſuffered for the ſad ſhipwrack of half our family, and I believe in peace, though againſt my will, at a time when I might have ruined Tigranes by joyning with the King of Parthia his enemy, againſt whom he made War, with ſucceſſes wherein Fortune diverſly ſported her ſelf, if I had not been hindred by the authority of Auguſtus, who would never permit me to break the peace which he had made me make with the Medians, nor to give my aſſiſtance to the Parthians, the cruel Enemies of the Roman name, with whom he could not endure that his friends ſhould have any alliance; I paſſed my life, I ſay, in this forced tranquility, when to overthrow my repoſe, and blaſt the honour of our Royal houſe, Alexander the Son of Anthony and Cleopatra, a worthy object of my lawful vengeance, came unknown to my Court, with a deſign to give me yet more ſubjects of hatred than thoſe I had againſt him and his, for the cruel death of the King my Father.

Tyridates interrupted the King of Armenia in this part of his diſcourſe: Alexander the Son of Anthony, ſaid he to him, who was believed to be loſt at that time when I was at Rome, or at leaſt there was no news of him, was in Armenia then: He was there but too fatally, replyed Artaxus, and Fortune which in appearance preſented him to me to ſatisfie my juſt reſentments, ſerved her ſelf with him to render them more violent, and to carry on my diſpleaſure to the laſt extremities. I know you will condemn my rigour in the deſign I had to render what I ought to the Manes of Artibaſus, and the Oath I had made; but that ſhall not hinder me from relating to you the naked truth, nor from expecting from you that you ſhould approve part of that I would have done out of a ſenſe of pity, or paternal love and honour it ſelf, too much intereſſed in the bloody injury which he had received.

[Page] After theſe words, he recounted to him all that had paſſed at Artaxata, after he had known Alexander there, the taking of that Prince, his cruel impriſonment, the ſolicitations of Artemiſa for his ſafety, the extremity of danger whereunto he arrived, and in fine, all that which Alexander himſelf related to Caeſario, till his departure from Armenia, and the carrying away of Artemiſa.

Tyridates did not hear this relation without great pain, though it was made by a perſon intereſſed, who did partly ſweeten the greateſt ſtrangneſs of his actions by the excuſes he made for them; and beſides that, he naturally deteſted cruelty, the friendſhip he had contracted with Coriolanus, and the acquaintance he had at Rome with the Princeſs Cleopatra, Prince Ptolomee, and the greateſt part of young Alexander's kindred, put him into great fear for him, in the recital of the dangers he had run; and made him very averſe from the cruelty of Artaxus. The impatience he had to hearken to him ſufficiently appeared in his countenance; but when he ſaw Alexander eſcape from the rage of his Enemy, he compoſed himſelf, and all the complacence which probably he ought to have for Artaxus, could not hinder him from diſcovering ſome part of his thoughts. ‘I am ſorry, ſaid he to him, that I am conſtrained to diſpleaſe you by the confeſſion I am about to make, and I profeſs, that if your intereſts do forbid me to hear of the carrying away of the Princeſs your Siſter with joy, I cannot afflict my ſelf with you to ſee Alexander eſcape from the puniſhment you had prepared for him. He was altogether innocent of your diſpleaſures, and the Gods which are intereſſed in his protection, would not permit that a life free from any crime, ſhould ſuffer the puniſhment which they themſelves had inflicted upon the culpable. Alexander, replyed Artaxus, was not innocent in my thoughts after the Oath I had made, ſeeing he was the Son of Cleopatra; neither was he ſo in effect, ſeeing he came into my dominions with deſigns whereof he hath made one part appear, and would have put the other in execution, if Heaven, which watches for the preſervation of Kings, had not prevented the effects, by the knowledge which it gave me of my diſguiſed enemy: However it be, mark the ſequel, and admire at the capriciouſneſs of my fortune in the relation I am about to make you.’

All expreſſion would be too weak to make you comprehend the diſpleaſure I reſented by the double injury I received in the flight of Alexander and Artemiſa: Theogenes the companion of the traitorous Sarpedon, was the firſt that received the puniſhment, either of his weakneſs in ſuffering himſelf to be abuſed, or of his infidelity in conſenting to their eſcape, and few of all thoſe that were apparently ſuſpected, eſcaped the juſtice which I cauſed to be executed upon them. Theſe teſtimonies of my grief were publick, but the ſecret effects which it produced in my heart, were yet more contrary to my repoſe, and poſſibly no mind was ever agitated with more violence than mine. Whilſt thoſe whom I ſent in purſuit of my two fugitives, ranged up and down the Country in vain, I was tormented with deſpight, which had almoſt carried me to extremities againſt my ſelf, and I had not one moments ſleep but what was interrupted by my cruel diſquiets: ‘What, ſaid I, in Artaxata, in my priſons, upon the point of being ſacrificed to my juſt vengeance, doth the Son of Cleopatra alone, diſarmed without the aſſiſtance of any of his Friends, not only eſcape my Juſtice, and deprive me of the pleaſure and the glory of having rendred to my Father's Ghoſt part of what was due to it; but together with his life, he robs me of my onely Siſter, and aggravates the diſpleaſures which we have received from his race, by the laſt outrage he doth to ours? Is it not enough for this audacious Enemy, to be born of the cruel murtherers of my Father, but that he muſt needs come into my Dominions to redouble my reſentments by the only injury he could do me, and that he muſt have good ſucceſs in ſo bold a deſign, at the inſtant that his neck was ſtretched out under the axe, and when I thought that all the power of man was not capable of guarding him from it? But, O Gods! that which I am moſt ſenſible of, is, that my own relations contribute to my grief, and Heaven in cauſing the reſt of my family to periſh, hath left me a Siſter onely to make her ſerve as an inſtrument to my ſhame, by her own; and it muſt needs be that in the Royal houſe of Armenia, there muſt be found a Princeſs baſe enough to abandon the intereſts of her blood, and to abandon her ſelf to the Son of the executioners of her Father. Ah! at leaſt if this perfidious Ariadne might find in the perſon of her ſuborner, an unfaithful Theſeus, by whom Heaven might revenge me of her Treaſon, I ſhould receive no ſmall conſolation, if the young deceiver ſhould leave her expoſed in ſome deſart and ſavage Iſle; or rather, O ye Gods, that by your indignation they might both periſh in the waves, how would my grief be eaſed, and how heartily would I forgive fortune part of the injuries that ſhe hath done me? But O unworthy as I am! ſaid I to my ſelf a little after, why do I expect from my Enemies, why do I look for that from the Deſtinies which are againſt me, that which I ought to ſeek for, and find in my ſelf alone? It is Artaxus himſelf who is called to carve out his own [Page] revenge, it is by Artaxus himſelf that it muſt be executed, he muſt purſue himſelf, both his unfaithful Siſter, and the young Seducer, and go kill them both in thoſe places where they have ſought their refuges: For, by the memory of this affront, the repoſe of his life will be eternally croſſed, and he cannot paſs it either with honour or pleaſure, as long as his Enemies triumph over him ſo many ways, whileſt he hath made no attempt to ſatisfie himſelf.’

This thought did not lightly paſs out of my mind, it fixed it ſelf there ſo ſtrongly, that at laſt I reſolved upon it; and after I had conſidered that I could receive no reparation from Auguſtus, when I ſhould make my complaints, but what would come too late, I took a firm reſolution to purſue after my Enemies my ſelf. I pondered a long time with much irreſolution upon the courſe I ſhould take: at firſt I would have armed all my forces; but I knew not whither to conduct them, and not doubting but Alexander and Artemiſa were retired to Auguſtus, I found my ſelf too weak to pluck them thence by open force, and I could not with any likelihood ſo much as ſuffer it to be propounded. At laſt, after I had ſufficiently conſulted, I pitched upon a courſe ſomewhat extravagant, but yet it ſeemed more agreeable to my mind, and I reſolved to part from Armenia, unknown, and with ſuch an Equipage as might not render me ſuſpected to ſeek out the Court of Auguſtus, who made his Progreſs through Aſia, and if I could there meet with my fugitives, as I did not doubt but I ſhould, I determined to deſtroy them both. You will tell me that I muſt needs be animated with a very violent paſſion, that could carry me to ſuch extremities to abandon a Kingdom, wherein by my abſence great troubles might be raiſed, to expoſe my ſelf to vexations and dangers wherein I might probably find the death which I went to inflict upon others. I will confeſs to you that I was yet more paſſionate, and that to content my reſentments, I was capable of ſtronger reſolutions. At laſt I confirmed my ſelf, and in the ſpace of one ſingle day, putting my moſt important affairs in ſome order, as much as my paſſion would permit me, I parted from Artaxata only with twenty horſe, carrying with me but this ſmall number of my Servants, which I had choſen out among the moſt affectionate, and the moſt daring. In this equipage, after I was gone out of Armenia, I croſſed a part of Cilicia, where I kept my ſelf very private, not being ignorant, that by reaſon of the hatred which the King of that Country had againſt me, my life was in very great danger if I had been known. In this Country I underſtood that Auguſtus after that he had viſited the Provinces of Aſia, which were under his Dominion, was paſſed into the Iſle of Cyprus, from whence he was going into Egypt to make ſome ſtay there: this news obliged me to take a Veſſel at the Port of Jotepa, where I embarked my ſelf for Alexandria. In all my Voyage, both by Land and by Sea, my reſentments gave me no reſpite, and the memory of the injuries I had received, rendred it ſelf continually ſo powerful over my ſpirit, that it hardly permitted me to taſt any moment of repoſe. Awakening very often out of the little ſleep it left me, and ſpeaking to Alexander as if he had been preſent: Son of Anthony, ſaid I, thou art not yet eſcaped from my vengeance, and in thoſe places wherein thou ſhalt believe thy ſelf moſt aſſured, thou ſhalt ſee thy irreconcilable Enemy puniſh thee for the crime of thy Parents, and the offence thou haſt done him. That Woman unworthy of the name of a Princeſs, and the ſhame of an illuſtrious race, ſhall receive the ſame puniſhment; and I ſwear before all the Gods, that I will ſpare neither Sex nor proximity of blood, in taking ſatisfaction for the injury I have received. If my bad Fortune robs my vengeance of the fugitive Alexander, there are ſtill ſome of the Children of Anthony and Cleopatra with Auguſtus; there is Ptolomy, and there is Cleopatra; the firſt of the two that ſhall fall into my hands, or poſſibly both of them together, ſhall pay without pity for the outrages of their friends. Alexander was no more culpable of the death of Artibaſus, than they: if they are innocent of my laſt injury, the former renders them criminal enough: and as by my Siſter, Alexander hath revenged himſelf upon me, ſo by his Brother or Siſter I will revenge my ſelf upon him, and if he eſcapes my juſt indignation, I ſhall find ſome part of my ſatisfaction in making it fall upon thoſe that have relation to him.

This was in effect my reſolution, and I continued my Voyage, upon the deſign of ſeizing upon all that I could meet of the blood of Cleopatra without any diſtinction or conſideration. We had the winds very favourable divers days, but at the latter end of our Navigation there aroſe a furious Tempeſt, which toſſed us up and down for two days ſpace with horrible danger. I ſaw my ſelf an hundred times upon the point of ending my reſentments together with my life in the waters, and inſtead of the death which I went to inflict upon my Enemies, I thought I ſhould have found mine own. In fine, our fortune was ſuch that we eſcaped from the fury of the waters, and my Veſſel proving able enough to reſiſt, and our Sea-men being very expert in their Art, it ſaved it ſelf from the ſtorm entire, and in a condition to purſue our Navigation as before: Nay, I was ſo happy, that I was hardly turned out of my [Page] Way by the Tempeſts, and the ſame day that the ſtorm ceaſed, we were within a days ſail of Alexandria.

We ſailed towards that City with ſpeed enough, when as by a moſt prodigious effect of Fortune, we met with a Veſſel wherein we ſaw at firſt ſight ſomething of Pomp and Magnificence in regard of its Beauty, but by the violence of the Tempeſt it was rendred unprofitable for ſailing, the Maſts and the Rudder were broken; and if it defended thoſe within from the danger of the Waves, through the care they had of ſtopping the leaks, they had loſt the means of ſteering it according to their deſign, and it floated up and down almoſt at the pleaſure of the Wind, though they that guided it laboured much to make it advance towards Alexandria. We paſſed ſo near to them that we could diſcern theſe particulars, and when we could diſtinctly hear one another from one Veſſel to the other, we ſaw Men in the Veſſel which we had met, who by their ſuppliant geſtures begged aſſiſtance of us, and one of them ſpeaking: Friends, ſaid he, whoever ye be, Fortune preſents you with an occaſion of performing an action of goodneſs, and in that to ſerve ſuch perſons who are able to requite that good office with great rewards; we are but a few perſons in this veſſel, and if you pleaſe to receive us into yours, you will render that ſervice to an illuſtrious Princeſs, and to a Perſon very conſiderable to Caeſar: Theſe words, which I heard diſtinctly from the place where I was, cauſed me to come upon the deck, from whence I demanded of him that had ſpoken, the name of that perſon conſiderable to Caeſar, from whom he had implored our aſſiſtance: It is, ſaid he to me, a Princeſs, whom he eſteems as much as if ſhe had been born of his Siſter Octavia, and it is, that you may know hereby a name ſufficiently famous, the Princeſs Cleopatra.

This Man had no ſooner uttered the name of Cleopatra to me deteſtable, but I trembled and ſhook from head to foot out of a ſtrange Antipathy; I changed colour divers times in a few moments, and I continued for ſome time ſo aſtoniſhed, that I was hardly capable of knowing what I did, I quitted my Kingdom, and I went unknown, and without a train, to expoſe my ſelf to great troubles and dangers to ſeek out my Enemies, and Fortune began to offer them to me by ſo uncommon an adventure, that it ſeemed to me that they had fallen into my hands by a moſt evident juſtice of Heaven. This reflection which I quickly made, diſſipated my firſt amazement, and awaking me from my doting, with a tranſport of joy: O Gods, cryed I out! O Fortune, how favourable are ye to me, and how am I obliged to the care you take your ſelves of chalking out the way to my vengeance? Is it not time, continued I, to diſpute with the pity which her Sex may move; ſhe ſhall die as being the Daughter of Cleopatra, ſhe ſhall die as being the Siſter of Alexander, and by her Death I will begin to revenge my ſelf both of the Executioners of Artibaſus, and the Raviſher of Artemiſa.

Speaking theſe words, I commanded the Veſſel to be grappled, and that was no ſooner done, but followed by all my men, I leaped into it with my ſword in my hand. The few Men that were there, Men without arms, and of ſmall ability to defend themſelves, having marked my words and my action, and that, inſtead of perſons who might ſuccour them, they had met with mortal Enemies, being excited with ſome fidelity to the Ladies whom they conducted, they would have put themſelves into a condition of making ſome reſiſtance; but this deſign was fatal to the firſt that prepared for it, and in a few moments a part of thoſe which oppoſed our paſſage, being fallen dead at our firſt blows, their companions loſt courage, and crying out for mercy, they ran to hide themſelves in the ſafeſt parts of the ſhip.

My men killed ſome more of them, but I troubled not my ſelf with it, and being ſpurred on by the deſign which aimed only at Cleopatra, I went to ſeek her in her Chamber, where ſhe was ſhut in with two other Women, making prayers and vows to Heaven for deliverance from the peril whereunto they were expoſed. The door of the Chamber was preſently broken open, and I no ſooner appeared at the entry with my bloody ſword in my hand, but theſe women being affrighted, expreſſed their fear by great out cryes. Thou muſt dye, ſaid I, throwing my ſelf into her Chamber, Daughter of Anthony, thou muſt dye. I would have made ſome body ſhew me which was ſhe, that I might let my vengeance light upon none but her ſelf, but beſides, that by the reſpect which the others ſhewed her, I might judge which was ſhe, by the relation which I had heard made of her admirable Beauty, I preſently took knowledge of her, and her countenance being leſs diſmay'd than her Womens were, ſhe caſt her eyes upon me, which inſtantly diſcovered her to me. The view which I received at ſome far diſtance did not diſſipate my reſentments, and I went towards her with my ſword advanced; with a deſign according to my opinion nothing was capable to divert; but when I had caſt mine eyes more nearly upon this miraculous Beauty, and that from the firſt dazling I paſſed to a more particular attention to the prodigies which preſented themſelves to my ſight, I remained in the condition of thoſe, whom the terrible viſage of Gorgon converted [Page] into ſtones: my arm grew ſtiffe in the air, my body continued deprived of all force and motion, my voice was ſtopped in my mouth, and I did almoſt totally paſſe into the nature of thoſe metamorphoſed Statues.

At firſt my immobility only, and the change of my countenance expreſſed my aſtoniſhment, and I contented my ſelf to behold this adorable marvel, without having changed my poſture, or appearing animated by any other motion, than that of my eyes; but a little after all my choler being inſenſibly diſſipated by this betwitching ſight, and theſe violent thoughts quitting their place by little and little, to others more tender and more powerful than the ſword which I held fell out of my hand at the feet of this Divine Princeſs, and I not only loſt the deſign which I had againſt ſo precious a life, but the fury from which moved me to it, I fell into a ſhame and repentance, athouſand times greater than my choler had been.

I had retired ſome ſteps from the Princeſs, whence I kept my eyes fixed upon the Princeſs f [...]et, not daring any more to lift them up to her face, and by my action I made her ſufficiently take notice of the diſorder and confuſion of my ſoul: But at laſt I recovered out of this dump, and rallying up all my courage to ſerve me in this adventure, I fell upon one knee before her, and breaking the ſilence which I had ſo long kept: Divine Princeſs, ſaid I to her, it is not neceſſary that I ſhould expreſs my repentance to you in words: my viſage and the condition wherein you ſee in me ſo different from that wherein I appeared at firſt before you ſufficiently ſpeak my confuſion; and You may be pleaſed to know at length, that inſtead of a [...]u [...]ious Enemy which ſome moments ſince attempted upon this ſacred life of yours, You have a Man at Your feet full of grief for this crime, and ready to repair it with his own life, if there be no poſſibility of hoping pardon for it from your goodneſs. The point of this Sword which I had drawn againſt You, returns againſt my own heart and it is but in vain for a Man to arm himſelf to offend You, ſeeing that all arms are uſeleſs to defend ones ſelf againſt You. I lay down at your feet, together with this Sword, all my choler, and all the deſign of revenge which I had framed againſt You and Yours: Thoſe cruel reſolutions, though grounded upon ſome juſtice, could not preſerve themſelves againſt ſuch Enemies, and I ſee my ſelf in fine reduced to implore Your pity, I who thought to have been without pity all my life towards the race of Anthony.

At the end of theſe words I aroſe, to give order to my Men that reſpect ſhould ſucceed in the place of the diſorder which they had begun in a place which was become ſacred to me, and ſeeing that the aſtoniſhment of the Princeſs was ſo great, that it had not yet permitted her to reply: ‘Believe not, continued I, that I am a Pirate armed againſt You and yours for hope of Booty; I will avow to You, with a confeſſion full of horror, that it is Your Life I would have had, and Cleopatra only that I ſought for: this crime is monſtrous and the reaſons wherewith I would have excuſed it heretofore, cannot any longer defend me againſt You: but in fine, ſeeing I muſt needs ſay it again to You, to my own confuſion, it was the blood of Anthony and Cleopatra which I would have ſhed: and to let You underſtand the cauſe I might have for it, it will ſuffice to tell you that I am Artaxus King of Armenia, Son of the unfortunate Artibaſus, whom You have ſeen a captive, and whom you have ſeen dye by the cruelty of Your Friends. The bloody injury I ſuffered in his death, hath been ſeconded by other offences I have received from Alexander your Brother, and in brief I was animated with reaſons ſtrong enough againſt Your race, if it had produced me other Enemies than You, and if my Fortune had not confronted me with an enemy which diſarmed me ſooner than all the powers of the Empire could have done. Excuſe, Madam, the exceſs of my reſentment by the lawfulneſs of it, and ſeeing I have made all the thoughts, which the force of blood, and the love of my Father, and my own honour had inſpired me with againſt Your Family, to give place to thoſe I have now for You; Do not in the name of the Gods keep any longer againſt a repentant and an humbled Prince, thoſe reſentments which a deſign too inhumane may juſtly have produced in You againſt me.’

I ſpake in this manner, and the Princeſs, who during my diſcourſe had had leiſure to compoſe her ſelf, anſwered me in theſe terms: ‘I praiſe the Gods, who inſtead of Pirats, when we feared, have made us fall into the hands of a Prince who though incenſed againſt our family, is yet born of a Royal blood, and endued with royal inclinations. Your reſentments are juſt, Sir, and though my birth inclines me to favour them, yet I cannot diſapprove the anger You have conſerved againſt thoſe who were the cauſe of the King your Fathers death; if they were living, no Perſon could not condemn what the memory of ſuch an injury might make You undertake againſt them, but Heaven hath ſeverely puniſhed the outrage they did You, and the Children they have left, were not only innocent of Your injury, but they were partakers of it themſelves, and deteſted the cauſe [Page] of it as much as the age they were then of could permit them to do: and Alexander, whom You accuſe of ſome new offence, appeared, as young as he was, as much intereſſed in it as if he had been of Your Family. This remembrance, Sir, will moderate the anger you have againſt that unfortunate houſe, and without doubt you have too much juſtice to confound the innocent with the culpable. Oh, [...]cyed I, tranſported with a growing paſſion which began to take poſſeſſion of my ſoul with an abſolute power, Ah! do not call the Children of Cleopatra innocent, they finiſh what their Mother had only begun, and it is ordained by the Gods, that your houſe ſhould be fatal to the houſe of Armenia.’

Theſe words eſcaped me in the firſt motions of my ſpirit, and my heart, as I believe, uttered them rather than my mouth. In effect, if at the firſt ſight of Cleopatra I was amazed, aſtoniſhed, and confounded; by the grace ſhe had in her diſcourſe, and the new marvels I diſcovered in her Perſon, in a few moments not only my inclinations were changed, but there ſucceeded to this aſtoniſhment, confuſion and repentance, a violent love, which left nothing of liberty in my ſoul. Other Perſons might poſſibly wonder to ſee me paſs ſo eaſily from one paſſion to another quite contrary; but ſince you have ſeen Cleopatra, there is no neceſſity that I ſhould ſeek to give you reaſons of this change, the knowledge you have of her wonders, ſaves me the labour of a deſcription of them, which without doubt would excuſe the facility I uſed in rendring up my ſelf. However it be, I was ſubjected as entirely to her powers, as if I had known them divers Years, poſſible it is that thoſe who had paſſed part of their life in her ſervice, were not more enflamed than I was in a few moments. Ab how hard was it to defend ones ſelf againſt the divine Beauties of Cleopatra, and how weak are common reſolutions to reſiſt forces like hers! I left my liberty at her feet, as well as my anger and my ſword: and in my Soul, where all the paſſions acted with violence, Love was preſently at the height, and arrived at thoſe extremities that no other but my ſelf was capable of. Ordinary effects might have been produced by common beauties; but to have diſarmed at the firſt ſight an indignation which probably could not be appeaſed but by the blood of all the race of Anthony, and to have changed the cruel reſolutions which had made me abandon my Kingdom, and expoſe my perſon to all manner of pains and dangers, into violent love, this was that which appertained to none but the beauty of Cleopatra only. I became her Slave, I became her Idolater ever ſince ſhe began to ſhew her ſelf to my eyes with all her powers, and that the fright, which had concealed part of her charms, being diſſipated, her viſage appeared to us in a more ſerene and compoſed condition. Behold in what manner my condition was changed in a ſmall time; from being furious and terrible I became gentle and ſubmiſſive, and I ſaw my ſelf reduced to implore pity of them, whom I had ſeen in need of begging mine. It would not have been difficult for Cleopatra, if ſhe would have attentively regarded it, to have known the diſorders of my ſoul; and my viſage ſpeaking the eſtate of my ſpirit with more expreſſions than my tongue could have done, made her without doubt take notice of the troubles which perplexed me by its ſeveral changes, but it was neceſſary that my mouth ſhould ſecond it, and my paſſion had hardly received a Birth, but that it was too great and violent to be concealed.

Poſſibly at another time, and in another conjuncture of things reſpect would have tyed my tongue, and not have permitted me to declare ſo ſoon to the Princeſs the thoughts which had ſcarce received any form; but as my love took birth by an extraordinary way, I did not believe my ſelf obliged to common formalities, and I judged that I might act as deſtiny acted in me. At length whether it were for this reaſon, or through ſome impetuoſity which tranſported my ſpirit above all reaſon, I could no longer retain that which would manifeſt it ſelf; and looking upon Cleopatra in a very ſubmiſſive way: Divine Princeſs, ſaid I to her, I have quitted my Dominions, I have abandoned all things to go and deſtroy the children of Anthony, but through the indignation of Heaven, which poſſibly hath not approved of my reſeatments, I find that in you, which I thought to have brought you, and if you be not ſenſible of compaſſion, you are in a condition of revenging your ſelf upon all the deſigns I have had againſt You and yours. In fine, one way or another, it is fatal to the Kings of Armenia, to give their life to the Cleopatra's, and what the Father ſuffered by the axe of the former, the Son is like to ſuffer by the eyes of the latter.

I caſt down my eyes at the end of theſe words, and Cleopatra did the like with a bluſh which mounted into her face. I expected ſome anſwer from her fair mouth, but when I ſaw ſhe remained ſilent without going about to reply to my diſcourſe: I do not think it ſtrange, continued I, that theſe words ſhould ſurprize you, coming from a Prince from whom probably you ought not to expect them, and the condition wherein you ſee me is ſo different from that wherein you ſaw me when I entred into your Chamber, that a change ſo ſuddain may with much reaſon produce an aſtoniſhment in you: Nevertheleſs it is very certain, that the ſame enemy which came with cruel deſigns againſt your life, expoſes his own at your [Page] feet, which he would not preſerve but to give it you entire; and that if you diſdain it as unworthy to be offered to you, or deteſt it as belonging to an enemy, he will willingly ſacrifice it either to your reſentment, or to his own ill fortune. Look no more upon me, adorable daughter of my enemies, as the revenger of Artibaſus, but as a Son who folllows the deſtiny of his Father, and who will undergo the ſentence which you will condemn him to, much more willingly than his Father did.

I held my peace at theſe words, keeping my ſelf in a very humble and ſuppliant poſture, and the Princeſs after ſhe had ſtaid ſome time longer without ſpeaking, at laſt lifting her eyes towards me: ‘It is true Sir, ſaid ſhe to me, that I am no leſs ſurprized at your words, than I was affraid at your firſt actions, and there was ſo little probability of expecting this change by ſuch mean powers as mine, that I cannot without confuſion give attention to the declaration you make me of it. Howſoever, I account my ſelf as innocent of the accuſation you lay upon me, as I was of the fault of my Parents, and it ſhall never be by my deſign that you ſhall follow the deſtiny of your Father. I ſee my ſelf reduced by my deſtiny to hearken to diſcourſes whereunto poſſibly at another time and amongſt other perſons I ſhould not have been expoſed; but I ſupport it with patience, and it is juſt that I ſhould ſuffer ſomething from him, who hath received ſo cruel a diſpleaſure from my relations: If by my diſcourſes, replyed I, you ſuffer any thing, the Gods are my witneſſes it is not by my intention, and it ſhall never be out of revenge that I give you my heart, and deſpoil my ſelf of my liberty. Your powers are too well known by your ſelf to let you find any ſtrangeneſs in this change, and though you have not contributed to it by your own deſign, yet you will not be innocent of it, if you do not look with pity upon the evil you have done me.’

Cleopatra, then compoſed her countenance to gravity and ſeverity more than before, and looking upon me with a coldneſs accompanied with ſome diſdain: You ſhall never be in a condition, ſaid ſhe to me, to have need of my pity, and it ſhall never be my intention to reduce you to it: I ſhall be very much obliged to you if for my ſake you would abandon the deſires of revenge you have conceived againſt the remainders of our family; but if you pleaſe, I will paſs by that, or if I require any effect of your goodneſs, it is only this, that you would cauſe us to be conducted to Alexandria; the paſſage over thither is very ſhort, and there without doubt you ſhall receive thanks from Caeſar for the good office you have rendred to perſons who are not indifferent to him.

Theſe word; of Cleopatra did not preſently receive an anſwer, and the requeſt ſhe made to me was very unconformable to my intentions. Fortune had put her into my hands by a too extraordinary adventure to make me loſe all the advantage of it ſo quickly, and if her beauty had freed her from my choler, I could not conſent that her return to her Friends ſhould ſo ſpeedily rob my love of her. I ſaw that in the very place where ſhe was ſubject to my power, and where in reſpect of the danger ſhe had run, ſhe had ſome cauſe to fear me, ſhe appeared little diſpoſed to any compliance with my love; and I had reaſon enough to fear, that when ſhe ſhould be no longer in the place where I might ſerve my ſelf with thoſe advantages which fortune had given me near her, ſhe would reject my affections with diſdain, whereof I had noted ſome marks in her viſage and her laſt expreſſions. This conſideration made me reſolve not to have her back to Alexandria, till I had better ſounded her inclinations and judged whether I might hope for any acknowledgement of my love from her, when ſhe ſhould be at liberty; yet as my paſſion made me affraid to diſpleaſe her, I diſſembled my deſign to her, and after I had told her that I was diſpoſed to obey her will, I prayed her to paſs out of her own veſſel which was broken and unprofitable for navigation, into mine, which was in a condition to do us ſervice. The Princeſs paſſed into it with her Maids, and the few men that were left, the reſt having loſt their lives in the reſiſtance which they would have made againſt us. Of two Chambers that were in the veſſel I left her the beſt, where having intreated her to repoſe her ſelf a while; I retired my ſelf into the other with my men, and having cauſed thoſe to be called who had the care of conducting the veſſel, I commanded them to ſail ſlowly towards Alexandria, but not to land, and to keep themſelves along the coaſt ſome furlongs from the City. I cauſed them to take this way (though as I told you my intention was not to go to Alexandria) partly not to allarm the Princeſs, and partly becauſe the wind ſtood that way, and was quite contrary to our return for Armenia.

A little after night came on, and we having caſt Anchor in a place where we found ground, we paſſed the night at ſo near a diſtance, that if the darkneſs had not hindred us, we might have ſeen the walls of Alexandria.

Some while after I returned to the Princeſs, from whom I could ſtay no longer without great conſtraint, and being entred into ſome diſcourſe with her, ſhe prayed me to inform her [Page] what diſpleaſure I had received from Prince Alexander her Brother, for whom ſhe was extreamly in pain; having heard no news of him ſince the arrival of his Equipage at Rome, after his return from Pannonia. I made ſome difficulty at the firſt to ſatisfie her deſire, fearing to incenſe her againſt me by the uſe I ſhewed to her Brother: but becauſe I naturally hate to diſſemble, I was willing to let her underſtand the truth, and beginning to ſpeak after a ſhort interval of ſilence: ‘Madam, ſaid I, I cannot give you a more perfect teſtimony of the power you have over me, than in making the relation you require: I fear truly that by recounting what I have done, and what I would have done againſt your relations, I ſhall incur your averſion, and if you do not excuſe me by the juſt ſubject of my reſentments, without doubt you will condemn them of effects contrary to clemency; but ſeeing it is impoſſible to diſobey you, and my humour ſhall never be to conceal my moſt ſecret thoughts from you; and laſtly, what I have done againſt your Brother is leſs criminal, than that which I have undertaken againſt you, I will inform you of all without any diſguiſe.’

After theſe words, I related to her all that had happened to her Brother in Armenia, in the ſame manner that I related it but now to you; and though I endeavoured in ſome places to ſmooth over the roughneſs of my proceedings, I could not do it ſo, but that the Princeſs was troubled very often, and found in the confeſſion which I made to her, great cauſe to hate me. During my diſcourſe I took notice of it divers times by the change of her countenance, and by ſome exclamations which ſhe made, in thoſe parts of my relation, wherein ſhe ſaw her Brother in the greateſt extremity of danger; but when I was at the end of my narration, looking upon me with eyes wherein her new reſentment was expreſſed, whatſoever ſhe did to diſguiſe it: ‘I muſt needs tell you, ſaid ſhe, and I cannot hinder my ſelf from doing it, that to have been capable of what you have recounted to me, you muſt have been the iſſue of a Lion, or ſome thing yet more cruel; and this perſeverance to make an innocent Prince die a ſhameful death, joyned with an obſtinacy againſt pity, which ſo many objects, and ſo many reaſons ought to have introduced into your ſoul, expreſſes an harſhneſs of nature which I ſhould never have ſuſpected in the Son of a King. If my cruelty againſt your Brother, replyed I, merits the horrour which you expreſs at it, you will hardly excuſe that of the Queen your Mother, who without having received any injury from him, only at the ſolicitation of his enemy, really executed that upon the perſon of a great King, which I would have done upon your Brother in revenge of my Father. Yet I will not ſay before you that I am innocent, and I confeſs that though I ſhould have been excuſable for putting to death the Son of Anthony, yet I ought to treat the Brother of Cleopatra with ſweetneſs and reſpect: but Madam at that time I was as ignorant of what was due to you, as I was of your perſon; and ſince that of your preſecutour and your enemy I am become your adorer, I condemn all that is paſt, and I tremble my ſelf at the memory of that which I have enterprized againſt your Friends. Do not therefore, O divine Cleopatra, follow the example of that which you deteſt, avoid in your ſelf that cruelty which you juſtly condemn in others. This pity and this goodneſs, which are ſo natural to you, will find in me fit matter to employ themſelves upon, and the more culpable I ſhall be towards you, the more commendable will your compaſſion be in exerciſing its ſelf towards him who of all men hath rendred himſelf leaſt worthy of it.’

I uſed other diſcourſes to her, whereunto ſhe made little anſwer, and ſeeing that ſome part of the night was ſpent, and that it was time for her to take her repoſe, I bad her good night, and left her in the Chamber with her Maids. I know not what her thoughts were during the night, but I very well know that mine kept me awake till day-break, and this fair image was not a moment out of my memory. Theſe admirable beauties, whereunto the Sun without doubt never ſaw any equal, preſented themſelves to my mind with new forces, and all that could diſpute any thing againſt them in my ſoul was ſo diſſipated by the reflection I made upon them, that perſons grown old in love could hardly have been more ſubjected to them, than I was in a piece of one ſingle day: I conſidered then as much as I could poſſible the change of my condition, and ſeeing how different I was from what I had been ſome hours before, I could not think upon it without being amazed my ſelf, and admiring at the capriciouſneſs of my fortune: ‘This ſaid I, thou didſt run as furious as a Lion to the ruine and death of the children of Anthony, and this night thou ſeeſt thy ſelf in a condition not to hold thy life but from the daughter of Anthony. The choler which agitated thee with ſo much violence hath made way for another paſſion no leſs violent than thy choler; and if at the firſt appearance it conceals its cruelty from thee, it will make it ſelf known to thee in a condition wherein all the force of thy ſoul will not be able to ſecure thee. Certain it is thou loveſt the greateſt beauty the world hath; but thou loveſt a perſon whom thou haſt prepoſſeſſed with [Page] averſion and horrour, both by the relation thou haſt made her, and by that thou haſt attempted againſt her ſelf: ſhe will hardly love him who with a Barbarous deſign hath preſented his ſword at her throat, and who was obſtinately reſolved to the very laſt to make her well-beloved Brother ſuffer a ſhameful death. Cleopatra is not a prize to be obtained by outrage and cruelty, and what I could not merit by my blood and ſervices, I ſhall hardly gain by the horrible ways which have brought me acquainted with her. O love! thou which eſtabliſheſt thy ſelf ſo unſeaſonably in an heart which never knew thee, what wilt thou have me do to march under thy Empire, and what way wilt thou open to me through the cruel difficulties which oppoſe my fortune? ſhall I go to require Caeſar, and of that Alexander whom I have uſed ſo unworthily, a Siſter, whom chance hath put into my hands, in exchange of a Siſter, which he hath robbed me of? Ah without doubt the reſentment both of the Brother and Siſter doth oppoſe all the hope I can conceive upon that part: Alexander will call to mind with a juſt indignation, that I have cauſed him to be brought upon a Scaffold to loſe his head, and Cleopatra will no ſooner be at liberty, but ſhe will look upon me as an Executioner thirſting after her blood, rather than upon one, who at firſt ſight hath ſurrendred up his heart to her. Shall I make uſe of my fortune and take the way back to Armenia to conduct Cleopatra into places, where by an abſolute power I may render Cleopatra more conformable to my will? Ah this violence will be contrary to that love which is eſtabliſhed in my ſoul with reſpect and obſervance, and if Cleopatra conſents not to it, I ſhall hardly diſpoſe my mind to offer her any conſtraint. What ſhall we do then, O love, and what counſel wilt thou give me in my irreſolutions?’ I diſcourſed within my ſelf in this manner, and I found ſo many difficulties on all ſides, that the day appeared before I had determined any thing.

When Cleopatra was fit to be ſeen, I went to give her good-morrow, and I found in her countenance diſdain and marks of diſlike, though out of prudence in the condition wherein ſhe then was, ſhe endeavoured to diſſemble it, which I took for a very bad augury. After the firſt diſcourſes wherewith I accoſted her, approaching to her in the moſt pleaſing and ſubmiſſive manner I could poſſibly: ‘May the Gods, ſaid I, be pleaſed to pardon You the ill you have done me; but I may truly tell you that I have ſuffered more ſince I have been with you, than I had ever ſuffered either by my paſſions, or the calamities of my Family throughout the reſt of my life. It is no deſign of mine, replyed the Princeſs coldly, and I am no more culpable of it, than Alexander was of the death of the King your Father.’ This reply full of reproach made me bluſh, who at another time and from another perſon could have heard a thouſand times as much without being moved, and looking upon the Princeſs with an air altogether paſſionate: ‘Do not compare, ſaid I to her, the innocence of your ſelf, and yours in relation to the misfortune of Artibaſus, to that whereunto you pretend in reſpect of the ill you have done to his Son: that comes entirely from you, and your deſign was not neceſſary to that which your powers could execute alone, without calling your intention to their aid. Theſe are they who conſpiring with my deſtiny, entirely give me to you, and if you do not diſdain the affections of a Prince, who renders at your feet the homage of an eternal fidelity; together with my perſon ſuch as it is, I offer you a flouriſhing Crown by ſuch ways as probably will not be diſapproved by Your friends, which baniſhing the hatred of our houſes, will unite them by an eternal alliance: There is but a little probability, replyed the Princeſs with her former coldneſs, that you deſire alliance with a Family againſt which you have had ſo bloody an hatred; and a paſſion which cauſes ſuch ſtrange effects as thoſe which it produced in you, is not eradicated by a light impreſſion: Ah! anſwered I all tranſported, I am not only entirely free from it, but all the motions of hatred which I have ſometimes had, are changed into motions of love, and for your ſake I will love all your Relations, as much as I ever hated them. I know not, added the Princeſs, whether You can expect the ſame change from them, it will not be eaſie for me to turn my inclinations towards You after that which I have beheld with my eyes, and what I have heard You relate concerning the cruelties You have exerciſed againſt my Brother.’

Cleopatra was not over-prudent to make this declaration to me in a condition wherein ſhe was totally in my power; but whether it were that ſhe well knew her power over my ſpirit, or whether indeed her courage could not degenerate from it ſelf, more than what ſhe was at that time by her fortune, and did not by diſſembling ſeek that aſſurance which ſhe believed due to her in what condition ſoever ſhe ſhould fall into: ‘Ah cruel Princeſs, ſaid I to her, if You do not take heed, You go about to caſt Your ſelf into the ſame vice wherewith You reproach me, and You will loſe the advantages of innocence and goodneſs which You have hitherto had over me, if You appear more inexorable, [Page] and more void of pity than my ſelf: I fear not that reproach, anſwered Cleopatra, and I ſhall be ſufficiently exempted from it, when I ſhall never procure you, nor wiſh you ill: Alas! replyed I to her with a ſigh, what greater evil can you wiſh me, than that whereunto I ſee my ſelf expoſed by your rigour? Do you believe that what I would have made your Brother ſuffer, was more cruel? and are you ignorant that the torments of the body are not leſs violent than thoſe of the mind?’ I made her divers other diſcourſes upon the ſame ſubject, to which ſhe anſwered with her former coldneſs, though knowing the power I had over her, ſhe endeavoured ſometimes to diſſemble part of the repugnance ſhe had againſt me.

In the mean time we ſailed but ſlowly towards Alexandria, and before the end of the day we arrived ſome furlongs from the Coaſt, but yet above the City, where, as I told you, I had no intention to land. The Princeſs ſeeing her ſelf in this place, prayed me to conduct her to the City; but I payed her with an excuſe, and told her that ſoveraign Princes were not wont to enter into others Territories without giving them notice, and that I was obliged to advertiſe Auguſtus of my coming, and deſire permiſſion to come into his Dominions, before I ſet foot upon the Land. The Princeſs took this reaſon as well as ſhe could, and in the interim we paſſed this night in this place, our Veſſel being covered with a great Rock, ſeemingly expecting thoſe whom I feigned to ſend to Caeſar, but indeed waiting for a favourable wind to return towards Armenia. This night was likewiſe to me as full of inquietudes as the former, and the next morning I no ſooner ſaw the Princeſs, but accoſting her with a very ſubmiſſive action: ‘Fair Cleo atra, ſaid I to her, you are ſufficiently revenged upon my cruelty, and thoſe Friends of yours who are intereſſed therein, will not order more cruel torments for me themſelves, than I have ſuffered ſince I have been with you: have ſome regard of them if you deſire to maintain your ſelf in the juſtice of your cauſe, and do not diſdain a King who not only ſacrifices his reſentments to yours, but offers up his own ſelf to the indignation which his actions may have produced in you againſt him.’

The Princeſs, as I judged afterwards, conſtrained her ſelf not to anſwer me according to the hatred which ſhe had conceived againſt me, and not ſo much as looking upon me: ‘I have no diſdain for you, ſaid ſhe, but I am but little miſtreſs of my ſelf, and there are perſons to whom my birth hath made me ſubject, whoſe conſent you rather ought to seek than mine, in relation to the offers you made me: And who are thoſe perſons, ſaid I, to whom you have left this diſpoſal? 'Tis Caeſar, replyed the Princess, 'Tis Octavia, and above all, 'Tis Alexander my Brother whom you know, to whom I have remitted the care of my destiny.’ I know well enough that ſhe was ſpiteful in this diſcourſe, and what ſhe ſpake of Alexander only to ſet before mine eyes the uſage I had made him. In this thought beholding her with eyes which made ſome complaint of her rigour: ‘Ah! Princeſs, ſaid I to her, your ſpirit is more revengeful than mine, and that very Alexander with whom you reproach me, would without doubt be leſs obdurate himſelf againſt a Prince of whom he is ſufficiently revenged: By the carrying away of my Siſter he is ſatisfied for all the outrages he had received in Armenia, and I aſſure my ſelf that in exchange for my Siſter he will not refuſe me his.’

The Princeſs ſeeing her ſelf preſſed in this manner, anſwered me no more, and the reſpect which my love cauſed in me to her, hindred me from importuning her any farther.

A little after thoſe whom I had ſent to Alexandria to learn the news, and not to preſent themſelves to Caeſar, returned, and reported to us that Caeſar was not yet arrived at Alexandria, but was expected there within two or three daies, and that he ſtaid at Peluſium where he landed, after had loſt part of his Veſſels. At this diſcourſe after I had continued ſome moments very penſive: ‘I am ſorry Madam, ſaid I to the Princeſs, that this obſtacle doth for ſome daies retard the deſire you have to ſee your Friends, and it is neceſſary either that I attend here the arrival of the Emperour, or that I ſend to Peluſium, to render him the ſame reſpect which I ought to have done at Alexandria. I know not, replyed the Princeſs, whether you have need of this precaution or not, but I, to whom it is not neceſſary, am permitted to enter into Alexandria without giving notice unto Caeſar, and you may, if you pleaſe, let me be conducted thither by thoſe of my own men that are left, without putting your ſelf to the trouble. Ah! Madam, replyed I, The Gods forbid I ſhould ſo much injure the duty I bear you, and that I ſhould leave to others an honour which is dearer to me than my life: I will preſent you to Caeſar my ſelf, and I ſhall be glad to make it known, that Kings only are worthy to be your Conductors.’

I uſed other diſcourſes to her to defend my ſelf from the urgent deſire ſhe had to be ſet on ſhore, and to be left at liberty to retire her ſelf, by means of which ſhe opened her eyes to the [Page] truth, and plainly perceived that ſhe had no longer any power to diſpoſe of her actions. She beheld me then with eyes full of the marks of her reſentment, and having fixed them a while upon my face without ſpeaking: ‘I alwaies doubted, ſaid ſhe to me, that I was ſtill in the hands of our moſt cruel Enemy, and your inclinations, though a little diſguiſed, cannot long conceal themſelves.’ I had no longer either power or will to diſſemble my intentions, ſeeing well that we were no longer in terms to keep them private, and ſpeaking to her with more aſſurance than before: ‘'Tis certain, ſaid I, that I ſhall hardly diſpoſe my ſelf to part from you, and that I am reſolved to do what I can poſſibly to conduct you into Armenia, where I will lay my Crown and Perſon at your feet with an entire reſignation: Do not condemn this deſign, Madam, which you have not examined; your condition will not be better in Alexandria, nor in Rome it ſelf, than in a Kingdom wherein all things ſhall ſubmit themſelves to your Empire, and the Gods which diſapproved all other revenges which I intended to take upon Alexander, have guided me themſelves to the only way of being revenged upon him without offending him.’

The Princeſs could not then contain her ſelf within the bounds of her ordinary moderation, and caſting a look upon me inflamed with indignation: ‘Go Barbarian, ſaid ſhe to me, and purſue thy vengeance by the former waies which are more natural to thee, than thoſe which thou wouldeſt make uſe of to no purpoſe: in theſe diſccurſes thou doſt offer too much violence to thy intentions, and I will never force mine for a monſter, who thirſts after our bloud: the heart of Cleopatra is not to be gained by the effects of an horrible inhumanity, and if it be by the power which Fortune hath given thee over me, that thou pretendeſt to the accompliſhment of thine intentions, know that by a death which I little fear, I ſhall know how to free my ſelf from thy cruelty, and as ſoon as thou ſhalt cauſe thy veſſel to be turned towards Armenia, I ſhall find in theſe Waves which will be leſs cruel and leſs odious than thou art, ſuccour againſt the violence thou prepareſt for me.’

This diſcourſe which ſhe pronounced with a very reſolute action, made me afraid, and calling to mind that ſhe was the Daughter of a Mother who knew how to prefer death before captivity, I feared leſt ſhe ſhould execute what ſhe had threatned. In this fear, really loving her with an immoderate ardency, I durſt not let my Veſſel ſtir from the place where we were, and I continued there that day, and part of the next, being very uncertain what reſolution to take. In the mean time I flattered her as much as poſſibly I could, and I ſpared nothing to mollifie her, repreſenting to her whatſoever might conduce to the juſtification of the things I had done, and all the advantages which ſhe might hope for in the poſſeſſion of ſuch a Crown as that of Armenia; but I laboured in vain, and her ſpirit being exaſperated more and more by the loſs of her liberty, ſhe did not hear me but with pain, and did not vouchſafe ſo much as to look upon me.

In fine, I was reſolved to carry her into Armenia, whether ſhe would or no, where I hoped to ſweeten her, and make her conſent to conditions very advantageous for her, or if I could not overcome her obſtinacy, I ſhould have had the ſatisfaction of being partly revenged for the carrying away of Artemiſa, and of obliging Alexander to follow his Siſter, as he had created me the trouble of running after mine.

But to overthrow all this deſign, yeſterday ſhe feigned an indiſpoſition which kept her upon the bed part of the day, and ſeeing me extreamly in pain for her health, ſhe ſent me word by one of her Maids, that her malady proceeded from her inability to endure the Sea, and that ſhe would receive a great deal of eaſe, if I would permit her to go on ſhore, and walk an hour upon the Land. This propoſition diſpleaſed me at the firſt, preſaging what is ſince arrived, and I told her that made it to me, that it was impoſſible for me to grant it, and that I was too fearfull to loſe the good which Fortune had beſtowed upon me, to put my ſelf into that hazard: but ſeeing that the Princeſs perſevered in expreſſing this deſire with a great deal of regret for my refuſal, I attempted to conquer my fear by the love I bare her, and I reſolved to give her this ſatisfaction with the greateſt precaution, and ſecurity that could be taken.

We approached then to the ſhore, where the Princeſs landed with one of her Maids only, and I likewiſe went aſhore with her, attended by three or four of my Men, leaving the reſt in the Veſſel to guard the Princeſſe's ſervants, in caſe they ſhould have gone from thence to have procured ſuccour; which was all the danger I could apprehend from them. I cauſed likewiſe two horſes to be led after me, and I put on all my arms, except my Head piece, which one of my men carried after me, that I might be furniſhed with ſome defence to encounter what hazard Fortune ſhould ſend us.

Cleopatra walked a while in the wood near the ſhore, till ſhe began to be weary, and to have a deſire to ſleep, then ſhe lay down under certain trees which made a very delicate ſhade, my love cauſed in me a reſpect to her, which hindred me from interrupting her repoſe, and [Page] out of this conſideration leaving her alone with her maid only with her, I withdrew my ſelf ſome paces off, that I might make no noiſe to diſturb her ſleep. She had continued above half an hour in this condition, and I believed ſhe was ſound aſleep, walked on inſenſibly and imprudently, till I was ſo far from her, that the Trees deprived me of her ſight; then I began to think upon the fault I had committed, and returned the ſame way to the place where I had left her, where firſt I heard ſome cries, and ſaw a little after two of my men, which ran after Cleopatra and her Maid, whom I ſaw amongſt the Trees flying before them at a great diſtance off. The men were armed, and all the haſt they could make on foot after perſons whom the deſire of liberty had winged with extraordinary ſpeed, was not capable of overtaking them. I called thoſe that held my horſes upon the ſhore, and leaping upon the firſt, whileſt one of my men, mounted upon the other, I purſued upon full ſpeed the track of the Princeſs, of whom my Men had loſt the ſight. I rode up and down a good pace without ſight of her, but at laſt, in a pleaſant thicket, I diſcovered my fair Fugitive, and by means of the ſwiftneſs of my horſe, I was quickly with her. I preſently diſmounted, and having eaſily ſtayed her by reaſon of her wearineſs in running, I caſt my ſelf at her feet, I embraced her knees, and I did all that I poſſibly could to move her by fair means, and by ſubmiſſion; but I laboured in vain, and beholding me with eyes ſparkling with choler; Cruel Man, ſaid ſhe, either give me my death, or leave me at liberty; the perſecutions are more cruel to me than death can be, and it is not by the captivity wherein thou retaineſt me, that thou mayeſt ever hope to make me change my inclinations.

At laſt, loſing all hope of gaining her by fair ways, I remounted my horſe, and the Man that I brought with me having held her, was about to put her into my arms, whatſoever reſiſtance ſhe could make to hinder him, when my ill fortune brought in a man to her reſcue: I know not who he is, but maugre the bad office he rendred me, I hold him for one of the moſt valiant Men in the world. He killed my Man in my preſence, and after a very doubtful combat, wherein he had better luck than I, he put me into the condition wherein you found me, and pulling out of my hands the fair prey, which Fortune had given me for my torment.

See Tyridates, how all things concur to my misfortune; I was not tormented enough by my juſt reſentments, but love muſt needs joyn it ſelf to them, to expoſe me to more ſenſible pains, and it muſt needs be, that my Soul muſt be enflamed for my cruel Enemies: Cleopatra hath appeared before me, Cleopatra fell into my hands, but from her ſight, and from her ſurpriſal, inſtead of the revenge which thereby I might have taken one way or the other, if the deſtinies had not been too contrary to me, I have gotten nothing but new ſubjects of reſentment and grief; and inſtead of one ſingle paſſion which troubled me, all the paſſions have poſſeſſed my ſoul to torment it with their extreameſt violence. Nevertheleſs, hope hath not yet abandoned me, and ſeeing I know the Country where Cleopatra is, I expect from the care I ſhall take to find her again, when my health will permit, to ſee her again in my power. She is not a perſon obſcure enough to hide her ſelf from my purſuits, and at this moment I have perſons in queſt of her, who poſſibly may bring me news of her before night. If ſhe fall again into my power, I ſhall eſſay as I have done hitherto, by the moſt ſweet and moſt ſubmiſſive ways, to bow this diſdainful ſpirit: and if they prove vain, I ſhall remember that ſhe is the Siſter of Alexander, and the Daughter of Cleopatra; and by this remembrance I ſhall poſſibly be free from part of that, which, it may be, I ſhould ſuffer for another perſon, before I ſearch my remedies, and endeavour my repoſe by the means my Fortune hath given me.

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA: OR, Love's Maſter-Piece. PART V.
LIB. III.

[Page]

ARGUMENT.

Tyridates diſlikes Artaxus's intentions, but he continues reſolute. Tyridates walking out meets with Marcellus, and brings him to his houſe, where Marcellus relates his ſtory: He briefly traces the most eminent paſſages between himſelf and the Princeſs Julia. Her inconſtancy cauſes his jealouſie, which ſhe heightens by heaping her favours upon Druſus. Cleopatra's conſtancy to Coriolanus notwithſtanding Auguſtus his authority. Julia at ſolemn ſacrifice prefers Druſus before Marcellus, which begets a Combat between them, wherein they are both wounded. Auguſtus reproves Julia's levity, and commands her to caſhire Druſus, which ſhe does, and is reconciled to Marcellus.

THE King of Armenia left ſpeaking, and Tyridates, who being vertuouſly inclined, did not hearken unto him without repugnance, and who, neither by the memory of the acquaintance they had had together, nor the obligation he had to his family for the refuge he had ſome time found there, could vanquiſh the averſion he had from cruelty and injuſtice, found not himſelf capable of flattering him, or approving either his actions paſſed, or his deſign for the future. ‘Sir, ſaid he to him, I do not find it ſtrange that the Gods have not hitherto granted to your deſigns all the ſucceſs you propoſed to your ſelf; and by the obſtacles, which by ways altogether extraordinary they have oppoſed to the cruel intentions which you had both againſt Alexander and the Princeſs Cleopatra, you may take notice of the injuſtice of them. Neither was Alexander a perſon worthy to die upon a Scaffold for the crime of another, which poſſibly he deteſted as much as you; neither is Cleopatra a Princeſs againſt whom the horrid reſolutions, wherewith you are armed, can be excuſed. I do not wonder that you are captivated by her divine beauties, and they are capable, without doubt, of a more extraordinary performance; but I am ſurpriſed at this, that they have not abſolutely produced in you all that might be expected from their powers, and that they have yet left you ſome deſire of ſeeking your ſatiſfaction of her otherwiſe than by love, by ſubmiſſion, and by your ſervices. I will ſay more to you Sir, that you have not undertaken a ſlight enterpriſe, ſeeing you have reſolved either by revenge, or by love, to render your ſelf Maſter by force, of the liberty of Cleopatra, and ſhe is not a perſon ſo meanly ſupported in the World, but that you will have the chief powers of the Earth to contend with, Auguſtus, who without doubt will protect her, comes within a few days to Alexandria, as it hath been reported to you, and with him perſons who intereſs themſelves in the Fortune of Cleopatra as in their own, ſo powerful and conſiderable, that though you ſhould have brought with you all the forces of Armenia, you could not with any probability expect any good ſucceſs.’

[Page] Artaxus ſhook his head at this diſcourſe, and expreſſing to Tyridates by this action, how uncapable he was to make any impreſſion upon his ſpirit: ‘I was very doubtful, ſaid he, at my firſt knowing of your inclinations, that I ſhould have ſcruples in you to contend with, and conſidering that you are the Brother of a King, who for the leaſt Maxim of State would ſhed the blood of the whole Univerſe; I find you very Religious, and circumſpect; but however it be, I cannot repent my ſelf of what I would have done in revenge of my Father, and if I had let paſs his death without any mark of my reſentment, I ſhould believe I did more juſtly merit the blame which Perſons of your humour lay upon ſome effects of ſeverity; As for what concerns my love, the difficulty which you repreſent to me is not capable of driving me off from it, and though the whole Univerſe ſhould joyn with the authority of Auguſtus, in undertaking the defence of Cleopatra, I find my ſelf hardy enough, and poſſibly ſufficiently ſtrong to execute part of what I have reſolved. If Alexander, being alone and a Priſoner, could carry away my Siſter out of my Capital City, I may poſſibly be able in a condition, very different from his, to render him the ſame diſpleaſure, and if I do but get Cleopatra into Armenia, I defie thoſe powers wherewith you threaten me, to oppoſe themſelves to my entire ſatisfaction,’

‘I am very ſorry, replyed Tyridates coldly, that you have diſcovered your intentions to me, and not being able, without offending vertue, and the amity I have promiſed to thoſe perſons of the world that are moſt intereſſed in it, to offer you in this occaſion, that ſervice which without doubt I ſhould render you in ſome other: I could wiſh withal my heart that you had intruſted your ſecret to any body rather than to me.’

The King of Armenia was troubled at theſe words, and looking upon Tyridates with an action that expreſſed ſome diſcontent: ‘I thought I had ſpoken to my friend, ſaid he, when I declared to you the moſt ſecret thoughts of my heart, and inſtead of the diſcourſe you have made me, I did probably expect from you all ſort of aſſiſtance. You ſhall receive it without doubt, replyed Tyridates, in all the care that may be taken for your health, and the offers which you may expect of a vertuous friend in the retreat you have taken here: But in the deſigns which you ſhall have againſt Cleopatra and her Relations, I ſhall not be favourable unto you. I ſhall endeavour, anſwered the Armenian all netled, to paſs by your aſſiſtance, and with aid of the God of Love and Vengeance, whom only I will invoke, I ſhall poſſibly perform my ſelf part of what I have reſolved, without the help of any but thoſe that belong to me, without being obliged to any perſon.’

Tyridates being unwilling to diſpleaſe him in his own houſe, as he might have done without deſign, if they had enlarged themſelves farther in this converſation, changed his diſcourſe, and after he had repreſented unto him that by reaſon of the long narration he had made, he was in a condition that required repoſe, he took leave of him, and went out of his Chamber. The real amity which in regard of his extraordinary merit he had in ſo ſhort a time vowed to the King of Mauritania, and the repugnance which he naturally had againſt bad actions, made him look upon the deſigns of Artaxus with horror and deteſtation, and following the motions of his vertue above all other conſiderations, he made no doubt which part he was to take, but reſolved to ſerve Coriolanus againſt the intentions of the Armenian, as far as he could without infringing the laws of hoſpitality, and without expoſing a Prince which was retired into his houſe, and with whom he had ſome time found refuge, to ſome diſpleaſure which might be imputed to him. He continued ſome time alone, uncertain what reſolution he ſhould take, whether to contrive the ſafety of Cleopatra as much as he could poſſible, without advertizing Coriolanus of it, and without letting him know his Enemy, or to declare the truth to that Prince, after he had made him paſs his word that Artaxus ſhould not be offended, and that he would content himſelf to oppoſe the deſigns which he might have againſt his beloved Princeſs, without doing him any diſpleaſure in his perſon, in a place wherein he could not receive it; but that Tyridates muſt be intereſſed therein: He doubted not, but that the Son of Juba; being the moſt moderate of Men, would have this conſideration for him, and upon this thought he diſpoſed himſelf at laſt to conceal nothing from him, and praiſed the Gods for the occaſion which poſſibly he had found of rendring him one of the moſt important ſervices that he could receive from his friends.

Beſides the intereſts of Coriolanus, he thought upon Britomarus, whom he ſaw under the ſame roof with Artaxus, of whoſe reſentments againſt that cruel King, he could not be ignorant, by reaſon of the relation he had made of the beginnings of his life. The ſo unexpected encounter of theſe two men put him in ſome care, and in regard of the knowledge he had of the fierce and impatient humour of Britomarus, he feared leſt he ſhould quarrel with the Armenian, from whom he had ſome time received a ſenſible diſpleaſure. In relation to this fear he reſolved to conceal from him the knowledge he had of the King of Armenia as [Page] much as he could poſſible, till he had taken order with Coriolanus, for what might happen upon this encounter, not ſeeing otherwiſe any neceſſity of diſcovering to him things wherein he had no intereſt.

After he had employed ſome time in taking theſe reſolutions, he began to be troubled at the long walk of Coriolanus, though he was not ignorant, by what he experimented every day himſelf, in what manner a morous thoughts did cauſe the hours to paſs away inſenſibly in muſing and ſolitude: he ſaw the greateſt part of the day was paſt, and the Prince had taken very little nouriſhment.

Emilius, by reaſon of his Maſters long ſtay, beginning to fear ſome accident was befallen him, was gone out to ſeek him, and Tyridates ſeeing at length that the night approached without hearing any news of him, went out of the houſe, and walked towards the Wood. He had hardly gone a few furlongs, but he ſaw coming ſtraight towards him a Cavalier armed at all points except his Caſque, which he carried in one of his hands: he went very ſoftly, and with a countenance which expreſſed either a great ſadneſs, or a profound muſing. As he approached, Tyridates who ſaw his face all uncovered thought he knew him, and when he was near enough to diſcern all the lineaments of his face, by calling to mind all the Ideas of them, he knew him to be the Prince Marcellus, whom he had ſeen at Rome, and with whom he had contracted a particular amity. Tyridates was aſtoniſhed to ſee Marcellus the darling of the Emperour, and of all the Empire, in ſuch an equipage; and doubting, for that reaſon, of that which his eyes would perſwade him to, he ſtept ſome paces back with an action which ſufficiently teſtified his ſurprize; afterwards beginning to ſpeak: O Gods, ſaid he, is it poſſible that I ſee the Prince, Marcellus? Marcellus who through the preoccupation of his ſpirit, and the little likelihood there was of meeting Tyridates in that place, and in that condition, had without doubt paſſed by without knowing of him, ſtayed himſelf at his exclamation, and at the name of Marcellus which he heard him pronounce, and Tyridates baniſhed the reſt of his incertitude, approached to him and embraced him on horſe-back as he was: Ah! it is your ſelf without doubt, continued he, and it is permitted to the unfortunate Tyridates, to ſee in his ſolitude one of the perſons of the World, whom his vertue hath placed ſo high in his eſteem. By theſe words, and the action of Tyridates, Marcellus diſſipating all his muſing, and caſting his eyes upon the face of the Prince which embraced him, with whom he had lived familiarly at Rome, and to whom he had given all the reſpect which was due to his illuſtrious birth and rare qualities, knew him very readily, and not being willing to receive his careſſes with incivility, he leaped from his horſe to the ground, and embraced him with a ſweetneſs full of grace and majeſty, which was very natural to him: It is certain, ſaid he to him, rendring the civilities he had from him, that you ſee the unfortunate Marcellus; but my aſtoniſhment is no leſs than yours to meet you alone, and on foot in a place where I never ſhould have imagined to have found you. This is not the firſt day, replyed Tyridates, that you have ſeen me ſeek out ſolitudes, and that you have accuſed me for avoiding the ſociety of men in a place where I might have had that of the chiefeſt perſons of the World: but for you, whom I have ſeen, and whom I know to be ſtill the darling, and the hope of Rome, you which paſs your life in the greateſt pleaſures, and in the higheſt ſplender of the Empire, it is very ſtrange to meet you in a condition ſo different from that wherein all the earth were accuſtomed to behold you. Marcellus during this diſcourſe kept his eyes fixed upon the ground, and afterwards looking up upon Tyridates with a ſigh drawn from the very bottom of his heart. Tyridates, ſaid he to him, the condition of men is uncertain, and our fortune is ſo ſubject to revolutions, that very often thoſe who in other mens imagination paſs for the moſt happy, expoſed to the greateſt misfortunes: Ah Marcellus! replyed Tyridates, can it be poſſible that your fortune ſhould have received any change, and can you by any accident have loſt the amity of Auguſtus? No, anſwered Marcellus, I have not obſerved any diminution in the affection of Caeſar towards me, it is in a more ſenſible part that my heart is wounded, and it's the infidelity of the perſons whom I loved moſt that is the cauſe of my misfortune. You amaze me, replyed Tyridates, and afflict me both at once, but I will enquire no further of it in a place wherein your ſtay is incommodious for you; and I will learn what you pleaſe of you concerning it, in an houſe which is not above an hundred paces hence, wherein I have taken my retreat for ſome time: it is not worthy of you, and I ſhould make ſome difficulty to offer it you, if I did not know, that in your diſcontent you will poſſibly find there one of the greateſt conſolations that you can receive.

At theſe words Marcellus looking upon Tyridates more attentively than he had done before; I doubt not, ſaid he, but from ſuch company as yours a man may hope for much conſolation, and I will accept for this night the retreat you offer me, not ſo much to eaſe my ſelf after the great pains I have undergone this day, as to paſs ſome hours of converſation with a Prince, whom I have alwayes well eſteemed, and whom I have known exceeding worthy of [Page] the eſteem of the whole World. Tyridates would not any further explain to Marcellus the conſolation which he promiſed him, and which he hoped would be very great in his meeting with Coriolanus, expecting to ſurprize him agreeably by the view of that Prince, whom he knew to be as dear to him as himſelf, but onely having modeſtly defended himſelf from his obliging diſcourſe, he cauſed him to take the way to his houſe, and conducted him into Coriolanus his Chamber, where they met neither the Prince nor his Eſquire, who was not returned ſince he went in the queſt of his Maſter.

Marcellus was preſently diſarmed by Tyridates his ſervants, and at the earneſt intreaty of that Prince, having laid himſelf upon a bed to reſt himſelf a little, the Prince of Parthia left him in this appearance of repoſe for ſome moments, which he deſired to employ in the care which he took of his illuſtrious gueſts. The greateſt thing that troubled him at that time was the long ſtay of Coriolanus, for which he was in very great diſquiet: the darkneſs began already to cover the earth, and he had heard no news either of him or his Eſquire, and ſcarcely doubting any longer but that ſome accident was befallen him, he had a mind to go in ſearch of him every way, if the fear of alarming Marcellus and of committing an incivility againſt that Prince, to whom, out of an intention to ſurprize him with pleaſure, he would ſay nothing of Coriolanus, had not retained him in an impatience which made him ſuffer very much. Not being able handſomely to quit gueſts of ſuch importance as his were, he retained no more of his ſervants than he needs muſt, and ſent all the reſt in ſearch of the King of Mauritania. After he had employed an hour in this and other buſineſſes, during which time the inquietudes which he ſuffered for that Prince, augmented more and more, he returned into the Chamber where he had left Marcellus, whom he found walking by the light of tapers which they had brought him. Almoſt at the ſame time they ſerved in ſupper, and the two Princes having taken a repaſt together, during which their ſadneſs might eaſily be perceived by their converſation, they retired themſelves into a withdrawing room, where being alone, they began a diſcourſe ſomewhat more free than before.

Marcellus had an imperfect knowledge of part of the adventures of Tyridates, and did not wonder to ſee him in the ſame humour wherein he had been at Rome during all the ſtay he made there; but Tyridates comprehended nothing concerning the ſolitude and ſadneſs of Marcellus, and judging himſelf familiar enough with him to enquire any thing of him: ‘If the affliction which appears in you, ſaid he to him, did not really redouble mine, I ſhould have retention enough to conceal from you a curioſity which poſſibly you will diſapprove; but ſeeing I cannot behold you in the grief which you expreſs by divers marks, without intereſ [...]ing my ſelf very much in it, and that the condition wherein I have met you, ſeems to me very diſproportionable to the reſt of your life, you will pardon me if I deſire of that friendſhip wherewith you have favoured me at Rome, the cauſe of ſuch a change: I hope it from your goodneſs, if you have not ſome reaſon to conceal it, and if for any conſideration you are obliged ſo to do, I beſeech you likewiſe with the ſame freedome not to content a curioſity which deſires not to be ſatisfied with the leaſt of your diſpleaſures. I would, replyed Marcellus, you would deſire ſomething of me, whereby I might better teſtifie the confidence I have in you, than by the relation of thoſe things which have appeared too publickly to be concealed, and you ſhould ſee, Tyridates, by that better than by what you deſire, how much I am ſenſible of the affection of a Prince of your birth and vertue: but expecting an opportunity of acknowledging it by ſome more important effect of mine, I will inform you of that which you deſire to know of me, and will diſcover unto you the cauſe of my griefs, together with the infidelity of thoſe perſons whom I have moſt dearly loved, and whom I cannot yet hate, as perſidious as they are, what violence ſoever I have endeavoured to offer to my inclinations upon that account. You may poſſibly, anſwered Tyridates, have found infidelity in ſome perſon whom you have loved: but amongſt thoſe which have been the deareſt to you, the King of Mauritania, who without doubt hath held one of the moſt eminent ranks in your friendſhip, hath preſerved his to you ſo inviolably, that all humane conſiderations would not be capable to alter it in the leaſt. Ah Tyridates! cryed Marcellus, how are you abuſed? 'Tis Coriolanus, only Coriolanus who hath deceived me, and I find in the other perſon of whom I complain, ſo much the leſs deceit than in Coriolanus, becauſe I leſs confided in her, and though I was prepoſſeſſed with a paſſion for her, which alwayes blinded me, yet from the firſt proofs of her inconſtancy I had cauſe to diſoblige my ſelf from her eternally. On the other ſide, Coriolanus (let me ſay ſo much in reproach of that ungrateful man) had ſo great obligations to me, that I cannot comprehend how by baſe conſiderations they could be ſo eaſily defaced out of the mind of a Prince, or of a man born only of a noble blood.’

‘Tyridates could not forbear interrupting Marcellus with precipitation: Marcellus, ſaid he to him, You make me a diſcourſe wherein I can comprehend nothing, and I will engage [Page] my life, and any thing yet more precious, for the innocence of Coriolanus. He hath without doubt been treacherouſly traduced to you, rather than you betrayed by him; and beſide the knowledge I have received not long ſince of his admirable vertue, by what I know of the particularites of his life, I am very certain not only that he hath not forgotten your good offices; but that in all his affairs, he hath conſerved his friendſhip ſo entirely yours, that he hath been more faithful to Cleopatra than to your ſelf. You ſpeak truth now, replyed Marcellus, and I know well that Coriolanus, whoſe juſtification you undertake upon an imperfect knowledge, hath been no more faithful to his Miſtreſs, than to his friend, I do not wonder that the complaint I have made You of him hath ſurprized you, after what hath been evident to all the Romans concerning our friendſhip: but when I ſhall have related to You that which you deſire to know concerning my life, you will without doubt abandon the part of this ungrateful man, and confeſs with me that all the complaints I can make of him are inferior to his perfidiouſneſs.’

Tyridates was full of confuſion and aſtoniſhment at this diſcourſe, and becauſe of the change he underſtood, changing the deſign he had for the interview of theſe two Princes, before he engaged himſelf in Marcellus his Relation, he called one of his Men, and gave him order, that if Coriolanus did return, he ſhould come and give him notice of it before he entred into the Chamber. After this precaution, which he judged neceſſary by reaſon of the things he had heard, he placed himſelf again by Marcellus, who without any further intreaty began his diſcourſe thus.

The History of MARCELLUS and JULIA.

BEfore I come to the relation of the injury which I have received from the ungrateful Prince, whom you defend, it is neceſſary that I recount to you ſome other things that precede it, and which make up, without doubt, a great part of my diſpleaſures. You know ſince I was engaged in the ſervice of the Princeſs Julia, the intention the Emperour hath alwayes had to allay me to him by the Marriage of his Daughter, nearer than I am by Birth; and you have, without doubt, heard ſome diſcourſe at Rome, during the ſtay you made there of the violence, which in favour of Coriolanus, I offered to my former inclinations, which had given me to Cleopatra. ‘I know, interrupted Tyridates, a great deal more; I am not ignorant of any thing touching the beginnings of your life, your love to Cleopatra, the generous effects of your friendſhip towards Coriolanus, all the good offices you have rendred him ſince in the whole courſe of his love, and the buſineſs which his paſſion cauſed him. I have underſtood the diſpleaſures you reſented for the teſtimonies of affection which Julia beſtowed upon Coriolanus, your reconciliation with that Princeſs, and in fine, all the things wherein you could have any intereſt, till the time that Coriolanus parted from Rome to paſs into Africa to recover his Kingdom. I know not, replyed Marcellus, of whom you could learn all this; but by this knowledge which you have of the firſt adventures of my life, I ſhall be much eaſed in the diſcourſe which I have to make unto you, and I ſhall truly recount unto you the latter, though I cannot call them to mind without diſpleaſure, nor ſpeak of them without confuſion.’

Heaven, without doubt, beheld me with an angry aſpect, when it deſtined me to the ſervice of Julia; and to the reaſons which I have to hate Coriolanus, I ought to add this, that for the love of him onely, and not out of the reſpect I owe to the will of Caeſar, I engaged my ſelf in a ſervitude which makes up all the misfortunes of my life. It is not but that Julia, as you know, is of ſuch a compoſure, that if inconſtancy and artifice did not ſpoil what there is in her of good and amiable, the moſt accompliſhed perſon of the world might find uncommon felicities in the teſtimonies of her affection. Her beauty (as you can witneſs) hardly gives precedency to the ſupreameſt beauties of the Earth, and her ſpirit is endued with charms, againſt which it is difficult to defend ones ſelf, when ſhe will employ them with their powers entire. A taking ſweetneſs, and an attractive grace accompany all her actions, and all her diſcourſes; and with her looks, when ſhe pleaſeth to joyn to what ſhe hath received from nature, that which Art hath taught her for their conduct, ſhe goes to the bottom of an heart to ſearch out thoſe places which are moſt fortified againſt the Empire that ſhe will eſtabliſh. Her humour is the moſt pleaſant, the moſt agreeable, and the fulleſt of divertiſement in the world, if her mind be not troubled with ſome paſſion; and ſhe hath naturally an eloquence ſo facile and ſo fluent, that there are few perſons which can expreſs their conceptions in better terms, and with more facility; briefly, ſhe is entirely ſuch, that it is impoſſible to defend her ſelf from her ſnares, when ſhe [...]ays them with deſign, and I have experimented it but too much for my repoſe, which ſhe hath ſo often troubled, and now utterly ruined by the laſt effects of her inconſtancy.

[Page] I will not ſpeak to you, ſeeing you know it already, of the diſpleaſures ſhe made me ſenſible of by the teſtimonies of her affection to Coriolanus. After the departure of this Prince to the Wars of the Aſturians, we reconciled ourſelves, and though I could not give abſolute credit to the things which Julia alledged to me for her juſtification, yet my inclinations ſpake for her, and did ſo combat with the appearances to deceive, that at laſt I perſwaded my ſelf to part of that which ſhe deſired, and believed poſſibly againſt reaſon that I was really beloved by her. I paſſed ſome time in thoſe ſweets which ſhe can make one taſt, when ſhe hath the intentions to do it, but it was not without being very often croſſed with diſpleaſures which partly counter-ballanced them; and though naturally I am not jealous, if my jealouſie hath not a very rational foundation, this Princeſs gave me ſo often occaſion to fall into that importunate paſſion, that except I had been blind and inſenſible, I could not paſs my life in tranquillity.

The Court of Auguſtus was compoſed of a great number of young Princes, (you were of the number at that time, and you departed thence, as I think, a few days before the Son of Juba returned from the Aſturians) and beſides the moſt eminent amongſt the Romans, born of thoſe illuſtrious Families, who with ſo much valour have endeavoured to advance the grandeur of the Empire; divers Sons of Kings, and divers Kings themſelves, either tributaries or Allies of Rome, made their abode there with Auguſtus. There were thoſe who were rarely accompliſhed, both amongſt the Romans and amongſt the ſtrangers, and amongſt them it was that Julia found matter for her inconſtancy. Becauſe of the rank ſhe held, and the knowledge they had of the deſign of Auguſtus in my favour, few perſons durſt expreſs their particular deſigns, and thoſe which by her beauty, and by the reſt of her charms ſhe had rendred really her ſlaves, contented themſelves to render her ſuch ſubmiſſive devoirs, that they hardly differed from adoration: but this Princeſs being clear ſighted in all things, and particularly in thoſe which ſerved to the expreſſion of amorous reſentments, eaſily diſcerned them through the veil of reſpect and ſubmiſſion; and whereas another perſon born with a courage proportionable to her birth, would have received this knowledge with anger and diſdain, Julia being of a quite contrary humour, liked well of all thoſe whom ſhe could only ſuſpect of ſome motion of affection, ſhe received them with an obliging countenance, ſhe favoured them in divers occurrences more than they could have hoped, and giving them all manner of occaſions to perſevere in the reſentments they had for her, ſhe carefully avoided all thoſe that might give them any repulſe.

Oftentimes ſhe concealed her ſelf from me in what might afflict me; but ſometimes ſhe could not ſo well diſguiſe her ſelf, but that I took notice of ſome part of the truth: when I made my complaints to her of it; ſometimes ſhe took the pains to comfort me, and give me ſatisfaction, and ſometimes ſerving her ſelf of the Empire ſhe had over me, ſhe ſharply reprehended the authority I ſeemed to take over her actions, and reduced me into a condition of diſavowing all my complaints, and of asking pardon of her for the liberty my paſſion made me take.

I ſpeak unto you of theſe paſſages very ſuccinctly, becauſe I believe they are the ſame that have been related to you, and that in theſe occurrences there hapned no memorable event: but I will more enlarge my ſelf upon thoſe which you are ignorant of, and wherein more important things befel me.

I lived in this faſhion both during Coriolanus his ſtay in the Aſturias, and that he made at Rome, before his departure into Africa: but for the latter time, he knows well himſelf, as ungrateful and forgetful as he is of it, that I ſpent it entirely in his intereſts; and that I was ſo employed in his quarrels both with Tyberius and Caeſar himſelf, that I could hardly beſtow a moment upon my own affairs. Certain it is, that during all that trouble I had hardly any thought but for his repoſe, wherein I intereſſed all the perſons with whom I could have any credit, and for whom I often put my ſelf in danger of drawing upon me the diſgrace and choler of Auguſtus.

Coriolanus after he had extreamly wounded Tyberius, departed from Rome, as you have heard, and I ſtay'd there with a very ſenſible regret for his abſence, and the bad condition of his affairs. I will not tell you all that I acted with Caeſar to appeaſe him, all the quarrels I had with Tyberius his party, and with the Empreſs her ſelf, who would have armed Heaven and Earth to revenge her Son; and I will only relate unto you the progreſs of my love with Julia, and the laſt accidents whereby you ſee me reduced into the condition wherein you met me. Whatſoever diſpleaſure I received by theſe effects of the inconſtant humour of Julia, whereof I have briefly ſpoken, and by the good uſage ſhe ſhewed to thoſe perſons whom ſhe obſerved to bear her affection, I found ſome conſolation in the belief I had, that as kind, and as ſweet as ſhe was to others, ſhe was yet more affectionate to me, and m [...]gre the motions of a wavering ſpirit, which ſhe could not retain, ſhe would return to me entirely, preferring me [Page] before all thoſe who could have any thought for her. This was that which made me ſupport all things with patience, and without doubt, I ſhall have done ſo ſtill for divers conſiderations, if by the ſequel of her actions I had not loſt part of that opinion, and had not ſeen my ſelf expoſed to greater diſpleaſures than all thoſe I had reſented.

Amongſt thoſe who concurred to trouble my repoſe, Caius Druſus, the Son of Livia, and Brother of Tyberius, was he who croſſed me more than I could be by any perſon, who could counter ballance my credit both in Rome, and in the mind of Caeſar, but the Son of the Empreſs, who had power enough over the ſpirit of her Husband, to reſtrain in part the advantageous inclinations he had toward me: and I believe alſo (though the charms of Julia were great enough to obtain more difficult conqueſts) that it was at the ſolicitation of Livia that Druſus embarked himſelf in the love of Julia. This ambitious Mother deſiring to confer upon her own Children, that which in the judgment of all the Romans, Auguſtus deſtined for me, and by all ways to conſerve to her ſelf the authority ſhe had acquired, had done before all that was poſſible for her to engage Tyberius in the ſearch of Caeſar's Daughter, but not being able by all her endeavours, to diſentagle him from the love he bare to Cleopatra, ſhe had turned her thoughts to Druſus, who was younger than his Brother only by one year, and had repreſented unto him with ſucceſs, that by the Marriage of Julia he might pretend to the Empire, and fruſtate the hopes of Marcellus, who had the greateſt pretences to it. Druſus being of an age, and in a condition to receive ſuch impreſſions, made no reſiſtance to his Mothers will, and though in the poſſeſſion of Julia he had not taken notice of the advantages which were found in Caeſar's Daughter, ſhe was amiable enough of her perſon only, to poſſeſs him really with love without any other intereſt, and it was without pain that he diſpoſed his inclinations to it.

What reſentment ſoever the concurrence of Druſus may have given me againſt him, I muſt always confeſs that he poſſeſſes all manner of great qualities; he is compleat in body and mind; and not yielding to Tyberius in valour and greatneſs of courage, he ſurpaſſes him without doubt in freedom, in ſweetneſs, and all manner of diſpoſitions to vertue. I will ſay no more to you of him, you have ſeen him, and been acquainted with him, and without doubt you have heard at Rome, that in the War of Dalmatia, whither he went with his brother without any command, and in divers other expeditions, where when he was hardly paſſed his infancy, he bare arms, he had already acquired a very great reputation, and given marvellous hopes of his valour and prudence. The knowledge whereof having puffed up his courage, he believed he might diſpute Julia with me, although the Emperour had deſtined her for me, and that by a long acquaintance I ought to have gained her affections already: and grounding part of his hope upon the judgment he might have made of her inconſtancy, he made no doubt to engage himſelf in her ſervice. However he was not afraid to diſoblige me after the declaration I had made againſt all his relations in favour of Coriolanus, and in all the quarrels which that Prince had with Tyberius, having embraced his intereſts as mine own, no one ought to think it ſtrange if all the houſe of Livia bare me but a little affection, and that my conſideration, which poſſibly would have produced that effect in another, did not impede the Brother of Tyberius in a deſign of that importance; yet knowing that the intentions of the Emperour were wholly declared for me, he durſt not oppoſe them openly, and he endeavoured with ſecrecy and diſcretion to gain the affections of Julia, waiting opportunities to make his deſign known, when by the conduct and authority of Livia he ſhould ſet himſelf in a condition to diſcover it. Being of ſo high a rank as he was, he had the liberty to ſee the Princeſs every day, and all perſons of his condition did ſo frequently render her their viſits, that I could not make ſtrange of his. Being intereſſed, and having a diſtruſt of the mind of Julia, I ſuſpected him as well as divers others, and made very frequent complaints of him to the Princeſs, as I did of other perſons, to whom, according to my opinion, ſhe was too good; but for a long time I had no particular ſuſpition of him: at leaſt I did not believe a great while that he was more gracious with Julia than the other Princes who viſited her, and I had poſſibly continued ſome years in this belief, if I had not been preſented with an occaſion to loſe it when I leaſt expected.

I was one day with the Princeſs, and I had ſpent an hour in converſation with her, without any company but two or three of her Maids, which were at the other end of her Cloſet, when ſhe riſing from me to go to a window which looked into the Court, a Letter fell under her garments at my feet without her perceiving of it: I took it up preſently, with an intention to give it her, but at the ſame inſtant, the ſuſpicion, which for ſome while before ſeldom quitted me, made me change my thought, and ſeeing that the Princeſs looking into the Court through the glaſs, had her back turned towards me, I had a mind to take this time to ſatisfie my curioſity in part, and without further conſulting with the reſpect I owed to Julia, opening the paper with an hand which by its trembling diſcovered to me part of the truth, I began to read theſe words.

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To the Princeſs JULIA.

I Shall conceal without regret my paſſion from all the World, ſince it is your will that it ſhould not be known but onely to your ſelf, and though I could not without ſome conſtraint render this difference to the Fortune of another, yet through that I owe to your command, all things are eaſie: my heart which declares it ſelf to you, more perfectly than my mouth could do, hath not the ſame expreſſions for other perſons, and you alone, with facility may behold the ſecret of a ſoul which you entirely poſſeſs: It is Fortune enough for me that you permit my love without repugnance, and I hope from time and your goodneſs diſpoſitions more entire.

I had not time to make an end of reading this Letter, and I was about this part of it, when Julia turning towards me ſurprized me in this employment, What do you read Marcellus? ſaid ſhe to me. But I was ſo ſurprized and aſtoniſhed at this cruel teſtimony of my misfortune, that ſhe asked me this queſtion twice before I was in a condition to ſhape her an anſwer: I would know, continued ſhe, what it is you read with ſo much attention; and with theſe words ſhe came nearer to me. I folded up the Letter with a deſign to make an end of reading it; but I could not give her any anſwer but by looks enflamed with a juſt indignation, and by the alterations of my countenance, which ſufficiently diſcovered to her the troubles of my mind. Nevertheleſs ſhe perſiſted in her curioſity, and after ſhe had preſſed me divers times to ſhew her the paper which I had hid: Madam, ſaid I to her at laſt, making a ſtrong attempt to diſſemble ſome part of my grief, it is a thing of ſo little importance, that it is not worth the pains you take to inform your ſelf of it. I ſpake theſe words with ſo ſad a countenance, that ſhe was in ſome ſort troubled at it, and marking how I was changed within a few moments, if ſhe had not divined the real cauſe, ſhe imagined at leaſt that it was ſome great matter which cauſed this alteration. I do not like it, replyed ſhe, that You ſhould keep any thing ſecret from me, and if You do any longer reſiſt the deſire I have to ſee that which You conceal from me, you will raiſe ſuſpitions in me, wherein poſſibly neither you nor I ſhall find our ſatisfaction.

I could no longer contain the deſpite which tormented me, and preſenting her the fatal paper wherein the marks of her inconſtancy were ſo deep engraven: Yes Madam, ſaid I to her, you ſhall ſee it, and it is juſt that I ſhould render that to You which is Your own, and to which I no way pretend. Behold, continued I, whilſt ſhe received her Letter with much confuſion, behold the dear marks of my Fortune which I remit into Your hands, and the fair effects of that firm affection which You have promiſed to Marcellus, and whereupon the abuſed Marcellus had eſtabliſhed all his glory, and all the Felicity of his Life.

Julia was in ſuch a confuſion, that whatſoever aſſurance ſhe naturally had, for a long time ſhe was not in a condition to reply, and I was ſo tranſported, that fearing to tranſgreſs the bounds of the reſpect I owed her, if I purſued my reſentment in my diſcourſe, I kept ſilence with a conſtancy wherein my violent paſſion was genuinely repreſented. Julia who hath a ſpirit of another temper than mine, did much ſooner compoſe her ſelf than I, and beholding me with eyes of expreſſing ſome choler and diſdain: I take it ill, ſaid ſhe to me, that you take the liberty to read my Letters without my permiſſion: all the intereſt you take in them cannot acquit You of the reſpect you owe me, and if you your ſelf have not found in your diſcretion part of the puniſhment which you deſerve, I ſhall make you ſenſible of my reſentments in ſuch a manner as ſhall make you learn to be more reſerved with me.

I was too well fortified by my conſcience, and by the juſtice of what I could reproach Julia with, to fear her choler, as I ſhould have done upon another occaſion wherein ſhe had been more reaſonable; and beholding her with a viſage, which ordinarily ſhews the difference between thoſe which are innocent, and thoſe that are culpable: I owe you, replyed I, much more reſpect than love, and if nothing can diſpence with my reſpect, my love finds in the cruel cheats you have put upon me, reaſons great enough to withdraw it ſelf from you for ever. I ſhall do what I can poſſible not to trouble his felicity any more, who acknowledgeth himſelf ſo reduable to your goodneſs, and what glory ſoever I find in ſerving you, I ſhould be the baſeſt of men, if I did not endeavour to recover out of your power, an heart ſo ungrateful and unworthily abandoned. You will do me a pleaſure, briskly anſwered Julia, and I ſuffer too much by your humour, to be ſorry for the loſs of a thing which makes me ſubject to tyranny. Ah! Madam, replyed I, you have no cauſe to complain, and whatſover uſage I have received from you, I ſhould be very ſorry that you could reproach me with an action wherein I have not, together with Princeſs Julia, to whom I have given my ſoul, conſidered the Daughter of Caeſar, to whom I owe all. If I have committed any fault of this nature, the Gods are my witneſſes that it is neither in my knowledge, nor according to my intention, and to hinder me from falling into it, though I cannot give you an exact account of my abilities, I will do whatſoever I can poſſible to give you the ſatisfaction you deſire. [Page] Having ſpoken theſe words, I went from her, and departed out of her Chamber in the ſaddeſt condition that ever I was in my life.

In effect this viſible proof of her inconſtancy did ſo nettle me, that I could hardly be more moved by the moſt cruel accidents that could happen to me, and when I was retired into a place where I might diſgeſt my adventure, I found in it ſo much cauſe of grief, that I could hardly receive any conſolation. ‘Ah! ſaid I, I ſhould be a meer ſool; I ſhould be blinder than ever yet I have been, if I could any longer be ignorant of the infidelity of Julia; and the tricks ſhe hath put upon me heretofore, now appear in their true ſhape. Her love to Coriolanus, which ſhe would have paſs but for a fiction, was but too real, and if that Prince had not diſdained the affections of this unfaithful creature, neither the memory of all my ſervices, nor the authority of Caeſar had been capable of conſerving Julia for me. The demonſtrations of amity ſhe hath ſince made to ſo many perſons, and which ſhe would artificially make to paſs with me for effects of civility and gallantry, are the real effects of her lightneſs; and if my paſſion had left me any remainder of common ſenſe onely, I could not have been miſtaken: Return then to thy ſelf, Marcellus, out of this profound ſenſleſſneſs which hath unman'd thee, remember thy ſelf that thou art not born to be deſpiſed, and that thou art fit for ſomething better, and more great, than to be the eternal object of the inconſtancies of Julia. The intereſt which may joyn with her beauty, to fix thee to her ſervice, is not capable to engage a noble ſoul; and though in not beeing the Son-in-law of Caeſar, thou wilt loſe the hopes he hath given thee, thou art born in a dignity ſufficiently eminent, and thou maiſt poſſibly mount up to a very ſublime degree, if thou doſt not degenerate from the vertue of thy Anceſtors, nor diſgrace the beginnings of thy life. Abandon then this ungrateful creature, which abandons thee every day by a lightneſs without example; and conſider that this baſe ſufference, to which ſhe hath ſubjected thee by her artifices, is unworthy of thy courage. All thoſe for whom ſhe now withdraws from thee the affections ſhe had given thee, are, it may be, both by birth and quality of perſon, inferiour to thee, and by the preference ſhe gives them above thee, ſhe poſſibly wrongs her ſelf as much as ſhe can offend thee, leave her then in this condition, wherein, without doubt, ſhe will quickly find cauſe to repent: and though after ſome reflection, which will make her come to her ſelf again, ſhe would recall thee by her ordinary artifices; confirm thy ſelf in thy juſt reſentments, and let her know, that thou canſt live without her, ſeeing ſhe cannot live for thee alone.’

Theſe were the reſolutions to which my juſt reſentments carried me, but I was a little too weak to put them in execution, and this inconſtant Princeſs to my misfortune, had gotten ſuch a Dominion over my ſpirit, that it was impoſſible for me to diſ engage my ſelf. My grief quickly made it ſelf be taken notice of by thoſe perſons with whom I was moſt familiar, and though I could not entirely conceal it from the Princeſs Octavia my Mother, nor from my Siſters, ſhe to whom I did moſt confidently diſcover it, was the Princeſs Cleopatra. I found in her likewiſe more conſolation than in all the reſt, and though there remained no more of the paſſion which I had once for her, than thoughts conformable to thoſe I had for my Siſters, I found in her ſo much ſweetneſs of ſpirit, ſo much freedom, and greatneſs of courage, that there was no perſon in the World to whom I ſhould have opened my heart with more confidence: Upon the firſt complaints I made to her concerning this laſt diſpleaſure I had received from Julia: Brother, ſaid ſhe to me, (for it was Octavia's will that we ſhould alwayes uſe this name between us) ‘I heartily participate in your juſt reſentments, and if Julia had confidence enough in me to regulate her actions by my counſel, I would take an order for the future that you ſhould ſee your ſelf no more ſubject to the diſpleaſures which ſhe hath made you ſenſible of. This is not the firſt time that I have taken notice of the lightneſs of her mind, and have foreſeen with grief, part of that which is befallen you; but if you believe me, and if it be poſſible for you, you will not exceſſively afflict your ſelf: part of this volatile humour of Julia will be diſſipated by a little more maturity in years; and though out of love and complacence to her ſelf, ſhe permits divers perſons to give her teſtimonies of their affections, yet I make no doubt but that ſhe doth not only prefer you before all others, but that all her real affection is yours. Ah Siſter! anſwered I, though what you ſay were true, my condition would not be a jot the better: I care not for a partial heart, and ſeeing I gave mine entirely to Julia, and that ſhe had once given hers in the ſame manner, ſhe cannot give any part of it to any perſon, without depriving me of that which juſtly belongs to me. Cleopatra ſaid all ſhe could in juſtification of Julia, but more to quiet my mind, than to excuſe a lightneſs which ſhe could not approve.’

In the mean while I continued divers days without rendring any viſits to Julia, and without being preſent at any of the places which ſhe was accuſtomed to frequent: and during that time, I did all I poſſibly could to learn who this new Rival was, which had ſo readily found [Page] a place in her affections. I ſtayed ſome days without being able to know the truth; but at laſt having addreſſed my ſelf to Phebe, one of her Maids, who was moſt acquainted with her ſecrets, whom I had gained by the preſents I made her, after ſhe had ſuffered her ſelf to be preſſed a great while for fear of her Miſtreſſes anger, and made me promiſe that I ſhould not diſcover it, ſhe told me it was Druſus, from whom Julia had received that letter and divers others, and that if any perſon had any part of her amity, it was Druſus above all others.

Upon this diſcovery I was enflamed with choler againſt this Rival, and bearing already no great affection to his houſe, for the reaſons that I have allegded unto you, I was upon the point of making my reſentment appear without any further delay: but I judged I could not do it without diſobliging and mortally offending Julia, by diſcovering things to her prejudice, which as yet were ſecret, and I had regard enough to the intereſts of that ingrateful Princeſs, to retain my ſelf for her ſake. But the violence I did my ſelf in not ſeeing her, quickly produced another effect, which was noted by all the perſons that did obſerve me; and Julia her ſelf, whom I could not avoid in thoſe places, where of neceſſity I muſt meet her, having taken notice as well as others, of the change which my ſadneſs had wrought in my countenance, whereof ſhe knew the cauſe, was poſſibly touched with ſome remorſe: and as affections do not imprint themſelves in her ſpirit, but that ſhe hath liberty enough left; ſo that which ſhe had conceived for Druſus was not ſtrong enough to oblige her to be willing to be totally quit of me, and to hinder the deſign of re ingaging me. In fine, whether it were out of a real motion of affection and repentance, or out of a fear of diſpleaſing Caeſar; whereupon the Princeſs Scribonia, her Mother every day read her lectures, ſhe left looking ill upon me, as ſhe had done in divers meetings, ſince the laſt converſation we had had, and by an obliging carriage, and looks full of ſweetneſs, ſhe endeavoured to make me ſtoop to her lure. I could not reſiſt thoſe efforts without laying a cruel conſtraint upon my ſelf, but my reſentment had ground enough to make me ſuffer any thing, before it could be diſſipated; and I had already ſo little confidence in Julia's careſſes, that I could not look upon them but as the effects of artifice, rather than a real reſentment.

After I had avoided divers times the occaſion of ſpeaking to her before the Emperour, I was one day at her paſſage through a Gallery, which leads from hers to the Empreſs lodgings, and as I would have paſſed by her, making a profound reverence, without ſtaying, ſhe ſtept before me, and having taken me by the arm: ‘You do ill, ſaid ſhe, to flie as you do from perſons, which poſſibly love you better than they are obliged to do: I ſhould do ill indeed, anſwered I very coldly, if I ſhould flie from them that love me; but beſides that, I ſhall hardly have that belief concerning you, I only avoid the occaſions of diſpleaſing you, and endeavour, as much as is poſſible for me, to give you that ſatisfaction that you have deſired of me: If I were as cholerick as you, replyed Julia, I ſhould poſſibly deſire it more than you believe, and if my inclination did not tranſcend my reſentments, I ſhould willingly leave you in an humor, wherein it may be you find ſome pleaſure; but becauſe I cannot render you that injuſtice, without ſuffering very much my ſelf by it, I forget in part what I owe to my ſelf, to make you remember what we mutually owe to each other: Madam, replyed I, I owe you all manner of reſpect and ſubmiſſion, and that way certainly I ſhall very exactly acquit my ſelf towards you all my life: I do not believe you can require any more of me, if you do not believe you are ſpeaking to Druſus, who, without doubt, owes you his heart and life in recompence of your affections.’

The Princeſs was troubled at this reproach, as I knew by the change of her countenance, and yet readily compoſing her ſelf: You do all you can, ſaid ſhe, to incenſe me againſt you, but I pardon your paſſion, and if you had continued your ſelf within more reaſonable bounds, I ſhould already have cured your mind of ſuſpicion, which you have conceived upon very light appearances. My ſuſpicions, replyed I, are become certainty, and I cannot deſire any farther clearing up of thoſe things, which to my misfortune, are but too evident. I have not been able, without doubt, to behold the fortune of Druſus without a mortal grief, but I ſhould envy him much more, if I did not know that it is very ill aſſured, and that ſome other will quickly make him loſe what he bath gained from me, rather by his good fortune than by his merit and ſervices.

When I reproached the Princeſs with the lightneſs of her ſpirit, ſhe fell into a violent choler, and beholding me with an eye which ſufficiently expreſſed her indignation: You ſhall know, ſaid ſhe, that the fortune of Druſus is not ſo ill-aſſured as you believe, and to give you other impreſſions of my ſpirit, I will put it into ſuch a condition, that you ſhall have much ado to ſhake it. Ending theſe words, ſhe quitted me with ſo many appearances of choler, that if I had not been more moved at her inconſtancy, than I could be at her anger, I ſhould have retired from this encounter with a diſpleaſure which would have left me but little quiet. She began thence forward to put her threatnings in execution; and whether it were to [Page] do me a ſpight, or to follow her own inclinations, ſhe carried her ſelf ſo towards Druſus, that few perſons doubted, but that he had a great ſhare in her affections. He viſited her punctually every day, and ſhe no longer fearing to make me jealous, which had obliged her before to lay ſome conſtraint upon her ſelf, careſſed and favoured him ſo openly, that all the perſons who had any intereſt in the conduct of her life, began highly to diſapprove her proceedings.

Whileſt theſe things paſſed (for I am obliged to ſpeak to you in my relation concerning the affairs of Coriolanus and Cleopatra, as I believe it hath not been eaſie for thoſe who have recounted the life of thoſe two perſons unto you, to acquaint you with all events, without intermingling ſomething concerning my fortune) the news came to Rome of the riſing of Mauritania, of the defeat of the firſt Troops, and the firſt proceedings of Coriolanus for the recovery of his Kingdom. This report at firſt ſurpriſed the ſpirit of Caeſar, and enflamed him with a new choler againſt the Son of Juba, againſt whom he was ſufficiently animated by the wounding of Tyberius, and the continual ſollicitations of Livia; but a little after he freed himſelf a little of the trouble that this news had brought him, and though he could not undervalue the perſon of Coriolanus, whom he knew by the great things he had done for his ſervice, to be capable of undertaking and executing all things, yet he little feared his forces, and he believed that thoſe he had in Africa, under the command of Voluſius, were capable of reſtoring the Country to its former tranquility.

In the mean time the enemies of Coriolanus did not loſe this occaſion quite, to cry him down with Auguſtus; and Livia, as one intereſſed, forgot nothing which might exaſperate the Emperours mind to the moſt extream reſolutions againſt him. About this time Tyberius, after that his life was deſpaired of divers times, and he had lain divers months in danger, at laſt was cured of his great wound, and to the great contentment of his friends, he ſaw himſelf in a condition to croſs his Rival more than ever. This was the renewing of Cleopatra's ſorrows, and that Princeſs ſaw her ſelf expoſed afreſh to the perſecution, which had ſlept ever ſince the wounding of Tyberius. She recommended to me her own and my friends intereſts, and found me intended to make them alwaies my own. I was ſurpriſed more than all the reſt at the firſt report which arrived at the riſing of the Moors, and I thought it a little ſtrange that Coriolanus, who in the whole courſe of his life had reſerved nothing from me, ſhould conceal this deſign ſo carefully that I never had the leaſt ſuſpicion of it; but the Princeſs Cleopatra made me ſuch excuſes as ſhe believed to be due to our friendſhip, and aſſured me that Coriolanus would not have concealed his intention from me, but only out of the reſpect he bare me, fearing either to render me his enemy, if I took part with Caeſar, or to render me odious to Caeſar, if after the knowledge of a deſign againſt his ſervice, I ſhould ſtill continue a friend to Coriolanus. Cleopatra performed the requeſt which Coriolanus had made to her with ſo good a grace, and alledged ſuch ſpecious reaſons to juſtifie the ſecrecy of Coriolanus, that in ſtead of taking it ill at his hands, I believed I was obliged to him for it: and not being at that time prepoſſeſſed with any ſuſpicion of his infidelity, I believed eaſily that I ought to impute his reſervedneſs towards me only to his diſcretion.

Cleopatra can teſtifie too, to render him the more criminal and odious, in what manner I received the news of his good ſucceſs, if the intereſts of Caeſar, to which I am inſeparably bound up, could remove me one moment from what I owed to our amity, and it I have not an hundred times for the intereſt of Coriolanus, put my ſelf in danger of changing the affection of Auguſtus into violent reſentments againſt me. It is true, I was not in a condition to take his part ſo highly as I have done before, and after he had been publickly declared an Enemy to Caeſar, and the Roman Empire, except I would declare my ſelf ſo too, I could not defend him ſo openly in thoſe things which went directly againſt Caeſar, as long as he was in arms againſt him, and did every day cut in pieces the Roman Troops. But in thoſe things which were more eſſential to him, and more important to his repoſe, namely, the preſerving of Cleopatra for him againſt the pretentions of Tyberius, I perſevered ſo entirely, that certainly I could not have acted for my ſelf with more ardency and affection. By Tyberius his cure, ſhe ſaw her ſelf expoſed to thoſe diſpleaſures, from which ſhe had had ſome breathing while; and beſides the effect of the preſſing ſollicitations of Livia, Caeſar knew well enough that he could take no revenge upon Coriolanus, which would be more ſenſible to him, than to give Cleopatra to his Rival. He cauſed her to be ſpoken to of it, and he ſpake to her of it himſelf in ſuch abſolute terms, that the Princeſs ſaw her ſelf reduced to the greateſt extremity that ever ſhe was in in her life: ‘Oh how deteſtable is the ingratitude of Coriolanus, after thoſe things which I have ſeen with my eyes! and how happy was that unfaithful Prince in the perſeverance of the moſt beautiful perſon of the world! She reſiſted without wavering, all the pretentions of Tyberius his party, and when they had attempted all other waies,’ Caeſar declared himſelf to her, that if after [Page] ſo many intreaties which he had made her to that purpoſe, ſhe would not by fair means eſpouſe Tyberius, he was reſolved to conſtrain her to it by all his authority; this couragious Princeſs looking upon him with an aſſurance not only above her ſex and age, but with a boldneſs equal to that of the Porcias, the Lucreces, and the Cato's: ‘I do not think Caeſar, ſaid ſhe to him, that after thou haſt affected in thy government the reputation of a juſt and moderate Prince, rather than of an Uſurper and a Tyrant, thou wouldeſt renew at Rome the violence of the Tarquins, and begin firſt with the Daughter of Anthony, who was thy equal and companion in the Empire; but if this be thy intention, I will ſpare thee the ſhame and reproach which this action may bring upon thee: and as ſhe, whoſe name I bear, and from whom I have received my birth, died to avoid the ſhame which thou prepared'ſt for her, ſo I ſhall know how to die too, to avoid the conſtraint wherewith thou threateneſt me.’

Cleopatra uttered theſe words with an action ſo handſome, ſo noble, and ſo hardy, and Caeſar found in them ſomething ſo great and penetrative into the moſt ſenſible parts of his ſoul, that he was moved, aſhamed, and confounded at them, and being retired without replying one word to the Princeſs, he proteſted the ſame to Livia, that he would content himſelf to uphold her Son as much as he could; but whatſoever intreaty or conſideration might oblige him to it, he would never offer any violence to Cleopatra. He did not only make this declaration to Livia, but on the morrow he told Agrippa and Mecenas, that together with reproaches which had pierced his heart, he had received from a Maid ſuch inſtructions how to reign, that he ſhould be obliged to her for them as long as he lived; he continued divers daies much netled and troubled, and without ſcarce ſeeing the perſons who would have cauſed him to lay conſtraint upon the Daughter of Anthony.

This accident is remarkable, and the greatneſs of Caeſar's courage, certainly produced in this rancounter, an effect worthy of his actions. Livia remained much afflicted, and full of confuſion, and Tyberius was no leſs a few daies after, when with a like reſolution to that which ſhe had ſhewed before Caeſar, Cleopatra proteſted to him, that if he did obſtinately ſeek to eſpouſe her, by any other waies than by his ſervices, ſhe would infallibly deſtroy her ſelf, and that he ought to be very certain, that the very day of her Marriage ſhould be the day of her Funeral. By this couragious reſolution, in favour of Coriolanus, Cleopatra recovered the liberty which they had deprived her of, upon the point, that it was moſt deſperate, and I ſaw this unexpected change, with a joy as great as was the confuſion of Tyberius. He almoſt died with the grief he took at it, and whether it were that he had no hope to make Caeſar change his reſolution, or whether he himſelf feared the effect of Cleopatra's threatnings, and would not expoſe himſelf to the danger of ſeeing her execute them; but he uſed no more any authority to acquire her, and employed only ſubmiſſions and teſtimonies of his love.

The affairs of Coriolanus were in this condition at Rome, when the repoſe of my mind was ruined there, by the ingratitude and inconſtancy of Julia. This Princeſs, as I told you, either to vex me with jealouſie, or to purſue her real inclinations, made no difficulty of beſtowing publick teſtimonies of affection upon Druſus; and ſhe having a ſpirit which is not troubled with the report and opinion of the vulgar, carried her ſelf ſo, that ſcarcely any perſon at Rome made any doubt but that Druſus poſſeſſed that place in Julia's heart which was deſtined for me, and which ſometime I enjoyed. At firſt I endeavoured to receive this change with indifferency, and to let Julia know that I did not envie Druſus his Fortune: and to that end I forced my ſelf to put the beſt face upon it I poſſibly could before her, and to appear as little moved at her inconſtancy as if I had not been concerned in it: but I could not long lay this conſtraint upon my ſelf, and though I was incenſed, I was ſtill a lover and a very paſſionate one too. To my misfortune all my reſolution proved vain againſt a power to which I had too much ſubmitted my ſelf, and in ſpite of my heart I could not behold the advantages of Druſus without being heartily ſenſible of them.

The violent grief I conceived thereupon, quickly made it ſelf remarkable: and not only the Princeſs Octavia, my Siſters, and my moſt familiar Friends perceived it, but the Emperour, who took more intereſt in me than I deſerved, took notice of it with regret, and preſſed me every day to acquaint him with the real cauſe of it. In diſcovering it to him I had an aſſured means to ſatisfie my ſelf upon Julia and Druſus, in ruining the pretenſions of my rival, and declaring the Daughters infidelity to a Father who would not have approved of it. I and all the Romans knew that the intentions of Caeſar were entirely for me, and though Druſus were Son to the Empreſs, he could not hope to do me any prejudice, but I would not make uſe of this advantage in a caſe wherein I thought I could not do it without baſeneſs: and ſeeing that by the merit of my perſon I could not conſerve the affections of this volatile Princeſs, I would not employ the authority of a Father for a thing which ſeemed due [Page] to my perſonmy love and ſervices, I alledged to Caeſar ſometimes the indiſpoſition of body, and at other times other cauſes of ſadneſs: and I was not only unwilling that he ſhould learn the truth from my mouth; but when I ſaw Octavia, my Mother and his Siſter (who was intereſſed in my afflictions as much as a good Mother could be) in a reſolution to diſcover that to him which I kept concealed, and to make complaint to him of his Daughter with a great deal of reſentment: after I had in vain requeſted her not to render me that diſpleaſure, I proteſted to her that if ſhe would not condeſcend to his deſire, I would be gone from Rome, ſo far from her that poſſibly in divers years ſhe ſhould have no news of me; the fear of it reſtrained her againſt her deſign; but ſhe ſharply blamed me for my vain conſiderations, and could not forbear upon divers occaſions to teſtifie her particular reſentment to Julia: but if Octavia were ill ſatisfied with her, the Empreſs in revenge had all the cauſe that might be to be contented; and ſeeing her deſigns proceed with all the ſucceſs ſhe could wiſh, ſhe made ſo many demonſtrations of amity to Julia, that if ſhe had been her own Daughter ſhe could not have received more.

All theſe things ſtung me at laſt in a part where I was very ſenſible: and according to my judgement my honour finding it ſelf intereſſed, was more impatient than my love. I could not endure that it ſhould be believed that I had quitted a place to Druſus which I had firſt poſſeſſed, and which by all reaſon was more due to me than to him; and when I ſought means to make my reſentments appear without injuring the conſideration which was due to Caeſar in the perſon of his Daughter, ſhe gave me ſo great occaſions, that I thought it impoſſible any longer without baſeneſs. In all the aſſemblies, and all the publick ſpectacles that the Emperour often exhibited to the people, Druſus was always with her: and if at any time by coming late he was diſtant from her, ſhe called him in my very preſence, and made him take the neareſt place to her he could poſſible.

There is a ſacrifice yearly offered in the Capitol, the ſame day that the City was delivered from the Gauls, wherein amongſt other Ceremonies, one of the principal Roman Ladies, elected for that action by the voices of the people, goes to make an offering to Jupiter of ſome gifts of acknowledgement in behalf of the Common-wealth, and cauſes her ſelf to be conducted to the Altar by one of the chiefeſt Romans, and ordinarily by one of her neareſt Relations, whom ſhe moſt eſteems. This year Julia was entreated to perform this office; and the Emperour, as it is ordinary, with the Empreſs, all the Senate and the whole Court was preſent at the Capitol, and aſſiſted at the Sacrifice. When it was time that Julia ſhould approach to the Altar, all the company caſt their eyes upon me, as the man who infallibly ſhould accompany her; and what miſunderſtanding ſoever was between us, the Emperours will being publickly known, I did not believe ſhe durſt call any other than my ſelf; yet knowing it depended upon her choice, and diſtruſting her humour, I did not preſent my ſelf as I ſhould have done at another time, but the Emperour himſelf made a ſign to me to advance: I roſe from my place to obey him, and approached to Julia: but ſhe ſaved me the labour, and when I was near enough to give her my hand, ſhe turned her ſelf another way, and called Druſus to come, and render her that office.

The greateſt part of the perſons that were in the Temple intereſſed themſelves in the affront which I received: and if Livia, Tyberius, and thoſe of their party were ſatisfied in it: not only Octavia and they that took my part, but Auguſtus himſelf was ſo troubled at it, that had it not been out of reſpect to the ſacredneſs of the place, he had publickly made his diſpleaſure appear. For my part I was ſo much moved at it, that I was quite out of countenance, and not daring for divers conſiderations to expreſs in publick my reſentment to the Daughter of Caeſar, I retired to my place full of choler and confuſion, and a little after not being able to ſtay any longer in a place wherein I had received this affront, I ſlipt into the preſs and got out of the Temple, without ſtaying till the end of the Sacrifice.

When I was come to my lodging, I quitted my ſelf of thoſe who had taken the pains to accompany me thither, upon my entreaty, that they would grant me an hours liberty to do ſome buſineſs: and a little after knowing that the moſt affectionate among them partly imagining my intention, would not be far from me; to avoid the trouble of viſits, which I could not have endured in the bad humour I then was, and the obſtacles which might croſs my deſign, I went down ſecretly by a private pair of ſtairs into the Garden: and from thence attended by one Squire only, I went to the houſe of Sulpicia a Roman Lady of eminent quality, one whom you know, and in whom I had very great confidence. It was before her that I highly exclaimed againſt the infidelity of Julia, and made my complaint freely, as well of this laſt injury as of thoſe which had preceded, and did violently out with all which lay upon my heart. Sulpicia did all ſhe could poſſible, not to excuſ the inconſtancy of Julia (for ſhe was one of the firſt to condemn her) but to hinder me from taking the effects [Page] thereof ſo much to heart, and to moderate in part the tranſports wherewith I was troubled. ‘If I were Marcellus, ſaid ſhe to me, I would deal after another manner than you do, and the ſpirit of Julia will better be reduced by marks of indifferency and coldneſs, than by this boiling humour, and theſe violent reſentments whereinto you precipitate your ſelf. And if I were Sulpicia, anſwered I to her, I ſhould give this counſel to my friends; but ſeeing I am Marcellus, intereſſed in my repoſe, and in my honour, and to my misfortune ſtill paſſionate for that unfaithful Princeſs, I cannot contain my ſelf within that coldneſs and that indifferency which you expreſs. My love is not extinguiſhed for being injured: and it is through the indignation of Heaven that theſe effects of ingratitude have not been able to baniſh it out of my mind. I have not ceaſed from loving her, though I have forborn in part to render her the devoirs to which I was daily obliged: and if I have ſupported with moderation the ſecret teſtimonies of her change, the publick ones have wronged me too much for me to be able to diſſemble them.’

After theſe words and ſome other diſcourſes that I had with Sulpicia, I called for paper, and without conſulting any more with my former reſpect, in my tranſport I wrote theſe words to Julia.

MARCELLUS to the Princeſs JULIA.

‘AS long as you injured but my love only, I ſupported your inconſtancy with patience enough, and I have not demanded any reparation for it; becauſe I believe that by preferring Druſus before me, you had ſufficiently puniſhed your ſelf, you are obliged to me beſides for this, that forſaken as I was, I have alwaies out of love to you, kept ſecret what I could not diſcover but to your diſadvantage and confuſion; but ſince you have been forward to publiſh it your ſelf, and that to the infidelity which only wronged my love, you have been pleaſed to add an injury which wrongs my courage and my honour; you muſt not think it ſtrange, if I grant that to my honour that poſſibly I owed not to my love, and that I ſeek the ſatisfaction which it demands of me by thoſe waies, which hitherto the reſpect and conſideration I had for you hindred me from.’

After I had written this Letter, I gave it to the Squire who waited upon me, with order to carry it to Julia the ſame day: and after his departure, ſtaying a while longer, but in vain, to find out ſome means to execute my deſign with little noiſe, I took at laſt an horſe and a foot-man from Sulpicia's houſe, and without any other company I went out to ſeek Druſus, and to make him draw his ſword whereſoever I could meet him. I went directly to his houſe, but having underſtood at his gate that he was not returned ſince he went forth to go to the Capitol, and that he had dined with Mecenas, I went to paſs by Mecenas his houſe, and by good fortune as I came near the gate, I ſaw Druſus come out there a horſe-back, attended only by perſons on foot, who were not capable to hinder the effect of my reſolution. I no ſooner ſaw him but my reſentment violently re-inforcing it ſelf, I could hardly forbear running upon him with my Sword in my hand, yet I moderated my ſelf as much as I poſſibly could, and accoſting him with a viſage wherein he might read part of my intentions: Druſus, ſaid I to him, I have a moments buſineſs with you. Druſus did not ſtand to make himſelf farther intreated to hearken to me, but withdrawing twelve or fifteen paces from thoſe who attended him: What do you deſire of me, ſayes he to me? when we were at liberty of ſpeaking without being over-heard; ‘I deſire, ſaid I, to make you know that you have gained by your fortune, only what could be due to none but my ſelf, by the way of merits and ſervices; and that after the knowledge you had of my deſigns for Julia, and my engagement to her, you could not employ your ſelf in her ſervice, nor ſerve your ſelf againſt me with the inconſtancy of her ſpirit without declaring your ſelf my Enemy, and giving me juſt occaſion of proceeding to extremities with you. I am not obliged, replyed Druſus, without being troubled, to conſider your intereſts to my own prejudice; and ſince that which you have done againſt us, for the Enemies of our Family, there hath been no amity between us which might hinder me from following my inclinations and ſeeking my own advantages out of fear of diſpleaſing you: I am willing to believe that I owe to my Fortune whatſoever I could acquire in the eſteem of the Princeſs Julia; but whatſoever I owe to my Fortune, I ſhall know how to defend by valour againſt all thoſe which ſhall believe their pretentions to be more lawful than mine. It ſhall be then, anſwered I, by the end of thy life or mine, that thou ſhalt diſpute thy rights againſt mine: and without any further delay we will withdraw our ſelves from thoſe perſons who may oppoſe our intentions, to go and give Julia, by an ultimate deciſion, to the moſt valiant, or to the moſt fortunate.’

[Page] Druſus had expected no leſs; and yet out of the conſideration he had for Caeſar, whoſe affection to me was known to him, rather than out of fear of my arms, theſe words troubled him a little; but after he had ſtaid ſome moments without reply, ‘I am ſorry, ſaid he, that I cannot ſatisfie your deſires and mine, without putting my ſelf in danger of incurring the Emperours diſpleaſure: but though I might fear all things from his indignation, yet to render what I owe to my honour, I ſhall paſs by all manner of conſiderations, and will alledge no excuſe to be diſpenſed with from the combat which you demand. I expected no leſs from you, ſaid I to him, let us go, and ſeeing our arms are equal, let us no longer delay our mutual ſatisfaction:’ Ending theſe words, I ſpurred my horſe through the ſtreet towards the next gate of the City: and Druſus quitting the company which followed him, came preſently unto me, and rode along by my ſide with an ardor little different from mine, but at the turning of the firſt ſtreet we met Tyberius, attended only by a great number of ſlaves on foot, and ſome perſons on horſe-back. He no ſooner ſaw us alone together, and in the condition wherein he met us, but he gueſſed at the truth, knowing well that for ſome time paſt there had been no Society between his Brother and I: and not doubting but what had happened at the Capitol that morning, might oblige me to ſome reſentment, in the preſent thought he had of it, he took his Brothers horſe by the bridle, ſo that he could not get from him. Brother, ſaid he, whither go you alone with Marcellus, in ſo much haſte? Druſus being ſurprized, and not being ready with an anſwer, would have made ſome ſorry excuſe: but Tyberius gave no credit to it, and oppoſig his paſſage more than before: ‘You ſhall not go without me, added he, and I am of a Relation near enough to you, not to be ſuſpected in all affairs you can have with Marcellus.’

Being as I was full of impatience and boiling with choler, and bearing as little affection to Tyberius as to Druſus, I could not diſſemble the truth, and addreſſing my ſelf to Tyberius, No, ſaid I to him, Tyberius you are not ſuſpected, and you have intereſt enough in your Brothers rather to perfect than to break our deſign. ‘I ſhall quickly find ſome body to entertain you with an exerciſe like to ours, and you may find an occaſion to make part of the reſentments you have againſt Coriolanus, appear againſt his friend. I had thought, replied Tyberius, that Coriolanus had been no longer your friend, ſince he was declared the enemy of Caeſar and of the Empire: but whether it be to end the quarrels, which ſometimes we have had for the intereſts of that African, or to ſerve my Brother in thoſe which he may have with you, I will not avoid the occaſion of ruining his Fortune: and I believe you will not want one to ſecond you, againſt whom I may conſerve my Reputation.’

He ſpake in this manner, when I ſaw haſtening to us the young Prince Ptolomy, the Son of Anthony and Cleopatra, who upon a ſuſpicion he had of my deſign, ſearched after me all about, with a great deal of earneſtneſs. This Prince was but eighteen years old, but at that age he had already given extraordinary proofs of his courage and vigor: and I knowing that he loved me well enough to ſerve me againſt Tyberius, without ſtaggering at it, and that I could not match Tyberius with a man more conformable to his birth, I preſently reſolved to employ him, believing that I could not go ſeek a friend elſewhere without loſing a great deal of time, and without giving them an occaſion to hinder our deſign who had an intention to do it. The good opinion I had of this young Prince, and the preſſing occaſion made me to take this reſolution: and becauſe of his youth, and divers other conſiderations, I ſhould not have caſt my eyes upon him, nor have gone to have ſought him to have made him run this fortune. He was no ſooner come to us, but without ſo much as looking upon Tyberius and his Brother, he told me in terms full of affection, that he ſought me to link himſelf inſeparably to me, and to make my intereſts his own without any diſtinction. By this action, and by his diſcourſe which he uttered with a marvellous grace, I confirmed my ſelf in my deſign, and embracing him with an affection like to his own: ‘Brother, ſaid he to him (for as you know the children of Anthony, and thoſe of Octavia, alwaies called ſo) I eſteem your amity and your courage as I ought; and to teſtifie ſo much to you, I offer you to day a fair occaſion of acquiring glory againſt Tyberius I aſſure my ſelf, that the reputation of his valour cannot fright you, and that you love me ſo well as to fight with him, whileſt I do the like with his Brother. Doubt it not, ſaid Ptolomy to me, and believe that I could not receive a more dear teſtimony of your friendſhip, nor an occaſion of ſerving you which I ſhould embrace with more joy. Ah! cryed Tyberius, interrupting us, it is not my intention, and I will not draw my ſword againſt the Brother of Cleopatra, upon any condition. I am ſorry, replyed the young Prince, that you have that conſideration for me, and I ſhall requite you for it upon another occaſion, wherein the intereſts of Marcellus are not concerned, but for them Tyberius, I ſhall be againſt you without diſpute; and as young as I am I hope you will not blaſt the glory of your actions by drawing a ſword againſt me.’

[Page] Tyberius conteſted yet along time upon the difficulty he made to fight with the Brother of Cleopatra; but the young Prince preſſed him ſo, and touched upon his honour in ſo quaint terms, that believing he could not any longer deny him, without injuring his reputation: ‘Young man, ſaid he, you force me to an action, whereunto the love I bear the Princeſs your Siſter doth not permit me to diſpoſe my ſelf without great repugnance; but you will juſtifie me to her, and teſtifie unto her the violence you do me.’ Having ſpoken theſe words he rode along with us without any further diſpute; but as we paſſed into a ſpacious place near the Temple of Veſta, we ſaw a great number of perſons which made haſte to part us, and ſtop the paſſages out of the City. My friends upon my going alone from Sulpicia's houſe, from whom they underſtood ſome part of my reſentments; and Druſus his friends upon my coming to ſeek him at his houſe contrary to my cuſtome, and in the condition I was, and all of them upon what had paſſed at the Capitol, and upon divers other appearances had conjectured the truth, and were ſeparated into divers troops, that they might not fail to find us, and hinder the execution of our deſign. I thought we could have eſcaped from the firſt that appeared by another ſtreet: but when I ſaw great troops coming on every ſide whitherſoever I could caſt my eyes, I was ſeized upon by as violent a diſpleaſure as ever I had been ſenſible of in my life: and turning my ſelf towards Druſus with an action that ſufficiently expreſſed my choler: ‘We can go no further, ſaid I, but we will not quit one another in this manner, and before the people who are coming to us can have time to part us, one of us will have time enough to draw bloud of his enemy.’

I had no ſooner made an end of theſe words, but I had my ſword in my hand: and Druſus having been no leſs forward than my ſelf to that action, we thruſt at one another with a great deal of animoſity: Ptolomy obliged Tyberius to the ſame, and in the preſence of a thouſand witneſſes all four of us began a Combat, which could not have been of any long continuance by reaſon of its violence, though the great number of thoſe who ran to part us had not hindred the ſequel. At the firſt paſs I received a great wound in the thigh, and Druſus was run through the ſhoulder; and young Ptolomy having charged Tyberius like a Lion, they ſlightly hurt one another at the firſt bout; but when we would have gone to it again, we had not the liberty, and we were environed by ſo many perſons, that whatſoever Druſus and I could do, it was not poſſible for us to engage any more. This hindrance of my moſt violent deſires made me exceed the bounds of moderation towards my moſt officious friends; and in ſtead of thanking them for the care they took of my life, I expreſſed my diſpleaſure in ſuch terms as they would not have taken at my hands if they had not been really my friends. Nevertheleſs there was a neceſſity that I ſhould be patient; and Agrippa with divers of the moſt noble Romans conducted Ptolomy to Octavia's houſe, whileſt Domitius with a great number of others carried home Tyberius and his brother.

Octavia though ſhe were endued with a great courage, the Princeſs Cleopatra and my Siſters could not ſee me bloudy without fear and grief; but they were better ſatisfied, when my wound having been ſearched, was not found dangerous, though it were great. Ptolomy was hurt in one of his arms, but it was very ſlightly; and the Princeſs his Siſter, who was afraid when ſhe ſaw the bloud upon his habit, was not ſorry that by that little he had loſt, he had teſtified his amity to Marcellus, and his courage to all the Romans.

The report of our quarrel being preſently ſpread abroad, the whole City took part with our intereſts; but I may truly ſay, that how great ſo ever the credit of Livia was, my part was the greater, and the moſt powerful: and beſides the affection, which through my good hap all the diſ-intereſſed Romans bare me, the authority of Auguſtus, who for all the love he bare his Wife, did not ſtick to declare himſelf for me, fortified it very much. He did me the honour to come and ſee me when my wound was ſcarce dreſs'd; and he was no ſooner come near my bed, but embracing me with as much affection and tenderneſs as if I had been his own Son: ‘What Marcellus, ſaid he to me, are you ſo prodigal of a life that is as dear to me as my own? and do I ſee you in danger at Rome cloſe by me by the children of Livia, after you had eſcaped ſo many dangers againſt the arms of our enemies? Sir, ſaid I to him, I have been but in few perilous encounters, and that were not enough to oblige you to the care which out of an extraordinary goodneſs, you take of me. No danger, replyed Caeſar, can be ſo ſlight in relation to you, but 'tis very terrible to me; and you know I love Marcellus well enough, to be as ſenſible of his hurt as if I had received it my ſelf: but in fine, what is the occaſion that hath urged you to ſo violent extremities againſt the Son of Livia? Sir, anſwered I, it was for ſome words which Tyberius and Ptolomy had together concerning Cleopatra: and I loving the children of Anthony as my Brethren, as you and the Princeſs Octavia would have me, could not ſeparate my ſelf from their intereſts any more upon this than any other occaſion.’

[Page] Auguſtus ſhook his head at this diſcourſe, and looking upon me with an action which ſufficiently aſſured me, that he did not believe me: ‘I only asked you this queſtion, ſaid he, that I might receive from your own mouth the confirmation of a thing, which I have the true relation of already from my Siſter: your diſcretion is admirable, that when you have ſuch juſt cauſe to accuſe the inconſtancy, the ingratitude, and the imprudence of Julia you do not open your mouth to complain of it: but I ſhall know how to take ſuch order as is fitting, both as the Father of Julia, and as being intereſſed in the repoſe of Marcellus: and I ſhall let Druſus and Julia know the diſpleaſure I have received from the ambition of the one, and the ill conduct of the other. Ah! Sir, cryed I, the Princeſs Octavia could not afflict me more ſenſibly, than in rendering me criminal as ſhe hath done, both towards Julia, and towards your ſelf: and if in the tranſports of my paſſion I have made complaints to her ſometimes as to my Mother, ſhe ſhould have remembred, that perſons in love are not alwayes rational in their diſcourſes and actions.’ I have no cauſe to complain of the Princeſs Julia; I have received favours from her, above what I could juſtly pretend to: and if I could not render her ſo much affection or acknowledgment by my ſervices as I could deſire, I have no body to accuſe for it but my ſelf, on whom the Gods have not beſtowed qualities ſufficiently amiable to merit the affections of Julia. Marcellus, replied the Emperour, by your procedure ſo full of diſcretion and goodneſs, you render Julia yet more criminal, and I will let her know how ſenſible I am of the diſpleaſure ſhe hath done me, in ſuch a manner that for the future ſhe ſhall be more circumſpect to avoid the occaſions of it. Ah! Sir, ſaid I, with an action full of tranſport, you cannot upon my conſideration expoſe the Princeſs to the leaſt diſpleaſure, without bringing me to my Grave; and though it were true, that I could not conſerve the goodneſs ſhe once ſhewed me, I ſhould acknowledge the Fortune to be above me, ſo that I ſhould attribute the loſs of it rather to the juſtice of the Princeſs than to her inconſtancy. ‘You flatter her too much, added Caeſar; but ſeeing you love her ſo much as not to deſire any reparation of her fault, that might cauſe any grief to her, I will ſpare her for your ſake, and will only command her to ſee Druſus no more, and to diſpoſe her ſelf to be married to you ſo ſoon as you are recovered. Sir, replied I, in this grace which you offer me, I find all the ſelicity I could wiſh: but though it were greater, yet I would not accept of it while I lived, if the inclinations of Julia muſt be forced to beſtow it upon me. She is of a birth not to ſuffer violence for the fortune of Marcellus; and it is by my love, Sir, and by my ſervices that I ought to acquire her, rather than by your authority. There will be no need, anſwered the Emperour, to force the inclinations of Julia to oblige her to marry you: and I aſſure my ſelf whatſoever fault the inconſtancy of her ſpirit hath made her commit, that you are not only more dear to her than Druſus but that ſhe will prefer you with all her heart before all other perſons that I could preſent to her.’

The Emperour had ſome other diſcourſe with me upon this Subject, whereby he endeavoured a little to compoſe my ſpirit: after which he left me, proteſting he ſhould not be ſatisfied if I had not quickly recovered the health of my body, and the repoſe of my mind. I knew afterwards that he had groſs words with the Empreſs the ſame day, complaining very much of her favouring the pretenſions of her Son, in prejudice of the deſign he had for me, wherewith ſhe was long ſince acquainted, and commanded her to forbid her Son from ſeeing the Princeſs any more upon deſign. He chid Julia too very ſharply: and after he had preſented to her the diſpleaſure ſhe had cauſed him, and the danger whereinto, by her imprudence, ſhe had caſt the chief amongſt the Romans, he commanded her to ſee Druſus no more, except it were to make him loſe all the hopes ſhe could have given him. I know not what effect this produced upon the ſpirit of Julia, the ſecret whereof is very difficult to know: but I verily believe, that as paſſions do not ſtrongly fix themſelves in her ſoul, ſo ſhe took leſs to heart, the violence which was offered to the affection which poſſibly ſhe might bear to Druſus than another perſon could have done: and I am ignorant likewiſe whether it were by the commandment of the Emperour, or upon ſome other motion, that ſhe diſpoſed her ſelf to do what ſhe did in my favour: but howſoever it was, the next day ſhe came to viſit me with the Princeſs Scribonia her Mother, who would needs do me this honour. I ſtarted at the ſight of her, either out of reſentment or love; I knew not how at firſt to judge, whether I ought to rejoyce at this viſit or not: and this ſight did ſo much diſorder me that I could not anſwer the civilities of Scribonia, but with confuſion.

Octavia, Cleopatra, my Siſters, and ſome other Perſons, were by my bed when the two Princeſſes entred, and after the firſt diſcourſes of Scribonia, whereby with a great deal of care and affection ſhe informed her ſelf of my health, and expreſſed the ſorrow which ſhe received for my hurt, ſhe had a mind to give me time to entertain her Daughter, with whom for divers conſiderations ſhe earneſtly deſired my reconciliation: and taking Octavia by [Page] one hand, and Cleopatra by the other, under pretext of enquiring the particulars of my quarrel with Druſus, ſhe led them another way, and left me alone with Julia, or at leaſt the perſons which remained were far enough off, ſo that they could be no hindrance to our converſation.

Julia had a good opportunity to begin, and I was ſo troubled, that for a long time I could not find words wherewith to entertain her; neither did ſhe expect it; but as ſoon as ſhe judged her ſelf to be out of the hearing of any perſon, after ſhe had caſt a look upon me compoſed of ſeverity and ſweetneſs: ‘I know not Marcellus, ſaid ſhe, where to begin whether with complaint or with ſatisfaction; you have in appearance great cauſe to accuſe me, and in effect you have extreamly offended me: if I were as forward in my reſentments as you have been in yours, I ſhould poſſibly have made you know, that my ſpirit is not over-ruled by the waies which you have followed; but I have been willing to pardon you partly in regard of your paſſion, which doth not alwaies permit reaſon to act with entire liberty, and partly in regard of an inclination which your deportments have not been able to baniſh out of my mind, though they have obliged me to keep it a long time concealed.’

I cannot tell you after what manner I received theſe firſt words of Julia, nor what impreſſion they made at firſt upon my ſpirit, becauſe I gave but little credit to them; but I remember well that I anſwered her with coldneſs enough: ‘Madam, if the offences I have done you were known to me, I ſhould beg your pardon for them with all the repentance they could require, and ſhould ſubmit my ſelf without repugnance to all the puniſhments you would inflict upon me for their expiation; but the Gods are my witneſſes, that hitherto I have believed my ſelf to be very innocent towards you, and as I am very far from expecting ſatisfaction from you, for the evils you made me ſuffer, ſo I know not for what I owe you any, except it be for having loved you poſſibly more than you deſired, and for not being able to ſupport the loſs of your affections with an abſolute unſenſibility. I ſhould not think it ſtrange, replyed Julia, or at leaſt I ſhould not complain of you at all, that the loſs of my affections had cauſed you a diſpleaſure: but to ſee that upon an ill-grounded ſuſpicion, which if you had expected with ſweetneſs and moderation, I ſhould have cleared up to you ſo as to have given you perfect ſatisfaction, you ſhall flie to extremities, and break off from me with a frowardneſs altogether contrary to the reſpect and love which I thought I merited from you, and that you ſhould forbear to viſit me, or ſo much as look upon me in thoſe places where you met me: and that when out of an exceſs of goodneſs which I did not owe you, I ſought occaſions to be reconciled, and condeſcending to make you excuſes and reparations, you rejected them with pride and diſdain, and dealt with Julia as with a perſon who could not be without your affection. After all this Marcellus, do you think it ſtrange that I ſhould revenge my ſelf upon your ſcorn by ſome action that might be diſpleaſing to you, and that I ſhould make much of another to vex you, and beſtow that upon him in your preſence out of reſentment, which he could not hope for from my inclination? did you believe that Julia was a perſon ſo baſe and of ſo little conſideration with you, that upon the leaſt ſuſpicion, or rather the leaſt Capricio you ſhould come to ſuch terms with her as you have done? Is it by this proud and imperious manner of action that a ſpirit like mine is obliged? and did you imagine that I ought to ſuffer all things without any mark of ſenſibility; ſeeing that at the lighteſt matters you flie beyond all the bounds that love and decency could preſcribe?’

She pronounced theſe words with impetuoſity, and by the power ſhe had over me, ſhe gave them ſuch authority, as forced my ſpirit in part to ſuffer the effect which ſhe would have them produce. Yet I did not find my ſelf convinced: and continuing in my former terms out of an aſſurance of my own innocency: ‘Certainly I ſhould be faulty, ſaid I, and worthy of all the evil you have made me ſuffer, if I were ſuch as you have repreſented me: but you know very well your ſelf, if you pleaſe to call it to mind, that in ſtead of dealing with you in that manner wherewith you reproach me, I have alwaies looked upon you with all the veneration that a Divinity could exact: and that never any ſpirit was fuller of ſubmiſſion and difference towards another, than mine was towards yours. You have not poſſibly forgot to how many things this reſpect made me cloſe mine eyes, whereby I might very apparently have conjectured my misfortune, what credit I blindly gave to all that you were pleaſed to perſwade me to concerning the Prince of Mauritania: and how often I have given my eyes and my judgement the lie only to receive the impreſſions, which you would give me: If upon the knowledge of Druſus his good fortune which he merited not to my prejudice, I have forborn to render you viſits, and have not ſought occaſions of ſeeing you formerly, I have done it in obedience to your ſelf, or at leaſt to pleaſe you, after I underſtood from your own mouth, that I could oblige [Page] you in nothing more. If I forgot my ſelf, when you took the pains to ſpeak to me, in expreſſing ſomething to you of the knowledge I had of Druſus his fortune, in ſo juſt a reſentment, a moderate complaint was pardonable enough, and if I could not ſuffer the laſt and publick marks of his good hap, you cannot think it ſtrange, if you know that I have an heart ſenſible of love and honour, and incapable of ſuffering the outrages it received in both, by your preferring of Druſus before me. You may without doubt, replyed Julia, find ſome excuſes for your procedure, which I ſhould eaſily receive from any other but your ſelf; and I ſhould not have been very ſenſible of any thing from you which might have moved or diſpleaſed me, if I had not born you a real affection; but from you, whom I have ſo dearly loved, the leaſt things touch me to the heart: and I believed that you were much more obliged to me, then all others; I could not ſee you do any thing to the contrary, and from a diſtaſt, which I ſhould eaſily have imputed to the firſt motions of your paſſion, paſs to an obſtination againſt me, without being moved at it, and ſenſible of it in another manner, than without doubt I ſhould have been, had it been for any perſon leſs dear to me than Marcellus.’

I was about to anſwer her I know not how, being uncertain what belief I ſhould give to her words, when ſhe laid one of her hands upon my mouth, and accompanying this action with an all-attractive look, and a geſture full of ſweetneſs, and the ſecret charm wherewith ſhe ſubdues hearts: Speak no more, ſaid ſhe, and let neither of us ſeek any farther juſtification. I confeſs we have both failed, and my deſire is that we may agree, and be perfectly reconciled for the future. As ſhe uttered theſe words ſhe preſſed her hand againſt my mouth, whether it were to hinder me from ſpeaking, or by their favour, abſolutely to diſarm my juſt reſentments. O the power of this Tyrannical paſſion which we call love, or rather the feebleneſs of a Soul ſubject to love! by this a Soul loſes its light and ordinary underſtanding; and by this a Soul, which in the other actions of our life, leaves the government entirely to reaſon, ſubmits without reſiſtance to an imperious aſcendant, which overturns all rules, deſtroyes all appearances, and cloſes our eyes againſt all things but what may conſerve our errour.

Never poſſibly was any lover more juſtly unſatisfied with the perſon beloved, than I was with Julia; never was any inconſtancy more clearly declared than hers; nor ever was a Soul fortified, as I thought, with a more firm reſolution than mine, and yet (I am aſhamed, Tyridates, to confeſs it to you) at the leaſt attempt that this conſtant Princeſs would make to appeaſe the revolt of my ſpirit, which had rebelled againſt her authority, ſhe reduced it to a blind ſubmiſſion with all the facility that might be. I could not reſiſt either the words or the looks, or the charming action of this Princeſs, and though, by the light of the little reaſon I had left, I perceived part of her artifice, and could not find in her words any juſtification of her uſage towards me, yet all the reflections I could make upon what was paſt, had no power to keep or hinder me from falling again into the ſnare which I ſaw, and through my cruel deſtiny could not avoid.

In fine, whether out of weakneſs, I gave credit to part of that which Julia was pleaſed to perſwade me to, or not believing it, I was forced by the Empire ſhe had uſurped over me, to paſs by whatſoever my reaſon could repreſent to me, and neglected all things that might ſerve for my defence, I ſubmitted to the yoke more than ever, and ſaw my ſelf abandoned in one moment of all my reſolutions and reſentments; I caſt my eyes upon her face, and fetching a ſigh, and preſſing her hand againſt my mouth with a more paſſionate action than ever: O Julia, ſaid I to her, who can be able to defend himſelf againſt you, when you are pleaſed entirely to employ all your powers! I will not repeat to you all the diſcourſe that paſſed between us at this reconciliation; it will be ſufficient to let you know that Julia forgot nothing which might conduce to my ſatisfaction: and to perfect my cure, ſhe promiſed me never to look upon Druſus, but as the moſt indifferent perſon in the world.

A little after Scribonia and Octavia being returned to us, they read in my countenance part of the truth, and Scribonia who earneſtly deſired that I ſhould be reconciled to her Daughter, ſeemed as well contented with it as if ſome greater fortune had befallen her. After this firſt viſit Julia gave me many more with her Mother, till I was cured; and by the continuance of her careſſes, and her well placed favours, ſhe ſo perfectly baniſhed out of my mind all the remainders of the troubles ſhe had raiſed there, that I hardly remembred them; and when I went abroad, I viſited her, and ſerved her in the ſame manner as I had formerly done before Druſus engaged himſelf in her ſervice. She was punctual enough in what ſhe had promiſed concerning her quitting Druſus, and by a revolution which I knew neither how to comprehend, nor approve, though it were to my advantage, ſhe treated that Prince in ſuch ſort, that the people of Rome could hardly be of the opinion that ſhe ever [Page] eſteemed him in the leaſt. She never ſo much as ſent to enquire how he did during the time his wound retained him in his bed, after the day of our reconciliation, and when he was cured; and would have rendred her viſits, ſhe received him with ſuch coldneſs or diſdain rather, as quickly made him perceive that his pretenſions to her were ruined. To the firſt complaints he would have made to her of it, ſhe contented her ſelf to ſay, that ſhe muſt be obedient to the Emperors commands, who had enioyned her not to let him live in the hopes he had conceived of her, but to give her affections entirely to Marcellus; but when he would have preſſed her farther, alleadging to her that when ſhe gave him the firſt teſtimonies of her good will, ſhe was not ignorant of the Emperors intentions, which were always inclined to Marcellus, and that ſince he had not been guilty of any action which might make her ſo ſuddenly change her inclinations: Druſus, ſaid ſhe, would you have me confeſs the truth? When I began to ſhew you countenance, I was unſatisfied with Marcellus, but I was not abſolutely broken off from him: I made uſe of you to reduce him to his duty; and I had no better means to effect it than the jealouſie which I raiſed in him by my well treating of you: but now we are re-united according to the Emperors intention, and that he is reſolved ſhortly to joyn us together for ever, I counſel you, Druſus, to dream of ſomething elſe, and to quit all the pretentions you have had to Julia, ſince the will of her Father and her own proper inclinations, deſign her for another.

Never poſſibly was a man ſurprized as Druſus was at a diſcourſe in all appearance ſo little expected; and he was ſo offended at it, and did ſo highly reſent it, that all the reſpect he bare the Emperor and ſuch a Princeſs as Julia, was neceſſary to hinder him from being tranſported with anger. Julia gave him no time to reply, but retiring her ſelf as ſoon as ſhe had done ſpeaking, ſhe left him at liberty to digeſt his adventure.

Druſus being poſſeſſed with a violent grief, continued divers days in a ſtrange irreſolution, not knowing what courſe to take in ſo croſs a conjecture. As he really loved Julia, he could not diſpoſe himſelf to loſe the hopes he had conceived without very great violence, and his firſt thoughts inclined him to call me to account for his misfortune, and to end that which upon the ſame quarrel we had already begun. The ſevere prohibitions which the Emperor had laid upon us, were not able to avert him from it; and being naturally endued with the height of courage, he eaſily paſſed by all manner of difficulties and dangers, which might impede his reſolution: but a little after having made a ſtrong reflection upon the uſage, full of ſcorn and indignity which he had received from Julia, and valuing himſelf according to his own worth, he was not of opinion that for a perſon of that humour, and by whom he had been ſo uſed, he was obliged to attempt either the hazard of a combat, or the danger of drawing Caeſar's indignation upon him, or to expoſe himſelf to the leaſt pain or danger, which might expreſs any remainder of affection to her, or any grief for her loſs.

It was not without great ſtruglings that Druſus gained this victory over his paſſion; but joyning divers conſiderations to his reſentment, which might ſtrengthen the deſigns wherewith his choler inſpired him, and rightly judging that though he might hope for a ſecond change of Julia's mind, yet he ſhould hardly overcome Auguſtus his will, which was wholly bent for me by the counſel of his friends, his kindred, and Livia her ſelf, who ſympathized as much in his reſentment as ſhe had done in his good ſucceſs, he took a final reſolution never to think more of Julia. So long as he continued irreſolute, he ſeldom appeared in publick: but when he was confirmed in his deſigne, he did not only ſhew himſelf to his friends with his former chearfulneſs, he did not only let Julia know upon all occaſions how little he was troubled at the loſs of her affections: but to make it finally appear how little he was intereſſed in the buſineſs, and how little he envied me, from the coldneſs which was between us, he deſired to paſs to another kind of life with me, and accoſting me one day in ſuch a manner as if there had never been any quarrel between us: Marcellus, ſaid he to me, I have formerly yielded Julia to you againſt my will, but now I leave her to you with all my heart: I am willing to believe that you will conſerve her affections a long time, and that ſpirit which you are better acquainted with than I, will poſſibly ſtay it ſelf upon a merit ſuch as yours; I will not any more diſpute nor envy that fortune to a Prince, who without doubt deſerves a better, but to comfort me for what you have taken from me, which was more juſtly due to you than to me, I deſire the honour of your friendſhip, whereof henceforward I will make greater account than of all the affections of Julia.

This diſcourſe of Druſus ſurprized me at the firſt, and I knew not at the beginning how I ought to anſwer him, if at the end he had not made me to underſtand his intention; and by the gentleneſs of his proceeding, had not obliged me to expreſs the like freedom to him. Druſus, replyed I to him, if the affection of Julia were more due to me than to you, it was becauſe I had beſtowed the greateſt part of my life in her ſervice, whereas you had [Page] hardly employed ſome months of yours therein. I hope I ſhall fix her ſpirit better than I have done for the time paſt, ſince you ceaſe to diſpute her with me, and I ſhall little fear my other rivals, ſince by my good fortune I am freed from the moſt formidable. The obligation I have to you for it, makes me willingly grant you the friendſhip you demand, and I ſhall alwayes infinitely eſteem yours for the knowledge I have of your vertue.

After theſe words we embraced each other, and as I really had as good an opinion of Druſus, as could be conceived of any man, and that his perſon was very amiable in all reſpects, in ſpight of the diſpleaſures I had received from him, I had no unwillingneſs to become his friend after he expreſſed a deſire of it, and requeſted it with ſo good a grace. In [...]ffect, after this day, we began to converſe together, not only as two perſons which had no quarrel to each other, but as two men which had a particular eſteem of each other. Druſus accoſted Julia no more, but only to render her that which was due to Caeſar's daughter without any other intereſt, and he never expreſſed either by diſcourſe or action, that any thing of his paſſion was yet remaining. Livia being extraordinarily animated againſt Julia, and loſing the hope of being more cloſely allyed to Auguſtus, confirmed her ſon in his reſolution, and counſelled him to ſeek by other ways, a fortune which could not eſcape his birth and good qualities.

At this time I lived in ſome repoſe with Julia, receiving from her all manner of proofs of her good will, and expecting from Caeſar within a few dayes, the concluſion which ſhould finally remedy my paſſion. The Princeſs Cleopatra, of whom I am obliged to ſpeak to you, had likewiſe time to take breath after the perſecutions under which ſhe had ſo much ſuffered; and though ſhe were ſtill expoſed to the attempts of Tyberius, ſhe was no longer affraid of them, ſeeing they were no longer upheld by a tyrannical authority; and Caeſar keeping himſelf exactly to the Oath which he had made, permitted Tyberius only to act by his ſervices, without offering any violence to the inclinations of Cleopatra: It was not but that he cauſed her to be ſollicited in favour of his Wife's Son; and offered her ſuch advantageous conditions in eſpouſing him, as might content the higheſt ambition: but it was always by ways of ſweetneſs, without employing his authority in it; and by theſe means, as well as by the former, he wrought ſo little effect upon the ſpirit of this conſtant Princeſs, that Tyberius deſpairing to conquer her, reſolved to quit Rome, with an intention, as it was reported, to go ſeek out Coriolanus in Africa, and call him to an account, not only as an obſtacle to his felicity, as far off as he was, but alſo for the wound he had given him, by which he was reduced to the extremity of his life, and for which he was engaged in honour to require ſatisfaction.

He was upon the point of departure, and I in the condition and poſture I told you of, when the news came to Rome of the great Victories which Coriolanus had obtained in Africa. 'Twas known, that after he had vanquiſhed all Voluſius his Lieutenants in divers Battels, he had at length in the laſt totally defeated him, and taken Voluſius himſelf priſoner, that the two Mauritania's had generally ſubmitted to his arms, and that nothing reſiſted him in his Fathers Dominions, whereof he was then the peaceable poſſeſſor.

Whatſoever intereſt I took in the Emperor's affairs, the amity I bare to Coriolanus was more ſtrong, and though I was obliged to conceal part of my thoughts, that I might not totally incenſe the mind of Auguſtus againſt me, I felt a joy for the good ſucceſs of mv friend, equal at leaſt to what I could be ſenſible of for mine own: I expreſſed it to Cleopatra continually; and that generous Princeſs, though for the conqueſt of a Crown, ſhe could not more eſteem of a Prince, whom ſhe loved for the onely qualities of his perſon, yet ſhe rejoyced in the part ſhe took in his glory, and we entertained each other with our mutual ſatisfaction, when we received the knowledge of the little cauſe we had to intereſs our ſelves in the good fortunes of that unfaithful Prince; and that by the black treaſon which he committed againſt each of us, he obliged us to change our former affections into great reſentments, and a violent hatred againſt him. You are about to underſtand, Tyridates, the cauſe of this change which hath amazed you: and as I paſs to the laſt effects of the inconſtancy of Julia, I will likewiſe relate to you the black perfidiouſneſs of this ungrateful friend, whoſe defence you have undertaken without knowledge of him, whom I cannot call to mind without afflicting my ſelf with too juſt a grief.

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA: OR, Love's Maſter-Piece. PART V.
LIB. IV.

[Page]

ARGUMENT.

Marcellus heing about to continue his ſtory, is interrupted by the return of Arſanes from Judea, who brings the ſad news of Mariamne's death. Tyridates is ſtruck to the heart with it, and commands Arſanes to give him the particulars. He relates Salmoe's plots to abuſe Herod's jealouſie to Mariamne's ruine. Mariamne inconſiderately reproaches Herod with the bloody orders he had left with Joſeph and Sohemus to kill her if he miſcarried. This heightens Herod's jealouſie which is blown into a flame by Salmone's malice. He impriſons Mariamne and ſends Judges to examine her. She rejects him, which puts him into a rage. Philon and Sohemus are put to the torture, who confeſs ſomething concerning Tyridates. Herod by Salome's inſtigation gives order to put Mariamne to death, which is immediately executed. Mariamne dyes with an unexampled constancy. Arſanes having finiſhed his ſtory, Tyridates expires, and fulfills Thraſillus his prediction.

MArcellus would have gone on with this narration, and Tyridates who out of the intereſt he took in the juſtification of Coriolanus, had heard this paſſage with impatience, diſpoſed himſelf to great attention: when he ſaw a man come into his chamber, by the ſight of whom all the curioſity he had to hear ſtrange adventures was diſſipated, and at whoſe ſight he appeared all amazed and aſtoniſhed. This was Arſanes that faithful Servant, to whom he had ſuch grand obligations, whom a month before he had ſent into Judea to learn news of the Queen Mariamne. Tyridates no ſooner knew him, but the trouble of his ſoul diſcovered it felt by divers ſigns; and by this powerful ſeizure almoſt forgetting the preſence of Marcellus, and raiſing himſelf up to Arſanes, Ah! Arſanes, cryed he, what news do you bring me? Arſanes, who poſſibly upon the way was prepared to diſguiſe to his Maſter the truth of the news he had heard, being touched at his ſight with an extraordinary tenderneſs, had not conſtancy enough to hold the reſolution he had taken, and inſtead of making him the anſwer which he had premeditated to no purpoſe; by a ſilence full of trouble and confuſion, and a viſage full of the deepeſt characters of ſorrow, he made him comprehend that he had none but bad news to tell him: yet he would have forced himſelf to diſſemble ſome part of it, and opened his mouth twice to ſpeak againſt his thoughts, but by the conſtraint which he would have laid upon himſelf, his diſorder was redoubled; and not finding courage enough to perform what in vain he had attempted, he let fall ſome tears from his eyes, which he held fixed upon the ground, and continued mute with the countenance of a Man forlorn.

This was ſpeech enough to make himſelf be underſtood by the unfortunate Tyridates. [Page] At this ſight a mortal ſhivering ran through his whole body, and he accounted himſelf condemned by this mournful ſilence more certainly than by a fatal ſentence: all the fear which the troubled thoughts of the precedent days, and the terrible dreams of the laſt night had imprinted in his mind, returned upon him in a moment with mortal terrors; and he remained before Arſanes in a poſture which ſufficiently expreſſed the cruel agitation of his ſoul.

After he had a while beheld the countenanc of his faithful Servant, whereupon he ſaw his misfortune lively painted out, he retired a few ſteps back, looking upon him with a very pitiful geſture: Ah! Arſanes, ſaid he, I am undone; and without doubt you have none but ſad news to tell me. Arſanes for all this diſcourſe did not as yet ſee himſelf in a condition to reply, and the compaſſion which he had for the grief, which he himſelf was about to cauſe in his dear Maſter, produced ſuch tender effects in his ſpirit, that he was forced to give a freſh courſe to thoſe tears which before he had endeavoured to reſtrain with violence.

The afflicted Tyridates reading the confirmation of his miſery in theſe ſad marks of ſo ſtrong a grief: Ah! cryed he, let us enquire no farther, we muſt dye without doubt, either Mariamne deteſts me, or elſe Mariamne hath no longer a being in the World. At theſe words he let himſelf fall upon a chair, where he continued like a man forlorn, and in a condition which touched the ſoul of Marcellus with a tender compaſſion.

In the mean time Arſanes uſed his utmoſt endeavours to compoſe himſelf: and having recovered courage enough to be able to ſpeak, after he had dryed up his tears in part, and attempted to fix ſome marks of conſtancy upon his countenance: Sir, ſaid he to his Maſter, the affection I bear you hath betrayed me, and Your preſence hath made me loſe all the reſolution I had taken to ſpare you, or at leaſt a while to keep from you a violent grief: I might have concealed from you for a time the ſad news I had to tell you: but in fine, I could not keep you from the knowledge of it, and it is of ſuch importance that the report of it will quickly be ſpread over all the World, I much wonder that it is not already come to your ears by ſome other mouth than mine: and it is by the cruelty of his deſtiny, that the moſt affectionate of your ſervants ſees himſelf reduced to give you the moſt ſenſible diſpleaſure that you can poſſibly receive.

Arſanes ſtopt at theſe words, and Tyridates finding in them whatſoever of cruelty his fears had ſuggeſted to him, lifted up his eyes and hands to Heaven with an action full of tranſport; Mariamne is dead, ſaid he, with a great cry, Mariamne is dead without doubt, and for a diſaſter of any other nature, Arſanes would never have loſt his courage. You have but too rightly divined, replyed Arſanes, Mariamne is not any longer in the World; and by a deplorable deſtiny I am condemned to acquaint You with this fatal truth.

Theſe words were like the blow of a thunder-bolt, wherewith the unfortunate Tyridates ſaw himſelf ſtruck dead; and Arſanes had no ſooner uttered them, but the Prince his ſtrength utterly failed him, his eyes grew dim, and he remained cold and pale between Marcellus his arms, who ſeeing him faint, ſtept out to help him: the deſolate Arſanes, and the Roman Prince could not ſee him in this condition, without being touched with a tender compaſſion: and Marcellus who inſtead of the comfort that he was made to hope for, ſaw himſelf conducted by his ill fortune to this pitiful ſpectacle, received this addition to his diſpleaſures with great reſentments. He ſtrove as much as the compaſſion of humane miſeries, and the motions of his particular generoſity could oblige him, to give aſſiſtance to the Prince being fallen into a trance; he threw water in his face divers times, and uſed all the ordinary remedies, to make him recover his ſenſes; but it was no ſuch eaſie matter, and the Prince was in ſo deep a ſwoon, that for a whole hour they could not make him come to himſelf.

At length by tormenting him they forced him to open his eyes, but he opened them only to terrible objects, and there was nothing in the world but what was odious and horrible to him. Grief was too ſtrong in his ſoul to produce common effects; and it was not expreſſed by exclamations or terms; death only, which at the firſt preſented it ſelf to the deſpairing Prince, and ſuch a death as Thraſillus had formerly foretold, ſeemed conformable to his thoughts, and was received by him as his only remedy, and as his only conſolation. He turned his eyes, which already looked wildly, and were bepainted with the colours of death towards Arſanes, who ſtood by him melting into tears, and ſtifling ſome ſobs which would have hindred the paſſage of his ſpeech: Is Mariamne dead then, ſaid he, and doth Tyridates ſtay one moment in the World after the loſs of Mariamne? Arſanes had not the aſſurance to give an anſwer to theſe words, and Marcellus well conſidering that it was unjuſt and unprofitable to oppoſe the firſt motions of ſo lively and ſo juſt a grief, kept the like ſilence, and contented himſelf to ſtay by Tyridates, whom during his trance they had laid upon the bed, and to obſerve his actions, for fear leſt in the violence of his deſpair he might make ſome attempt [Page] upon his own life. He made no ſign of having any ſuch deſign, and perceiving that death approached of it ſelf, without being otherwiſe invited, he attended it with a ſatisfaction which partly moderated his grief; hardly any complaints iſſued out of his mouth, he only uttered ſometimes the name of Mariamne, and continuing in a profound meditation upon his calamity, he drew on, as much as he could poſſible, by theſe fatal thoughts, the remedy which muſt re-unite him to his beloved Queen.

After an hours ſilence, which had ſomething in it more doleful than the moſt mournful cries and lamentations, having called Arſanes to him, Inform me, ſaid he to him, what was the end of the Queen Mariamne; tell me whether the Gods or Men advanced it, and do not forget the particularities of it, which are come to your knowledge. Ah! Sir, ſaid Arſanes, ſpare me if you pleaſe that diſpleaſure, and ſtay till your ſpirit be in another condition to hear a relation which without doubt will redouble your grief. That ſtay will be unprofitable, replyed Tyridates, my reſolution is already taken, and the condition neither of my grief nor life can be changed by your diſcourſe.

He uttered theſe few words with a very lamentable look and action, and Arſanes having in vain alledged ſome excuſes to be diſpenſed withall from this ſad narration, upon an abſolute command diſpoſed himſelf at laſt to obey him, Tyridates prepared himſelf for it with an apparent conſtancy, which cauſed admiration in Marcellus, and ſome deſpair in Arſanes of qualifying his Maſter's ſpirit: and after that Marcellus melting with compaſſion at this deplorable adventure, was ſate down by Tyridates to hear this ſad narration, Arſanes with a great deal of pain began in theſe terms.

The Hiſtory of Mariamne.

I Will relate to you, Sir, ſeeing you command me, and my evil deſtiny will have it ſo, the end of a great Queen who was worthy of your affections, and the admiration of the whole earth: I will recount to you the particularities of it in a few words, as I have underſtood them (from ſuch of her Domeſticks who beſt knew them) in Jeruſalem, where the Queen rendred up her Soul two daies before I arrived.

Herod's humour and manner of life with Mariamne is ſufficiently known to you, Sir, and you have not forgotten in what condition you left her at your departure from Judea; Jealouſie, to which he was inclined above all other men, tormented him at that time with very great violence, and during ſome daies his rage expreſſed it ſelf by all the marks he could give it without coming to thoſe cruel extremities to which he was ſince tranſported: he complained highly of the Queen, whom he termed unfaithful, and againſt whom he vomited out whatſoever his unjuſt paſſion could put into his mouth, and the wicked Salome, whoſe rage was augmented by your departure, and the ſcorn you made of her affections inſpired theſe reſentments into him as much as poſſibly ſhe could, and did not let ſlip any occaſion to exaſperate him more and more againſt the Queen, whom ſhe could only accuſe of having robbed her of an heart to which ſhe pretended, but in vain.

This ſavage ſpirit being ſuſceptible of all bad impreſſions eaſily received what this wicked Siſter would have him; and in this rage to which he was immoderately abated, he continued divers daies without ſeeing the Queen, or hearing her ſpoken of by them who out of a good zeal interpoſed for their reconciliation. Mariamne thought her ſelf never the more unhappy for this, and the careſſes of this cruel man being as inſupportable as the effects of his choler, ſhe would have been contented to have continued in the ſame condition with him, if ſhe had not been accuſed to have drawn this diſgrace upon her ſelf by ſome action wherewith ſhe might be reproached, and whereby ſhe might ſeem to have deviated from that ſublime vertue to which ſhe had alwaies born ſo great a love.

The reſentments of Herod continued as long as poſſibly they could, but at laſt they gave place to his love; and he really bearing a very violent affection to the Queen his Wife, by this force the indignation he had conceived againſt her was diſſipated, and he returned to her more kind and humble than before; he expreſſed his repentance for what was paſt, and conjured her to retain no memory of it, as he would forget the ſuſpicions which he had conceived againſt her fidelity. The Queen, whatſoever repugnance ſhe had againſt the perſon and humour of Herod, did yet reſpect the character of an Husband; and being full of a generous goodneſs, by the regret which he teſtified to her by very ſignificant expreſſions, ſhe was pacified, as ſhe believed it was her duty to be, and ſhe was reconciled unto him as far as the diſproportion of their manners, and the memory of the cruel injuries ſhe had received in the death of all her relations would permit.

Herod's mind was in ſome repoſe, and there were general appearances enough of it in the Court. Salome only, and thoſe ſhe had drawn to her party even dyed with deſpight in [Page] the publick tranquility, and could not endure peace in the Royal Family, without having a cruel war in their hearts. Herod was continually with the Queen, and expreſſed to her the ſame ardency of affection as he did in the beginning of his paſſion: and by your abſence having loſt the object which might put him again in diſtruſt, he continued a long time without ſhewing any mark of jealouſie, only the unwillingneſs of the Queen to endure his careſſes, cauſed ſometimes ſome diſorder between them: and as it was a difficult thing that this Princeſs ſhould keep her ſelf in an eternal conſtraint, and for a Man whom ſhe had ſo many reaſons to hate, ſo ſhe could not chooſe ſometimes but receive him with coldneſs, and expreſs but little ſweetneſs or complacency to him.

Herod's ſpirit was then tranſported with very violent exceſſes, and Salome ſeeing him in this condition, loſt no time nor occaſion to repreſent to him, that the diſdains of Mariamne proceeded from the memory of Tyridates, which abſence could not blot out of her mind. Herod's jealouſie eaſily renewed it ſelf at this diſcourſe; and as long as he was tormented by it, he flew out into diſcourſes, and ſometimes into deſigns full of violence; but at length love returned more powerful than Salome, and all that the ſolicitations of that wicked Creature had raiſed againſt the innocent Queen, was overthrown by this predominant paſſion in Herod's ſoul. In this ſort they paſſed a whole year, that one could not tell what to call their kind of life, peace, or open War, and poſſibly they might have lived a longer time in this manner, if the deſtiny of this fair Princeſs had not been haſtened by a terrible diſaſter.

Herod having one day ſent to intreat the Queen to come into his Chamber, ſhe, whether ſhe were buſie about ſomething which was more dear to her than the ſight of that cruel Man, or whether ſhe were then in the height of averſneſs from him, as the memory of the injuries ſhe had received renewed in her mind, refuſed divers times to go; and at laſt being extraordinarily preſſed to it, ſhe diſpoſed her ſelf to render him this viſit; but ſhe did it with a countenance, whereupon Herod might eaſily read the repugnance ſhe had to give him this ſatisfaction. Herod upon this diſcovery being netled with a violent diſpleaſure, could not diſſemble it any more than ſhe, and greeting her with a diſcontented look: I am very ſorry Madam, ſaid he, that you are obliged by any law to offer that violence to your ſelf that you do: and if I had not this violent paſſion for you, which by your bad uſage you endeavour to baniſh out of my ſoul as you can poſſibly, I ſhould leſs often give you the trouble of ſeeing an Husband, which by his misfortune is become ſo odious to you.

The Queen was little troubled at Herod's words, and looking upon him with a diſdainful eye: ‘I hate You not, anſwered ſhe, the God whom we ſerve, and my duty forbid that; but you may well imagine that my affections could not be ſtrengthned towards you by ſuch bloody diſpleaſures as you have done me. Ah! ungrateful Woman, replyed the Jewiſh King, proud, cruel, and irreconcilable ſpirit, wilt thou never put an end to thy unjuſt reproaches, wilt thou eternally ſerve thy ſelf with the pretence of injuries and diſpleaſures, to palliate the natural averſion thou haſt againſt thy husband? Though I had received this averſion, anſwered the Queen, from my nature, I ſhould have known how to have bridled it by my duty, and I ſhould have reduced my ſpirit to fit terms of ſubmiſſion to an Husband, if in ſtead of my Husband he were not become the murtherer of all my Friends, and my particular perſecutor. Ah! replyed Herod, you are to blame to complain of my perſecutions, and hitherto I have not perſecuted you, but with too much love: 'tis for that you may really reproach me; and though you had ſome reaſon to accuſe me for the misfortune of your friends, yet by the ardent teſtimonies of my love, which I give you every moment of my life, theſe reſentments would have been effaced out of any ſpirit but yours. Ah! what teſtimonies, anſwered Mariamne, what teſtimonies do you give me of your love, which may endear me more than thoſe actions, whereby you have rendred me the moſt unfortunate of all Women? What teſtimonies? replyed Herod, can you be ignorant of them, ungrateful and unacknowledging Woman? have you your eyes only open to injuries, and will you eternally keep them ſhut againſt all the proofs of this violent paſſion, whereby I have loſt the reproof of my life? Do not you remember that for you alone I abandon the care of my Subjects, and of my own perſon, which by your ingratitude you expoſe every day to the extremities of grief?’

The Queen not able to diſſemble her thoughts in this rancounter, and by too prompt a precipitation loſing part of that prudent precaution which ſhe had hitherto uſed in the conduct of her life: You forget, ſaid ſhe in a diſdainful manner, to put me in mind of the moſt important proofs of your love, and you would not have me know the obligations I have to you for the care you had of my ſafety in the Voyages you made to Laodicea and to Rhodes, to Anthony and to Auguſtus. It is certain, anſwered Herod, who did not at firſt apprehend the reproach ſhe would make him, that in ſpight of your cruelty nothing was ſo ſenſible and [Page] ſo inſupportable to me in thoſe Uoyages, as the regret of being abſent from you, and they who ſaw me in that time of abſence, obſerved ſufficiently in all my actions that I was ſeparated from the better part of myſelf. It was for this reaſon, added the Queen, that in both the Voyages you gave ſuch excellent orders, firſt to Joſeph, and afterwards to Sohemus, for the conſervation of my life, and this part of your ſelf was ſo dear to you, that you were not willing that death it ſelf ſhould ſeparate you from it.

At theſe words Herod ſeemed to be ſtruck with a thunder-bolt, and inſtantly calling to mind the orders he had really given to Joſeph and Sohemus for the death of Mariamne, he preſently underſtood this reproach. He had hitherto believed that ſhe was ignorant of this effect of his cruelty, and he had ſo odered the ſecret to thoſe whom he had choſen for the Miniſters of his cruel intentions, that he could not imagine that for any conſideration they could ever reſolve to diſcover it: but contrary to his expectation receiving this knowledge of the contrary, and not being able to diſſemble to the Queen this horrible effect of his jealouſie, he continued confounded and amazed, expreſſing the motions of his ſoul by his ſilence, and by the aſtoniſhment which appeared in his viſage. The ſhame of ſeeing his villany diſcovered to that Perſon of the world, who ſhould have been moſt ignorant of it, was the firſt paſſion which poſſeſſed him, and which made him hold his eyes fixed upon the earth, without daring to raiſe them to the face of the ſo juſtly offended Queen: then he thought upon the ill office he had received from his Subjects, and ſighed with grief for the infidelity of thoſe in whom he moſt confided: and in fine, having an outragious ſpirit, and capable, by what he perceived in himſelf, to entertain the ſtrangeſt thoughts, he imagined that Joſeph and Sohemus could not have betrayed the confidence he had in them, nor have failed in their duty to him, both in regard of their birth, and the benefits they had received of him, but for the love of Mariamne.

This thought which threw it ſelf with violence into his ſoul, found as much room there to eſtabliſh it ſelf as could be; and he knowing the powers of Mariamne, by the daily proof he made of them, made no further doubt but that by them only the fidelity of Joſeph and Sohemus was ſtaggered. Jealouſie, that furious paſſion, to which he naturally had ſo much inclination, poſſeſſed it ſelf incontinently of his ſoul, and as in a place taken by aſſault, it preſently ſet all on fire: the blackeſt ſuſpicions he could conceive of the vertue of Mariamne, preſented themſelves to his imaginations, and the proofs he had received of it upon ſo many occaſions, could not in this laſt defend it from the criminal impreſſions which eſtabliſhed themſelves in his ſoul. Ah! cryed he, all in a rage, I am betrayed, I am undone, both Heaven and Earth abandon me, and all thoſe whom I thought worthy of my friendſhip and my confidence, ingratefully unite themſelves to ruine me: Ah envious Heaven! Ah diſloyal Wife! ah ungratefull and perfidious Servants! to what extremities do you reduce me?

After theſe words he continued ſome while without ſpeaking, revolving in his mind a thouſand furious reſolutions, and walking in the Chamber with an action full of fury and tranſport. The conſtant Queen who ſaw him in this condition, was little moved at the expreſſions of his choler; but ſhe repented ſhe had ſpoken ſo much, and that by her diſcourſe ſhe had expoſed to the rage of this cruel man, thoſe whoſe ruine ſhe foreſaw already, ſhe would have remedied it if it had been poſſible for her, but ſhe could not revoke what ſhe had ſaid, and conſidering with her ſelf which way to avert the tempeſt which hung over their heads and threatned them, ſhe continued in ſilence not without ſome confuſedneſs, which confirmed the jealous King in his unworthy imaginations.

After he had continued a while in this condition, he approached the Queen with a pale and disfigured countenance, and viewing her with a furious eye from head to foot: ‘Thoſe which told thee of my intentions, ſaid he to her, told thee but the truth; and it imports me nothing to deny it, that out of a violent exceſs of love I would not have left thee after my death, either to thy Friends or to my Enemies: yes, my deſign was not to be ſeparated from thee by death it ſelf, and I ſhould have been too happy if I had performed in my lifetime what I have commanded to be done after my death. Thoſe perfidious perſons who have betrayed me, have told thee nothing but the plain truth, but they did not diſpoſe themſelves to deceive the confidence I had in their friendſhip, and expoſe themſelves to the puniſhments which are due to their infidelity, but upon ſome powerful conſiderations; thou haſt without doubt propoſed a recompence to them, which hath made them deſpiſe what they could expect from me, and not fear that death which they affronted in betraying me. It was not by a preſent of ſmall price that thou haſt corrupted thoſe perſons which had been always moſt faithful to me, and Joſeph who is one of the moſt eminent ranks in Judea, as being my near ally, and Sohemus, whom by my bounty I had put into a condition not to aſpire to Riches by ſo dangerous a Treaſon, could not have been ſeduced by any Power inferior to thy beauty: theſe are the charms which have gained them, and [Page] thy favors only have made them contemn the dangers which might divert them from their Treaſon.’

Herod pronounced theſe words with an impetuoſity which ſufficiently expreſſed the cruel agitation of his Soul, and the Queen having hearkned to him with an admirable patience: ‘Say what thou wilt, ſaid ſhe to him, againſt a Perſon who is no longer in a condition to receive new offences, either by this action, or by thy diſcourſe; and God hath diſcovered to me the fatal orders which thou gaveſt againſt my life by other ways than thou imagineſt; and thoſe whom thou ſuſpecteſt to have revealed thy ſecret, are not they by whom thy cruel intentions are made known unto me. This is thy cuſtome, replyed Herod, crying out more than before, to excuſe thy lovers in the bloody out-rages they do me, and thou takeſt care of their love, who never hadſt any care of thy Husbands repoſe or thine own reputation. Thou wouldſt have rendred the like office to the perfidious Tyberius; and thoſe favours which thou hadſt prodigally beſtowed upon a Barbarous Prince are ſince communicated to my allies, and deſcended to my Domeſtiques. This is the high ſpirit, this is that pride which hitherto hath made part of our diviſions; and the haughty blood of the Aſmoneans, which diſdained a King her husband, hath debaſed it ſelf even to Sohemus.’

In concluſion, he gave her a thouſand reproaches full of injuries, againſt which the Queen did nor vouchſafe to juſtifie her ſelf; but looking upon him with more diſdain than [...]: ‘Thou may'ſt believe, ſaid ſhe, whatſoever thy rage can inſpire thee with againſt me: the outragious reproaches which thou layeſt upon me ſhew the baſeneſs of thy ſoul and of thy birth, and I ſcorn thee too much to take any care to defend my ſelf againſt thy unworthy accuſations. Thy care would be but in vain, replyed the Jewiſh King, and thou mayſt reſerve thy juſtifications for the defence of a Life which I have ſpared but too long: the time is come that I will mock at th [...] ſcorn, and thy infidelities ſhall be puniſhed: that love which hitherto hath guarded thee againſt my too juſt reſentments, ſhall no longer oppoſe it ſelf againſt my juſtice; and I have loſt that fatal paſſion which created all my misfortunes, ſince I have diſcovered amongſt thy lovers the baſeſt of my Domeſtiques; they ſhall pay me part of the offences they had done me by their blood, and torments ſhall draw ſuch verities out of their mouths, as ſhall make thy ſhame and perfidiouſneſs appear to the world.’

Having ſpoken theſe words, to which the Queen had not time, nor poſſibly any deſign to reply; he called the Officers of the Guard, and commanded them upon pain of death, to conduct the Queen preſently to the Priſon, to which they were wont to commit Perſons of Quality. The Queen ſubmitted to this command with leſs repugnance than ſhe had to come into his chamber, and ſhe followed the officers whither they would have her, without ſpeaking a word, or changing countenance.

At the ſame time he ſent other Officers to ſeize upon Joſeph and Sohemus; and though the former had married his Aunt, and was of a conſiderable rank amongſt the Jews, yet he uſed him with no more gentleneſs than Sohemus, but ſent them both into ſeveral parts of the Priſon. He had hardly given theſe orders, but the wicked Salome having learned by her ſpies, whom ſhe had ordinarily about him, part of what he had paſſed, came to ſee him in his Chamber, where ſhe found him in the violent agitations of rage and tranſport. He no ſooner ſaw her, but coming to her with a disfigured countenance: Siſter, ſaid he I am very ſorry that I did not follow your counſel long ſince: and I had freed my ſelf of thoſe mortal diſpleaſures which torment me, if I had not ſuffered my ſelf to be ſo much blinded with the love of this Woman, which Heaven hath given me for the ſcourge and Plague of my Life 'Tis not only upon Tyridates that this ungrateful Woman beſtowes her affections ſhe deſcends to Jews of a much inferior Birth than that Barbarian Prince, and at laſt debaſes her ſelf even to my Domeſtiques.

Salome made as if ſhe were amazed at this diſcourſe, and by a miſchievous and dangerous addreſs, whereby ſhe gave more room and credit to her artifices, ſhe fainted at firſt as if ſhe would have excuſed the Queen, and not have given credit to ſo apparent accuſations. Herod who though prudent and ſubtile in all other things, had incredible weakneſſes in things of this nature, fell into the ſnare which ſhe laid him; and oppoſing her ſeemingly officious humor, with the teſtimonies which he believed he had of Mariamnes infidelity, he related to her with a diſcourſe full of vehemence and impetuoſity, what had paſſed at this laſt viſit that ſhe had rendred him; he confeſſed to her, that upon the knowledge he had of Anthonies amorous inclinations, and the advice he had received, that Gallus had carried the Pourtracture of Mariamne to that Prince to make him affect her; at his departure to go to him at Laodicea, he commandeth Joſeph, if he died in this Voyage, to put Mariamne to death, not being willing that ſhe ſhould ſurvive him, to enjoy with Anthony the fruit of a death, [Page] which poſſibly ſhe might have procured him; and that upon the ſame conſideration he had given the ſame order to Sohemus when he went to Rhodes, to appear before Auguſtus, but that he had commended the ſecret to them both in ſuch a manner, and had engaged them beſides to the fidelity which they owed him by ſo many benefits, that Mariamne could not have perverted them but by favours exceeding his, and by proofs of affection, which made them both deſpiſe the friendſhip of their King, and death which they might infallibly expect for betraying him.

Salome ſhrank her ſhoulders at this diſcourſe, and feigning to be of the Kings mind againſt her will: ‘It is very difficult, ſaid ſhe, to guard ones ſelf from the misfortune which it pleaſes Heaven to ſend us, and principally in things ſo little foreſeen, and ſo far from appearance. I never doubted but that Mariamne loved Tyridates, but I ſhould not have believed that ſhe had fallen ſo low as Sohemus, if in the diſcourſe you have made me, I did not ſee proofs ſufficiently convincing. Ah diſloyal woman, continued ſhe, after ſhe had kept ſilence a while, who would have imagined, that ſhe being ſo poſſeſſed with pride, ſhould have had baſeneſs enough too to beſtow her affections upon Sohemus. She continued after theſe words ſome moments without ſpeaking with counterfeit ſigns of amazement and ſorrow; then on a ſuddain beginning again, Sir, ſaid ſhe, you have too much courage to ſuffer your ſelf to be overcome by affection; and if you take counſel of perſons who are really faithful to you, and allyed to you in blood, or by ancient affection, you will not ſuffer this proud and diſloyal woman to enjoy the glory of having reduced you to the extremity of grief. Diſpleaſures of this nature ought not to overturn your repoſe with ſo much violence, and the offence you have received in your honour, is not ſo much but you may eaſily remedy it: Strip your ſelf only of this love; which creates all the misfortunes of your life, and makes you blind to your moſt powerful intereſts, and darkned the light of your underſtanding: draw out by the means you have to do it, the full diſcovery of the treaſon they have committed againſt you, puniſh the culpable which expoſe you to ſuch bloody diſpleaſures, and in fine, make her ſubmit to your juſtice, whom you could never make ſubmit to your love. I am ſo reſolved upon it, ſaid Herod to her, that all humane conſiderations ſhall not be able to hinder me from it; and ſince Mariamne hath not been affraid to reduce me to the extremity of ſhame and diſpleaſure, I will not be more affraid to make my uttermoſt reſentments appear againſt her, than if ſhe were one of my meaneſt ſubjects. This is a reſolution from which nothing ſhall be able to move me, and you ſhall ſee me go about it without farther delay.’

They had likewiſe other diſcourſe together, which was related by perſons who were near enough to hear them, though the little importance of it hinders me from relating it to you. By the counſel of Salome, before ſhe went out of the Chamber, Herod ſent likewiſe to lay hold on Philon the Queens chief Eunuch, and other perſons in whom ſhe had expreſſed to have ſome confidence: all preſently became ſuſpected to this cruel man, and he diſpoſed himſelf by the advice of his cruel Siſter, and Pheroras, who came a little after, and was received for a third perſon in his Tragical converſation, to extort confeſſions by torments from thoſe feeble Souls, wherein they might find an apparent occaſion to deſtroy his vertuous Princeſs.

Ah Monſter! cryed out Tyridates at this part of Arſanes his diſcourſe; Ah Barbarian! how unworthy wert thou of that precious gift of Heaven, which any but a Tygre like thy ſelf would have had in ſacred veneration all his life? It muſt needs be that the indignation of the God which thou ſerveſt, was abſolutely declared againſt this Royal family, from which thou haſt uſurped the Crown with ſo much injuſtice and cruelty: and it muſt needs be that the Divine providence was aſleep, when it abandoned to thy rage, the greateſt, and the moſt worthy thing of its protection, that ever it ſent amongſt men. Tyridates accompanied theſe words with ſobs, which hindered him from ſpeaking more: and Arſanes having taken this moment of intermiſſion, purſued thus his diſcourſe.

It will not be eaſie to expreſs to you how the whole Court of Judea took the diſgrace of their fair Queen, and what the reſentments of the Jewiſh people were, when they ſaw the laſt and faireſt blood of their lawful Kings ready to be ſhed, by the ſame cruelty which had been the deſtruction of all their Princes: the chiefeſt of them murmured highly at it, the weaker ſort did tacitely deplore the diſaſters of that Illuſtrious Houſe; and both together ſacrificed their tears to perſecuted Vertue and Innocence.

Herod, the moſt politick of men, deſiring to diſcover all his actions with a Maſque of juſtice whether it were that he feared Auguſtus his authority, who (maugre the amity and protection, he had promiſed him) made him tremble every day, or that he feared an inſurrection of an ill affected people; appointed Judges for Mariamne to interrogate her upon ſuch accuſations as he ſhould produce againſt her, and to frame her proceſs after the ordinary way. [Page] The men, to whom he gave this commiſſion, were in appearance without paſſion, but really corrupted by Salome, and obliged to comply with the motions of their Prince, by a baſe and diſ-honourable intereſt. They received command to go and examine the Queen in the Priſon: and when they were ready to go upon the deſign; Herod, whether it were that he diſtruſted them, or that he was ſpurred on by an extraordinary animoſity, or on the contrary touched with ſome remains of love, which ſtill reſiſted his reſentments, would follow them ſecretly in this action, and ſtand behind a door, from whence without being diſcovered, he might hear their examinations, and Mariamne's anſwers.

This curioſity was inſpired into him by Heaven, which for the ſafety of the Queen would ſerve it ſelf with the love which he really bare her. He being abſolute in his commands, the buſineſs was executed according to his will, and having thrown an old cloak about him which diſguiſed him in part, he went along with the Judges, to the priſon where the Queen was, and ſtood behind her Chamber door, which they left a little open to favour his deſign.

Mariamne, as it was afterwards reported, ſaw thoſe who were appointed to be her Judges, enter her Chamber without ſhewing any ſign of aſtoniſhment, and was no more moved at their ſight, than at one of her inferiour ſervants: they rendred her the honour which they believed due to her in this occaſion, and in fine, one of them named Joab ſpeaking for himſelf and his companions, declared to her their commiſſion, and humbly beſeeched her to be pleaſed, that, according to the order he had received of the King for it, he might examine her upon ſome accuſations which were made againſt her.

The conſtant Queen patiently hearkned to Joab's diſcourſe, and when he had done ſpeaking, looking upon him with diſdain, and a ſmile, which, though mingled with a little ſharpneſs, ſhewed the undauntedneſs and tranquility of her ſpirit: ‘I have not learned, ſaid ſhe, that Princeſſes of my birth, or rather Queens and lawful Heirs of Judea, acknowledged ſuch perſons as Joab for their Judges; and he which gave you this power hath not received enough himſelf from Heaven to make my ſpirit bow to ſo baſe a ſubmiſſion: I can anſwer before God for all the actions of my life, and by his grace they are innocent enough to be confeſſed to the whole world; but it is to him alone that I ought to render an account, and by my birth I have been and ſtill am of ſuch a quality as doth not permit me to look upon as my Judges, thoſe which were born ſubjects to my Anceſtors and my ſelf.’

‘We have rendred, replyed the Jew, what we owed to your birth and quality, as long as it hath pleaſed the King to permit us and we have not ſought an employment which yet we could not refuſe, when he was pleaſed to lay it upon us: but ſeeing that by his abſolute will we have been appointed to it, and that the authority which you have had over us, ought to ſubmit to his, you will not find it ſtrange, if it pleaſe you, that we examine you upon the accuſations which he himſelf lays againſt you. I ſhall account nothing ſtrange, anſwered Mariamne, neither from you nor from him who gave you this commiſſion; but by all his authority you ſhall not oblige me to anſwer before any other Judge, than before his Soveraign Maſter and mine, and before him, who for the puniſhment of my fault hath expoſed me to the cruelty of a man, whom he hath pleaſed to give me for an Husband. Beſides, theſe formalities are no whit neceſſary to him for my deſtruction, and he hath need of no other than thoſe wherewith he ſerved himſelf in the death of Hyrcanus and Ariſtobulus. It is not that I fear the judgment of men, if I ſhould ſubmit to it, or that I cannot declare before the face of Heaven, that my innocence is pure and clear from all that can touch it. The juſt reſentments which I have againſt him never gave me the liberty of one ſingle thought wherewith he might be offended; and if the blood of a Grand-father, a Brother, and of ſo many other of my friends, which he hath ſacrificed to his ambition, hath extinguiſhed part of that ardent affection which an Husband leſs cruel might have found in a Wife leſs unfortunate; yet it hath not defaced the character engraved by the hand of God, whereby we are united until death, neither hath it ever inſpired me with one ſingle wiſh againſt his honour or the repoſe of his life.’

The fair and vertuous Queen pronounced theſe words with ſo much courage, grace, and majeſty, that her Judges remained ſurprized with raviſhment and admiration: and Herod, who from the place where he was hid had intelligibly heard them, was touched with them in ſuch ſort, that all his reſentments were not capable to reſiſt the motions of his love, which raiſed themſelves againſt them with their former power, and thruſting at the door which was half open, he entred into the Chamber, and diſcovered himſelf to Mariamne: ‘No Madam, cryed he, as he drew near her; no Madam, you ſhall not be judged but by your own conſcience, that may poſſibly convince you of little love to your Husband; but all other crimes, whereof I ſuſpected you are blotted out of my mind by the love I bear you. In fine, [Page] whether you be criminal or innocent, you can neither be condemned, nor abſolved, but I muſt ſubmit with you to the judgement which ſhall be pronounced either for you or againſt you; and my heart, which takes your part againſt it ſelf, would be the firſt expoſed to the diſpleaſures which too unjuſt a rigour prepared for you.’

Herod expreſſed himſelf in this manner: and Mariamne, though ſhe were a little ſurprized at his unexpected ſight, appeared nevertheleſs little moved at his approach and diſcourſe: or if ſhe were, it was only with choler and diſdain at the preſence of a man from whom ſhe had lately received ſo unworthy uſage. In effect, the injury ſhe ſuffered in ſeeing her ſelf preſſed to anſwer before her ſubjects, who were appointed as Judges of her honour and her life, though it were not capable to make her exceed the bounds of moderation, and be outragious in the abſence of her Husband, contrary to what ſhe believed was due to the tye which united them, appeared to her underſtanding in another form, when ſhe ſaw before her the cruel man by whom ſhe was expoſed to this ignominy: this laſt affront, and condition wherein ſhe ſaw her ſelf in an hard and rigorous priſon, being joyned to the memory of his former diſpleaſures, revived her reſentments with a more than ordinary violence, and permitted her not to look upon Herod but as a Dragon coming to devour her: ſhe received his careſſes themſelves ſo little conformable to the uſage whereof ſhe ſaw the preparation ſtill before her eyes, for the effects of a black diſſimulation, whereof ſhe knew him more capable than all other men all his life long; and in fine, the averſion ſhe had contracted from what was paſt, being joyned to theſe new ſubjects of hatred, made Herod more odious and more diſdainable than ever he appeared to her before.

She looked upon him with an Eye full of ſcorn and indignation, and flying from his arms which he reached towards her: ‘Suffer cruel man, ſaid ſhe, ſuffer thy juſtice to take its courſe: the faces of the Judges which thou haſt appointed me, are more ſupportable than thine to me: and I had rather undergo the bloody Sentence, which by thy orders they ſhall pronounce againſt me, than receive any more thy artificial careſſes: if thou preſenteſt thy ſelf to me to augment the pain to which thou haſt deſtined me, thou exceedeſt the limits of all cruelty, and the ſevereſt enemies have not aggravated by their preſence the laſt ſufferings of thoſe they had condemned to dye. Ah! Mariamne, replyed the Jewiſh King, with a very paſſionate action, I come not hither to ſend thee to thy death; ſeeing thou canſt not be condemned but by a ſentence, which will be as deſtructive to me as to thy ſelf; I come rather to ſnatch thee from the rigour of thoſe, whom by too prompt a reſentment I have armed againſt my own life rather than thine: I come to let thee know that thou canſt not dye without Herod, and to tell thee that ſeeing thou haſt ſome reſpects left to that tye which ought to unite us until death, thou canſt not diſdain the life I come to offer thee, without making an attempt upon thy Husbands life.’

‘And what favour, anſwered the Queen, interrupting him, what favour doeſt thou believe thou doeſt me in leaving me a life, which by thy cruelties thou haſt rendred more odious to me a thouſand times, than the death which thou haſt prepared for me? what puniſhments are due to this innocent life of mine, if thine contaminated with ſo many crimes hath hitherto eſcaped the indignation of Heaven, and whatſoever mine be, by what right wouldſt thou have me beholding to thee for it, ſince thou haſt no other right to diſpoſe of it but by uſurpation and tyranny?’

Theſe words began to re-kindle Herod's anger, and looking upon the Queen with eyes troubled with the motions of his different paſſions: ‘Cruel woman, ſaid he, the inhumanities wherewith thou reproacheſt me every moment, are not comparable to thine; and by the continual outrages which thou doeſt me, thou endeavoureſt to provoke my love, and ſtrain my patience to the uttermoſt extremities: theſe inclinations which I have not been able to overcome, what cauſe ſoever I had to oppoſe them, ſtill take thy part, and repreſent to me that without highly injuring my ſelf firſt, I cannot execute my juſt reſentments againſt thee; I conjure thee to abuſe them no longer, nor conſtrain an Husband who loves thee too well, to abandon thee to the rigours of Juſtice, which will bring us both to our graves.’

He pronounced theſe words with a very terrible geſture; but the Queen was not affrighted at it, but looking upon him with more diſdain than before: ‘Neither thy threats, ſaid ſhe, nor thy careſſes ſhall ever move me, and thy threatnings are more dear to me than the proteſtations of thy love: thou doſt more naturally act this latter part than the former; and there is no neceſſity for thee to conſtrain thy ſelf for a perſon to whom the death which ſhe expects from thy cruelty, will be a thouſand times more pleaſing than all the proofs of thy affections.’

‘Thou ſhalt dye then, ſince 'tis thy will, cryed Herod full of fury and tranſport, thou ſhalt [Page] dye, Woman unworthy of the care I took of thy ſafety, unworthy of my love, and now devoted to the juſtice of a King, and an Husband, who hath been injured in the moſt ſenſible part: I was too weak to intereſs my ſelf in the conſervation of thy life; but now thou haſt nothing to ground any hope of it upon, but only thy juſtification, and the evident proofs of thy innocence. My friends, continued he, turning himſelf towards them to whom he had given Commiſſion to be her Judges, perform now your charge with all liberty, and do not any longer look upon this woman as the ſpouſe of Your King; but as a woman which hath baſe and ſhamefully violated her duty to the Law of God, her own honour, and her Husbands love.’

Having ſpoken theſe words, he went out of the Chamber ſo terrible, that he made all he met in his paſſage tremble for fear. Only Mariamne ſeemed little moved at it; and when the Judges according to Herod's laſt command would have examined her, ſhe did not vouchſafe to open her mouth, but only to pray them to be gone, and leave her in quiet. Herod was no ſooner returned to his lodgings, but he was viſited by Salome and Pheroras, and he had no ſooner told them that, which he called the laſt effect of his weakneſs, and the laſt proofs he had received of Mariamnes inflexibility, but the revengeful Salome and Pheroras, being intereſſed by the envy they had alwayes born to the authority of Mariamne, after they had a long time blamed him for the action he had lately done, as ill-beſee [...]ing his dignity, and being contrary to all the laws of prudence, they repreſented to him as vehemently as they could, that he ought no longer to be negligent; and that if he left ſo obſtinate an enemy any longer in the World, ſhe would infallibly attempt againſt his life, what ſhe had already attempted, and poſſibly executed againſt his honour.

Herod drunk with rage, gave ear to them but too patiently; and when he had underſtood that the Queen had refuſed to anſwer thoſe who had the charge to examine her, and that they were gone out of the priſon without getting one word from her, by the pernicious Counſel of Salome, he commanded to put Sohemus and the Eunuch Philon to the torture, with order to omit no kind of torment to draw out of their mouths a confeſſion capable to condemn the Queen with ſome form of Juſtice. Joſeph in regard of his birth was not expoſed to the rack, but Herod in an haſty rage ſent executioners that ſtrangled him the ſame day in the priſon, though he were not convinced of any crime, but of having revealed his Maſters ſecret to Mariamne. This ſudden execution would have amazed the Jews, if they had not been uſed to ſee ſuch actions proceed from their King every day, and if they had not known too well that death was familiar with him upon the leaſt motion of his paſſions. Alexander moved at the misfortune of her Daughter, as in all likelihood ſhe ought to be, uſed all means for juſtification, but ſhe had not Herod's ear, which her enemies had poſſeſſed; and by all the power ſhe had over her Daughter ſhe could never oblige her to take any care to verifie her innocence, or to be reconciled to her Husband. All the world believed that it had been but willing to have endeavoured it, and as reſolute as ſhe was not to ſeek the friendſhip of this cruel man, he would never poſſibly have conſented to her death, if the things which happened afterwards had not cruelly contributed unto it. I am very unwilling, Sir, purſued Arſanes, looking pitifully upon Tyridates, to let you know the part you have in the death of this great Princeſs, and if I could without diſobeying you, and without varying from the truth which you will underſtand from other mouths, I would ſpare you the diſpleaſure you may receive from thence. Make an end, ſaid Tyridates with a deadly look, my grief is not in a condition to receive any augmentation by the particularities of thy diſcourſe; and ſince Mariamne is gone out of the World, the ways whereby ſhe went cannot at all change my condition.

I will tell you then, ſince it is your pleaſure, purſued Arſanes, that before they put Sohemus and Eunuch Philon to the torment, Salome gave expreſs order to thoſe who had the charge of the buſineſs to examine them and preſs them by torments, upon what had paſſed betwixt the Queen and Prince Tyridates, believing that if ſhe could repreſent that a little to Herod's memory, ſhe ſhould carry him to any thing ſhe would deſire. Her orders were punctually executed, and the two men were fearfully tormented; but whatſoever they made Sohemus ſuffer to make him reveal the favours which they pretended he had received of the Queen, whereby he had been obliged to betray his Maſter's ſecret, they could not draw one word out of his mouth, but what tended to the glory and advantage of Mariamne. He confeſſed that out of weakneſs, or out of compaſſion which he had of the miſeries of that Princeſs, he had permitted himſelf ſo far as to diſcover to her the cruel orders which Herod had given him, and that he never intended to put them in execution; but when they queſtioned him concerning his or Joſeph's love to the Queen, he denyed it to them with ſo much conſtancy, and anſwered them with ſo much candor and reſolution, that they eaſily judged both the Queen and himſelf to be innocent by his anſwers.

[Page] The Eunuch, though inferior to him in ſtrength of body and courage, endured the firſt torments with reſolution enough; and having nothing to ſay of the Queen to this purpoſe, but what ſerved for her juſtification, he kept to the naked truth, whatſoever pains they made him ſuffer; but at laſt being examined upon what had paſſ'd between the Queen and Tyridates; and the torments being renewed with more cruelty than before, upon the ſolicitation of Salome, he was not able any longer to reſiſt them, but ſaid to thoſe which tormented him, that if they would give him a little reſpite, he would declare all he knew concerning that buſineſs.

The torments being ceaſed, and thoſe to whom this execution was appointed, being come near to him, he told them that during Herod's voyage to Rhodes, Tyridates had ſeen the Queen by night, and in a diſguiſe in the Caſtle, where ſhe was kept under the cuſtody of Sohemus; and that upon the night of that day whereon he was beſieged by Herod in the Temple, and ſaved by the interpoſition of Soſius, he came back alone to Hieruſalem into the Palace, into the Chamber of Cleophe, where by his own means he had ſeen the Queen ſecretly, and had ſome time of converſation with her.

The cruel Salome tranſported with joy at this confeſſion, cauſed his torments to be reodubled, to make him confeſs more; and by this news which ſhe carried to Herod ſhe wounded him to the very heart. He made ſuch exclamations as teſtified his grief, and abandoned himſelf in all things to tranſport and fury, finding, as he thought, more truth in the accuſations they made againſt Mariamne, than he had deſired; he felt himſelf violently ſeized upon by a diſpleaſure which all his prudence and policy could not diſſemble. Salome thought it beſt to repreſent to him that he ought not to ſuffer himſelf to fall into ſuch violent paſſions for an ingrateful and perfidious Woman: he had no ears to hear her conſolations as he had to hear her Counſels, and flying out into the acceſs of rage at every moment: ‘Beſtow, ſaid he to her, thy unprofitable comforts elſewhere, and let my grief perform the moſt agreeable effect that ever it could produce; I know that Mariamne is ingrateful, that Mariamne hath betrayed me, and that Mariamne muſt periſh: but I know likewiſe, that I cannot deſtroy what I have ſo dearly loved, without devoting my ſelf to death. Mariamne ſhall dye without doubt, if the accuſations of the Eunuch be true, and if her diſloyalty prove real, I will no longer hearken to what love ſhall alledge in her favour: but this is infallible, that Mariamne cannot dye, without bringing me to the grave, or if I remain in the world after her, it will only be to paſs my days in dreadful horrours.’

Whileſt he thus tormented himſelf he redoubled the poor Eunuch's tortures; but if he had weakneſs enough to declare what he knew, he had not ſo much villany as to invent any thing againſt the Queens innocence; ſo that the executioners being weary of tormenting him, were conſtrained to leave him at repoſe. Preſently after Salome ſent them to Sohemus, to whom they propoſed the ſame interrogatories: he reſiſted the cruelty of theſe tortures much longer than the Eunuch had done; but when they preſſed him upon Philon's diſpoſition, he varied a little in his anſwers; and the Eunuch being brought before him, and having maintained what he had diſpoſed in his preſence; the unfortunate Sohemus not being able any longer to reſiſt the truth, and perceiving well that all his evaſions would be uſeleſs after the Eunuch's depoſition, which he could no longer contradict, lifting pitifully his eyes to Heaven, I plainly ſee, ſaid he, that I muſt die, and by the compaſſion which I have had of the misfortunes of a great Princeſs, I ſee my ſelf brought to my end: God is my witneſs that I little regret the loſs of my life; but I cannot have any comfort in my death, if by our weakneſs we advance the loſs of the moſt vertuous and innocent Queen that ever was. She without doubt hath haſtened Joſep's death and mine by the diſcourſe ſhe bath made to the King her Husband, but all the reſentment I might have for that, or the horror of all the tortures they can preſent me with, ſhall never make me ſpeak againſt the knowledge I have of her innocence, and admirable vertue.

After this diſcourſe ſeeing himſelf preſſed afreſh by torments, he confirmed the depoſition of the Eunuch, as to the two interviews of the Queen and Prince Tyridates in the Caſtle where he had her under his cuſtody, and in the Queens lodging at your departure from Hieruſalem; but in his confeſſion he excuſed the Queen, as his conſcience obliged him to do, and proteſted with Oaths ſacred to the Jews, that as for the firſt interview in the Caſtle, it was totally without the Queens knowledge, who forced you away from thence, without ever granting you the liberty to return: and for the laſt, the Queen only conſented to it to intreat you never to ſee her more: and that both in the one and the other there was ſo much innocence, and reſervedneſs, that Herod himſelf, if he had been there preſent, could have found no cauſe of complaint in the moſt criminal paſſage of it. Alas! cryed Tyridates at this paſſage, with how much truth, Sohemus mighteſt thou proteſt this; and how advantagious had it been for that innocent Princeſs, had Herod himſelf received with his own ears thoſe teſtimonies of her vertue?

[Page] Whatſoever miſery they made Sohemus ſuffer, after this confeſſion, purſued Arſanes, they could get no more out of his mouth, and this was enough for the deſtruction of the unfortunate Mariamne. Herod no ſooner underſtood the unhappy confirmation of the Eunuch's diſpoſition, but he totally abandoned himſelf to his rage; and whether it were that he ſuſpected ſomething more particularly offenſive to himſelf in theſe ſecret interviews, or that he found in this diſcovery occaſion enough to condemn her, letting looſe the reins to the impetuoſity of his jealouſie: Let her dye, cryed he, addreſſing himſelf to Salome, Pheroras, and his Miniſters of Juſtice, to whom he was accuſtomed to commit the like employments; let her dye diſloyal Woman as ſhe is, let her dye like an adultreſs as ſhe is, take her out of the World without any farther delay.

I know not whether Herod pronounced this ſentence with a perfect deliberation, or whether he thought he ſhould not find ſo ready obedience to a command made with too much precipitation; but however it was, he had hardly ſpoken, but the Enemies of Mariamne to whom by the rigor of her deſtiny he unluckily addreſſed himſelf, ran or rather flew to haſten the end of her days.

Herod out of the exceſs of his grief, or rather of his rage, had thrown himſelf upon his bed, where making more reflection upon the injury he ſuppoſed he had received from Mariamne, than upon the bloody orders he lately had given againſt her, entombed himſelf in ſuch ſorrow as rendred him incapable of dreaming upon what paſt.

Salome who was wholly devoid of pity, and her party, taking their time for the Execution of their cruel intentions, employed it with ſo much heat and eagerneſs, that the ſame day all things were prepared for the death of that deplorable Princeſs, and they went into the Priſon to give her notice of it, and conduct her to it. They did not ſo much as give the Princeſs Alexandra her Mother time to bid her adieu; neither did they permit her faithful Servants, and thoſe whom ſhe had loved beſt, to take their laſt leave of her; nor had ſhe the liberty to take the laſt ſight of the children ſhe left in the World, as ſo tender an age that they were not yet capable to underſtand the loſs they received.

Her cruel Enemies fearing leſt that Herod ſhould return to his right mind, and making a rational reflection upon what was done, ſhould recall the inhumane ſentence which he had pronounced, haſtened all things againſt all forms and gave no time to love and reaſon to produce the effects they feared. Poor Sohemus and the miſerable Eunuch were firſt ſacrificed, and Salome ſent Executioners to ſtrangle them in the Priſon. They ſay Sohemus died like a man of courage, and proteſted the Queens Vertue and Innocence to his laſt gaſp, for whoſe death he expreſſed more ſorrow than for his own.

Thoſe which went into the Priſon with the Queen to prepare her to die, reported afterwards, that ſhe ſcarcely changed her countenance at their ſad diſcourſe, and that ſhe received news capable to daunt the moſt hardy ſpirits, with ſuch an aſſurance, as ſhamed her Enemies, and confirmed them to their confuſion, in the opinion they themſelves had of her Vertue. Nothing of paſſion appeared either in her countenance or diſcourſe, ſhe never ſp [...]ke better ſenſe or with more temper, and there proceeded out of her mouth, neither complaint nor word which might make one judge that ſhe went to die unwillingly; nay, they who ſometimes ſaw her paſſionate againſt Herods inhumanity, when ſhe was provoked by the death of her near kindred, found her much more moderate as to her own, and obſerved no new reſentment in her for this laſt effect of his cruelty.

She only ſaid to thoſe who were preſent at her laſt actions: ‘Tell Herod, that 'tis this day that I begin to receive a good office from him, and that I accept the preſent, which he hath pleaſed to ſend me, and with more joy and acknowledgment, than ever I did all the teſtimonies of his love. I can nevertheleſs proteſt before the God which we adore (and I owe this juſtification to my memory and the blood from which I am deſcended) that the repugnance which his cruelties have cauſed in me, either to his manners or perſon, never inclined me to the leaſt thought of offending againſt my own honour or the duty of a Wife: Tell him that the blood of Joſeph and Sohemus, which he hath ſhed, will cry for vengeance againſt him: and that if I be culpable at my death, it is becauſe, that by my imprudence, I have cauſed the ruine of thoſe innocent perſons: As for Tyridates, I thank God, I feel no remorſe of conſcience that can accuſe me of the leaſt fault againſt my Husband, and I hold no other thoughts for his perſon but of acknowledgment and eſteem as due to his vertue: Tell him, that I beſeech him, if I may beſeech him at my death, that he would ſtop the current of his cruelties with me, and look with more affection and pity upon the Children which Heaven hath beſtowed upon us, upon whom the rage of our Enemies may extend it ſelf, if he do not remedy it. After this ſupplication, I pardon him for my death with all my heart, and I pardon Salome too for it, though ſhe might have contented her ſelf to haſten the end of my dayes without blaſting my reputation; [Page] and I go, without regret, to render an account to God for my actions, whether criminal or innocent.’

After theſe words, which drew ſtreams of tears from them who heard them, ſhe gave ſome ſmall orders for the recompence of thoſe perſons which had ſerved her; and having ſetled her mind in that reſpect, ſhe kneeled down in a little Oratory which ſhe had in her Chamber, where ſhe prayed with an action nothing reliſhing of the world.

After ſhe had beſtowed a quarter of an hour in this pious employment, ſhe returned with a much more chearful countenance than before; and after ſhe had given the laſt embrace to her inconſolate Maids, who melted into tears at her knees, turning her ſelf towards them who waited to conduct her to her death; Let us go my friends, ſaid ſhe, 'tis time to part; Hyrcanus and Ariſtobulus call for me, and I muſt go to find out thoſe Illuſtrious Aſmoneans, who through the care which Herod hath taken, preſerve a place in Heaven for me.

With theſe words ſhe gave her hand her ſelf to him who was to lead her; and having again, with a look full or ſweetneſs and Majeſty, taken her laſt leave of thoſe who were about her: ſhe went out of the Chamber, and paſſed into the Court, where the Tragical preparation was made for her death.

Diſpence with me Sir, from telling you the laſt particulars, it may be enough, and more than enough for you to know, that upon that mortal Scaffold, the moſt beautifull head was ſeparated from the faireſt body in the world; and the moſt vertuous, the moſt innocent, and the moſt couragious of all Women loſt her life, by the horrid command of a Monſter, thirſty after Illuſtrious Blood, whereof he ſacrificed the fair remains to the rage of its Enemies. The Sun being at the latter end of his courſe, gave light unwillingly, as I believe, to this ſad adventure, and the univerſal nature would have put on mourning, if it had been capable of ſenſe, for the greateſt loſs it could ever ſuffer.

Theſe laſt words of Arſanes were interrupted with ſighs and ſobs; and not being able to go farther, to finiſh what he had to relate concerning the remorſe of Herod, and ſome accidents which followed Mariamne's death, he caſt his eyes upon Tyridates, to ſee what effect the concluſion of this pitiful narration had wrought upon him. He was amazed, and Marcellus too, that there proceeded not one word from his mouth, nor ſigh from his breaſt; but their amazement ceaſed, when after they had looked near upon him, they ſaw that he was fallen into a ſecond ſwoon much deeper than the former.

Marcellus being touched to the quick with grief, both by the pitiful relation of Mariamne's death; whoſe eminent vertue and admirable beauty he had heard a thouſand times highly extolled; and at the condition wherein he ſaw the unfortunate Tyridates, was hardly capable of giving him either ſuccour or conſolation: and whilſt Arſanes, with the reſt of Tyridates his Servants that were left in the houſe, took care by all poſſible remedies to fetch the Prince out of his ſwoon, he ſate by him with his arms acroſs, and lifting up his eyes to Heaven, as it were to accuſe Fortune for the miſ [...]haps to which ſhe expoſes vertuous perſons, he made ſad reflections upon the miſery of men.

Tyridates came not to himſelf again a long time, and the greateſt part of the night was paſt before he recovered his ſenſes. Marcellus ſeeing himſelf very far from the repoſe and comfort that was promiſed him, did not ſo much as ſeek for any in that deſolate houſe; and out of the excellency of his nature did ſo far intereſs himſelf in Tyridates misfortune, that for a while he loſt the memory of his own.

At laſt, after a great deal of pains taken with him, Tyridates opened his eyes, which he turned every way, in ſuch a manner as cauſed thoſe that ſtood about him to judge ſadly of it. Marcellus called him by his name divers times, and ſeeing that he did not anſwer him but with dying looks: Tyridates, ſaid he to him, will you not call to mind that you are a man? and more than that, that you are a man of courage? Afflictions may touch you, but they ſhould not make you loſe either your knowledge or your reaſon.

Tyridates made no reply to theſe words of Marcellus; but only after he had tumbled a few turns upon the bed, like a perſon full of agony, opening his mouth to give paſſage to a voice interrupted with ſobs: O Mariamne, ſaid he, you are dead; and more than that, 'tis Tyridates who hath haſtened your death! this was it that remained to conclude his deplorable deſtiny with an end conformable to the beginnings of his calamities; and it was not aggravation enough to the laſt misfortunes of Tyridates, that Mariamne ſhould die, but that Mariamne ſhould die for Tyridates his fault. I have brought you to your Grave, O Queen, whom I have ſo religiouſly adored, and I have not a life precious enough to ſacrifice to your memory in change for yours.

He ſ [...]opt at theſe words, and recollected himſelf to receive the favourable death which he deſired, and whereof he already felt the approaches, whilſt Marcellus endeavoured to [Page] divert his grief. Tyridates had no more ears for his diſcourſe, nor eyes for the objects which preſented themſelves before him, nor thoughts for things of this world. Never poſſibly did Love produce a more excellent and more marvellous effect, than it wrought in this Prince; and by the means of his love alone, his grief ſerved him in ſtead of a Sword, Poyſon, Precipices; and without requiring any external help, death which was deſired by him, and is to be wiſhed for by unfortunate Men like him, offered it ſelf to his aſſiſtance, and preſented it ſelf to him at a time when he received it with a joy which in appearance could have no reſidence in his ſoul.

He perceived the approach of it, and took notice of it, and giving it entertainment worthy of the good office it did him: O death, ſaid he, with a lower and more feeble voice than ordinary, O death, how willingly do I receive thee, and though I ought poſſibly to refuſe thy help at a time when ſome remainder of life is neceſſary to me to tear out the ſoul of Mariamne's Executioner with mine own hands, yet how dear is thy ſuccour, and thy coming favourable to me! O Mariamne, continued he a little after, receive this ſoul which I render you as the only reparation I can make you for having contributed to your death: It takes its flight towards you, unworthy as it is, to preſent its ſelf before you, and in what condition ſoever you be, the purity of yours will never be offended by the laſt gift I make you of it.

Theſe were the laſt words he ſpake, and a little after, grief giving its laſt aſſaults, ſeized upon his heart in ſuch a manner, that that part which lives firſt, and dies laſt, was not capable of ſuſtaining the functions neceſſary for the conſervation of life. He only looked a farewell to Marcellus and Arſanes, and a little after, his eyes were covered with darkneſs, his ſpeech failed him, and all his ſtrength having totally forſaken him, he remained cold and pale between Arſanes his arms; not in a ſwoon like thoſe whereinto he had formerly fallen, but really dead; a death which being neither violent, nor natural, but participating of both, did punctually accompliſh Thraſillus his prediction; a death which freed him for ever from the more tedious and cruel deaths which he had inceſſantly found in the memory of Mariamne. Happy Man in his deſtiny, that he did not ſurvive the perſon for whom he had only lived; and glorious in his end, for having given in his death ſo brave an example of the moſt pure and real paſſion that ever any ſoul was enflamed withall.

The End of the Fifth Part.

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA: OR, Love's Maſter-Piece. PART VI.

[Page]

LIB. I.

ARGUMENT.

Cornelius Gallus Pretor of Egypt is deeply taken with Candace's Beauty. He taketh an opportunity to diſcover his affection, which ſhe receives with much inward trouble, and outward coldneſs. The coming of Eliſa breaks off their diſcourſe. Eliſa acquaints Candace with her dream, and ſhe gives her her thoughts upon it. Walking together in the Garden of the Palace they over-hear the complaints of a fair Slave that attended upon Eliſa. Their curioſity prompts them to a farther diſcovery, and upon their requeſt ſhe relates the ſtory of her life: She ſpeaks her name Olympia, and her ſelf Daughter to Adallas King of Thrace; Her own Brother falls in love with her, and diſcovers his inceſtuous deſires, which ſhe entertains with horror and amazement; She oppoſes his paſſion with all the ſtrength of Vertue and Reaſon, but in vain: She acquaints her Father with it, who ſharply reproves him, and reſolves to diſpoſe of her, but is prevented by death: The young Adallas ſucceeding in the Kingdom, armed his ſolicitations with authority, and threatens to compel his Siſter to marry him. She with a ſmall retinue flies from Byzantium.

WHilſt Love produced theſe ſad effects at the gates of Alexandria, his powers were no leſs imployed in the City, and the ancient Palace of the Ptolomies; that Tyrant God found in the two Princeſſes, which Fortune had committed to the care and cuſtody of the Pretor of Egypt, a fit ſubject to exerciſe himſelf upon: Theſe two admirable Perſons, from the very firſt day of their acquaintance, had contracted ſuch an amity, as had left nothing reſerved in their ſouls, and if by the charming conſervation of the Queen of Ethiopia the fair Princeſs of the Parthians could not repreſs that ſmarting grief which the loſs of her brave, but unfortunate Artaban had rendred maſter of her heart; yet 'twas certain, that in the ſweetneſs which ſhe found in the affection, which ſhe had conceived for ſo extraordinary a perſon, as Candace was, ſhe reliſhed ſome ſort of conſolation, and gave place too to ſome ſhadow of hope, induced thereto, by the diſcourſe which the fair Queen made her of the marvellous events of Fortune, and the appearances which might in ſome ſort flatter her, with a belief of Artaban's ſafety.

Candace's cares, though not ſlight ones, were yet more moderate than Eliſa's ſadneſs, and the remembrance which was freſh in her mind, that ſhe had ſeen her dear Caeſario a few dayes before, diſſipated the greateſt part of her grief, and ſhe was a thouſand times more ſatisfied to ſee her beloved Prince eſcaped from the dangers wherein ſhe had left him at her departure from Meroe, than ſhe could be afflicted at the loſs of her Dominions, or with the other effects of her misfortune, which would have produced greater reſentments in any other ſpirit but hers. Notwithſtanding, if her mind found any repoſe in the [Page] knowledge that Caeſario was living, that he was not far from the place of her abode, and that by the report of thoſe whom Cornelius had ſent to his aſſiſtance, ſhe had learned, that together with his valiant companions, he was victorious in the combat wherein ſhe had left him engaged; ſhe could not baniſh her fear, which continually repreſented to her, that he was not eſcaped out of ſo great an encounter without wounds, and her love making all things appear in the moſt dangerous condition, ſhe believed ſhe ſaw every moment her beloved Prince all wounded and bloody, and reduced to the extremity of his life. In the fear which this imagination imprinted in her Soul, ſuffering her ſelf to be tranſported with the motions of her grief, ‘Ah Gods! ſaid ſhe, if it be true that my dear Caeſario is ſtill in danger of a life ſo often expoſed, and ſo often relieved from ſo many perils, why ſhould you preſent him to my eyes to give a more ſenſible redoubling to my grief, than if he had died far off from me in that unfortunate Country where I left him? the ſubject of my deſpair would be leſs reaſonable, if I had underſtood that he had periſhed upon an occaſion, when I had little hope of his ſafety, than if after he had recovered me contrary to all my hopes, you ſhould permit my cruel Fortune to deprive me of him for ever. Alas! 'tis poſſible that at this very moment whilſt I ſpend my life in ſuch cruel apprehenſions, the unfortunate Prince draws near his end, and is breathing out that faithful Soul, which he had beſtowed upon me to his misfortune, and the glory of my days. Ah! if my fears be real, ye pitiful Heavens do not permit me to ſurvive him one minute, or if he be ſtill Maſter of any remainders of life, to imploy them in the reſearch of a Princeſs, who is more happy in his love, then unfortunate in the accidents of her love, guide his ſteps hither for pitie's ſake, and do not ſuffer us to live in this darkneſs, wherein abſence entombs us.’

As ſhe ſpake theſe words, her eyes performed what her mouth could not abſolutely expreſs, and Clity who ſtayed by her to dry up her tears, could have no ſucceſs in comforting of her, but by recalling things paſt to her memory, and by repreſenting to her the advantagious difference there was between her preſent condition and that wherein ſhe ſaw her ſelf a few dayes before, both in reſpect of the ſecurity of her own perſon, and of her beloved Caeſario, They conſulted then together what courſe they ſhould take to learn news concerning that Prince; and they could find no other expedient than to ſeek ſome perſon in whom they might have the confidence to ſend him to Tyridates his houſe, hoping that by the means of that Prince they might have ſome intelligence either of Caeſario, or Eteocles.

But if this fair Queen was troubled with ſome diſquiets, whereunto her long ſuffering might have already inured her ſpirit, ſhe cauſed as many in the mind of a man, who a few dayes before had paſſed his life in liberty enough, and the ſoul of Cornelius Gallus had ſo deeply received the dart which the Princeſs had fixed there, that in the morning of his love he felt himſelf as much inflamed, as if he had already beſtowed whole Years upon this dawning paſſion. At firſt he was ſilent, out of the reſpects which the Majeſty of Candace might imprint upon the moſt licentious ſpirits; but afterwards he believed he might indulge himſelf a little more liberty, both in regard of the condition wherein he ſaw this perſon, abandoned by all other aſſiſtance but his own, and the memory of the ſervice which he had rendred her, by which, in all probability, ſhe was obliged to a very great acknowledgment. This conſideration joyned to the condition of his Fortune, and the abſolute power he had in Alexandria, gave him more boldneſs than the countenance of Candace had wont to leave him, and he believed at laſt (though Beauty and high appearances might repreſent ſo much to him) that no reaſon ought to oblige him to a conſtraint which did incommodate him, and that he might juſtly hope much from a perſon, who was much engaged to him.

The morrow after that day which the two Princeſſes had beſtowed upon the relation of the adventures of the afflicted Eliſa, Candace being more early up than the Princeſs of the Parthians, and walking alone with Clity upon the balliſtred Terrace, which belonged to her lodging, ſaw her ſelf accoſted by Cornelius, and having no knowledge of his intentions, nor any repugnance againſt his Perſon or entertainment, but what her inquietudes generally cauſed in her, againſt every thing that might trouble her thoughts, ſhe received him with that civility, which ſhe believed was due to his condition, and the importance of the ſervice which he had rendred her.

Gallus having taken her by the hand to aſſiſt her in her walk, entertained her a while with things indifferent, and being a place which had a proſpect into the Sea, and ſome of the parts near Alexandria, he ſhewed her thoſe places which were moſt remarkable either of their beauty or the memorable things that had paſſed there. He cauſed her to behold that famous place where the great Julius Caeſar, whoſe memory was ſo venerable amongſt Men, ſeeing himſelf preſſed by Ptolomies Troops, threw himſelf into the Sea, and ſwam over the ſtreight which divides the City from the Iſle of Pharos. From thence cauſing her to look further, he ſhewed her the place where the battel was fought the next day, and where [Page] the treacherous Ptolomy found under the Waves the puniſhment due to his perfidiouſneſs, as well for his attempt againſt the Perſon of Caeſar, as for the horrible cruelty which he had committed upon the ſhore of Peluſium againſt the great but unfortunate Pompey. After that, cauſing her to look more forward upon the Sea, he ſhewed her the place where the Queen Cleopatra firſt preſented her ſelf to Caeſar, and deſired his protection againſt the cruel perſecution of her Brother; and the place where Anthony met with that fair Queen at the beginning of their unfortunate loves, and all other places which were remarkable for any important events during the life of that Princeſs, and the War ſhe had with Auguſtus wherein ſhe loſt both Life and Empire.

Candace beheld what Cornelius ſhewed her, and hearkned to his diſcourſe with ſuch a tenderneſs as brought tears into her eyes: and Gallus attributing that compaſſion only which proceeded partly from another intereſt, was the more inflamed by the knowledge he received of the goodneſs of a perſon, in whom he had already obſerved all other excellent qualities in their higheſt perfection.

After he had given by his diſcourſe what was likely to be due to the curioſity of a Stranger Princeſs, and what he more truly rendred to the complacency which his love cauſed in him towards her, looking upon her with eyes which partly ſignified his intention. But Madam, ſaid he, now I have acquainted You with theſe ſmall trifles which You deſired to know of me, ſhall I be too curious my ſelf, or rather ſhall I be indiſcreet, if I take the liberty to enquire of You the name, and the condition of this admirable perſon to whom by my good fortune I have rendred ſome ſmall ſervice, without knowing of her, and who though unknown, is in as high eſteem with me, as if ſhe were the Wife or Daughter of Caeſar? 'Tis not upon any deſign of abuſing it, that I expreſs this curioſity to you, but only out of a deſire of finding greater opportunities to ſerve you in a more plenary knowledge of You.

Cornelius ſpake in this manner, and the Queen who was already prepared for this rancounter, and had premeditated with Clity what to ſay, ſeemed very little ſurprized at Cornelius his diſcourſe. She did ſo far acknowledge the Obligation ſhe had to him, as to have declared to him the truth of her life, and the condition of her fortune, if ſhe could have done it without intereſſing and endangering her dear Caeſario, whom ſhe knew to be in that Country, and to have all Caeſars friends for his declared enemies. Upon this precaution, which ſhe believed was due to the ſafety of her beloved Prince, ſhe reſolved to conceal her name, her birth, and the greateſt part of her adventures; and upon this deſign, after ſhe had ſignified to Cornelius with obliging expreſſions, that his curioſity was not importunate to her, ſhe told him that ſhe was born in Ethiopia, of very noble Parents, who during the life of King Hidaſpes had enjoyed the higheſt dignities of that Kingdom; but that afterwards being deſirous to teſtifie their fidelity to the Queen Candace his Daughter, when ſhe was deprived of her Kingdom by Tyribaſus, that Tyrant being too powerful for them had ruined them, and ſo eagerly purſued them, that they were conſtrained to put themſelves upon the Nile, with part of their moſt portable goods, from whence ſailing down into the open Sea, with an intention to ſeek out a Sanctuary from his Tyranny, they fell into the hands of the Pirate Zenodorus. After this paſſage ſhe concealed nothing of the truth of him, but only what would have obliged her to make mention of Caeſario; and relating to him the dangers which ſhe had eſcaped by reaſon of the Pirate's inſolence, and the flames of the Veſſel which ſhe had fired, and the Waves into which ſhe had caſt her ſelf, ſhe powerfully moved him upon divers accounts, and filled him full of admiration at her vertue and greatneſs of courage.

When he had given due praiſes to that noble reſolution of ſacrificing her life to the preſervation of her honour, looking upon her with an action much more paſſionate than before: ‘I ſhould be ungrateful to the Gods, ſaid he, if I ſhould not be thankful to them, as long as I live, for the favor they have done me, in guiding me to the occaſions of ſerving you, and in giving me the means to conduct you into a place where I can offer you part of what you ſeek; but if my intereſt might be conſidered to the prejudice of yours, and if I might afflict my ſelf as much at my own ill, as I ought to rejoyce at your good fortune, poſſibly I would ſay, that in this rancounter I have no more cauſe to commend than to complain of my deſtiny, and that it is as much for my loſs as for your ſafety that the Gods cauſed you to land upon this Coaſt, and lead me into the Wood where I defended you againſt the violence of Zenodorus.’

Gallus ſpake in this manner, and the Queen, though ſhe almoſt comprehended his diſcourſe, and received it with a very great grief, pretended for all that, that ſhe did not underſtand him, and that ſhe might not continue without a reply, ſhe anſwered him without being moved: ‘I ſhould be very ſorry that my arrival in this Country ſhould occaſion any damage to a perſon to whom I engaged for the preſervation of my life and honour, and to prevent the future, ſince it is not in our power to recal what is paſt, I ſhall depart without regret from [Page] a place where you have given me refuge, if my continuance here be never ſo little offenſive to You. Alas! replyed Gallus with a ſigh, how unprofitable would your departure be now, ſince you cannot carry away the wound that I have in the midſt of my heart, together with the eyes that made it? or rather how cruel would it be to me now, ſince in parting from me you will deprive my days of all that makes them deſirable to me, and poſſibly bereave me of a life, whereof all the remaining moments are dedicated to you.’

Whilſt he ſpake thus, the Queen oppreſſed with a violent grief, upon this occaſion of new croſſes, which former paſſages made her foreſee in a moment, ſtudied for terms to explain her ſelf, both according to the greatneſs of her courage, and the condition of her preſent fortune, whereby ſhe ſaw her ſelf abſolutely ſubjected to Cornelius his power; and when he had done ſpeaking, compoſing her countenance to a more ſerious poſture than before, which with the Majeſty that Gallus obſerved in it, ſtrook him into ſome awe: ‘I am obliged to you, ſaid ſhe to him, for my life and honour, and I ſhould be much more engaged to you, if you would preſerve the glory of your benefit entire, and not diminiſh the price of it by the offence you do me. If it be an offence to love you, replyed the Pretor, and if it be an infinite offence to love you infinitely, I confeſs that there is not a man in the world who hath offended you more than Cornelius; but if love, in the Country where you were born, be not different from that which we have obſerved in ours, if it makes a man abandon his liberty to beſtow it upon that he loves; if it makes him forget his own proper intereſts, to ſacrifice himſelf entirely to the Perſon beloved; and in fine, if it produce no other effects, than what we have ſeen it produce in thoſe places where I have paſſed my life, I cannot eaſily comprehend the ground of the offence which you can find in the love I have for you. I know not, replyed the Queen coldly, either the effects or qualities of that paſſion, but the diſcourſe of it is not conformable to my humor, and I ſhould be very much obliged to you, if you will find ſome other matter of entertainment.’

Cornelius, though a little repulſed with the anſwer, which made him partly underſtand the difficulties he ſhould have to conquer the ſpirit, which he had attempted, prepared himſelf to ſpeak, when he ſaw the Princeſs Eliſa approach, who having underſtood that Candace had been walking upon the Terrace a great while, had made her ſelf ready with all ſpeed to come and find her, to enjoy in her company that little conſolation which ſhe could meet with no where elſe. Eliſa was in a very careleſs dreſs, part of her hair fell upon her cheeks without art or order, her complexion was extraordinary pale, and her eyes were dulled with watching, and red with their continual exerciſe of weeping, and yet ſhe appeared to the eyes of Candace and Gallus like a dazling Star, and made them judge that neither art, nor nature could produce any thing more beautiful or more compleat.

Candace being very much ſatisfied to find this agreeable diverſion from the importunate converſation of Cornelius, advanced towards the Princeſs with open arms, and giving her the good morrow with a great many kiſſes full of tender affection, ſhe received the embraces and careſſes of the fair Princeſs, which expreſſed no leſs affection than her own.

After they had ſpent ſome time in ſome mutual embracings, the fair Queen beginning the diſcourſe, ‘I longed, ſaid ſhe, to know how you had paſſed this night, and I had come to inform my ſelf at your Chamber, but that I was afraid to interrupt your ſleep. Alas, replyed the Princeſs, with an action full of tenderneſs and ſweetneſs, how little acquaintance have ſleep and I together at this time, and how ill an office did your goodneſs render me in depriving me, for a little reſts ſake, which is now ſtranger to me, of a ſight wherein I find all the comfort of my life.’ Candace repayed theſe words with others as full of affection, and Cornelius ſeeing them enter into a diſcourſe which did not permit him to purſue that which he had begun with Candace, after he had continued a while longer with them in a converſation full of civility, he left them alone to go either to muſe upon his paſſion, or to employ himſelf in ſuch affairs as his charge required.

After his departure the two Princeſſes began to entertain each other with more liberty than before, and the firſt diſcourſe being beſtowed in the comforting of Eliſa, and upon the hopes which ſhe might yet conceive of her Artaban's ſafety, (though ſhe built but little upon them) the Princeſs, though ſhe thought upon nothing elſe but the ſad cauſe of her grief, for all that obſerved ſome new penſiveneſs in Candace's countenance, and having asked her the cauſe of it with a grace, which left her no liberty to deny, the fair Queen prefacing the confeſſion which ſhe was about to make with a little ſmile: ‘'Tis, ſaid ſhe, becauſe I am a little more unhappy than you, in that you did arrive at Alexandria before me; for if Cornelius had ſeen the Princeſs Eliſa before Candace, Candace would not be expoſed to that perſecution which ſhe hath begun to ſuffer to day. Eliſa eaſily comprehended the Queens diſcourſe, and receiving it with a modeſty like to her own. If it be the love which you have cauſed in Cornelius, ſaid ſhe, which creates you a new ſubject of diſpleaſure, I was not capable to guard you from it, and [Page] what your powers have done in one day, mine being far inferior to them, could not have done in divers years. If we had any other Judges but our ſelves, anſwered Candace, the part which you maintain would be very much weakned; but in brief ſuch as I am, if his words be true, my misfortune hath made Cornelius in love with me, and he hath newly made a declaration of it to me, which hath almoſt as much offended me, as he obliged me by the aſſiſtance which he gave ſome days ago.’

Upon theſe words ſhe related to the Princeſs, Cornelius his diſcourſe, and not deſiring to make a ſecret, either of his adventure, or the more particular thoughts of her ſoul: ‘Beſides the croſſes which I foreſee will befal me, purſued ſhe, in the love of a man to whom I am obliged, and into whoſe power I am fallen, I cannot ſee without a great deal of reſentment, that he who poſſeſſes, as the Lieutenant of an adopted Caeſar, the place which my true Caeſar ought to poſſeſs as Soveraign, raiſes his thoughts to the ſame place where he hath planted his; and my dear Caeſario hath received offences great enough from theſe cruel Enemies by the loſs of his Dominions, his Parents and Dignities, though, through his hard deſtiny, the ſame enemies did not attach him in his love, and in that thing wherein he thought himſelf ſecure from their perſecutions. You have a great deal of reaſon, replyed Eliſa, but I believe that Caeſario is very ſecure upon that part; and that if his Enemies had no greater power, in relation to the troubles and dangers to which they expoſed him in his tender youth, he had not only ſuffered very little by their perſecution, but had never ſeen any of the Dominions of Ethiopia. I had rather, anſwered Candace, never have ſeen the light, and though the affection I have for Caeſario, may coſt me a great Kingdom, that loſs will be ſo far from diminiſhing the content I have to have ſeen and loved him, that I cannot but take it well, and acknowledge my ſelf obliged to Auguſtus cruelty, from which alone I have received my beloved Prince, and without which, though poſſibly he might have lived in a more peaceable condition, he had not lived for Candace. Heaven had ordained him for you, added the ſad Eliſa, and the admirable perfections of the fair Queen of Ethiopia could not be well matched but with the rare qualities of Caeſar's Son; yet I adviſe you, that in preferring inviolably what you owe to him, you gently manage Cornelius his ſpirit, and do not put your ſelf in danger by too rough uſage of him, of making him make uſe of the power he hath over you. I am too ſenſible of it, replyed Candace, not to follow your counſel, and whatſoever difficulty I have to diſſemble my thoughts; yet ſo long as the Man ſhall keep himſelf within the bounds of that reſpect which he hath hitherto obſerved, I ſhall forbear diſtaſting him as much as is poſſible; but if he never ſo little tranſgreſs, I will make him know what I am, and I have ſeen death often enough before my eyes already, to make me endure the face of it, rather than the leaſt offence againſt my honour, or that which I owe to the love of my dear Caeſar.’

The two Princeſſes entertained one another in this manner, and they had a very long diſcourſe together beſides, in the ſame place, wherein having paſſed from Candace's affairs to Eliſa's, that Princeſs according to the Queens Counſel, was reſolved to conceal neither her Birth nor her Name from Cornelius, ſuppoſing upon good grounds that ſhe could not find a better Sanctuary againſt the cruelty of the King of Parthia, than amongſt the Romans his Enemies, where Tyridates her Uncle had found refuge, and whoſe protection was the moſt puiſſant that ſhe could look for in the World. Candace believed, that then ſhe might, without putting Tyridates in danger, inform his Niece of the place of his retreat, and the obligations ſhe had to him, which ſhe did without any further delay, and by that diſcourſe ſhe wrought in the Princeſs, great thoughts of tenderneſs and eſteem towards her Uncle, whoſe perſon was unknown to her, and as earneſt a deſire to ſee him, as in this ſad condition of her life ſhe was capable of having for any thing in the world.

This deſolate Princeſs reſtrained her ſelf pretty well before Candace, and indeed, without laying any reſtraint upon her ſelf, ſhe found her ſweet ionſolation in her company; but at the Core her grief was ſo violent, that without an admirable ſtrength of ſpirit, ſhe could not eaſily have ſupported it ſo long without ſinking under it. The Image of her brave, but unfortunate Artaban, returned inceſſantly into her memory; and after ſhe had ran over the marvellous actions of that great man, and recalling into her remembrance the fair proofs of love which he had beſtowed upon her, when ſhe fell upon that deplorable paſſage how ſhe ſaw him thrown down headlong, and buried in the waves, all her inconſtancy could not defend her againſt the violent effects of her grief, and ſhe remained more dead than alive between the arms of Urinoe, or her Daughter, who were eternally employed in drying up her tears, and re-compoſing her ſpirit by all the words which pity, and the real affection they had for ſuch a Miſtreſs could put into their mouths. 'Twas in her bed that the tears took the liberty to overflow into a deluge, and the darkneſs wherewith the earth was then covered much better fitting the ſadneſs of her ſoul, than the brightneſs of a fair day, brought back into it [Page] the ſorrowful objects in their moſt natural form, and left nothing in her mind but meer Idea's of Death. Then it was, that after ſhe had ſhed Rivers of tears, wherewith her pillow was all wet, and forcing the ſobs, which would have ſtopt the paſſage of her ſpeech: My dear Artaban, ſaid ſhe, is it poſſible that Eliſa ſhould beſtow nothing but tears upon my death, and that thou canſt take ſo poor a payment for ſo precious a life as thou haſt given her, and loſt onely upon her account: Can all the prodigious effects of thy valour, whereof ſhe was the onely aim and cauſe, all thoſe ſo tender, ſo excellent, and ſo admirable teſtimonies of love; and in fine, that cruel death which thou haſt ſuffered before mine eyes in the deſtroying waves for my intereſt alone, find nothing in the weak Eliſa but tears for reparation of them all? Ah mine eyes! you ſpend your ſtores in vain, and though you could make a Sea as vaſte as that wherein my dear Artaban is entombed, if you make it not of my blood, you will beſtow but little upon Artaban; all my ſighs, and ſobs, and complaints, makes no change in his condition, nor in mine; and 'tis Eliſa, certainly 'tis Eliſa which he requires amongſt the ſhades below, if he can require any thing. Ah! continued ſhe, with many ſighs, if it be onely Eliſa that thou requireſt, thou haſt reaſon to be ſatisfied in whatſoever place the deſtinies cauſe thy Ghoſt to wander, Eliſa bears thee company inſeparably, and if ſome weakneſs, or ſome remainders of an ill-grounded hope, have hindred her from making the laſt attempt upon her life to come, and bear thee company below, her ſpirit is not abſent from thee one moment, either out of any deſire of life, or expectation of comfort.

From theſe ſad diſcourſes ſhe had with Artaban, wherein ſhe found more ſweetneſs than in all the other actions of her life, ſhe turned her complaints againſt her ill fortune, and all her moderation and piety towards the Gods, could not hinder her ſometimes from quarrelling at the rigorous decrees of Heaven, for the cruel countenance and ſad ſucceſs of her misfortunes. In this ſorrowful employment, ſhe paſſed almoſt whole nights, and hardly at the break of day, did ſhe give any acceſs to ſleep, and that rather out of weakneſs, than any intervals of repoſe.

One night, during which, ſhe had extraordinarily tormented her ſelf, having cloſed her eyes a little before the darkneſs began to quit the earth, at the time when dreams preſent themſelves to our imagination more clear and undiſturbed: After ſome viſions without order or coherence, which moſt commonly precede thoſe which ſeem moſt agreeable to the truth; whether it were upon effect of thoſe thoughts which had poſſeſſed her whilſt ſhe was awake, or upon ſome intelligence that Heaven was pleaſed to ſend her, it ſeemed to her that ſhe was again upon that unfaithful Element which ſhe perpetually accuſed of her loſſes, and where ſhe had ſeen all her joys and hopes intombed in the perſon of her Artaban. In this hateful place ſhe had a while diſcharged her reſentments againſt the cruel waters, by which ſhe had loſt all, when ſhe ſaw ariſe from beneath the waters, the God of the waters, in a Chariot drawn by Triton, with his Trident in his hand, and ſuch as he is repreſented by the Poets, who after he had heard her complaints, looking upon her with a diſcontented air: Forbear Eliſa, ſaid he, forbear to accuſe me of thy misfortunes; I detain nothing from thee, and I have rendred thee thy Artaban, whom thou ſhalt ſee again upon the Shore, at the Tomb of a faithful Lover. The God, as he ſpake theſe words, before he plunged himſelf again beneath the wayes, ſhewed her with this hand the ſhore of Alexandria, and it ſeemed to this ſleeping Princeſs, that turning her eyes at the ſame time towards the place which he pointed out to her, ſhe ſaw upon the Shore her dear Artaban ſtretching out his arms to her, and calling her to him with geſtures all compoſed of paſſion. This ſight having produced a violent effect upon Eliſa's Spirit, ſhe would have cryed out with tranſport, and by the efforts ſhe uſed in that action, ſhe wakened her ſelf with a ſtart. When ſhe was awake, ſhe had her arms ſtretched out to the Image which was preſented to her eyes when they were ſhut, and not being able, by awakening preſently, to drive that dear Idea out of her imagination, ſhe felt about the bed, and ſought after that Artaban which had appeared before her, pronouncing his name two or three times. But when her ſleepineſs was perfectly over, and ſhe ſaw her ſelf abaſed by ſleep, her grief renewed with violence, and ſeeing that object that was ſo agreeable to her eyes, and dear to her memory, no longer appear, ſhe abandoned her ſelf to regret, and recalled her tears which had hardly ſtopped their courſe whileſt ſhe was aſleep: ‘Ah! Artaban, ſaid ſhe, melting into tears, thou deceiveſt me, and flyeſt from me, and thou doſt not preſent thy ſelf to me during theſe moments of ſleep which thou leaveſt me, but to render the loſs more preſent to me, and to renew my griefs; thou calleſt to me from the ſhore, or rather from the port whereunto thou art arrived by thy death, after thou hadſt been ſo long toſſed upon the tempeſtuous Sea of miſeries and croſſes, wherein thou leaveſt the deplorable Eliſa; thou calleſt me Artaban, and by thy action reproacheſt me from this weakneſs, which hath not permitted me to go and ſeek [Page] with thee that tranquility which thou enjoyeſt; but if thou beeſt not cruel, do not accuſe me for having abandoned thee out of any remainders of love of life; but believe that I am ſo little in love with it ſince I loſt thee, that I am ready to give willingly the remains of it to be reunited to thee.’ Upon this thought divers Tragical reſolutions preſented themſelves to her, and paſſing from this remembrance to the former part of her dream, where the God of the Sea promiſed her that ſhe ſhould ſee her Artaban again at the Tomb of a Faithful Lover. ‘Yet, continued ſhe, 'tis no ſmall comfort to Eliſa, that ſhe may ſee again at the Tomb, him whom ſhe believed was buried in the intrals of the Fiſhes. I do not doubt but that my Artaban hath been faithful to his Eliſa, and ſince I have not been permitted to cloſe his eyes, and to receive his laſt breath, I could not, God of the Seas, receive from thee in reparation of the cruel outrage thou haſt done me, in bringing this loved body to the ſhore, and in giving me the means to encloſe my ſelf in the ſame Tomb with my faithful Lover; I willingly flie to the Tomb that is conſecrated for Eliſa, and as Artaban himſelf is the grave wherein my affections are buried, ſo I will not avoid the occaſion of encloſing my ſelf with him in the ſame Tomb upon the ſhore of Alexandria.’

Whilſt Eliſa uttered theſe ſad words, in a condition which might move the moſt inſenſible hearts to pity, the brightneſs of the approaching day began to ſpread it ſelf about her Chamber, and at the noiſe of ſome words which ſhe pronounced aloud, and ſome ſobs that accompanied them, a young Slave, whom with divers others, Cornelius had given to her to ſerve her (as he had given many likewiſe to the Queen of Ethiopia) drawing near her bed, asked her, with a great deal of care, if ſhe were not well, and if ſhe wanted any thing. Eliſa being quite buried in the ſad thoughts which poſſeſſed her, heard not the Slaves words, and inſtead of anſwering of her, reſuming her diſcourſe with many ſighs; Ah dear Image of that I love, continued ſhe, return again to me for a few moments, and ſince that, by the cruelty of my deſtiny, I am condemned never to ſee thee more but by illuſion, make theſe illuſions laſt as long as the deplorable life thou haſt left me.

Theſe words pronounced with a tone of voice which might have made a paſſage into the moſt obdurate ſouls, pierced deep into the mind of the Slave who heard them, and ſhe poſſibly being not ignorant of the effects of that paſſion, which was the cauſe of Eliſa's greateſt misfortunes, her compaſſion made her preſently intereſs her ſelf in the grief of a perſon, whom her admirable parts made her ſerve already with a great deal of inclination. Ah! ſaid ſhe, with a ſigh as profound as Eliſa's could be, as far as I can judge, both Love and Fortune exerciſe their powers every where, and thoſe which till now complained of the Tyranny, may find companions throughout the whole World. She had poſſibly enlarged her ſelf in the meditation, if Eliſa, not being able to take repoſe in any poſture, had not turned her ſelf that way, and ſeeing her by her Bed-ſide, whereof the Curtain was a little drawn. The Princeſs was a little ſurprized to ſee her there ſo early, and having taken notice that it was neither Urinoe nor Cephiſa ſhe asked her with a great deal of ſweetneſs, what occaſion had brought her thither. 'Tis my deſire to ſerve you Madam, anſwered the Slave, and I have heard ſome complaints from your mouth which made me fear that you were indiſpoſed. Alas! replyed the deſolate Princeſs, how can you apply any remedy to my indiſpoſition, and how unprofitably are your officious cares employed in the comfort of ſo unfortunate a perſon? As for the diſeaſes of the mind, anſwered the Slave, reaſon, time, and the aſſiſtance of Heaven may remedy them, and there are poſſibly, Madam, ſome as unfortunate as your ſelf, who make their reaſon act for their conſolation, and expect from Time and Heaven the ſweetning of their Miſeries.

Since the time that Cornelius had beſtowed this Slave upon the Princeſs, ſhe had taken no notice of her; but hearing her ſpeak in this manner, with an accent which reliſhed ſomething of a more than vulgar ſweetneſs, ſhe caſt her eyes upon her face, and viewed her with ſome attention. Eliſa's eyes were troubled with the tears which ſhe had ſhed, and there was not yet light enough in that part of the Chamber, that ſhe might diſcern particular objects; but if Eliſa could not particularly obſerve the features of the Slaves countenance, ſhe ſaw that ſhe was of a very handſome proportion, and that in her eyes, as dull and languiſhing as they were, there ſparkled ſomething very lively and very bright; ſhe was moved with ſome greater conſideration for her, than people ordinarily have for Slaves, and anſwering her diſcourſe with more attention than could probably be expected from the exceſs of her grief. They which can make uſe of their reaſon in calamities of the ſame nature with mine, ſaid ſhe to her, have left it a command over their ſpirit which ſuch diſaſters as mine are wont to deſtroy, and I doubt very much that reaſon hath not ſtrength enough to take away all ſenſibility in misfortunes, wherein all hope of remedies, either from the aſſiſtance of men, or the ſuccour of Heaven, is quite extinguiſhed. It would be too much to require at Reaſon's hand, replyed the Slave, to expect from that, that it ſhould render us inſenſible of thoſe misfortunes wherein all hope hath quite deſerted us; but after we have yielded to that reſentment, part of that which humane infirmity cannot deny it, [Page] we ſhall find without doubt, in the aſſiſtance of reaſon, part of what we have loſt, together with our hopes; and ſince it pleaſer you, Madam, out of an exceſs to goodneſs, to permit a poor Slave to enter into diſcourſe with you, I will take liberty to tell you, that in the greateſt calamities we partly find ſome remedy and conſolation in our ſelves, and that we help to exaſperate or ſweeten them by the conſtancy wherewith we ſupport them, and certainly Vertue would ſignifie little in us if we did not make uſe of it in afflictions, and as it ſerves in proſperity, to make us receive good ſucceſs without pride and inſolence, ſo likewiſe in adverſity, it ought to make us ſupport diſgraces, without diminution of courage. Whether we have drawn theſe miſeries upon us by our faults, or whether they fall upon us by our own faults, or whether they fall upon us from Heaven, which for reaſons hidden from our weak underſtanding, is pleaſed to try, or exerciſe us; In either caſe we can onely have recourſe to patience, in relation to the calamities which we deſerve, or to reſignation, in reſpect of thoſe which fall upon us, according to the will of our Superiours, againſt whom we are not permitted ſo much as to murmur. Upon theſe words which the Slave pronounced with an admirable grace, the Princeſs of the Parthians looking upon her with much greater attention than before, in the beginning of their diſcourſe: Ah Madam! ſaid ſhe to her, by whom have you been ſo well inſtructed? If you practiſe theſe Maxims, of which you diſcourſe, ſo handſomely in the condition you are in, there are but few, not onely amongſt free perſons, but thoſe of the higheſt dignity, whom you do not exceed in the excellency of your underſtanding. Oftentimes, replyed the Slave, Vertue is better known than practiſed, but if my inclinations have carried me that way, I had as much occaſion to exerciſe it, as any other Maid poſſibly in the World, and it is onely, Madam, upon the account of the long acquaintance I have had with misfortunes, that I have ventured to ſay ſomething to you upon a ſubject wherein experience hath made me too knowing. Ah my Girl! replyed Eliſa, is it poſſible that you have taſted of them too, and that pitileſs Fortune hath ſpared you no more than others? Alas! anſwered the afflicted Slave, ſhe hath ſpared me but too much, in leaving me my life after ſhe had rendred it more hard and more inſupportable a thouſand times than all the moſt cruel deaths ſhe could make me ſuffer, and there remained onely that end to conclude all the cruelties to which ſhe hath expoſed the moſt unfortunate life that ever was: you may ſee one mark of it in the condition wherein you find me, ſince I can aſſure you that I was not born a Slave, and I will add to what you know already, that poſſibly ſervitude is the leaſt of my miſeries.

The Slave had ſpoken more to this purpoſe, and the Princeſs who hearkned to her with thoughts far from indifferency, and out of her natural goodneſs, began to intereſs her ſelf in thoſe miſeries whereof ſhe made mention, would have expoſed her without a doubt to a further diſcovery, if Urania and her Daughter being got up, after they knew that Eliſa was awake, had not come near to her Bed ſide. The Slave retired at their approach, and the Princeſs, who in another condition, would not have let her been quite without ſatisfying the curioſity ſhe had begun to raiſe in her, as ſhe was at preſent, was contented to deſer the remainder of their diſcourſe till another time.

A little after the Queen Candace being but half ready came into the Chamber, and ſitting down upon the Princeſſes Bed-ſide, ſhe informed her ſelf of the condition of her health, and her laſt nights repoſe, as ſhe had been accuſtomed to do. Eliſa continued a while without returning her any anſwer, preſſing her between her arms with a charming tenderneſs, and when ſhe began to ſpeak, Ah Madam! ſaid ſhe ſighing, how cruel hath my awakening been to me this morning, in depriving me of a dear ſight which ſleep hath preſented to me? I ſaw my unfortunate Artaban ſtretching out his arms to me, and inviting me to him into places whither my weakneſs hindred me from following him. He appeared to my eyes being cloſed, ſuch as he had formerly appeared to my heart; he had the ſame port, the ſame actions, and the ſame features in his face, and that unſeaſonable awakening binders me from hearing the tone of the ſame voice, which formerly made me ſuch real proteſtations of an inviolable fidelity.

After theſe words, ſhe related to her, with a very paſſionate action, all the particulars of her dream: The Queen hearkned to them with the intereſt ſhe took in the affairs of that fair Princeſs, and did all ſhe could poſſibly to find ſomething in it that might ſerve for her comfort, ſhe apparently met with it in the former part of the dream, and being unwilling to loſe this occaſion of re-compoſing a little the Spirit of this afflicted Princeſs; ‘Madam, ſaid ſhe, the Gods without doubt contribute to confirm you in the hopes I give you of your Artaban's ſafety, and he that governs that unfaithful Element, wherein you believe you loſt him, takes care to juſtifie himſelf againſt the complaints you make of him; he tells you himſelf that he hath not detained that which you demand of him, but hath rendred it to you upon the ſhore, where you ſhall be permitted to ſee him again, Yes, interrupted Eliſa, [Page] he tells me he hath reſtored it to me, but doth not tell me in what condition, and conſidering the ſmall diſtance between the place where the unfortunate Artaban threw himſelf into the waves, and the ſhore, I do not doubt but that the waves, as they ſay 'tis ordinary, may have carried his body to the Shore; Neptune may have reſtored it, but he hath not reſtored it alive, as he received it, and if it had been ſo, he would not have forgot to give me that comfort, ſince he had begun to take care of it. Neither in dreams, replyed Candace, nor in their Oracles themſelves are the Gods accuſtomed to explain themſelves more clearly to us, and in all thoſe which antiquity hath obſerved, you ſhall find none, wherein part of the truth was not concealed, until the manifeſtation of it by the event. But, anſwered Eliſa, the God ſufficiently declares himſelf in that he tells me, that I ſhall ſee Artaban again at the Tomb of a faithful Lover, and if he promiſed me that I ſhould ſee him again any where elſe but at a Tomb, I might conceive ſome glimpſe of hope for his life, but 'tis only at a Tomb that we muſt be re-united, and in that reſpect, the words of the God do make them ſo intelligible, that it would be but folly in me to expect any comfort from them.’ Candace was almoſt of Eliſa's opinion, and found a great deal of probability in what ſhe ſaid, but ſhe diſguiſed her thoughts a little to appeaſe her grief, and ſeeking upon that deſign for ſome explication of her dream, contrary to her own judgment: ‘If it were only, ſaid ſhe, to acquaint you with Artabans death, the Gods would not have taken the care to give you a belief, which is but too much eſtabliſhed already in your ſpirit, and there is leſs probability that they meant to abuſe you, in giving you falſe hopes by ambiguous words. As for the word Tomb, which terrifies you, you cannot, as I conceive, find any juſt matter of fear in it, and as you never doubted but that you were mortal, you ought not to be aſtoniſhed, if Heaven promiſes you that you ſhall lie in the ſame Tomb with Artaban, in this promiſe there is ſomething more advantagious than in the reſt of the dream; and Heaven without doubt acquaints you, that after you have paſſed a great many years together, you ſhall be buried in the ſame Tomb. However it be, my dear Princeſs, we muſt alwayes judge well of a thing when the appearances are more favourable than contrary to us, and as the Gods have more inclination to acquaint us with good than evil, we ſhould offend them without doubt, if we ſhould not rather expect good than evil, upon an occaſion when they leave us more room for hope than fear.’ Candace ſpake in this manner, partly againſt her own thoughts, and Eliſa, out of the belief ſhe had in that fair Queen, did what poſſibly ſhe could to receive part of the conſolation which ſhe deſired to adminiſter to her.

From this diſcourſe, which was of ſome longer continuance between them, Eliſa paſſed to that which ſhe had had with the Slave, of whom ſhe made ſuch a mention to the Queen, that ſhe made her deſire to ſee her preſently. She commanded her to be called, and a little after ſhe came into the Chamber, and preſented her ſelf before the two Princeſſes. They beheld her then in a perfect light, and with more care than they had had for her before, and they found in her perſon where withall to entertain their eyes and their attention. In the condition whereunto the miſeries of her life had reduced her, the beauty which ſhe might have received from Heaven could not appear in its ordinary luſtre; ſhe had almoſt loſt all her fleſh, and the vivacity of her complexion was almoſt ſpoyled by the length of the grief and troubles wherewith her mind and body hath been perplexed; her lips did not bluſh with that pure Carnation which formerly had covered them, and her leanneſs had lengthened her viſage, and changed the features of it, ſo that upon a ſleight view, nothing could be ſeen in her face which might give any ready knowledge of the beauties which ſhe had once been Miſtreſs of. But after that the Princeſſes had more nearly and more carefully obſerved her, they took notice of ſomething in that almoſt decayed complexion that was wonderfully delicate; in the form of her mouth, and the compoſition of the features of her face, though they were altered by the loſs of her fleſh, they remarked an admirable regularity, and when ſhe lifted up her eyes to anſwer the demands they made her, they ſaw luſtres or rather lightnings proceed from thence, which dazled their ſight: As languiſhing and caſt down as they were, yet they were full of that potent fire, againſt which Souls have little power of reſiſtance, and if their languiſhing had taken ſome what from the force of their regards, it had made them loſe nothing of their ſweetneſs, but ſeemed to have added ſomething more tender and moving to them, they were of a bright gray as Eliſa's were, and her hair very near the Princeſſes, her proportion was ſtall and ſtreight; and finally, by the ruines of this beauty one might judge, conſidering it attentively, that it had been one of the moſt excellent in the World, and according to the youthfulneſs of the Slave (who ſeemed not to be above twenty years of age) might return to its former condition, if the cauſe of thoſe ſorrows which had thus defaced it, were removed.

Candace looked upon her with a particular curioſity, and when ſhe had obſerved in her countenance ſome things which moved her to a different conſideration from that which we [Page] have for perſons of that condition: Fair Maid, ſaid ſhe, I have underſtood ſome things concerning you from the mouth of this Princeſs, that have created a great deſire in me to ſee you, and the report ſhe hath made me of your perſon, and the vertue which appears in your diſcourſe hath wrought an intereſt in me for you, that will make me willingly ſeek out the means of adminiſtring comfort to you in your preſent condition. Madam, anſwered the Slave, this effect of your goodneſs is very conformable to the grandeur and nobleneſs that appears in your perſon, and as I believe that it is very difficult to find any in the World equal to your ſelf and the Princeſs, who hath made you this advantagious relation of me, ſo I do not doubt but that in the honour of ſerving you both, I may find all the eaſe of my miſeries that I can hope for in the condition I now am. But O Gods! continued ſhe, with ſome tears that fell from her fair eyes, how hard is it to apply any remedy to my diſpleaſures, and how much are my griefs above ordinary conſolation? You are not, replyed Candace, the onely Maid that fortune hath ill uſed, and poſſibly you ſee an example in us of the the greateſt rigors that ever ſhe exerciſed againſt perſons of our Sex and Birth. If the cauſe of your grief proceeds from your ſervitude, we will employ our credit to make you change your condition, and poſſibly we ſhall have power enough with the Pretor, continued ſhe ſmiling upon Eliſa, to obtain your liberty of him.

They would have ſpoken more, and Candace being moved with tenderneſs to the Slave, and leſs oppreſſed with grief than the Parthian Princeſs, would have preſſed this Maid to a more ample declaration of her ſelf, if Cornelius after he underſtood that they were in a condition fit to be ſeen, had not entred into the Chamber. The Princeſſes received him with civility, and though the knowledge of his love began to work ſome repugnance in Candace, ſhe thought her ſelf obliged by the neceſſity of her preſent condition to lay ſome conſtraint upon her ſelf. After the firſt complements of ſalutation and reception Cornelius told the Princeſſes, that he came to impart to them the news that he had received from Auguſtus, he informed them that Caeſar departed from Cyprus to come to Alexandria, where he had been long expected, had been aſſailed by a furious tempeſt, probably the ſame that brought the Princeſſes upon that ſhore; that great part of his Veſſels were either caſt away, or ſcattered, and that he being by a ſingular favour of Heaven preſerv'd with a few others, was landed at laſt at Peluſium, where he ſtaid a few dayes to refreſh himſelf before he came to Alexandria, and thence had ſent him command to ſtay for his coming thither, and not to meet him as he was reſolved to have done. He told them likewiſe, that it was believed that by that ſhipwrack divers important perſons were loſt, and amongſt the reſt the Princeſs Cleopatra, of whom they could hear no news, and for whom the greateſt part of the Emperor's Court was in great ſadneſs.

Candace was mightily moved at this news, out of the intereſt ſhe took in all the Kindred of Caeſario, and having asked Cornelius how Cleopatra had been enveloped in that Shipwrack, ſeeing the principal perſons had eſcaped it: She was, replyed Cornelius, in Octavia's Veſſel, whom ſhe accompanied in that Voyage, and ſome hours before the tempeſt, that Princeſs with all her attendants having paſſed into Caeſars Veſſel, Cleopatra who that day found her ſelf indiſpoſed, or melancholy and unfit for greater company, ſtayed in Octavia's Ship with ſome Maids that ſerved her, and the Seamen. A little after the Tempeſt ſurprized them with ſo much ſuddenneſs and violence, that the Veſſels could never joyn again, and ſince that time the Ship wherein Cleopatra was, was never ſeen, nor divers others, by whoſe loſs the Fleet hath been diminiſhed. Candace was very much afflicted at this relation, and having continued ſome moments without ſpeaking, and yet not being able to diſſemble the ſadneſs ſhe reſented for the loſs of her dear Caeſario's Siſter; ‘I have heard ſo much ſpoken, ſaid ſhe, of the beauty and vertue of that Princeſs, that I cannot receive the relation of her loſs without grief, and I deſire with all my heart, that by ſome aſſiſtance of Heaven ſhe may have eſcaped that danger. They who have ſpoken to you concerning that Princeſs, anſwered Cornelius, were not skilful enough to depaint unto you either her divine beauty or admirable qualities in that perfection wherein ſhe poſſeſſes them, and though ſome years are paſt ſince I ſaw her, which without doubt have made a grand addition to thoſe prodigious beginnings, the reputation of them hath ſpread ſo far ſince, that 'tis almoſt impoſſible that any one ſhould be ignorant of them in places more remote than Alexandria. O Gods! ſaid the fair Eliſa, lifting up her eyes to Heaven with a ſigh, O Sea, O Fortune, how cruelly do ye ſport your ſelves with our deſtines! and how doth that unfaithful Element carry away the moſt precious ſpoils, whilſt it leaves the miſerable remainders amongſt men.’

Theſe words pronounced in a very pitiful manner, and with an action which proceeding from ſuch a beauty as Eliſa's was, produced miraculous effects, awakened the curioſity which Cornelius had alwayes had to know this Princeſs, and having ſignified as much to her, with the greateſt diſcretion he poſſibly could; Eliſa who had reſolved before that Candace [Page] to conceal her ſelf no longer from him, taking up the diſcourſe with an attractive grace: You ſee Cornelius, ſaid ſhe to him, you ſee the Daughter of the Romans greateſt Enemy, whom deſign and fortune equally conduct into your hands to recieve from Caeſar the protection which he hath already granted to my Uncle Tyridates. Phraates Brother to that Prince, and Father to the Princeſs who ſpeaks to you, is our common perſecutor, and I hope that Auguſtus will not refuſe me the refuge which I would deſire of him againſt the cruelty of a man who ſheds the blood of his neareſt relations, no otherwiſe than if they were his moſt cruel enemies. Eliſa had hardly any need of this diſcourſe to perſwade Cornelius that ſhe was born in a very high condition, and ſhe carried ſo many marks of it in her countenance, that it was not eaſie to take her for an ordinary perſon: But ſhe had no ſooner acquainted the Pretor with this truth but ſtepping a little back with ſigns of aſtoniſhment, and looking her with the reſpect due to the only Daughter of the greateſt of all Kings, and of that King who only in the World oppoſed the greatneſs of the Roman Empire, I beg your pardon Madam, ſaid he to her, with an action full of ſubmiſſion, for the faults which my ignorance hath made me commit. I judged before by all manner of tokens that your birth was not mean, but I ſhould never have believed that fortune hath brought upon our coaſts the Daughter of the great King of the Parthians in the equipage wherein we ſee you, and in the condition wherein we lighted on you: you need not doubt but that you may find under Caeſar's protection all manner of refuge againſt the perſecution of Phraates, and whilſt you expect his own promiſe which he will make you within theſe few dayes, you ſhall receive from his Lieutenant all the reſpect and ſervices that are due to an admirable perſon, and of ſuch a birth as yours. Eliſa returned Coriolanus thanks with a great deal of ſweetneſs, and after that he had reiterated his offers, and began to behave himſelf towards her, as towards a Princeſs who might diſpute priority with Caeſar's Daughter, they paſſed the reſt of the morning in diſcourſe till dinnertime, and Eliſa made a brief relation to Cornelius of the accidents of her life, which could not be concealed from the publick, and the laſt diſaſters which caſt her upon the ſhore of Alexandria.

From this time forward he began to cauſe her to be ſerved according to her dignity, he appointed her a number of Officers and Slaves to attend her; and though he believed Candace's quality to be inferior to Eliſa's, the love he had for her making him to ſupply that defect, made him to treat them both, as to appearance, with little difference.

The Princeſſes lived in this manner at Alexandria ſome days, during which the Pretor loſt no occaſion to teſtifie his love to Candace both by his actions and diſcourſe. The Queen received the teſtimonies of his paſſion with a great deal of diſpleaſure, and if ſhe had been ruled by her reſentments, ſhe had rejected them with all the ſigns of ſharpneſs and diſdain; but by experience, which in ſo youthful an age the croſſes of her life had taught her, ſhe had learned, that it is a grand piece of prudence to diſſemble when one is not able to reſiſt, and calling to mind the hazards ſhe had run by the violence of thoſe perſons to whom her bad fortune had ſubmitted her, ſhe deſired to keep a lover, whoſe power was abſolute, within the limits of that reſpect that he had begun to ſhew her, by a treatment of him, which, though it was ſevere, and not very capable of giving him farther hopes, yet ſavoured nothing of rudeneſs or incivility. Cornelius uſed divers inventions to divert her, and the Princeſs Eliſa too, from whom ſhe was inſeparable, and beſides the recreations he endeavoured to give them in Alexandria, he led them oftentimes to walk without the City, and invited them a hunting, to which he had a great deal of inclination. The two Princeſſes received his cares diverſly, Eliſa, as a perſon, in whom all deſires, and all hopes were extinguiſhed, and Candace, as a perſon, in whom hope was not defunct, but her mind was prepoſſed with ſuch great cares, that ſhe had but little attention left for all the divertiſements that Cornelius could give her. She contrived it ſo handſomly that by Clitie's means ſhe might enquire news of Cleomedon, or Eteocles, and Eliſa had cauſed the ſhore to be often ſearched to find the body of her dear Artaban, according as the Gods had promiſed her, and according to the probability there was that it was caſt upon the ſhore; but hitherto both their pains had been in vain, and they both expected, though in a different manner, the eaſe of their miſeries, in which they found no ſuch ſweet conſolations as thoſe which they mutually gave each other by the charms of their good company.

They walked one morning in the Gardens of the Palace, conformable in their beauty to the magnificence of Cleopatra, Anthony, and ſo many mighty Kings who had beſtowed both coſt and care in the embelliſhing of them, and they had already meaſured part of the fair and ſpacious walks, when paſſing by a high hedge, they heard through the branches which compoſed it, the voice of a Perſon that ſung upon the other ſide, it was melodious enough to cauſe ſome attention in the hearers; and Candace, in whom all curioſity was not extinct, becauſe her hopes were ſtill alive, ſtaying Eliſa by the arm, prayed her to hearken a few moments to that agreeable found, which had ſo ſweetly ſaluted her ear; Eliſa who was of a complying [Page] humour, ſtayed at Candace's requeſt, though her grief left her but little inclination to thoſe things wherein other Perſons might find divertiſement, and the two Princeſſes hearkned a while with pleaſure to a very delicate voice, which with a ſorrowful tone breathed out amorous reſentments. It was a Woman that ſung, but her ſong was interrupted by another that was near her, juſt when the Princeſſes began to be moved at it, but they were the better pleaſed, becauſe they could hear the diſcourſe of thoſe two perſons, who believing that they were not over-heard, did freely declare their moſt private thoughts. ‘Leave this ſinging, ERicia, ſaid ſhe who interrupted her, leave this ſinging, which is no fit companion for my ſadneſs, wherein I cannot, as I have done formerly, find either eaſe or comfort, let us ſeek elſewhere the ſweetning of my grief, or rather let us ſeek for Sanctuary in death againſt the perſecutions of my pitileſs fortune. Let me die, let me die Ericia, and do not oppoſe thy ſelf any longer to the laſt remedy that the Gods leave me, ſeeing by that only I can put an end to thoſe cruel ſorrows which my deſtiny hath preſcribed me. This Woman had hardly done ſpeaking, but Cephiſa coming near to Eliſa, Madam, ſaid ſhe, I know not whether you have taken notice of this voice, but I can aſſure you that it is the Slave's air whom you have ſometimes honoured with your diſcourſe, who comforted you ſo handſomely the other day, and whom Madam, ſaid ſhe, pointing to Candace, you deſired to ſee and diſcourſe with. 'Tis the very ſame, ſaid the Princeſs, who eaſily diſcerned her voice: And that, added Candace, creates the greater curioſity in me, and will make me hearken with the more attention out of the deſire that I have had a long time to be acquainted with her.’ Theſe words were ſpoken ſo low that they could not be heard on the other ſide of the hedge, and Candace having laid her finger upon her mouth to enjoyn them to ſilence, ſhe laid her ear nearer to the Hedge, to hearken to the converſation of the two Slaves. She whoſe ſong was interrupted, began to reſume the diſcourſe, and diſcovering by a ſigh what ſhare ſhe had in thoſe misfortunes which ſhe lamented in her Song, ‘Alas! ſaid ſhe, will our miſeries never have an end, and will Heaven never ceaſe from tormenting perſons who have not merited by any crime the evils whereunto they ſee themſelves ſo long expoſed? Never poſſibly was a life ſo innocent ſubjected to ſo many diſaſters, and you have reaſon to believe, that neither by my mournful ſong, nor by all the tears my eyes can ſhed, I am able to accommodate my ſelf to the greatneſs of our miſ-haps. I am too blame, replyed the fair Slave, for letting one word ſlip in my grief, whereby I have poſſibly failed of that reſignation which I would alwayes have to the will of the Gods, and it proceeds from an effect of our weakneſs rather than a deliberate murmur, that I have made any accuſation againſt Heaven for the cruel continuance of my misfortunes; But 'tis certain, Ericia, that I have need of a perfect conſtancy to ſupport the burthen of my afflictions without ſinking under them, and that ſo weak a ſpirit as mine might poſſibly be excuſed ſometimes when it tranſgreſſes the ſtrict rules of moderation: O Gods! continued ſhe, lifting up her hands and eyes to Heaven, Gods whom I have invoked without murmur in my hardeſt afflictions, behold I abſolutely ſubmit to your will, and if that which I have hitherto ſuffered, be not capable to appeaſe your wrath, and repair the crimes of my relations, or mine own faults, throw down upon this unfortunate Creature more cruel evils than yet ſhe hath been ſenſible of, and only give her conſtancy enough to ſuffer them without offending you; there are few diſpleaſures to which this ſpirit hath not been ſubject, few toils to which this body hath not been expoſed, and few dangers into which my honour and my life have not been thrown; and yet, Great Gods, I will endure all with patience, and will not make the ſmalleſt complaint againſt your Divine Ordinances, if you render me that which I loſt, and if you reſtore me that which is abſolutely loſt as it can be for me, keeps me in grief, in miſery and ſlavery.’

This fair afflicted perſon, without doubt, had ſpoken more, if the Princeſs Eliſa, in whom the meeting with ſorrowful perſons like her ſelf wrought a puiſſant effect, feeling her grief revived by the ſlaves diſcourſe, had not broken ſilence with an exclamation loud enough to be heard at a farther diſtance than that which ſeparated them. O Heaven, cryed ſhe, O pitileſs fortune, 'tis not upon us alone that you let fall the effects of your choler! Theſe words were underſtood by the fair Slave, and by her who was known as well as ſhe by Clity and Cephiſe, to be a companion of her ſervitude. At the firſt they were troubled when they perceived their diſcourſe was over-heard, and they continued a good while without ſpeaking or ſtirring from the place where they ſate, in ſearch of ſome means to repair the fault which they ſuppoſed they had committed; but they were much more amazed, when the fair Queen of Ethiopia, who had hearkned to their diſcourſe with much more attention than the Princeſs of the Parthians, having found a paſſage through the hedge a few ſpaces off, paſſed to that ſide where they were, and ſhewed her ſelf to them, and preſently after came Eliſa, and their women that attended them. After their coming, the Slave roſe haſtily from the place where ſhe ſate, and caſting down her eyes at the arrival of Candace, ſhe let them underſtand that it was not [Page] without confuſion, that ſhe ſaw her ſelf ſurprized in a diſcourſe which perhaps might have made too large a diſcovery.

Candace deſired to recompence her preſently, and looking upon her with an eye full of ſweetneſs, Fair Maid, ſaid ſhe, be not grieved that we have heard ſome words from your mouth, contrary to your intention, they have onely made us know that you are in the rank of unfortunate Perſons, and the conformity you have with us, renders you yet more dear to thoſe perſons who bad a very high eſteem before of your perſon as well for that Beauty which your ſorrows have not been able to conceal from our knowledge, though they have a little altered it, as for thoſe marks of vertue, courage and diſcretion, that we have obſerved in you; 'tis a good while ſince that theſe good parts of yours have wrought in the Princeſs whom you ſerve, and my ſelf a great deſire of knowing you more particularly than we do yet, and to eaſe you of thoſe miſeries whereof you complain, by all the power that our own have left us, in a place where we are ſtrangers, and ſeek for refuge.

During the diſcourſe of the fair Queen, the Slave recovered from her aſtoniſhment, and looking in her face, with eyes full of the moſt lively and ſparkling ſweetneſs, eyes that as heavy and as languiſhing as they were, could dart out a thouſand moſt violent flames, ſhe appeared to the two Princeſſes in ſuch a condition as made them look upon her with more conſideration than before. The open light of the Garden diſcovered more Beauties to them than they could ſo well obſerve in places more obſcure, and they judged with a little confuſion, that this Beauty in its natural luſtre, had not poſſibly been much inferior to their own.

Candace would have gone on to diſcover her thoughts, when the Slave having fully recompoſed her ſelf, and arming her ſelf with an abſolute confidence before ſuch Perſons as gave her ſo many teſtimonies of their affection: ‘Madam, ſaid ſhe to her, I ſhould not be diſpleaſed at all to have been ſurpriſed in a converſation, the particularities whereof may poſſibly have diſcovered ſomething of my life, if the Princeſs whom I ſerve, and your ſelf may find any ſatisfaction in it, or any consolation to your diſpleaſures; and the knowledge I have now of your goodneſs hath made me ſo little ſuſpect you, that though this accident had not engaged me, I ſhould not have refuſed to diſcover my ſelf to you, when you ſhould have ſignified your deſires to me. I owe this difference (and I will ſpeak of you with more juſtice than you have ſpoken of this unfortunate perſon) to the admirable Beauty of two ſuch uncommon perſons, to ſo many rare qualities of the mind that accompany the miracles of their bodies, to the goodneſs of thoſe offers full of compaſſion and generoſity, which you have made me, and (as much as to all theſe conſiderations) to the conformity that happens out between miſerable and afflicted perſons. You may diſlike this liberty of ſpeech in a ſimple Slave, but poſſibly you will partly pardon me, when I ſhall have rendred to your commands the obedience that you deſire of me. Dear Maid, ſaid Eliſa, I have found ſo much conſolation in your diſcourſe, that I cannot diſapprove of it, and you expreſs your ſelf with ſo much prudence and diſcretion, that one cannot hearken to you without eſteeming and loving you: this effect of merit gives me conſiderations for you, which ſervitude cannot take from you, and though you are a Slave rather by means of your Fortune than by your Birth, yet you have created ſuch a curioſity in me of knowing you, as, in the deplorable condition wherein I am at preſent, I had not poſſibly been capable of in relation to any other thing. I ſhall ſatisfie your deſires when you pleaſe, replyed the Slave, and I ſhall make no difficulty to do it before theſe perſons that are with you (purſued ſhe, pointing to Urinoe, Cephiſa, and Clitye, who without any other company followed their Miſteſs) upon the confidence that I have that their diſcretion is conformable to the perſons whom they ſerve: I will acquaint you with ſuch things as you will judge to be of ſo much importance as not to be communicated but to a few Perſons, and you will perceive, by the confidence I have in you, that inclination rather than ſervitude engages me to obey you; but leſt the diſcourſe I have to make you ſhould be overheard, as that was which I had with this Maid, if you pleaſe, we will change our place, and I deſire you to take the pains to walk to that Arbor which you ſee at the corner of the hedge, where with leſs fear I ſhall render you an exact account of that which you deſire of me.’

The two Princeſſes having afreſh admired the Grace ſhe had in expreſſing her ſelf, did what ſhe deſired, and preſently after went to the Arbor which ſhe ſhewed them, where they could not be ſurpriſed by any perſon. The two Princeſſes ſate down upon the Green banks, and their Maids being ſeated at their feet, Eliſa made a ſign to the Slave to ſit down by Cephiſa; but ſhe did not obey that deſign, and ſtanding up as if ſhe ſeemed not to have obſerved it, and beginning the diſcourſe with an aſſurance, and a geſture that ſignified nothing of a Slave: Before I take the place which you appoint me, ſaid ſhe to Eliſa, I muſt inform you who I am, that you may judge whether I be worthy of the grace you do to a Slave, and poſſibly you will partly pardon the liberty I have taken with you, when you ſhall know that I am a Kings Daughter as well as you, and that the Slave whom Fortune bath put into your ſervice, is deſcended as your are, from a [Page] long ſucceſſion of Monarchs, who have all worn, and do yet wear to this day, a Crown upon their head.

Theſe words pronounced with an admirable grace, ſurpriſed the two Princeſſes in ſuch a manner, that at firſt they could not expreſs their aſtoniſhment, but only by their ſilence, and their looks which ſurveyed the Princely Slave anew from head to foot: But a little after, recovering themſelves out of the confuſion which this adventure cauſed in them, they roſe up both together, and coming nearer to her with an action full of civility and deference, ‘What, Madam, cryed they out both at once, Are you a Kings Daughter? I am, replyed the Princeſs, and in the preſent condition of my affairs I ſhould have reaſon enough to conceal it, rather than publiſh it, if I had not received a command to do it from two Perſons whom I will obey being a Princeſs, as I ought to obey them being a Slave.’ Eliſa the more confounded of the two, as remembring that ſhe had received ſervices from that Princeſs, that are not uſually received but from perſons of the meaneſt birth, ſpake firſt, and expreſſing her ſhame by a bluſh that mounted into her cheeks; ‘Ah Madam, ſaid ſhe, in what manner ſhall I repair the faults I have committed againſt a Princeſs of an equal Birth to mine? I have no regret, replyed the Princely Slave, for the ſervices I have rendred you, and I will willingly continue, out of my inclination, that which I have begun, in reſpect to my fortune, which hath made me fall into ſervitude: I have received from you but too many marks of goodneſs for a Slave, and in the condition wherein I have appeared to your eyes, I could not have hoped from you the graces you have done me. Ah Madam, anſwered Eliſa, I am not excuſable, or at leaſt I muſt make my grief my Apology, which deprives me of all manner of knowledge, and hath hindred me from obſerving in your countenance the marks of Grandeur, which diſcover your Birth. If I have not taken notice of the abſolute truth, added Candace, I have at leaſt conjectured a part of it, and if I have not taken this Princeſs for what ſhe is, yet 'tis very certain that ſince the firſt converſation we had together, I have judged her Birth to be very diſproportionable to her preſent Fortune.’

After theſe words Candace and Eliſa embracing the Princely Slave, who making no difficulty after the diſcovery ſhe had made, to receive their careſſes with more equality than ſhe had done a few moments before, ſtretched out her arms too, and received their embraces with tears of tenderneſs, which trickled down the eyes of the three Princeſſes, out of the conſideration which they made at the ſame time upon that Fortune, which treated three perſons of ſo high a dignity with an equal rigour, and brought into the ſame place from divers parts of the Earth, three Kings Daughters in an Eſtate ſo different from their condition. O humane grandeurs and felicities, cryed Candace, how are they abuſed that lay any foundation upon your ſtability, and how much inconſtancy and weakneſs have ye to blot out all the charms that blinded ſpirits find in you! After theſe words, and ſome others, which they added upon this Subject, they deſired the Princely Slave to ſit between them, and relate the Story of her life, the knowledge of her condition having much augmented their curioſity: She made ſome difficulty to take that place in the habit ſhe then wore, for fear ſhe might be ſurpriſed in a place which would have made her diſcover a truth which ſhe deſired to conceal: But the Princeſſes would not permit her to ſit elſewhere, and to remedy the fear ſhe had of being ſurpriſed, they made one of their Maids ſtay at the entrance of the Arbor, to give them notice when ſhe ſaw any one approach.

The Princeſſes being thus placed, the Slave was intreated again by the two others with all manner of civilities and careſſes to diſcover them the events of her life, wherein they already took a great deal of intereſt, and ſhe being willing to give them that ſatisfaction without being any further preſſed to it, after ſhe had meditated a few moments to recal into her memory a great many accidents wherewith her life was croſſed, ſhe began her diſcourſe in theſe terms.

The Hiſtory of Olympia.

NOthing doth more ſtrongly perſwade me to believe the immortality of the Soul, and the paſſage from this life to another more happy and more quiet, than the miſeries of the good, and the proſperity of the bad; and ſeeing the Gods are juſt, there is little probability that they ſhould ſuffer lives altogether innocent to paſs away in misfortunes, and lives highly criminal in happineſs and impunity, if we were not reſerved to another life, wherein vice ſhall receive its puniſhments, and vertue its recompences: If it were not ſo, I ſhould have great cauſe to complain of that Providence, which hath the Soveraign rule over our deſtinies, having experimented in ſuch a condition as mine, and in an age which hath made no great Progreſs, miſeries under which a long life would have groaned, and an ordinary conſtancy poſſibly have ſunk.

[Page] Adallus King of Thrace, who was a great Friend to Anthony, and ſerved him with his forces and his perſon in the famous battel of Actium, was my Father and his Son, who bears the ſame name, and reigns at this day over that people, is my only Brother. I was but a very young Girl when the Queen my Mother died, and her death was to me an irreparable loſs; for had ſhe continued longer in the world, ſhe might poſſibly have ſecured me from a great part of thoſe diſaſters wherewith I have been ſince overwhelmed. The King my Father cauſed me to be educated with the greateſt care and tenderneſs, and the Perſons to whom he committed my education, forgot nothing that might frame my Spirit to all things agreeable to my Birth: I was brought up in good manners, in the fear of the Gods, and the love of Vertue, and all means was uſed to work in me from my very Infancy an averſion and horror to Vice. I paſſed my firſt years without the arrival of any remarkable accident, or any thing that is worth the relating to you, having a relation to make to you of ſuch a great number of adventures, ſo ſtrange, and poſſibly ſo little correſpondent to what you expect of me, that I ſhould believe I loſt time, if I employed it in diſcourſing of things of ſmall importance. The change which the ſorrows and the toyl of my mind and body have wrought upon my countenance, will leave little credit for the report I can make of what it formerly was, and not having reſerved any footſtep of beauty, it would ill become me to go about to perſwade you that I was once handſome: yet 'tis certain, that this was the received opinion in the Countrey where I was born, and that this beauty, ſuch as it was, produced effects prejudicial to my repoſe, whereby I have been reduced to the miſery, wherein I have paſſed my wandring and unfortunate life.

I do not doubt, ſaid the Queen Candace, interrupting the Princeſs, I do not doubt but that your beauty hath been more accompliſhed, than your modeſty permits you to repreſent it to us, and if your grief could be but diſſipated by the change of your fortune, there is nothing ſo ruined and ſo defaced in your countenance, but that in a perſon of about twenty years of age, as you ſeem to be, a moneths ſatisfaction may reſtore to its former condition, and render you one of the faireſt Perſons in the World. I was never ſuch, replyed the Princeſs of Thrace, and to expect the return of that mean beauty, which the miſeries of my life had deprived me of, I muſt likewiſe expect revolutions in my Fortune, which really are in the hand of the Gods, but ſo remote from probability, that I ſhould be unreaſonable to hope for them.

Howſoever it be (that I may return to my narration) at that time when my ſorrows had made no impreſſion upon me, the King my Father thought me handſome, and the Prince my Brother, to my misfortune, thought me but too beautiful: I was younger than he by ſeven or eight years, and he was almoſt a Man grown, when I began to be Miſtreſs of a little reaſon. I know not by what rigour of my deſtiny, he found ſomething in me whereupon to ground an affection different from that which he ought to have for his Siſter: I was not yet twelve years old, when he began to ſpend whole days in beſtowing his careſſes upon me, he ſighed before me, and hated all other company but mine, I was ſo far from ſuſpecting him of ſo irregular a paſſion, that at firſt I took all theſe teſtimonies of his love for the proofs of an innocent amity; I render him careſſes almoſt in the ſame manner that I received them of him, and I conceived an extream contentment in having a Brother ſo good and ſo affectionate, and it was without doubt, by this indulgence to his love, that I gave it way to encreaſe, to conceive hopes, and to form deſigns which offended Heaven and Nature: But when with a little more Age I had gained a little more knowledge, I obſerved in his affection and in his careſſes ſome things that did not pleaſe me, and I began to diſtinguiſh the tranſports of a violent paſſion, from the effects of a pure and innocent amity. I hardly began to doubt, but that I received aſſurances from his own mouth; and one day, after he had continued a good part of it, expreſſing his thoughts with more ardor than I deſired at his hands, finding my humor more repugnant to his kindneſſes than he had obſerved before he took notice of my ſighs: ‘What is the matter Siſter, ſaid he, and what have I done that can have diminiſhed your affection, as much as mine is augmented? Is it becauſe I love you too well that you ceaſe to love me? Brother, ſaid I, I ſhall never ceaſe to love you, neither is it neceſſary that you ſhould love me too much, for all exceſſes are to be condemned, and I ſhall alwayes content my ſelf with a moderate and rational amity, ſuch as a good Brother may have for his Siſter. Ah! Olympia, ſaid he, (for the name of a Siſter is cruel and croſs to me,) how far is that moderate friendſhip which you require from that which I have for You? and how contrary is Heaven to me, in not cauſing you to be deſcended from the greateſt ſtranger in the World, rather than from the King our Father? You wiſh me ill, replyed I, diſſembling my thoughts, and making as if I knew not his, and if I were born of any other Parents, I ſhould not be your Siſter. That would be my greateſt felicity, anſwered Adallus, the neareſt of blood is the greateſt obſtacle that hinders the repoſe [Page] of my mind, and the peſervation of my Life. Yes, Olympia I love you, I do not love you as a Brother, with a weak and languiſhing amity, but as an inflamed Lover, and as a man ſo deſperately in Love, that if your pity doth abandon me, I ſhall abandon my ſelf to deſpair. Be not amazed Olympia, at this Declaration, my paſſion is not without example even in our own family, the laws of Love are ſtronger then thoſe of blood, and thoſe that may retain common perſons, are not powerful enough to bridle Kings, and oppoſe themſelves to the repoſe and lives of Soveraign Princes upon a weak and ſlight conſideration.’

This diſcourſe, the underſtanding whereof I could no longer diſſemble, ſtroke me with an an unparallelled aſtoniſhment, and troubled me in ſuch a manner, that for a long time I was not in a condition to reply: ‘You terrifie your ſelf, added the Prince, ſeeing me in that confuſion, but if your affection doth but a little correſpond with mine, You will find nothing ſtrange either in my diſcourſe, or my deſigns: Juno was the Siſter, and the Wiſe of Jupiter amonſtg our anceſtors, a like proximity did not hinder a more particular alliance, and at this day, amongſt divers nations of the World, brotherhood is no impediment to marriage.’ To theſe words he added divers others upon the ſame ſubject, at the cloſe whereof having had time to compoſe my ſelf a little, and looking upon him with an eye that ſufficiently ſignified the repugnance I had againſt his horrid propoſitions: Adallus ſaid I to him (for the name of Brother in you is as little conformable to your diſcourſe and deſigns, as the name of Siſter in me) ‘you fill me with ſo much ſhame and confuſion, that I know not how to behave my ſelf one moment in your preſence, ſince I heard the words you pronounced; but now, Heaven, Nature, you and I are offended by them in ſuch a manner, that I would willingly give the beſt part of my blood, that I could give my ears the lie, and reſtore innocence to the moſt criminal thoughts that ever fell into the mind of a Prince. Ah! Sir, if you have any ſenſe of vertue left, oppoſe the motions of a horrid paſſion, and do not diſ-honour your life with a ſtain ſo black, that all your blood can never waſh out. I find no ſhame replyed Adallus, interrupting me, in loving that which the Gods have made moſt amiable in the World, and beauty in the perſon of my Siſter is as powerful upon my Soul, as in a Stranger Princeſſe, we have ſo many examples of a paſſion like to mine, that I ſhall but little fear the reproaches of men for a love, which I feel no regret in my conſcience, which would be the firſt to accuſe if there were any thing of criminal in it; and in fine, though it were a crime and a ſhame to love you, I am carried to it by a power which I am not able to reſiſt, and engaged by a neceſſity which will force me to love you to my Grave without any conſideration of reproaches, or all the obſtacles that you can oppoſe me with. And for my part, replyed I, I am obliged by vertue, and the nearneſs of blood, which makes me look upon your intentions with horror and deteſttation, to fly from You henceforth, as from a monſter that would devour me, and to offer violence to that amity, which the relations of blood and reaſon had wrought in me to a Brother, by the averſion I ought to have even to my Grave againſt Your deteſtable thoughts. You may do it added the Prince, and you may behold my death with the ſame eye that You look upon my paſſion, and I do not know in which of theſe two actions you will be the leſs criminal, either for having loved you brother, or for having cauſed your Brothers death. You will not dye, ſaid I, when you ſhall render your ſelf Maſter of this horrible paſſion, which cauſes all the ſhame of your life, and though you ſhould dye upon that account, I ſhould be very innocent of a death, to which I ſhall have contributed nothing but what I owe to my honour, which is dearer to me than Your life or mine own. I believe replyed Adallus, that You will eaſily comfort Your ſelf for it: I ſhall comfort my ſelf better for that, anſwered I very briskly, than I ſhould do for the crime which you propoſe to me, and though together with the loſs of your Life I muſtconſent to part with mine own, I ſhould more eaſily reſolve upon itthan upon a deteſtable action, the only propoſition whereof makes me to tremble. I did not believe, replyed he, I ſhould have found you of ſo bad a nature, poſſibly time may alter it, and make you to conſider, that it is not ſo bad a crime as you imagine, to throw a Brother and a lover into his Grave. I muſt part with my life for my Brother, ſaid I, I will do it without repugnance; but as for a Lover in the perſon of a Brother, I will avoid him as long as I live, if it be poſſible, as my moſt dangerous Enemy.’ We had more diſcourſe beſides, by which with as much ſweetneſs as I could poſſibly, I repreſented all things to him, which might ſtrike ſome horror of it into him, with all the amity of a Siſter, and a rationality above my age: But my endeavours were in vain, and he parted from me proteſting that death only ſhould cure his love, and that he would renounce his life, if I would not preſerve it for him by an affection equal to his own.

After this day he lived with me as a declared lover, and though his Love partly blotted out of my Soul that friendſhip which nature had eſtabliſhed there, and began to render him odious to me, as a man whoſe thoughts were deteſtable; yet ſuch was his Birth, that I [Page] could not avoid him, as I might have avoided any other perſon, if I had had the deſign to do it; and beſides, whilſt I expected that time, or reaſon, or the Kings authority ſhould procure ſome remedy, I did all that poſſibly I could to conceal a thing, of which, as I thought, half the ſhame reflected upon me; and upon this conſideration I could not openly expreſs with what repugnance I received the Prince's viſits, becauſe I would not divulge the cauſe; yet I could not hinder it from being quickly known and he grew ſo blind in his paſſion that he loſt all manner of diſcretion, and by his ill conduct made all the court ſenſible of that which he ſhould have concealed at the rate of his own life.

The King had knowledge of it by a thouſand too viſible marks, and when I was no longer able to ſupport the perſecutions of my brother, I took my laſt reſolution to complain of him, and to diſcover to my Father that which out of my care of his repoſe I had alwayes concealed from him. When he was fully confirm'd in this knowledge, and when upon the diſcourſe he made me concerning it; I was conſtrained to confeſs it my ſelf to him, he was tranſported with anger, and teſtified his diſpleaſure by divers marks, which wrought no effect upon the Princes ſpirit; He cauſed him to be called, and after that he had ſignified to him with divers words full of ſharpneſs, the grief he had to ſee him fall into, and perſevere in ſo uncommon a crime, he repreſented the deformity of it in ſuch terms as were capable to reduce him to reaſon, if he had been in a condition to hearken to them; but after he had given a very quiet audience to the Kings diſcourſe, and ſurmounted the confuſion which his reproaches might have cauſed in him, making an effort upon the fear which the character of a father ought to have imprinted upon his Spirit: ‘Sir ſaid he, I wiſh with all my heart I were in a condition to teſtifie to your Majeſty the ſubmiſſion I have to your will, and I would ſtrip my ſelf of my ſtrongeſt paſſions, to render what is due from me to my Father, and to my King, if reaſon & acknowledgment had preſerved power enough over my ſpirit to retain it within the limits of its duty: But, Sir, by the rigor of my deſtiny, I ſee my ſelf reduced to ſuch terms, that I have no power left to comply with you, but only by making an end of my life, if that be diſagreeable to you. 'Tis true, Sir, that I love Olimpia, and I love her in ſuch a manner that nothing but death can free me from that paſſion which you condemn; 'Tis in this that my condition is more worthy of pity than reproach, and ſeeing my ſelf conducted by my ill Fortune to the love of a perſon of whom I am not beloved, a love condemned as a crime by the King my Father, I ſee no ſafety nor refuge for my ſelf, but in death alone, nor will I ſeek it elſe where; but ſince I am ſo unhappy as not to find pity, neither in the Soul of a Siſter, nor of a Father, I will eſcape by the only remedy wherewith my paſſion can inſpire me, from the long calamities to which it would expoſe my life, if the courſe of it were not cut ſhort by my final reſolution. He pronounced theſe words with ſo much violence, that the King was ſo much troubled at them, and feared ſome violent effect of his deſpair, being well acquainted with his boyling and impetuous humour.’ This fear made him act with the more ſweetneſs to endeavor to reduce a Spirit, which was not in a condition to be reſtrained by violence; but all the things he could alledge to him to make him ſubmit to reaſon were but in vain, and his love, as it ſeemed, being ſpurred on by the reſiſtance that it found, grew ſtronger every day, and by its augmentation augmented my diſpleaſure. I paſſed above a whole year in this condition, that neither the treatments that I made him to extinguiſh his hopes nor the Kings dealing with him, who from flattery, when it was without effect, oftentimes fell to threatning, nor any humane conſideration be able to remedy this diſaſter of our Family.

In fine, the King believing that it was his laſt and ſureſt expedient, reſolved to marry me to ſome one of the neighbouring Princes, amongſt whom there were divers that deſired his alliance, and he judged that by this ſeparation from the eyes of my Brother, his paſſion might be mortified, and that all his criminal thoughts might be diſſipated by impoſſibility, when he had executed his deſigns. I know not what would have happened thereupon, if the poor Prince could have acted this reſolution; but to my misfortune it was hardly formed when he was ſeized by a violent Feaver, which laid him in his Grave within ten dayes: Before he dyed, amongſt divers inſtructions that he gave his Son for the government of the Kingdom he left him, he exhorted him the moſt tenderly that poſſibly he could to quit himſelf of the love he had for me, and threatned him with all manner of misfortune if he perſevered in it. Adallus ſeeing the King near his end, diſſembled his thoughts, and feigning that he was moved with theſe expreſſions of his Fathers laſt will, promiſed him all that he deſired of him: The King Preached to me too upon the ſame Text, and expreſly charged me never to ſuffer that his Family ſhould be polluted with an inceſtuous Marriage; But this command was not neceſſary, and the horror of my Brothers intentions was ſo deeply engrave in my heart, that I had no need of the King's ſollicitations to diſpoſe me rather to death than to his ſhameful conſent.

[Page] The good King died, to my great regret, and his peoples grief, whom he had governed with a great deal of Juſtice and ſweetneſs. I will not entertain you with the complaints which this loſs cauſed me to make; you may judge, Ladies, that they were exceſſive, and beſides the grief which the nearneſs of blood could not but make me ſenſible of in the loſs of ſo good a Father, I was particularly intereſſed by the loſs of his protection, who had till then defended me againſt the purſuits of my Brother. He was publickly crowned in Bizantium, and he had handſome parts enough to give his people good hopes of his government, he is comely of his perſon, naturally endued with ſpirit and courage, and if that irrational love, and the effect it hath produced, had not laid a blot upon his life that he will never be able to wipe off, he would not be the leaſt conſiderable amongſt the Kings who at this day wear a Crown.

He began his government with the ordinary forms, he rendred ſuneral honours to the King our Father with a great deal of magnificence, and beſtowed divers dayes about affairs of State and the eſtabliſhment of his dignity, giving me time to lament the death of my Father, without interrupting me in that ſad exerciſe by his perſecutions: And truly he made me conceive ſome hope, that I might for the future be exempted from them, and that the Kings laſt words, o [...] the change of his condition had produced this effect upon his Spirit: But I ſaw my ſelf cruelly deceived in this hope, and whereas before I had only the purſuites of a Brother to ſuffer, who had no command over me, I found my ſelf ſubjected to the power of a King, who demanded that of me with authority, which before he had ſought by the wayes of love and ſweetneſs: Yet the firſt marks he gave me of the continuation of his love were upon the former terms, and he was minded to make uſe of the civilities of a Lover before he had recourſe to the power of a Tyrant.

I will not tell you, Ladies, (for my narration would be of too exceſſive a length) all the amorous diſcourſes that he made me divers months, whereby he thought to change my mind, and make me conſent to marriage, nor the anſwers I made him at that time, to make him comprehend the foulneſs of the crime which he propoſed, and to imprint in his heart the ſhame of an action that would be deteſted by all the world. He alledged to me inſtead of all reaſons, that Kings were not ſubject to the Laws they made themſelves, and that they governed themſelves by other Maxims than they did their people. At laſt having obſerved that the wayes of ſweetneſs were to no purpoſe, and that inſtead of expreſſing any deſire to comply with his intentions, I conceived every day more horror againſt his deſign, he reſolved to employ his authority, and declared to me, that ſeeing neither as a Brother, nor as a a Lover he was able to move me either to love or pity, nor make me conſent to a thing whereupon the preſervation of his life depended, he was conſtrained to act as a King in his dominions, and to ſeek his own ſafety by that power which the Gods and his own birth hath beſtowed upon him. At this cruel declaration I continued rather dead than alive and looking upon him with eyes that ſignified my grief and juſt reſentment; ‘what Sir, ſaid I, will you make uſe of Your authority to force your Siſter to an action which will draw upon you the indignation of Heaven, and the deteſtation of the whole World! will you not conſider that I am tyed to you by ſuch a nearneſs of blood, that you cannot deſire any greater alliance with me without rendring Your ſelf abominable? And will you not call to mind that I am deſcended from too noble a blood, as well as you, to be expoſed to that violence which is not practiſed againſt the meaneſt Subjects?’ ‘If I had any other wayes, repyed Adallus, to perſwade you, I ſhould not have recourſe to thoſe you force me to make uſe of, and you know your ſelf that I have forgot nothing which was probably capable to prevail with you; but in the extremity whereunto you have reduced me by the hardneſs of your heart, either I muſt needs die, or ſerve my ſelf with the power which I have received from Heaven to ſerve my ſelf.’ ‘Ah, Sir, replyed I tranſported with diſpleaſure, you will not die, but this unfortunate creature which hath ſo unluckily troubled your repoſe, and by her beauty, ſuch as it is, reduces you to the neceſſity of committing horrible crimes, will die without doubt, if other means be wanting to deliver her from that authority with which you threaten her; 'Twas in you that I hoped to find protection againſt any forreign power; but ſince the Gods permit that in the perſon of a Brother I find a perſecutor and a cruel Enemy, they leave me thoſe wayes to free my ſelf that are open to all the world.’

‘The King was a little touched at theſe words, but he was not a jot ſtaggered in his reſolution, and looking upon me with an eye divided between ſubmiſſion and authority, You have no reaſon, ſaid he, to throw your ſelf into deſpair for theſe teſtimonies of my love, which any other perſon but your ſelf poſſibly would not call perſecution; I think You cannot hope to marrie a Prince with whom Your condition would be better or more ſublime than with me; and as for the crime which You fear, if there be any, it will lye all upon me, [Page] who cauſe You to do a thing contrary to Your incilnations by the power which I have in my Dominions. This will be Your juſtification before the people, and Your defence againſt the reproaches of Your Conſcience, which You fear. I will not proceed to extremities (whatſoever impatience I ſuffer from my love) before I have once more tried the ways wherewith I have hitherto ſerved my ſelf, and by which I hope I ſhall mollifie and change Your mind; but when I have practiſed them a while, to as little purpoſe as I have formerly done, do not think it ſtrange, Siſter, that for the preſervation of my life, I make uſe of all my rights to work You to a thing which You ought willingly to embrace.’

He left me half dead with grief at theſe cruel words, and the tears which he ſaw in my eyes at our parting were not capable to move him to divert him from his cruel intentions, I abandoned my ſelf to ſorrow all the reſt of that day, and for divers others, and not being able to digeſt this violence from that perſon in the world from whom I ought to have feared it leaſt, I wanted but a little of throwing my ſelf into Tragical reſolutions. What ſaid I, ſhall the Daughter of a King be uſed with ſuch tyranny as is not exerciſed upon the vileſt perſons? and ſhall that Brother, whoſe power ought to ſecure her from violence and oppreſſion, be the perſon by whom ſhe ſhall ſee her ſelf expoſed to outrage and indignity? ſhall Olympia, in whom the Gods have implanted ſome love to Vertue, and inclinations averſe from vice, and thoughts though never ſo little criminal, ſuffer her ſelf by her weakneſs to be expoſed to publick ſhame, and the reproach of the whole World? Ah! no Adallus, no Tyrant, for the name of a Brother is not due to thee becauſe of the outragious violence, which thou committeſt againſt a Siſter, who poſſibly was not unworthy of her birth, neither doſt thou deſerve the name of a King by reaſon of the injuſtice which thou beginneſt to practiſe againſt perſons who ought to be leaſt ſubject to it: N [...] Barbarian, thou art not yet abſolute enough in thy Dominions to extend thy authority over ſpirits, and ſuch a Spirit as Olympia's: I am not ignorant of the wayes to eſcape oppreſſion, and to defend that which thou aſſaulteſt, I will arm my ſelf with a courage which poſſibly thou didſt not think to have found in a young Princeſs, and the Siſter of a man ſo little conformable to but diſpoſition.

In this manner I bemoaned my ſelf, and deplored my misfortune night and day with a flood of tears: But all in vain, the Barbarous man was not moved at them, and the repugnance I expreſſed to Marry him, augmented his deſire, and ſeemed to redouble his paſſion: I ſpent divers months in this manner, during which time he ſaw me every day, and tormented me perpetually. Sometimes he intreated me; and when by his deſign, he fell to threatning, and proteſted to me, that he was reſolved to make uſe of his authority, without any longer delay. A few moments after he grew milder, ſeeing ſome tears fall from my eyes, his love having given me ſome power over his Spirit.

There is no neceſſity that I ſhould detain you any longer upon this accompt, when he ſaw that all his flatteries were to no purpoſe, and that he was paſt hope of making me conſent to his deſires, he reſolved in good earneſt to put his threats in execution, and commanded me with a terrible countenance to diſpoſe my ſelf to marry him within eight dayes, without any longer delay. I wept, but to no end, I threw my ſelf at his feet but in vain; after that cruel command, all this was not able to move him, but he proteſted to me before the chiefeſt perſons of his Court, that ſince I abuſed the indulgence he had for me in this manner, nothing could hinder him from making tryal, whether he was King in his Dominions, or not.

I paſſed the eight days he had given me in the ſaddeſt imployments in the world, and when I gave any intermiſſion to my regrets, 'twas but to invent ſome means to ſave my ſelf from his tyranny: I was fully reſolved, if all other ways failed me, to imbrace death rather than to conſent to an action, upon which I could not caſt a thought without horror, but I was minded firſt to try whether I could preſerve my ſelf from my misfortune by flight, I knew well that I could not find any ſanctuary in my Brothers Dominions againſt his power; but I verily believed that if I could eſcape out of the places under his command, and be ſo happy as to get as far as Cilicia, I ſhould find a retreating place there with the King, who was Brother to the deceaſed Queen our Mother, and probably though my Brother was near to him in the ſame degree, would not deſert me in ſo juſt a cauſe. There was ſome uncertainty in the ſucceſs of this enterpriſe, there was danger to run, and trouble to ſupport, and difficulty to ſave my ſelf: But yet this ſeemed to me more ſweet than death, and finding no other way at all but death, or flight, I preferred flight before death, out of a fearfulneſs incident to my ſex and age.

Before I had well taken this reſolution, the time he had given me was almoſt expired, and I had not put thoſe things in order which were neceſſary for the execution of my enterpriſe. At laſt, when I was fully reſolved upon the deſign, I ſhewed the King a little better countenance [Page] than I had done before; and having ſeen him in my Chamber the ſeventh day of the eight which he had given me, after I had again made trial of prayers and tears, which wrought as little effect as before, feigning that I ſuffered my ſelf a little to be overcome, and fixing my eyes upon his with a kinder action than ordinary: ‘I ſee well, Sir, ſaid I, that I do reſiſt Your will in vain, and am too weak to oppoſe the power of a great King in his Dominions: I confeſs I find a great repugnance in my nature, as to the thing you deſire of me, which hitherto I have not been able to overcome: but at laſt I muſt reſolve, after I have made all poſſible reſiſtance againſt an abſolute authority, and all that is neceſſary to juſtifie my ſelf from an action to which you conſtrain me: I deſire eight days longer of you, which I will imploy to ſurmount the difficulties which yet remain as impediments to an ultimate reſolution, and after that time, Sir, I promiſe you, you ſhall find in me no contradiction of your deſires.’ The King was tranſported with joy at this diſcourſe, and expreſſed an exceſſive deal of contentment in his countenance, and in his words, he eaſily granted me the eight days I deſired, and proteſted to me that I ſhould be the moſt happy Princeſs upon the earth, with a Husband who would adore me whilſt he breathed. I confirmed the promiſe I had made to him with a very ſad countenance, for fear he ſhould diſcover my policy by too quickly a change.

After I had begun to put my affairs thus in order, I deſired to loſe no more time, knowing well that which I had gotten was neceſſary to make preparation for my departure; but then it was that I ſaw my ſelf reduced to no ſmall trouble; For though I had divers perſons in my ſervice, that were very affectionate to me, yet I doubted whether I ſhould find any bold enough to oppoſe the King, in ſerving me upon this occaſion, and to expoſe themſelves to ruine, as they would apparently do, by favouring me, and accompanying me in my flight: I feared likewiſe that thoſe to whom I ſhould diſcover my ſelf would betray me, and by diſcovering my deſign to the King deprive me of the means of putting it in execution. This fear kept me one day in a ſtrange perplexity, but at laſt I was reſolved to put it to the venture, and I caſt my eyes upon Eurilus, the moſt ancient of my ſervants, and Husband to a Lady that was my Governeſs; I had obſerved in him by divers marks a great affection to me, and I believed that I might better confide in him than in all the World beſide. I ſent for him into my Cloſet, and having repreſented the ſadneſs of my condition, which was not unknown to him, I acquainted him with my deſign, and the deſire I had to thruſt my life, and whatſoever was more precious to me, upon his affection and conduct. Eurilus was amazed at my bold reſolution, and repreſented to me the difficulties and the dangers of it; but ſeeing that all things reliſhed better with my ſpirit than the violence that would have been done me, he declared to me that he thought himſelf highly honoured by the confidence I repoſed in him, and that he would willingly embrace the occaſion of hazarding all, yea, and of dying too for my ſervice. After this he named me the perſons whom he thought moſt affectionate to me, and whom he judged that I might make the companions of my flight, and this little number was compoſed of his Wife, my Governeſs, and three of my Maids, one of which you ſee before you named Ericia, who hath always been the deareſt to me of all the reſt, and three or four ſervants the beſt known, and moſt neceſſary. He did not think it fit that I ſhould be attended upon by any more perſons, for fear leſt in a greater number ſome or other might be capable of betraying me. After this reſolution, and the deciſion of ſome petty difficulties, upon which we beſtowed part of the day, he went to give private order for providing a nimble Veſſel furniſhed with all neceſſary accommodations for our voyage, there was always a great number of them in the Port of Bizantium, and Eurilus had credit enough amongſt thoſe that commanded them, to have the liberty to depart thence at what hour he pleaſed, without any hinderance.

I will abridge this part of my relation as the moſt troubleſome, and I will only tell you that the fourth day we were aſſured of the perſons that were to attend me, and all things ſorted as well as we could deſire to the execution of our enterpriſe. The fifth day, the night whereof was deſign'd for our departure, I feigned my ſelf ſick, and having intreated the Prince, who had ſpent ſome hours in my Chamber, to give me leave to repoſe my ſelf till the morrow, he retired himſelf, and having given order that no perſon ſhould enter into my appartment, I had abſolute liberty to put in execution what I had reſolved.

When we were free, having made all the perſons, who were not to go with us, retire into their Chambers, I cloathed my ſelf in mans apparel that Eurilus had brought me; my Governeſs and my Maids did the like; and if we had diſguiſed our ſelves upon a leſs ſad occaſion, I ſhould have had ſome divertiſement to ſee our ſelves ſo tranſ habited; but the account that obliged me to do it, and the fear of being ſurprized made me tremble continually, and my fears made me almoſt incapable of performing what I had reſolved. At laſt having re-aſſured my ſelf the beſt I poſſibly could, and having taken with me the greateſt part of [Page] my Jewels, I went down by a little pair of ſtairs which belonged to my apartment, into the great Garden of the Palace, whither I had always free entrance, and from thence by a gate whereof Eurilus had the Key, we came to the port near adjoyning, where we were attended in the Veſſel by the perſons whom Eurilus had left there.

We paſſed by thoſe we met, covered with our Cloaks, though, without that precaution, the obſcurity of the night, and the habits we were in were favourable enough to that deſign. We entred at laſt into the Veſſel an hour within night, having haſtned our departure to take the advantage of the whole night, and to be far enough off before they perceived our abſence, or put themſelves into a condition to purſue us. We hoiſed up our Sails, and made off from the Port with all ſpeed, taking the way of Cilicia, which our Pilot was well acquainted with, and when we began to quit the Shore, turning my eyes towards the City and the Palace of my Father, ‘I forſake thee, ſaid I, my native Country, who haſt been more cruel to me than the moſt unknown Region could have been, and ſeeing that in thy boſom the Daughters of thy Kings are not exempted from violence and oppreſſion, I go under the conduct of Heaven, which will never abandon me, to ſeek out in a ſtrange climate that repoſe which I could not find in that Country where I received my birth, and to put my ſelf into the protection of the Gods, if I be left deſtitute by men.’

With theſe few words, and ſome vows I made to Heaven, recommending to it the conduct of my life, I fled from the ſhore of Bizantium with all the ſwiftneſs I could poſſibly, and I choſe rather to commit my ſelf to the infidelity of the waters, than to attend upon the effects of the cruelty of men. Neither the fear of the waves under which ſo many thouſand perſons have found their graves, or the dangers which threatned me in a long navigation, were capable to intimidate the Spirit of a Maid, who to avoid the violence prepared for her, would have thrown her ſelf into more manifeſt perils, and of all the evils that the condition of my life could repreſent to me, I only feared my being too ſlow in my flight, and falling again into my brothers power.

You had good reaſon, Madam, ſaid Candace, to Olympia interrupting her, and few perſons born with vertuous inclinations like to yours but would have taken the ſame reſolution; you really followed the way which vertue inſpired you, and Heaven in ſo rational a deſign ought to have favoured you with its aſſiſtance. The moſt innocent intentions, replyed Olympia, are not always moſt ſeconded by the ſuccour of Heaven, and you will ſee in the ſequel of my unfortunate life, that the moſt criminal actions were never poſſibly more rigorouſly treated by fortune, nor the life of the moſt culpable perſons ſubject to any chaſtiſements comparable to the miſeries to which hitherto I have ſeen my ſelf expoſed.

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA: OR, Love's Maſter-Piece. PART VI.
LIB. II.

[Page]

ARGUMENT.

The Princeſs Olympia continues her Story. She and her company are ſurprized at Sea by a furious Tempeſt, and Ship-wrack'd upon a little Deſart Iſland. There by the help of her Servants, ſhe ſaves the life of a young Gentleman of moſt noble aſpect, newly caſt upon the Shore. He, at firſt ſight is captivated by Olympia's beauty, and ſhe at the ſame time, is very much taken with his exquiſite perfections. They both, for a while, conceal their affections; but at laſt he over-hears Olympia's diſcourſe with Ericia to his advantage, and ſo ſteps in and diſcovers his flames. As ſhe is about to relate his Name and quality, ſhe is interrupted by the coming of Cornelius Gallus. Agrippa arrives at Alexandria, viſits Eliſa, and falls in love with her. Cornelius invites him and the Princeſſes a Hunting. They receive intelligence of the rape of Cleopatra and Artemiſa: Agrippa and Cornelius poſt to their ſuccour. Candace in her return to Alexandria, ſpies Caeſario at a window, but fearing to diſcover him, ſhe defers her further ſatisfaction to a ſafer privacy.

WE quitted the ſhore of Bizantium with a proſperous gale, and the fear I had of being purſued and taken by thoſe whom the King might ſend after me, making me continually ſollicit the diligence of the Mariners, We paſſed the Thracian Boſphorus with admirable ſpeed, and through the ſtraight of the Helleſpont, we entred into the Aegean Sea with full Sails. I thought my ſelf then in ſome ſecurity from the purſuits of my Brother, and I began to take a little breath after thoſe terrors that had tormented me the firſt days of our navigation: Neither the peril whereunto I was expoſed by the infidelity of that Element to which I had truſted my life, nor the dangerous adventures that might occur upon the Sea, could any way equal the ſatisfaction I had in my mind to ſee my ſelf eſcaped from the violence of the King of Thrace, and I rendred thanks to the Gods upon the account, as if I had been already in the ſecureſt harbour.

In effect, both nature and reaſon had made me conceive ſo much averſion and horror for the deſign he had againſt me, that to free my ſelf from it I deſpiſed all manner of inconveniences, and ſhould have precipitated my ſelf into the moſt manifeſt dangers without conſideration: Yet I could not reflect upon the condition of my fortune, without making ſome ſmall complaint to Heaven, nor conſider with an abſolute moderation, how the Daughter of a great King was handled by her deſtiny, which forced her, being of ſo youthful an age, and ſo tender a complexion, to fly her native Country, and to hazard her ſelf upon the inconſtancy of the waves, to ſave her ſelf from an Enemy who ought to have been her Protector, and to avoid him as a Monſter, from whom in all probability ſhe ought to have hoped for refuge againſt all manner of misfortunes. ‘How know I, ſaid I ſometimes when I was [Page] moſt troubled with theſe ſad conſiderations, how know I, but that in the ſame places where I ſeek for Sanctuary I may find more enemies? and who will give me any aſſurance of thoſe perſons who are allyed to me by ſome proximity of blood, if I have met with nothing but perſecution and cruelty in my own Brother? Will an Uncle be more pitiful to me than a Brother? and may not I fear that he will prefer the amity of the King of Thrace before the protection due to me, and that he will put me again into the hands of a Prince, whoſe alliance is more conſiderable to him, than the occaſion of aſſiſting an afflicted Princeſs, and drawing an enemy upon him, whoſe power is not contemptible? Ah! without doubt I have not ſufficiently deliberated upon this difficulty before I embarqued my ſelf in ſo hazardous an enterprize, and I ſhould have conſidered that the Maxims of Kings, and the intereſts of State, are very different from the thoughts which Vertue and Piety inſpire us with: Whether the King of Cilicia ſhall put me himſelf into my Brother's hands, or refuſe me the refuge I deſire againſt him:’ In either of theſe two misfortunes I ſee my loſs abſolutely infallible, and what way ſoever I turned my thoughts, I know no other way for my ſafety: ‘Well, added I, raiſing up my courage, if Gods and men abandon us, death cannot fail us, and we will receive it in the ſame manner either in Cilicia, or in the waves, as we would have received it at Bizantium, rather than ſatisfie the horrible deſigns of our perſecutor; then we ſhall be more excuſable than we ſhould have been upon Adallus his firſt attempt, and we ſhall ſacrifice our lives to our misfortunes and our duty with a great deal leſs regret, after we have tryed the means that Heaven hath left us for the conſervation of it.’

I oftentimes entertained my ſelf with theſe diſcourſes with Eurilus, with my Governeſs, and this Maid named Ericia, on whom I have beſtowed my moſt tender affections from my infancy, and they took the pains to comfor me, and to repreſent to me the little likelyhood there was that the King of Cilicia my Uncle, ſhould refuſe me his protection, to which he was obliged by conſanguinity, vertue, and all manner of conſiderations; nor need I to fear that the King my Brother would obſtinately demand me, or undertake war againſt my Protector upon a quarrel which would expoſe him to the blame of all the World. They made me ſome other diſcourſes beſides, wherein I really found reaſon and conſolation, and receiving my diſaſters from the hand of Heaven, I expected the end of them with all the patience that poſſibly I could.

In the mean time we followed our Voyage with a great deal of diligence: We had coaſted the Iſle of Lesbos, we had a view of Eubea, as we paſſed by, we had left Creet upon our right hand, and Rhodes upon the left, and we had gone a good way betwixt Cyprus and Cilicia, when fortune which had favoured us ever ſince our departure from Bizantium, changed her countenance, and made us know, that changing of a Climate alters not deſtiny, and that unfortunate perſons drag the chain of their mishaps after them whitherſoever they go.

We were but one days journey from the neareſt port to Tharſus, where the King of Cilicia makes his reſidence, when, contrary to all appearances, the weather changed, the winds became impetuous, and all the Sea was agitated by a furious Tempeſt: Never was ſtorm ſo ſudden and ſo violent, and though our Mariners were very expert, and our Veſſel in very good condition, the toſſing of the waves was ſo vehement, that within a few moments, the Saylers, who had often been in the like dangers, cried out we were loſt, and began to deſpair of our ſafety. You may judge fair Princeſſes, what my fears were then, and if the Spirit of a Young Maid, though already prepared for all manner of diſaſters, was ſlightly troubled at the reproaches of a terrible death: I was affraid, I ſent up my vows to Heaven with prayers and tears, and yet I could not repent my ſelf, that I had thrown my ſelf into this danger, to avoid that whereunto I was expoſed in my native Country. ‘'Tis hard, ſaid I in my ſelf, 'tis a cruel thing for a Princeſs to loſe her life among the waves at ſuch an age as mine: but it would have been far more inſupportable for to live in the ſhame and crime to which Adallus his violence had deſtined me. We will die if the Gods have ſo ordained it, but we will die in our primitive innocence, without polluting it by any unworthy repentance, or regret for having ſacrificed this unfortunate life, to that which we owe to conſanguinity and vertue.’

In the mean while as the Storm redoubled, our Mariners did all things poſſible for to ſave us. They cut down the Maſts of the Ship, diſcharging it of all their heavieſt lading: and forgot nothing that their experience in this art could prompt them to put in practice, poſſibly their care hindred us from periſhing all among the waves, but it could not hinder the loſs of a part of our company; and after we had paſſed a dreadful night in the continual terrors of an approaching death, at the break of day we diſcovered the main land on one ſide, and on the other ſide part of thoſe Rocks which render navigation dangerous near the Coaſt of Cilicia. We would have done our endeavours to reach the land, which we looked upon [Page] with ſome remainder of hope: but the winds were not only contrary to this deſign, but our Veſſel was no longer in a condition to be conducted by the ſcience of men; and when it had reſiſted a little longer the impetuoſity of the waves, it was taken by a guſt of wind, which with a ſwiftneſs comparable to an Arrow out of a Bow, daſhed it againſt the point of a Rock, where it ſplit into a thouſand pieces.

I had periſhed at this time if I had not been reſerved for greater misfortunes, and the Gods who had deſtinied me to them, were pleaſed that I ſhould be ſaved from this Shipwrack, to paſs the remainder of my deplorable life in a more cruel tempeſt than that which they permitted me at that time to eſcape. I was preſerved by the care that divers perſons took of my ſafety, two of my Maids were drowned, with many of the Men; and together with Eurilus, his Wife, Ericia, and ſome others of my ſervants, and the Mariners, I was carried upon the Rock all wet, and half dead with fear, and the pain I had endured: Yet the Gods were pleaſed to our extraordinary good hap, that the Proviſions which we had in the Veſſel were driven upon the Rock, and by the pains our people took about them, the greateſt part of them was preſerved; had it not been for this, hunger would quickly have made us found, what we were lately threatned with by the cruelty of the waves.

Whilſt I lay upon the ſhore quite ſpent with toyl and grief, where holding my eyes fixed upon Heaven, I ſilently accuſed it of my misfortune, inſtead of returning thanks for the preſervation of a life, which in that place, and the condition we were in, could not probably be prolonged but for a few daies: Some of our men being mounted up to the top of the Rock, found ſand and ſome trees, and walking a little further, they ſaw we were landed upon a ſmall Iſland of five or ſix hundred paces long, but craggy, deſert, and un-inhabited. Upon the report they made me of it, Eurilus coming to me, and ſtretching out his hand, prayed me to ariſe to go and take ſome place leſs inconvenient, in expectation of the ſuccour of Heaven, from whence we might yet receive aſſiſtance. I aroſe from my ſeat with my face all bedewed with tears, and looking every way upon the pitiful remainders of our ſhipwrack. ‘Ah! Eurilus ſaid I, what would You have us now expect from Heaven, can any thing remain for us in the place and condition we now are, but a miſerable day or two to live in grief, and want of all neceſſaries?’ With theſe words caſting my eyes again upon the bodies of the two Maids that were drowned, which the Waves had driven to the ſhore, I powred out a ſtream of tears for their loſs, and afflicted my ſelf for it in ſuch a manner, that the care of thoſe which remained could hardly oblige me to take any conſolation. ‘Ah! cryed I out, 'tis not juſt that a life begun by ſuch cruel croſſes, and by the death of thoſe perſons who were dear and faithful to me, ſhould be of a long continuance; and I ſhould offend the Gods who look upon me with indignation, if I ſhould make Prayers to them for an unfortunate perſon, whom they judge to be worthy of their anger. Madam, ſaid Eurilus to us, You cannot by any of your actions have drawn the anger of Heaven upon you, and never poſſibly had any Perſon more reaſon than you to expect particular aſſiſtances from thence; the moſt innocent perſons have fallen into the ſame diſaſter which hath lately befallen you, and I have hope ſtill to ſee you reſcued hence, by the protection which without doubt is due from Heaven to your vertue. Let us go then, Eurilus ſaid I as I roſe up, and let us not deſpair of Heavens ſuccour, ſince we cannot do it without further provoking of it againſt us.’ Upon theſe words, after I had given the laſt adieu to thoſe poor Maids, whom they took up, together with the other perſons that were drowned, to render them the laſt devoirs of burial, as the place and condition we were in could permit, I walked by the aſſiſtance of Eurilus upon the brink of thoſe Waves, whoſe rage was not yet appeaſed, and we took, under the conduct of thoſe that had already diſcovered it, the plaineſt way to go to the leaſt incommodious place of the little Iland.

But behold, to entangle me in new diſgraces, much more ſenſible than thoſe to which I ſaw my ſelf already expoſed, 'twas the will of Fortune, that after I had walked near upon an hundred paces upon the ſhore, I ſaw at my foot the body of a Man, which the water had caſt up there upon a plank which he ſtill embraced. I ſtayed my ſelf at this ſpectacle, and thought at firſt that it was one of our people, whoſe loſs we had not obſerved, and I turned my ſelf toward the reſt, to make them ſee if their companion was ſtill in a condition to receive any help, or to cauſe his body to be buried, if he was abſolutely dead; but we quickly changed our opinion when we ſaw the richneſs of his habit, upon which though it was wet and ſoiled with the foam and ſand in ſome places, the Gold was preſently ſpied by thoſe that advanced to his ſuccour. This made them take a little more notice of that perſon; and though I was already caſt down at my own misfortune, and incommodated by the wetneſs of my Garments, I conquered mine own inconvenience by the compaſſion I had upon a perſon faln into the like diſaſter with my ſelf, and I ſtaid to ſee his face, and to behold with ſome attention the event of the office which my ſervants went to render him. His Legs were [Page] ſtill in the water, his body lay along the plank, which he held faſt, and his face was turned towards the ground, and almoſt buried in the ſand. They drew him quite out of the water, and turned his face upwards, but it was ſo covered with foam and ſand, that they could not at firſt perceive the figure of it; they preſently threw water upon him, and when he was cleanſed from the filth which covered him, they perceived as well as the pale wan colour of his face would permit, all the lineaments of an admirable beauty in a perſon of his Sex. His age ſeemed not to be above nineteen years, his Perſon was the moſt compleat and beſt proportioned in the World, and his long black hair, which the moiſture of the water could not deprive of their natural Curls, hung about his cheeks, and added an extraordinary grace to the whiteneſs of them: but a great part of his Beauties was clouded, his eyes were faſt cloſed, his lips were diſcoloured, and a deadly paleneſs being ſpread all over his viſage had baniſhed thence that vivacity of complexion, which doth ſo advantageouſly ſet off the lineaments and proportion of a handſom face. Yet in this languiſhing form he appeared more comely to me, than all that had been repreſented to my eyes till then, and out of a preſage, whereof the cauſe was unknown to me at that time, I felt a throbbing of my heart, which ſeemed to me to foretell part of that which this adventure hath made me ſuffer ſince.

There appeared but little ſhew of Life in this perſon, but Eurilus having laid his hand upon his heart, found there ſome motion and ſome heat: ‘This man is not dead,’ ſaid he: Then we muſt ſuccour him, added I preſently, and give him all the aſſiſtance we can to endeavour to ſave his life. Immediately all the perſons that were with us employed themſelves about it, and two or three men having taken him up by the feet, and holding his head downwards, the ſalt water, with which his belly was all ſwelled up, began to run out of his mouth in ſuch great abundance that we were ſtruck with wonder how the body of a man could contain ſo much. After he had caſt it all up, he continued ſome moments longer without ſhewing any other ſigns of life than thoſe they had already obſerved, and though I was in an incommodious condition my ſelf, I had the patience to wait a while longer to ſee if he would recover his ſenſes. The Gods were pleaſed that my expectation ſhould not be long, and the fair Unknown began, by his motion, to ſhew the effect of the aſſiſtance which had been rendred him; a little after he opened his eyes, and recovered his ſenſes and knowledge: I was very joyful to ſee him return into that condition, and out of an unknown principle, I already intereſſed my ſelf in his preſervation, ſo as I partly ſuſpended the memory of my own danger. He turned his eyes for a while round about him, to obſerve the place where he was, and Perſons which had ſuccoured him, and his aſtoniſhment diſcovered its ſelf in his countenance, where the colour began to come again, and with that the exact perfection of beauty in a perſon of his Sex. At the firſt he was troubled to diſcern things, and what to judge of his adventure; but when the vapours that clouded his underſtanding were a little diſſipated, he recalled to memory what had paſſed, he remembred his ſhipwrack, and began to gueſs at part of the truth. When he had a little reflected upon it, he ſate up with a little pain, and looking upon us with eyes which expreſſed the remains of his aſtoniſhment; ‘I know not, ſaid he, whether it be by Heavens aſſiſtance, or by Yours that I have recovered my life, but I think it is not very long ſince I was expoſed to the mercy of the Waves, and I am ignorant in what place I am, by what means I came hither, and to whom I am beholding for my ſafety. You owe it, replied Eurilus, to the aſſiſtance of the Gods, and next to them, to perſons whoſe fortune is little different from Yours, and who by a Shipwrack, like You, have been driven upon this little Iſland, with very little hope or means to get out of it, without the extraordinary helping-hand of Heaven.’ The fair Unknown whoſe memory and underſtanding recovered more and more, and whoſe eyes reſumed a vivacity and sparkling light, which gave an unuſual Luſtre and Majeſty to his countenance, looked upon the preſervers of his life with more affection than before, and having caſt his eyes upon my face, he found ſomething there which gave him a particular reſpect for me.

I was not clad then in Mans apparel, with which I diſguiſed my ſelf to get out of Bizantium with the more facility; but after we came within ſight of Cilicia, out of the repugnance I had to this diſguiſe ſo little ſorting with modeſty as I thought, I had together with my Woman reſumed the habit of my Sex, to enter in a more decent manner into the Country where I went to ſeek for refuge. The Unknown had no ſooner taken notice of me amongſt the other Perſons that ſtood about me, of whom, by the reſpect they gave me, he judged me to be Miſtreſs, but all his acknowledgment turned towards me, and ſtriving with his feebleneſs to crawl to my feet: Madam, (ſaid he, in the Roman Tongue, which was the ſame wherein Eutilus had ſpoken to him, and which we all underſtood as well as our own Language,) ‘'tis to you, I think, that I ought to render thanks conformable to the benefit I have [Page] received of your goodneſs: Though I were not obliged to it by the preſervation of this Life for which I am indebted to You, I would render You that by way of adoration, which acknowledgement orders me to, and from Perſons leſs capable of knowledge, Your face will alwayes receive theſe homages which are due to Divinities: I know not what I can offer You for the ſuccour I have received of You and Yours, and this life which I owe to your aſſiſtances is now of too mean a value to ſatisfie my reſentments: but if, ſuch as it is, I durſt offer it at your feet, I would proteſt to You with the higſteſt truth, that the preſervation of it ſhall not be ſo dear to me, as the occaſions of parting with it for Your intereſts.’

The fair Unknown ſpake in this manner, but it was with ſo uncommon a Grace, that in the moſt happy condition of my life I could not have hearkned to him with a more entire attention: And when he had done ſpeaking, looking upon him with a countenance that expreſſed more ſatisfaction than our preſent Fortune could probably have left me: ‘Neither my perſon, ſaid I, nor the aſſiſtance You have received of us can merit either your acknowledgment, or adorations: the ſuccour that hath been rendered You, as it was due to all Men, ſo it could not be better employed than upon ſuch a perſon as your ſelf: and that which You have obſerved in my countenance (if I may give abſolute credit to your your diſcourſe) could move no other thoughts in you, but what pity might inſpire You with towards perſons reduced into a condition like your own; the aſſiſtance that hath been given You will only ſerve to prolong for a few daies that life which you thought to have loſt upon the Waves, if its continuance be not longer than what we hope for in relation to our own. We are upon this Rock, whither the tempeſt hath driven us an hour ſince, without any Veſſel, with little Victuals, and without any hope of return, if Heaven doth not afford us ſome miraculous ſuccour. Heaven, replyed the Unknown, hath not placed in your Perſon whatſoever it had moſt great and admirable, to abandon You in the danger which You repreſent to me, and You ought without doubt to hope from thence whatſoever its providence can perform for thoſe things that are moſt worthyof its protection: however it be, if I can be moved with the news that You tell me, 'tisonly in conſideration of your danger, which hath expunged all memory of my own out of my mind, and I ſhould not be ill ſatisfied with my Fortune, if I could ſacrifice this life which I hold of You to the preſervation of Yours.’

He had ſpoken more to this purpoſe, if the intereſt which I already took in him had not made me conſider that he was weak and weary, and in a very bad condition in reſpect of his health; he had hardly recovered ſtrength enough to ſtand up, and we were fain to make him lean upon two men, to conduct him with us to a leſs incommodious place, where ſome of our men had already cut down good ſtore of branches, and began to make little Lodgings for to ſhelter us. To be ſhort in my diſcourſe, they made divers of them, and one I cauſed to be given to the Unknown, with two of our men to attend upon him: I took one of the moſt ſpacious they could make for my ſelf and my Women, and the Men diſpoſed of themſelves in the reſt. They had ſaved ſome Cloathes which ſerved us whilſt our own were dryed, and they eaſily got fire out of the flints that lay in great number upon the ſhore. Eurilus took the care of Husbanding our Proviſions to make them laſt as long as he could, ſeeing all the remainder of our hopes relied upon them, and we could hope for no more but by the miraculous arrival of ſome Veſſel: we made our ſelves beds with leaves, only upon mine they laid ſome part of the Cloathes that were left, that I might lodge with the leſs inconvenience.

The firſt night paſſed in this manner, part of which I ſpent in ſleep, and the reſt upon the conſideration of the miſery to which I was reduced: I would add, if I durſt, that my thoughts divers times inclined to the remembrance of the fair Unknown, and that in ſpite of misfortune, I could not baniſh out of my mind, the Idea that was eſtabliſhed there, of his majeſtical and ſtately mine, and the admirable grace he had in his action and diſcourſe. The reflection I made upon it, did not preſently produce any powerful effect upon me, it only raiſed ſome motions in my mind which I was not uſed to feel: and I took ſome pleaſure in calling to mind the extraordinary things I had obſerved in that unknown perſon.

The next morning, the firſt thing that came into my thoughts was to enquire how he did; and I had no ſooner done it, but I repented my ſelf of my precipitation, and a bluſh that mounted up into my cheeks, reproached me for having too much care of a Man, who already encroached upon my liberty: ‘Ah! Olympia, ſaid I, upon this conſideration, what a Fool art thou to caſt thy thoughts upon a Stranger, whom thou never ſaweſt till within theſe few moments? Thou which wouldſt poſſibly have ſeen the greateſt Princes of Aſia whole Years in thy ſervice without being moved at it, how little reaſon haſt thou to make any reflection upon a time when all men ought to be baniſhed from thy remembrance, [Page] and at a time when thou oughteſt to dream upon nothing but thy death, which thou feeſt preſent before thy eyes, and which thou canſt not defer above a few daies? What doth it concern thee to hear news of this ſtrangers health, in a condition wherein the care of thine own would be unprofitable, and the ſaving of thine own life is enough to take up all thy thoughts? And why doſt thou inform thy ſelf of ſome means to get out of this deſart Iſland? Die Olympia, ſince thou muſt die, in the free condition wherein thou haſt hitherto kept thy ſelf, and do not permit that purity, to which thou haſt ſacrificed thy life, to be blemiſhed with the leaſt ſtain: Thy thoughts hitherto are innocent, compaſſion and an extraordinary merit might produce them without any culpable effect; but the time, if there remains any longer time to live, may render them leſs excuſable, and 'tis by theſe beginnings that people engage themſelves in that paſſion which I never felt, nor ever had any experience of.’

By this diſcourſe I would have fortified my heart againſt the weakneſs whereof I ſuſpected it, and I took a kind of reſolution to impute all to compaſſion, without any other intereſt, and not look upon this Unknown otherwiſe than I did upon all other Men. I had almoſt formed this deſign, when I was told, that by his reſt the laſt night he was perfectly recovered, and was at the entrance of my Lodging, where he waited till I was in a condition to receive his viſit. As I had not uncloathed my ſelf, ſo I was not troubled to make my ſelf ready, but only raiſing my ſelf from the leaves, where I had paſſed the night with inconvenience enough: I gave order for him to come in: I did verily believe that I could not ſee him without ſome ſmall diſturbance; but, I muſt confeſs, I was much more moved than I feared, and he entred into my Lodging in ſuch a manner as without doubt would have ſurprized a mind better fortified than mine. Whatſoever the Sea, and the toil he had endured the day before, had done to diminiſh his natural beauty, was diſſipated by the repoſe he had taken, the clearneſs of his complexion, the ſparkling of his eyes, and the Majeſty of his port and action were turned with all their ordinary advantages; 'tis certain that there was not one of thoſe perſons who ſaw him in that condition, but looked upon him with admiration, and took him for a man far different from the ordinary ſort. He was of a taller ſize than ordinary, but ſo ſtraight, ſo clear, and ſo well proportioned, his gate ſo noble, and the air of his countenance compoſed of ſo natural and ſo excellent a grace, that 'twas impoſſible to ſee any thing more compleat in every part. The good opinion I had of him, and the advantagious judgments I made of his exquiſite parts, obliged me to receive him with all the civility I could have rendred to a great Prince; and he accoſted me with all the marks of the moſt profound ſubmiſſion. Yet I obſerved, or at leaſt I thought I did ſo, that before he opened his mouth to ſpeak to me, he continued ſome moments in a maze, and looked upon me with ſome marks of aſtoniſhment and confuſion: He had ſome trouble, as I thought, to recompoſe himſelf upon a ſudden, but having done it laſt, with a boldneſs that is very natural to him: ‘Madam, ſaid he, I come to beg Your pardon for the faults I committed yeſterday in a condition when I was not capable of rendring what I owed to Your Perſon, and the benefit of life which I have received from Your bounty. If the Gods would pleaſe that I might employ the remains of it in your ſervice, the preſervation of it would be much more dear to me than it is out of the natural deſire we have of it; and I ſhould be farther engaged to your ſelf, if you would admit me to the opportunities of teſtifying my acknowledgements to You, than I can be to thoſe generous aſſiſtances to which I owe my ſafety.’

He uttered theſe words in ſuch a noble and ſuch a charming faſhion, that I continued a while in an incapacity of giving him an anſwer, and 'twas not without trouble that I began at laſt to ſpeak: ‘I am very much ſatisfied, ſaid I, to ſee you in a condition ſo different from that wherein you appeared to me yeſterday; and that ſuccour upon which you ſet too high an eſteem, produces in you an acknowledgment which exceeds the benefit: I could wiſh it had been rendred to you to greater purpoſe, and that you had received that from us for many years, which neither you nor we are like to enjoy but for a few daies. Thoſe few daies, replied the Unknown with a ſigh, and an action wherein there appeared ſomething of an intereſſed perſon, will be very different to me from thoſe I have paſſed hitherto, and I do not believe that the Gods, by your aſſiſtance, would have ſaved me from a common or ſingle death, to make me periſh by a death which will give me great cauſe to accuſe them of cruelty.’ I would not ſuddenly penetrate into the ſence of theſe words, though the action of him that uttered them, and mine own inclination made me partly ſuſpect what they meant; I anſwered him likewiſe in ſuch terms as might make him judge that I did not underſtand them. We entred into a converſation full of civility, the handſomneſs of his perſon, and the marks of as high birth, which appeared in his countenance, having wrought in me as much conſideration as I could have had for a great Prince.

[Page] The day being clear and fair, and very much different from thoſe which had preceded it, we went out of our Lodging, and walked up and down the little Iſland, which in ſome places we ſhould have found agreeable enough, if we could have looked upon it otherwiſe than upon the place of our Scpulture. Eurilus cauſed ſome to ſtand Centinels upon the top of the Rock, to diſcover ſome favourable Veſſel ſent by Heaven for our ſuccour, and our little company did inceſſantly make vows to Heaven to obtain aſſiſtances from thence, of which they had little hope.

This day being paſſed, the ſucceeding night filled my mind with importunate thoughts, and the Idea of the fair Unknown preſented it ſelf, and fixed it ſelf there more pertinatiouſly than I would have deſired: his gallant mind, and the ſweetneſs of his countenance intermingled with Majeſty, his noble deportment, and the admirable grace which attended his diſcourſe and action came again into my memory in a very advantagious form, and made good their poſſeſſion maugre my endeavour to expel them thence. ‘Leave me, ſaid I, leave me, troubleſome Idea which preſenteſt thy ſelf to my imagination ſo inconveniently, and unſeaſonably, it muſt be in ſome other Spirit than mine that thou mayſt find part of that complacency which thou ſeekeſt for, but in Olympia's thou ſhalt never produce any effect, if the Gods do not forſake her. If this Unknown be handſome, if he be amiable, if he be admirable in all parts, what doth it concern the unfortunate Olympia? And what intereſt can ſhe take in a man with whom her acquaintance is out of a days ſtanding, whom ſhe cannot know but for a few daies more, and whom ſhe would not know at all, if that knowledge muſt diſturb her repoſe? Let him ſerve himſelf againſt ſome other heart than mine with all the advantages that he hath received from Heaven and Nature, and let him work admiration and love every where elſe; but let him leave a mind in peace, to which neither nature hath given, nor her Fortune left any diſpoſitions to receive the thought which he would introduce there.’ By this reaſoning with my ſelf I put off for ſome moments this perſecuting remembrance, and embraced, as I thought very ſtrongly, a reſolution never to think upon him more: But a little after, maugre my reſolution, this importunate Image came again into my memory, and made me fix my thoughts in ſpite of my teeth, upon the conſideration of thoſe marvels which I had found in the perſon of the Unknown: This agitation of my ſpirit permitted no acceſs to ſleep, and ſeeing the greateſt part of the night was paſſed, and I had not been able to cloſe my eyes, I began to be really angry both with theſe thoughts, till then unknown to my ſpirit, and with him that cauſed them. ‘What, ſaid I, ſhall this Unknown uſurp that already with authority, which poſſibly he would not have ſufficiently purchaſed all his life-time? Have I ſcarcely ſeen him, and muſt he oppoſe my ſleep, and encroach upon my repoſe and liberty? In a condition of life when I ought to think upon nothing but death, ſhall he alone be capable to withhold my thoughts? and ſhall he poſſeſs them ſo, that I ſhould loſe my ſleep, my repoſe and liberty? Ah! my liberty, Ah! my repoſe, ye are but weakly grounded in my ſoul, if the firſt ſight of a man can ſo eaſily overthrow you, and if you abandon me for having ſeen a man a few moments, in whom poſſibly all appearances are deceitful; a man that poſſibly hath nothing amiable but that outſide which blinded me at firſt ſight; a Man, it may be of no Birth or Vertue; a Man which loves me not, nor poſſibly ever will whilſt he lives. Wilt thou Olympia, hazard thy affections upon ſuch doubtful terms? and are they of ſo little value that thou oughteſt not to ſettle them in a place conformable to thy birth, and the profeſſion which hitherto thou haſt made of a large ſhare of vertue? It would have been much better for thee, if thou hadſt been buried under thoſe Waves which have ſpared thee, or if they had ſwallowed up this Enemy which they have driven upon this ſhore to ruine thee: and if thou findeſt thy ſelf ſo weak as to ſuffer thy ſelf to be ſo taken with the ſeducing charm, which appears in his face, thou muſt hate him as a Monſter ready to devour thee, or at leaſt thou muſt avoid him as an enemy ready armed for thy deſtruction.’

With theſe words I really gave way to ſome reſentments, and ſome motions of choler againſt him, and making a very violent effort upon theſe importunate thoughts, I delivered them in ſuch a manner, that a little after I fell faſt a ſleep: But in my ſleep I was more ſtrongly aſſaulted, and I was hardly aſleep but the cruel enemy of my repoſe preſented himſelf before me with ſomething more great and more extraordinary than all I had obſerved till then, and looking upon me with a countenance, which as full of paſſion as it ſeemed to be, did yet expreſs a great confidence in his fortune: ‘Olympia, ſaid he, in vain doſt thou arm thy ſelf againſt me, let the deſtinies take their courſe, 'tis to no purpoſe to oppoſe them, 'tis the will of Heaven that you ſhould love me, 'tis for me only that thou haſt been brought upon this ſhore, I am not unworthy of thy affections, and howſoever thou wouldeſt diſpoſe of them, I tell thee from the Gods that 'tis for me that they are abſolutely reſerved.’ It ſeemed to me that as he finiſhed theſe words, and was going from me, he laid his [Page] hand upon his heart to ſhew me the wound I had made there. I awaked a little after, ſo troubled with my dream, that I could not recompoſe my ſelf, I knew not whether I ought to take it as a real advice from Heaven, which amongſt the vapours of ſleep doth frequently acquaint us with future things, or for an effect of thoſe thoughts which had ſo ſtrongly agitated me when I was awake: Howſoever it was, I could not hinder my ſelf from being moved at it in ſuch a manner, that I had hardly any knowledge or uſe of reaſon; and the Idea of that which was preſented to me during my ſleep was ſo ſtrongly imprinted in my imagination that I could not diſ-engage my memory for a moment.

After I had meditated a good while upon this, not being able to quit my ſelf of this pertinacious Image: ‘Ah! Gods, ſaid I within my ſelf with a ſigh, can it be poſſible that my deſtiny ſhould be ſuch as ye tell me by the mouth of this enemy of mine? and that ye have brought me out of my native Country, and cauſed me to ſuffer ſhipwrack upon this Rock to ſee there the cruel effect of his threatnings. If it be your intention, great Gods! I know it would be but in vain for me to reſiſt it, but till I am more fully informed by ſome other way, than by a mouth which I very much ſuſpect, I will defend my ſelf with all my power againſt the aſſaults of this preſumptuous perſon, who hath already ſo much confidence either in his merit or in his fortune.’ This was then my intention, and I really ſummoned to my aſſiſtance all the reſentment and choler I could form againſt this audacious perſon which had ſo highly threatned me. For all this it was impoſſible for me to ſleep one moment longer, but I felt my ſelf ſo tired with watching, and the perſecution I had ſuffered from my importunate thoughts, that I deſired to beſtow part of the day in repoſing my mind and body, and it was almoſt Noon before I thought of quitting my ſorry Lodging.

Ericia coming to me about that time asked me if I would not riſe, and told me that the Unknown was at the entrance of my Cabbin, and enquired how I did, and if he might be permitted to give me Good Morrow. My bloud was moved at Ericia's diſcourſe, and rallying up all the reſentment wherewith I had fortified my ſelf? ‘I cannot ſee him to day, ſaid I to Ericia, tell him I am diſpoſed, and do you keep him company if you will, for he cannot poſſibly expect mine.’ Theſe words eſcaped me before Ericia, and I ſhould have been very ſorry, if it had been before any body elſe, but this Maid, whom I have alwaies truſted with my moſt ſecret thoughts. She was troubled at this diſcourſe and at the action with which I pronounced it, and fearing I had received ſome diſpleaſure from the Unknown: ‘Madam, ſaid ſhe, have you any occaſion to complain of this Man, who is beholding to You for his life, and expreſſes ſuch great reſentments of that obligation? No ſaid I, but I cannot ſee him, go and entertain him if thou wilt, and leave me a little to my repoſe.’ Ericia did as I gave order, and a little after my Governeſs coming to me, I told her that I was troubled with a pain in my head, occaſioned by my want of reſt that night, and I would try if I could take the other nap.

It would be a hard matter for me, fair Princeſſes, to repreſent to you what the agitation of my Spirit was at that time, I know very well of all the paſſions which ſtrove for place there, choler took up the moſt room, and I was ſo ill ſatisfied with my ſelf, for the weakneſs I obſerved in my ſelf, that I thought my ſelf unworthy of my own eſteem and amity. ‘What, ſaid I ſighing, what Olympia, in one day, and with a ſtranger too? With a ſtranger, repeated I: and in one day, Olympia: Theſe thoughts turmoiled me in ſuch a manner all that day, that my mind enjoyed not one moment of repoſe.’

In the mean time Ericia, as I had commanded her, went to entertain the fair Unknown, and ſhe had no ſooner acquainted him (as ſhe told me afterwards) that I would not ſee him that day; but ſhe obſerved great ſigns of ſadneſs in his countenance. After he had kept his eyes fixed upon the ground a while, looking this Maid in the face with an afflicted air; ‘Could it be poſſible, ſaid he, that I ſhould be importunately troubleſome to your Lady, or that I ſhould be ſo unfortunate as to diſpleaſe her by any of my actions? No certainly, replyed Ericia, conſidering the manner of the converſation you have had with her, it would be hard if ſhe ſhould have received any trouble or diſpleaſure from you: but ſhe is a little indiſpoſed, and 'tis wonder, that conſidering what ſhe ſuffered at Sea, and endures ſtill by her bad lodging, her ſorry bedding and the inconvenience of all manner of things which without doubt might alter a complexion much leſs delicate than hers.’ If the Unknown was troubled out of fear of having diſpleaſed me, he was no leſs afflicted with the opinion he conceived of my indiſpoſition, and looking upon Ericia with an action that ſignified to her that he took a great deal of intereſt in me already: ‘I would willingly render back, ſaid he, this life of mine to the Waves, from whence you have reſcued it, if any one of my actions hath been diſagreeable to that Princeſs, to whom I owe all; both in reſpect of the infinite merit of her perſon, and the preſervation of my life. But though [Page] that misfortune ſhould not betide me, I cannot but be very unhappy in the knowledge you give me of her indiſpoſition, and I cannot but be nearly ſenſible of all the ills to which a perſon ſo extraordinary, and to whom I am ſo much obliged, can be expoſed. Her malady is not very great, replied Ericia, ſhe is only troubled with a pain in her head, proceeding from want of reſt all night. If watching, anſwered the Unknown, and the loſs of reſt muſt produce this effect upon a complexion ſomewhat ſtronger than hers, there are ſome poſſibly that would be more indiſpoſed than the Princeſs is, and without doubt they would have given ſomething more precious than their health for the return and preſervation of hers.’

He had divers other diſcourſes with her, by which he diſcovered ſome diſorder and alteration in his Soul, till dinner time, and then he dined with her, and Eurilus, and my Governeſs, I keeping cloſe though with a great deal of pain, to the reſolution I had taken not ſee him that day.

The ſucceeding night was as reſtleſs to me as that which went before, and the next day endeavouring to make my ſpirit yield to the conſtraint, which I had laid upon it the day before, and to hinder my ſelf from ſeeing the cruel enemy of my repoſe, that in ſo ſmall a time had made ſuch ſtrange depredations in my ſoul, 'twas impoſſible for me to diſpoſe my ſelf to it, and to deny Ericia the permiſſion to ſee me, which ſhe deſired on his behalf. I ſaw him, not without trouble and emotion, I ſaw him as he appeared to me in my dream, which came inceſſantly into my remembrance, and I ſaw him in a condition capable to overthrow all the reſentments that I had muſtered up againſt him in my ſpirit. He ſpake to me, as I thought, with a great deal leſs aſſurance than before, and I believed that every time I ſpake to him, I diſcovered ſome part of my own diſorder.

I will not amuſe you with the particularities of all our diſcourſe, which proceeded no farther yet, than to things indifferent, or at leaſt very diſtant from thoſe thoughts which took up the moſt room in our Spirits; we talked concerning the incommodities and miſeries of our ſhipwrack, what hopes we had of our ſafety from Heaven, and what reſolution we ought to take to die couragiouſly, if we received no ſuccour, before the little proviſion we had was ſpent: and when we were upon this Subject, I plainly perceived that the fair Unknown expreſſed more reſentment for the danger which threatned me, than for his own. The more he proceeded in his diſcourſe, the more he ſpake to me with an aſſured countenance, his words were alwaies accompanied with ſighs, and his looks, which were ſometimes fixed upon my face, loſt all their confidence, when I looked upon him: Though I had no deſign to engage my ſelf to this Unknown perſon, who probably was not of a Birth proportionable to mine, and with whom, in the evident danger we were, I could not contract any friendſhip without the imputation of folly, yet I confeſs, my heart having made him way, it was with ſome joy that I obſerved this alteration in his ſpirit, and having been afraid till then, that, beſides the diſproportion of his birth, he had but little diſpoſition to love me, I could not begin to diſſipate that fear without ſome ſatisfaction. I had a great deſire to be informed by him of his Name, his Country and Extraction, but then I met with great difficulties, and I no ſooner opened my mouth to ask him about the buſineſs, but it was ſtopped with the fear I had to underſtand ſomething that might dſpleaſe me; He was not forward of himſelf to declare himſelf, and I durſt not venture to deſire any fuller intelligence of him, for fear of finding ſomething in his extraction that might make me condemn the thoughts I had for him. This fear really hindred me from expreſſing my curioſity, and alwaies when this deſire urged me, this fear expelled it ſo, that I had not the confidence ſo much as to enquire of Ericia, to whom he might have diſcovered himſelf more familiarly, than to me.

Divers daies paſſed in this manner, I not daring to inform my ſelf any farther, and in the interim I found ſo many amiable parts in this Unknown, or rather ſo many parts capable of ſurprizing the hearts and ſouls of perſons leſs apt to receive the impreſſions of Love, that neither the difference that I believed to be between our conditions, nor the uncertainty of being beloved by him, nor the apprehenſion of an approaching death wherewith we were ſo evidently threatned, could hinder me, fair Princeſſes, (I ſpeak it with ſome confuſion) could hinder me, I ſay, from loving him. It muſt needs be that this affection was decreed from above, ſeeing it received its original by ſuch extraordinary wayes, and in a condition when, according to all probability, our Spirits ſhould have been incapable of its impreſſions: but in concluſion, whether it were out of Sympathy which ordinarily produces ſuch effects, or by deſtiny which acted conformably to my dream in this adventure, I began to love this Unknown to the prejudice of mine own intereſts, and all the reſiſtance I could make, was not ſtrong enough to defend the entrance of my heart.

[Page] I fear, Ladies, that you have not indulgence enough to pardon this weakneſs in me, and that you have reaſon to find it a thing very much to be condemned in a Kings Daughter, to have ſo haſtily engaged her inclinations to a man of whom ſhe had no knowledge, but the good opinion ſhe had conceived of his perſon; one that ſhe had never ſeen but a few dayes befoee, and to whom ſhe was not beholding for any ſervice, or obligation: and truely I will not excuſe it, either by the extraordinary merit of the Unknown, or by any of thoſe reaſons which are wont to be alledged in a juſtification of this nature, but I will impute it only to the force of my deſtinie, which, as you will judge by the ſequel of my diſcourſe, acted extraordinarily in this engagement of my ſoul. 'Tis true I began to love this fair Unknown, whatſoever endeavours I uſed to the contrary, but I conſerved command enough over this growing affection, to frame a very ſtrong reſolution, never to make the leaſt diſcovery of it, till I knew that his condition was ſuch, that without any blame I might hope one day to receive him for my Husband (if the Gods were pleaſed to prolong our daies by thoſe ſuccours which were neceſſary for us to get out of this little deſart Iſland, where in all likelihood we could hope for nothing but death) and if it were my misfortune not to find him ſuch as I might deſire, to ſuffer death rather than ever to declare to him my affection, in which without eclipſing my honour, and incurring reproach, I could not rationally expect any good ſucceſs. This was my reſolution, and I found my ſelf capable of putting it in execution, a great deal more than I was to reſiſt this paſſion, which had aſſailed me with ſo much impetuoſity, and from this moment I began to curb my looks, and to lay a reſtraint upon all things that might give the Unknown any intelligence of the advantage he had gotten upon my Spirit: I entertained him as ſeldom as in civility I could, and he obſerving that I retracted ſomewhat of that which I permitted him at firſt, became a great deal ſadder than ordinary, and favoured my deſign himſelf, more than I would have wiſhed, in ſeeking ſolitude in the moſt retired places of our little Iſland. I confeſs for all that I was troubled at it, and though I did all that I could poſſibly to avoid him, yet my deſire was that my diſtance only might ſeparate us one from another, without his contributing any thing on his part, and I was well pleaſed thai he ſhould look after me, though I was ſometimes troubled to meet him. Yet the complacency I had with my affection made me ſuſpect that it was not out of averſion that he kept from me, and that I had poſſibly wrought ſomething upon his Spirit which rendred him more circumſpect in avoiding the occaſions of diſpleaſing me, but the uncertainty I was in very much troubled me, and the condition of my Spirit being ſtrangely changed, I was as much afraid then, that I was not beloved by him, as I was at firſt that I loved him better than I ſhould do.

Whilſt we were upon theſe terms, when any other Spirits than ours, would have found another ſubject for their thoughts than that which took up ours, we ſaw no Veſſel appear to ſuccour us, and our proviſions decreaſed in ſuch a manner, that we had no more left than for eight daies: 'Tis true our men had found an invention to catch fiſh, and there was in that little Iſland a ſpring of freſh water, and by that means we hoped to ſpin out our daies a little longer, when all our other Victuals failed us; but this was but a very ſorry ſhift, and there was little probability that a tender complexion ſhould long ſubſiſt upon no nouriſhment but only Fiſh and Water, beſides the incommodities of lodging and bedding, might in time ruine a more robuſtious conſtitution than mine. All our people were in a very deſolate condition, and though they expected ſome return of the Prayers which they continually made to Heaven, all hope had almoſt deſerted them. I was the leaſt troubled at the apprehenſions of death, and the Unknown made it ſufficiently appear to me, that if he was moved at it, 'twas not upon the only conſideration of his own life. ‘I ſhould be very unfortunate, ſaid he to me one day, if I had only prolonged my life to ſee the end of yours; and the ſuccour I received from your goodneſs would be very cruel to me, if I muſt purchaſe theſe few daies which it hath added to mine by the greateſt of all diſpleaſure under which a courage can ſuffer. Ah! If my deſtinie be ſo, I may well excuſe Heaven to my laſt gaſp, for not permitting me to loſe my life amongſt the waves where all my company have ſound their ſepulture. If that muſt happen, anſwered I, we muſt conform our ſelves to the will of the Gods, who with ſoveraign authority diſpoſe of our daies, and your murmuring will not make them change their decrees. No, added the Unknown, but it will convince them of cruelty and injuſtice, and where there is ſo juſt a cauſe of complaint, it it is no eaſie thing to keep within the bounds of an abſolute moderation. Vertue, replied I, ought to produce this effect in us, and from that only we may receive ability to ſupport the utmoſt rigour of our deſtinie. Ah! Vertue, cried he with a ſigh, if thou oughteſt to ſuccour me, why is thy aſſiſtance ſo ſlow, and why haſt thou not defended me in a far greater neceſſity than this danger is to which our lives are now expoſed. Ah! Madam, continued he, looking upon me with an ill aſſured countenance, how much inequality will there be, if the [Page] Gods have ſo decreed it, the end of our dayes, and how great ought the difference to be between our grief in reſpect of the loſſes we muſt have?’ In uttering theſe words he let fall ſome tears, and I was ſo moved at them, that I had almoſt let him underſtand by ſome marks of weakneſs, that in the death which we expected, or in the thought which then took up our ſpirits, there was no ſuch great difference as he imagined.

We paſſed divers days in this manner, without his giving me any more particular knowledge of his cruel inquietudes, which I could not impute only to the fear of death, and he went alone to ſpend the greateſt part of the day in the moſt private and unfrequented parts of the little Iſland, that he might not be interrupted in his muſing and melancholy humour; and at thoſe hours when he was obliged in civility to viſit me, accoſted me, and ſpake to me with a countenance ſo troubled, and ſo different from that which he had ſhewed me ſome days before, that it was eaſie to judge by exterior appearances, that he had inwardly received ſome powerful alteration. According to his example I ſought occaſions of ſolitude, and oftentimes quitting the company of my governeſs and Eurilus, I went abroad to walk with Ericia only, in thoſe places where we might be leaſt diſturbed in our converſation. This Maid had related to me the diſcourſe ſhe had heard from the mouth of the Unknown, in which one might eaſily obſerve ſome particular intereſt; and having an abſolute confidence in her, I had diſcovered to her, though with a little ſhame, all my moſt ſecret thoughts, and the inclination I had for the Unknown. Ericia was not troubled at this declaration; and whether it were that her condemning me, or whether ſhe was favourable to the man, becauſe ſhe ſuſpected his thoughts to be of the ſame nature with mine, ſhe did not ſtrive to ſuppreſs this inclination in the birth, but oftentimes told me, that if any man was capable of producing a ſudden affection, without doubt it was the Unknown, and that if it pleaſed the Gods that he were of a birth never ſo little near to mine, one could not ſee a couple in the world better matched. This indulgence which Ericia had for my thoughts, made me love him the more, and I declared my mind to her with the greater liberty. We often made conjectures together, upon the actions and diſcourſes of this man, to judge if I was beloved by him, and though we had great ſuſpitions of it, we were ſtill in uncertainty, when fortune ſent us an occaſion to clear our doubts.

I went one day out of my lodging, only with this Maid, to entertain my ſelf with her concerning that which at that time wholly imployed my thoughts, and leaning upon her arms, I walked to the leaſt frequented parts of the little Iſland, when approaching to one of the extremities of it, where there was a little thicket of trees, and ſome points of a Rock above the Shore, Ericia made me take notice of divers inſcriptions engraved upon the bark of the trees with a bodkin, or the point of a knife; the letters which compoſed the inſcriptions were Greek, and the little knowledge we had of that Character hindred us from diſcerning them handſomely; but among the inſcriptions there were wounded hearts, True-lovers-knots, and other pretty repreſentations much uſed amongſt amorous perſons. We were amazed at firſt at this accident; and in regard the Letters were but newly cut, we knew very weil they could not have been there long, and that conſequently they were made by ſome perſon then in the Iſland. Amongſt my retinue, I judged that none but Eurilus was capable of theſe things, and yet both his age, and his humour too, in the condition we then were, were ſo little conformable to his gallantry, that I could not accuſe him of it, and I was immediately of Ericia's judgment, that it muſt needs come from the fair Unknown. ‘Never believe me, ſaid Ericia, if theſe be not the effects of that which I have ſo much ſuſpected, and if this man, who is as paſſionate in my imagination as any man can be, doth not communicate to trees and things inſenſible, that which his reſpect and the fear of diſpleaſing you hinders him from diſcovering to you.’ I was almoſt of her opinion, but I anſwered only with a ſigh, which I could not poſſibly contain, and leaning my head upon hers, I looked upon the inſcriptions in ſeveral places with ſome tenderneſs and intereſt: But a little after, Ericia being gone a few paces from me, found ſome words upon the Rock written in Latin, which ſhe underſtood; And after ſhe had read them, returning to me with extraordinary ſpeed: ‘I pray, Madam, ſaid ſhe, be pleaſed to take the pains to come and ſee ſome things that will fully confirm you in the judgment we have made.’ And with theſe words, pulling me by the arm, ſhe lead me to the foot of the Rock, which ſtood over the ſhore, where amongſt divers Characters like to thoſe which were upon the trees, I ſaw theſe words engraved in the ſame manner in the Roman language. ‘Here languiſhes, here declares its paſſion to things incapable of knowledge, an heart inflamed with love, an heart upon which reſpect layes a cruel violence: Ye inſenſible witneſſes and confidents to whom I communicate my dear ſecret, be ye as diſcreet as he that truſted you.’ And a little lower were written theſe words in the ſame language and character: ‘Why have the Gods preſerved me from the water, to make me periſh in the fire? why have they hindred me from dying free, to make me [Page] die a Slave, and in what could this change of my deſtiny advantage their glory?’ In another place a little further off were engraven theſe words. ‘I do not complain of thee, my heart, I do not complain of thee my liberty, your deſtiny could not be more honourable than to be ſacrificed to the divine O.’ There was no more than this firſt Letter of my name; but I was almoſt confident that by this beginning he meant Olympia, and with a new emotion which this ſight cauſed in me, I continued to that which followed in this manner: ‘But my heart! but my liberty, to what end do ye hazard your ſelves? do ye believe that in beſtowing your ſelves upon this divinity, ye have made her a preſent worthy of her ſelf, and do ye know that eternal ſufferings are all the reward ye can hope for thence? Suffer then, my heart, theſe glorious pains, and never complain of them, ſince you have ſubmitted to them without reſiſtance, and Heaven it ſelf contributes thereto.’ I finiſhed the reading of theſe words with pain, and not being ignorant, as I thought, either of the cauſe or the author, I could not read them without taking an intereſt in them, which cauſed an extraordinary emotion in them, ſat down upon the body of a tree that lay cloſe by me, and leaning my head upon both my hands, I began to meditate upon this adventure, when Ericia coming to me: ‘Well Madam, ſaid ſhe, do you not think that I am right in my conjectures? I believe, ſaid I, that the Unknown may have written theſe words, and I tell thee more, if thou wilt, that I will not aſſure thee that he did not write them for me; but though it were true that he loved me ardently, if he be not of an extraction worthy to be allayed with mine, what can I expect from his love but a torment to my ſoul, and an eternal diſpleaſure? and though by an extraordinary favour of Heaven, his birth ſhould prove ſuch as I could deſire it, what can I expect in our preſent condition, whilſt we look for death, which threatens us both within a few days?’

I ſpeak theſe words ſimply, not believing that they were over-heard, but I was deceived; for the Unknown of whom we ſpake, lay about four paces from us, within a point of a Rock, from whence he had ſeen all our actions, and heard all our diſcourſe. At theſe laſt words which he had heard, ſuppoſing he had found the faireſt occaſion that ever he could hope for in his life to preſent and declare himſelf to me, he roſe, and diſcovered himſelf to me in ſuch an unexpected manner, that I cannot yet call to mind that adventure without ſome aſtoniſhment. The place where I ſaw him was ſo near to me, and I could not but believe immediately that he had heard my diſcourſe, that I was ſo full of ſhame and confuſion at it, that my countenance changed colour a hundred times in a moment, and not finding confidence enough in my ſelf to look in the man's face, who had learned ſo much of my ſecret, contrary to my intention, I could do nothing elſe but turn my head the other way, and lean it upon Ericia's ſhoulder.

In the mean time he drew near me with an unſteady pace, and as I underſtood by Ericia afterwards, with a diffident countenance; he caſt himſelf preſently at my knees, he fixed his eyes upon the ground, which he durſt not raiſe up to my face, and beginning to ſpeak with ſuch a tone of voice, as, in ſpite of his natural boldneſs diſcovered the fear and trouble of his ſpirit: ‘Madam, ſaid he, I would not preſent my ſelf to you in the criminal condition, wherein I now appear, if in my conſcience I did not know my ſelf to be very innocent in relation to You: I have thoughts of adoration for you which I cannot deny, but they are ſo conformable to thoſe which we have for the Gods, that if you were deveſted of all that is humane, you could not poſſibly find in them any real ſubject of offence. If ſilence was neceſſary to obſerve religiouſly the reſpect which is due to you, Heaven is my witneſs, that I have not violated it, but have been betrayed, contrary to my intentions, by thoſe ſenſible things in which I imprudently confided; If my raſhneſs diſpleaſe you, howſoever I would excuſe it, I will inflict that puniſhment upon it which it deſerves, by throwing again amongſt the Waves that which you have ſaved from thence, & depriving this unfortunate man of your ſight for ever, whoſe audacious thoughts have been capable of meriting your anger: but if they may find any juſtification in thoſe things which poſſibly render them a little leſs diſproportionable than they have appeared to You, I will take the liberty to tell You, Madam, that if by any perſon and my ſervices I can merit any approbation from your goodneſs, you will not poſſibly find any thing in my birth which may make You condemn it, and that I am born of a blood ſufficiently noble to entitle my thoughts to any thing that a man can aſpire to.’ The Unknown expreſſed himſelf thus, with a grace and action which notwithſtanding his proſtrate humility, did marvellouſly authorize his diſcourſe; and in his laſt words I found ſomething ſo agreeable to me, and ſo ſatisfactory againſt the doubt which I had of his birth, that the trouble which had ſeized me was partly diſſipated, and the reſentments I had againſt his raſhneſs began inſenſibly to grow calm.

By little and little I turned my eyes towards his face, and in this ſubmiſſive humble condition, I found it ſo handſome, and ſo capable of making it ſelf beloved and of diſarming my [Page] anger, that when I thought to open my mouth to condemn his temerity with words of rigor, my heart could never conſent to it, but ſtifled in my mouth the diſcourſe I intended. I turned away my eyes once more from his face, to recall a reſolution which this ſight did too ſtrongly oppoſe, and I began to examine my ſelf, and ſtudy what diſcourſe to make to reconcile my duty with my inclination, or to comply with my inclination without offending againſt my duty. I know not whether my ſilence and confuſed action did embolden him, but after he had waited a while for my anſwer, ſeeing that I opened not my mouth to reply: ‘I ſee very well, ſaid he, that my raſhneſs is condemned, and 'tis reaſonable that I ſhould expiate the offence I have done You with that which I owe to Your goodneſs, I will willingly ſacrifice it on that ſcore, and all the regret I can have in ſo doing, will be, that in parting only with my life, I ſhall part with nothing that is mine for the reparation of my crime. Command me, Madam, to reſtore back again to the Sea, that which by a ſecret order of Heaven, it threw at your feet, or command me to take out of the World this object of your reſentment by any other way that is capable of giving you ſatisfaction: and if You find me ſlow in obeying you, judge, as you may have reaſon to do, that I have undertaken to ſerve you with a courage too low for ſo high an enterpriſe; or if Heaven, which hath ſubjected me to you by ſo uncommon a way, ſtirs up Your pity in my favour, and diſpoſes You to ſuffer my adorations, as it ſuffers them it ſelf, do not oppoſe thoſe pitiful inſpirations, and look with a gentle eye upon the moſt religious and ſubmiſſive ſlave that ever your divine beauties could make conqueſt of.’ Whilſt he was pronouncing theſe laſt words, I had a little recompoſed my ſelf, but not ſo much neither, but that there remained enough diſorder and confuſion in my ſoul to hinder me from forming any rational diſcourſe. I turned my ſelf a little towards him, and ſeeing him in that ſubmiſſive poſture, which he had uſed all the time. ‘And who art thou, ſaid I, that comeſt to aſſault my heart with ſuch arms as oblige me to look upon thee as my enemy, and one who in a place, and a condition where, and when we expect nothing but death, endeavoureſt to trouble the tranquillity of my laſt days? What is thy thought, what are thy hopes, what is it thou deſireſt of me? I offer you, replyed the Unknown, I offer You a heart that was never offered to any but Your ſelf, and ſacrifice unto You the moſt innocent thoughts that ever any mind conceived; I onely deſire You to allow of this reſpectful paſſion which fixes me at Your feet for that ſhort time of my life which yet remains, the fear of approaching death which You ſet before my eyes, hath not been able to oppoſe its birth, and if it pleaſe the Gods that our days receive their period in this place where we ſeem to be deſerted by their aſſiſtance, the glory of theſe laſt days when you have owned them, will be more dear to me, than all the time of my life I have paſſed hitherto in a more compoſed condition; if I trouble the repoſe of Your days, and make an attempt upon Your heart with arms too weak to make any impreſſion there, impute it to Your own powers which are too ſtrong to find any reſiſtance in a ſoul that is ſuſceptible of love, and to the deſtinies which have acted after an extraordinary manner in this engagement of my liberty.’

Whilſt he was ſpeaking in this manner, by little and little I inured my ſelf to look upon him, and hearken to him, and to a mind prepoſſeſſed as mine was, all things appeared in him ſo agreeable and ſo advantagious, that I could no longer retain the motions of my inclination, which urged me to let him know that I did not hate him. In concluſion I could not be ſo much Miſtreſs over them, but that I bluſhed and expreſſed my ſelf to him in ſuch terms as quickly diſcovered my thoughts to him. ‘I ſee nothing in Your perſon, ſaid I, but what appears to be worthy of eſteem, and your thoughts do not ſeem ſo criminal to me, but that with a little indulgence they might be excuſed if they were accompanied with that which ought to authorize them: but two obſtacles are in the way, which ſhould have ſtifled ſuch thoughts, the hunger in which we are, when probably ſuch a paſſion as you repreſent to me could not but have an unſeaſonable birth, and my extraction which ought to have extinguiſhed all your hopes, if You be not of a blood proportionable to Your deſigns.’ I pronounced theſe words with ſo much ſhame, that it hindred me from proceeding, but the face of the unknown was filled in a moment with all the marks of joy, and beginning to ſpeak with an action full of tranſport: ‘As for the fear of death, ſaid he, Madam I confeſs it hath not been powerful enough to blot out of my heart the fair image you have imprinted there: and as for the conſideration of your birth, that hath not extinquiſhed my hopes, becauſe I believed (if I may ſay ſo with reſpect) that the blood from whence I am deſcended is not inferior to yours: I will no longer conceal from you who I am, and if you had given me order, I had diſcovered to you ſooner a truth, which poſſibly would have made you find leſs crime in my audacious thoughts. I am—’

Olympia would have proceeded, when Ericia who ſtood at the entrance of the Arbor, to hinder her from being ſurprized in her diſcourſe, gave notice that Cornelius was coming, [Page] and immediately after, the Princeſſes ſaw him approach, attended upon by divers of his followers. Olympia preſently removed from the place where ſhe was ſeated, that ſhe might not be taken for any other than a Slave; both Eliſa and Candace received a very ſenſible diſpleaſure to ſee her narration interrupted when their curioſity expected moſt ſatisfaction; and they would have been more troubled at it if they had not hoped to prevail with her to reſume her diſcourſe when they ſhould be freed from Cornelius his company, and in the mean time, with ſome marks of diſcontent they roſe up to receive him. After he had given them the time of the day, and by ſome expreſſions of civility, wherein his looks ſpake particularly to Candace, he had ſignified to them that the care he had of their repoſe and divertiſement, had held them that morning in ſome inquietude, he obliged them to return to their appartments, to take their repaſt, and the hour being already come. The Princeſſes could not contradict him, and taking leave with their eyes of Olympia, who with Ericia turned another way, they not daring to make any greater demonſtration for fear of diſcovering her, they marched along with Cornelius through a ſpacious Alley to the ſtairs by which they had deſcended into the Garden, and from thence into the Hall, where their Dinner was prepared.

They were at the end of their repaſt, when the Pretor had intelligence, that a body of two or three hundred horſe were lately entred into the City, and preſently after he was told it was Agrippa, the worthy Favourite of Caeſar, whom Verture rather than fortune had advanced to the higheſt dignities of the Empire, who for ſome affairs that obliged him to it, came to arrive at Alexandria ſome days before the Emperor. He was already in the Court of the Palace, when Cornelius underſtood that it was he, and he was much troubled that he had not been informed ſooner of his arrival, that he might have gone to meet him, and render him that which was due to his Merit and Fortune; He haſted to him with all the ſpeed he poſſibly could, but he could not be ſo nimble, but that he found him already upon the ſtairs followed by a ſtately retinue of the young Roman Nobility, whom his vertue and generous humor engaged to his perſon, more than his favor. If Agrippa was the chief at Rome, in regard of his great credit, and the eſteem both of the Emperour and People; or at leaſt, if Marcellus did diſpute thoſe advantages with him, whom his youth had not as yet permitted to manage important affairs of State, and to have great commands of Armies, wherein Agrippa had acquired ſo high a reputation, Cornelius was likewiſe one of the moſt conſiderable Perſons of the Empire; and if he made Agrippa the moſt honourable reception that he could deviſe, Agrippa converſed with him too, as with a man who was dear to Caeſar, and placed in the faireſt dignities. Gallus complained of him at the firſt for coming in this manner, without giving him notice of his arrival, and time to receive him, as he ought to have done, in all reſpects; and Agrippa, whom his fortune had never infeſted with Pride, but in all the actions of his life expreſſed a marvellous modeſty, found fault with his diſcourſe, and told him that he did not deſire to be treated otherwiſe by him, than as his familiar and ancient friend. Cornelius having conducted him to the lodging which was appointed for him againſt the time when they ſuppoſed he would come with the Emperour, cauſed him to be ſerved a little after with as much magnificence as could be uſed: for the ſmall time there was of making preparation. A little after Agrippa communicated to him part of the affairs which obliged him to come thither ſome days before the Emperours arrival; and after they had paſſed ſome hours in this entertainment, Cornelius acquainted him, how that the only Daughter of the King of Parthia, and inheritrix of that mighty Empire, which only vied power with that of Rome, was then in Alexandria, and in the Palace in a lodging not far from his: He did not make ſo much mention to him of Candace, believing that her birth was not anſwerable to Eliſa's, and not deſiring to be over laviſh in diſcourſing of a Perſon in whom he already took ſo much intereſt as might make him ſuſpicious of all things. Agrippa ſeemed ſurprized at this news, and after he had meditated a little, upon it, he believed that Auguſtus would be highly ſatisfied to ſee the only Daughter of the powerful Enemy of the Romans refuged in his Court, and diſpoſed himſelf to go and give her aſſurance of the protection ſhe might expet from Caeſar: But if he had this thought out of conſideration of her birth, it was much more ſtrongly grounded in his mind by the diſcourſe which Cornelius made him of her admirable beauty, which he deſcribed to him in ſuch terms, that Agrippa being moved with an extraordinary curioſity, would no longer defer the beſtowing of a viſit upon the Princeſs. Cornelius ſent her notice of it, and a little after they went together to her Chamber, where they found the Queen of Ethiopia with her, whom the deſire of ſeeing a man ſo famous and renowned in the World, had detained there. At the ſight of thoſe two Princeſſes, Agrippa and thoſe that attended him were all aſtoniſhed, and though they had ſeen in Cleopatra and in Julia ſuch excellencies as could not be ſurpaſſed by any mortal beauty, yet in the delicacy of Eliſa's features, and the Majeſty of Candace's lineaments they found ſome ſubjects of admiration which they had not expected.

[Page] The Princeſſes were very well ſatisfied with Agrippa's preſence, and they found all things in this Perſon conformable to his dignity and reputation; his proportion was compleatly handſome, his mind high and gallant, and his age about three and thirty, or four and thirty years, in which time he had made himſelf known to all the World, as well by the great things he did at the battel of Antium, the glory whereof was almoſt totally due to him, as by a great number of other ſignal Victories, whereby ſince the coming of Auguſtus to the Empire, he had amply enlarged the extent of it on every ſide: The report that univerſally went of him cauſed a greater attention in the Princeſſes, than they would have had in the condition of their fortune, for a leſs conſiderable perſon: and the ſight of their admirable beauty immediately ſtrook Agrippa with a reſpect that is not ordinarily conceived for mortal perſons. He addreſſed himſelf to the Princeſs of the Parthians, whom Gallus ſhewed him; and with a diſcourſe full of civility and ſweetneſs he ſignified to her that the Emperour ſhould receive with great joy the occaſion of protecting ſo great and ſo fair a Princeſs, and Offered her his own particular ſervices to comfort her in her afflictions, and to defend her againſt all her Enemies. Eliſa anſwered him with that admirable grace which accompanied all her actions, and thanked him for his offers with expreſſions full of acknowledgment.

Notwithſtanding the cloud of her mortal ſadneſs, her beauty ſtill preſerved its Empire, and though it languiſhed a little, yet that, in ſtead of diminiſhing its powers, ſeemed to add new ones to it, by that intereſt which affliction is able to form in generous ſouls. Agrippa made a very remarkable experiment of it, and that martial ſpirit which had ſpent all the years of his life in warlike employments, without ever ſubmitting himſelf to the york of an imperious beauty, at the firſt ſight of Eliſa, felt an alteration in that repoſe and liberty which he had ſo long preſerved: The ſparkling eyes of that Princeſs threw flames inſenſibly into his breaſt, and the charms he found in her countenance and diſcourſe, did ſo enchant him, that he continued a long time as it were quite dazled and amazed at the meeting with ſo many miracles. Though his mind began to be prepoſſeſſed, yet that did not hinder him from obſerving prodigies in Candace's perſon, that were not inferior to Eliſa's: And beſides the reſpect he received for ſo extraordinary a beauty, the intelligence which Cornelius gave him, that ſhe was born a Princeſs in Ethiopia, obliged him to treat her with a geat deal of honour. He addreſſed himſelf to Eliſa for all that in the greateſt part of their converſation, both becauſe he thought that moſt was due to the King of Parthia's Daughter, and becauſe his inclination carried him to it. Cornelius was not diſpleaſed at it, and as his paſſion made him obſerve all things wherein he might be intereſſed, ſo he joyfully took notice that Agrippa was more fixed upon Eliſa's than Candace's beauties. He had great reaſon to be afraid of a rival ſo redoubtable, both in reſpect of his merit, and his power with Caeſar, and in all the Roman Empire, but the thought of thoſe which might have ſome pretenſions to Eliſa, raiſed a more terrible ſtorm, and more difficult to be calmed in Agrippa's infant love, than all that ever fortune could have cauſed till then.

This firſt interview was ſpent in offers on Agrippa's part, and in diſcourſes touching Eliſa's affairs, wherein Agrippa began already to take too much intereſt, and Cornelius having deſired that he would ſup with the Princeſſes, after their repaſt he entred again into converſation with Eliſa, and found in her diſcourſe new occaſions of being inflamed and farther engaged.

This employment hindred the Princeſſes from beſtowing that evening as they had reſolved, upon the ſequel of Olympia's narration, and the part which they had begun to take in her Fortune, had cauſed ſuch an impatience in them to hear the reſt, as made theſe two mens company unpleaſant. Eliſa was leſs troubled at this paſſage, than Candace was; for Agrippa's thoughts being as yet unknown to her, ſhe received no other diſquiet or importunity from his ſight, than what her ſadneſs made her find amongſt all perſons with whom ſhe could expect no comfort. But Candace was not in the ſame condition, and Cornelius having a free opportunity, whilſt Agrippa diſcourſed with Eliſa, employed all that time in giving her aſſurances of his paſſion, and deſiring of her ſome teſtimonies of acknowledgment. Candace received theſe diſcourſes with a great deal of coldneſs, but yet ſhe was not willing to break out into any impatience, for fear of his power to which ſhe ſaw her ſelf ſubject, and believing upon the account of her former adventures, that ſhe might retain his Spirit within the bounds of reſpect much better by ſweetneſs of carriage, than by declaring to him the diſ-eſteem ſhe had of him. Cornelius being deſirous to give her all the divertiſement he could, and to ſhew Agrippa ſome paſtime, whom he highly eſteemed for many reaſons, propoſed a match of hunting the next day, knowing how well Agrippa loved that exerciſe; and they engaged the Princeſſes to ſee the Courſe of a Stag in the Woods near Alexandria. They could very well have omitted any ſuch diverſion, but they could not refuſe to comply with ſuch perſons [Page] in ſo ſmall a matter, and therefore they promiſed, that ſeeing they deſired it, they would bear them company.

A little while after ſeeing it grew very late, Agrippa bad them good night, and Cornelius having re-conducted Candace to her Chamber, had ſome farther diſcourſe with her concerning his vehement paſſion, which ſhe received with ſome trouble, but ſo, as the preſent neceſſity of her condition obliged her to do.

Eliſa being alone in her Chamber, the Princeſs Olympia entred preſently after, and no body being with her who was not acquainted with the truth. Eliſa made no difficulty to receive her and careſs her according to the knowledge ſhe had of her condition, and Olympia willingly forgot the garb of a Slave to receive her endearments, and to return them with that equality which the ſmall difference between their births permitted. Eliſa's careſſes were not ſuch as they would have been at another time, when ſhe was not ſo much dejected by her mortal ſadneſs, but they were not the leſs obliging for being the leſs ſpriteful: and Olympia knew very well that ſhe was in a condition too full of grief to expreſs her reſentments by over-paſſionate demonſtrations: My dear Princeſs, ſaid Eliſa to her, ſince my laſt diſaſter I have not been ſo ſenſible of any diſpleaſure, as of that which I received when your diſcourſe was interrupted, and I was at that time ſo much intereſſed in your fortune, that my freſh and preſſing grief was allayed by that means: though it be late enough to go to reſt, yet I ſhould not let you be at quiet before I was acquainted with the remainder of your ſtory, if the fair Princeſs, to whom you have declared, as well as to my ſelf, the beginning of your life, had not the ſame curioſity, and ought not to be preſent, as well as I, at your relation. The fear I ſhould have of diſpleaſing her, in deſiring to prevent her in the knowledge of a thing, wherein, I aſſure my ſelf, that ſhe takes the ſame intereſt that I do, or of creating you the trouble to repeat the ſame diſcourſe twice, makes me ſuſpend my curioſity till to morrow at our return from the Hunting match, to which they have engaged us, at which time I hope you will have the goodneſs to finiſh a diſcourſe which I as greedily hearken to, as if it concerned my own ſelf. It ſhall be done, anſwered Olympia, whenſoever you deſire, and as long as I live, you ſhall have an abſolute power over a Princeſs, who is not ſo much your Slave in regard of her fortune, as of her inclination. This effect of your fortune, replyed Eliſa, doth not hinder me from eſteeming you as my ſiſter, and I will endeavour, by rendring for the furture what is due to a Princeſs of your quality, to repair the faults which my errour made me to commit. As for this condition of a Slave, which conceals you from the knowledge of thoſe perſons that ſee you, I ſuppoſe you may eaſily get out of it, and though you ſhall not diſcover your ſelf to Cornelius or to Caeſar, who upon the declaration of your birth would without doubt reſtore you to the condition wherein you ought to be, I know a perſon that hath credit enough with Cornelius to obtain your liberty of him, whenſoever you ſhall pleaſe to demand it, without making you known, contrary to the intention which perhaps you have to conceal your ſelf for a longer time. 'Tis true, ſaid Olympia, I am obliged to continue a while longer in this condition becauſe of my affairs, and nothing urges me yet to deſire my liberty, the loſe whereof I ſhall ſupport with patience, as long as I ſhall have the happineſs to be near you.

With theſe words the two Princeſſes embraced each other with a great deal of affection and tenderneſs, and ſitting down both upon Eliſa's bed, that Princeſs made a brief relation to Olympia of thoſe particulars of her life which ſhe was ignorant of. The fair Slave had been made acquainted with what the Princeſs had related to Cornelius, but ſhe learned a great deal more from Eliſa's mouth, who confeſſed to her the love ſhe bare to the great and unfortunate Artaban, which ſhe had not diſcovered to Cornelius, nor to any perſon in whom ſhe could not repoſe an abſolute confidence. Olympia admired at the grand adventures which till then were not come to her knowledge, and her grief was augmented when ſhe underſtood the juſt occaſion which Eliſa had to afflict her ſelf for the loſs of ſo great a man, and one whom ſhe had ſo dearly loved. Part of the night being ſpent in their converſe together, Eliſa deſired Olympia to lodge with her, inſtead of returning to a bed and a Chamber unworthy of her, and preſſed her to it very earneſtly, but the Princeſs of Thrace would by no means conſent to it, telling her that that would be enough to diſcover her without any neceſſity, and that being uſed to the place which was aſſigned to her, her lodging was not inconvenient. Eliſa not being able to prevail upon her reſolution for that night, permitted her to depart the Chamber, and going to bed, ſhe preſently after compoſed her ſelf to ſleep, as well as her cruel ſtrife could poſſibly ſuffer her.

But Agrippa paſſed this night in a different manner from all the nights he had ever paſſed in his life, and the beauty of Eliſa had wrought that upon his Spirit in one day, which a leſs extraordinary one would not have done in whole years, and that which had not been done in ſo many years by all the Roman beauties, and ſo many others of the higheſt reputation amongſt whom he had inſenſibly ſpent his life. The image of that admirable Princeſs, in whom grief had appeared as in its Throne, and that in a languiſhing and dejected condition, had preſerved [Page] vigor and force enough to conquer the proud liberty, had penetrated that martial Spirit, with ſuch a power as preſently put all into a flame, and Agrippa no ſooner reflected upon what he had ſeen that fatal day, but he found himſelf to be amorous and all on fire. He could hardly at firſt diſgeſt this change of his condition, and reviewing his whole life with ſome diſdain as to what was paſt, and with ſome confuſion as to the preſent, What is the matter, Agrippa, ſaid he, and by what misfortune doſt thou ſo ſuddenly permit trouble, and diſorder, to enter into thy ſoul? Haſt thou ſeen the Emilia's, the Octavia's, the Julia's and the Cleopatra's, without endangering thy liberty, and wilt thou yield up thy ſelf at the firſt ſight of a young ſtrange Maid? Shall that courage which hitherto had found no employment capable to engage it but in War and the government of the Empire, ſubmit it ſelf to a beauty in one day, at one ſingle view? Ah! my heart, what weakneſs will thine be accounted, if thou giveſt up thy arms with ſo little reſiſtance? What will the Romans ſay, who have ſeen thee at the head of their Troups in thoſe famous combats, which have ſo ſucceſsfully decided the Empire of the Univerſe? And what will thoſe famous beauties ſay, who poſſeſs the higheſt ranks in the world amongſt thoſe of their ſex, if thou ſuffereſt thy ſelf to be over-thrown by one ſingle look of the Daughter of a barbarous King, the Daughter of the cruel enemy of the Romans? Theſe were his firſt diſcourſes, by which he thought in ſome ſort to oppoſe the birth of his love: but a little after inſenſibly yielding to its force: But what doſt thou find, went he on, ſo ſtrange in this rancounter? Haſt thou an heart of Stone, or Braſs? Haſt thou a more warlike ſoul than Alexander, than the great Julius Caeſar, or ſo many others, who amongſt the combats wherein they paſſed their lives, have ſuffered themſelves to be vanquiſhed by the power of beauty? or doſt thou find either by reaſon or example that love and valour are incompatible? Have thoſe famous beauties from which thou haſt defended thy ſelf, or rather to whoſe Empire thou waſt not deſtined, any thing more great and high than this young beauty, to which, it ſeems, thou art aſhamed to ſubmit? Is that of the Julia's and Cleopatra's more accompliſhed, or more admirable than Eliſa's? Are the graces which ought to accompany beauty, with greater advantages in thoſe Princeſſes than in the Princeſs of the Parthians? And as for birth, can a higher be looked for even in Caeſar's family, or rather is there any blood in the world that can compare in Nobleneſs with that of the Arſacidae? No Agrippa, continued he, it will be no offence in thee to love this Divine Princeſs, and if thou haſt any thing to fear in doing ſo, it muſt be torments, it muſt be ſufferings, perhaps to no purpoſe: 'Tis, it may be, an engagement in the Princeſſe's Spirit, which will render her inſenſible of thy love, and not the reproach and ſhame of having ſubmitted to the faireſt Yoak that ever fortune could impoſe upon thee: Rather fear that this Princeſs being born with an Arſacian heart, and an Enemy of the Roman name (though the neceſſity of her affairs compells her to ſeek for Sanctuary amongſt the Romans) hates thee as a Roman, and diſdains thee as one born of an inferiour blood to hers, though by the favour of Caeſar thou art in a condition not to envy Kings, but ſeeſt a great number of them every day below thee. That power which thou haſt acquired either by thy Merit or thy Fortune, will poſſibly be leſs conſiderable to her than a long ſeries of Royal Anceſtors, and beſides Eliſa is the only Daughter of Phraates, and Heir of the Empire of the Parthians, who will never ſuffer that the Dominion of their Country ſhould fall into the hands of a ſtranger, and of a Roman. This is the truth, Agrippa, and where thou ſeekeſt excuſes for thy paſſion, thou findeſt difficulties great enough to divert thee from it, if thou leaveſt reaſon any command over thy Spirit. This conſideration kept him a while irreſolute, and at a ſtand, but a little after encouraging himſelf againſt this obſtacle, which ſeemed to have terrified him: 'Tis no matter, added he, if Eliſa be the Daughter of our Enemies, if Eliſa be the Heir of a Kingdom which will hardly ſubmit to a Roman, that is not capable of repulſing ſuch a courage as mine, and if by my love and ſervices I can gain Eliſa's inclinations, whilſt ſhe continues in the Roman Territories, and whilſt ſhe flies the perſecutions of her Father, the power of Caeſar, and of Rome, who will take up arms for my ſake, will poſſibly do the reſt; and though Caeſar ſhould make War upon the Parthians in my quarrel, and to preſerve the rights of their Princeſs he will make no new Enemies to the Romans, but will only continue what his Predeceſſors have begun, and do that to which he ought to be animated by the blood of ſo many Romans, who under Craſſus and Anthony found their graves in Parthia. In this manner Agrippa encouraged himſelf in his reſolution to love Eliſa, and ſuffering himſelf to be flattered by his paſſion, he ſlightly paſſed over ſome difficulties, which in another condition he would have taken more notice of. Sleep had hardly cloſed his eyes when the day appeared, and of all the time he continued in his bed, he beſtowed not one hour upon his repoſe.

As ſoon as Eliſa was ready, ſhe went into Candace's Chamber, who that day was a little more drouſie than ſhe, and was ſtill in bed. Eliſa coming to her with a countenance that appeared to Candace not ſo ſad as ordinarily it was: What Madam, ſaid ſhe, are you ſo drowſie upon a hunting day, and will you get up laſt to go to a meeting upon which you engaged ſo willingly laſt night? I have nothing to eatch to day, anſwered the Queen with a ſmile, but you to whom new preys are deſtined, have reaſon to be up with the firſt to go to the Chaſe. I underſtand not Your diſcourſe, replyed the ſad Eliſa, and I do ſo little dream of taking preys, that if I had not been [Page] awakned by other cares, I ſhould have been ſtill profoundly aſleep. I am much deceived for all that, added Candace, if you have not begun already, and all my conjectures are falſe, if you have not laid a ſtrong foundation of love in Aggrippa's ſoul. 'Tis for ſuch beauties as yours, replyed the Princeſs, to work ſuch ſuddain effects, and by that which you have produced in a moment in Cornelius his heart, you make this judgment of a power much inferiour to yours. I could eaſily convince you, anſwered Candace, if I would, in a diſcourſe which your modeſty prompts you to make againſt truth and reaſon. But not to enter into that diſpute with you, I will tell you that in my opinion you are not indifferent to Agrippa, and if you do not take that prey to day, twill onely be becauſe you did it yeſterday. If that ſhould happen to me, ſaid the Princeſs of the Parthians, ſeating her ſelf upon the Beds-ſide with a ſadder countenance than before, or if it be befallen me, 'tis much againſt my deſign, and I ſhall attribute that conqueſt, which you twit me with already, to my misfortune only, rather than the beauty, which is not capable of making it ſelf beloved by ſuch a perſon as Agrippa. 'Tis the knowledge I have of its admirable power, replyed the Queen, that hath ſo ſtrongly confirmed me in my ſuſpicions, and I do not think it ſtrange, that this man, of what humour ſoever he be, ſhould give you that in one day, which, if I were in his place, I ſhould give you in a moment. I would very willingly, anſwered Eliſa, ſtretching out her arms to the Queen, produce that effect in you, if it were poſſible for me, and you could not make more haſt to love me, than I did to give my ſelf wholly to you: but from Agrippa, or all men living beſides, I deſire no other thought but what compaſſion may inſpire them with towards unfortunate perſons. Your deſire is not neceſſary, ſaid the fair Queen, to gain you hearts leſs ſuſceptible of love, than Agrippa's is, and you will hardly imprint pity only in all ſouls that will be capable of another paſſion. Ah! my fair Queen, added the Princeſs with a geſture all compoſed of charms, you make your ſelf ſport with a miſerable creature, and you derogate from your own goodneſs by this cruel railery, at a time when you know very well 'tis not ſeaſonable for me; rather let Agrippa follow the deſtinies of Cornelius, and do not put that upon me which is your due, which I will not diſpute with you. If Agrippa hath applied himſelf to me with a little more aſſiduity than to you, 'tis becauſe he thought there was more due to my birth which he knew, than to yours, which he was ignorant of: but if the equality of our conditions were known to him, do not you believe that the difference he would put between us could be to my advantage. I yield to you in all things, My fair Princeſs, ſaid Candace, embracing her, and I freely give you Cornelius and all the men in the world beſides, except my dear Caeſario, whom you would not take from me, and whom, it may be, my cruel destiny hath already deprived me of.

This thought ſtopped her ſport, and took away all deſire of purſuing her railery with Eliſa; and after ſhe had expreſſed her reſentments by ſome ſighs, ſhe roſe out of her bed, and cauſed her ſelf to be made ready: and uſing at that time but little art in her dreſs and habit, ſhe was quickly in a condition to go out of her Chamber, and as ſoon as they knew that the two Princeſſes might be ſeen, Agrippa and Cornelius came to give them good morrow. Candace preſently obſerved ſomething in Agrippa's countenance, that partly confirmed her ſuſpitions, and ſhe ſaw that in accoſting Eliſa he changed colour, he appeared a little troubled, and loſt ſome part of his natural boldneſs. Eliſa, upon Candace's diſcourſe, took ſome notice, but what ſhe took notice of was with a great deal of diſpleaſure, as fore-ſeeing great croſſes of her quiet in this mans love, for the little time her grief would ſuffer her to live. He accoſted her with all the reſpect and ſubmiſſion that could be, and having asked her if ſhe had reſted well that night: I reſted as I uſe to do, anſwered the Princeſs, and the nights henceforward, upon my account are not ſo much deſtined to repoſe as to torment, and the remembrance of my misfortunes. 'Tis true, replyed Agrippa, that when the mind is diſturbed by a violent paſſion, the body doth not eaſily find repoſe, and 'tis not long ſince I had experience of it, having paſſed a night in ſuch thoughts and ſuch diſquiets, as I never was ſenſible of before. It would he hard, ſaid the Princeſs, but that ſuch a perſon as you, employed in the management of the moſt important affairs in the world, ſhould have ſome interruption in his ſleep, and the cares you take for the government of the Empire are preſſing enough, ſo as not to leave alwayes an abſolute quiet in your mind. The government of the Empire, replyed Agrippa, is in ſuch hands as are able to govern the whole Earth, without having any need of the aſſiſtance of my cares, and 'twas not the thought of the Common-wealths affairs, that interrupted ſleep that night, I mentioned to You, but the firſt motions of a paſſion, to which my ſpirit had never before been ſubject, and which in its very birth had ſtrength enough to make me ſuffer that in one nights ſpace, which poſſibly I ſhould not have ſuffered in many years.

As he ſpake theſe words, Candace caſt a look upon the Princeſs, to let her underſtand that ſhe was not deceived in her conjecture, and Eliſa who had received ſome impreſſion of it by the Queens diſcourſe, no ſooner obſerved her action in the cloſe of Agrippa's words, but ſhe began to be of her mind: and this opinion beginning to find room in her Spirit, ſhe remained much troubled and confounded: yet ſhe could not continue without an anſwer, for fear that Agrippa ſhould judge by her aſtoniſhment and ſilence, that ſhe began to know a thing, which ſhe was reſolved to be alwayes ignorant of, and endeavouring to diſſipate that emotion, which [Page] might have been taken notice of in her countenance: Of all the paſſions, ſaid ſhe, which might trouble your repoſe, I am ſenſible of none but grief, and by the effects which that produces upon me, I very eaſily comprehend what the others may make a mind endure, when it is aſſaulted by them. Grief, replyed Agrippa, is certainly the paſſion which makes the moſt cruel impreſſions upon the mind, or to ſpeak more properly, 'tis only by the motions of joy and grief that we are made ſenſible of the other paſſions: yea, it ſeems that the effects of all the reſt are confounded to lead us to theſe two; Love produces fear in our ſpirits only to bring us to grief, and it cauſes hope only to entertain us with joy; deſire is only formed by the hope of accompliſhment, and the mind doth not diſpoſe it ſelf to joy, but that the fear of bad ſucceſs opens a paſſage for grief: in jealouſie all the effects conduce to ſorrow, and in hatred, if the memory of the injuries which have cauſed it entertains grief, the hope of revenge may be an occaſion of joy: Hope and fear do only ſerve the reſt to beſtow their effects either upon joy or grief, and they ſeem to me to be nothing of themſelves, but as they miniſter to joy or grief: All things finally, if You except a few that are indifferent, which are not ſo much as taken notice of, incline our Spirits either to joy or grief, or to ſpeak more plainly, our whole life is abſolutely rouled upon the wheels of theſe two paſſions, ſeeing it is wholly compoſed of good and evil, which are their objects. Alas! interrupted the Princeſs, how unequally is my life divided between joy and grief, and how many days have I ſpent in grief, in compariſon of the few moments which have afforded me any joy? It may be, replyed Agrippa, that the accidents of Your life have furniſhed you with more matter of grief, than joy, and that in your fortune the evil hath exceeded the good, but though they ſhould have been equally divided, I will tell You, Madam, that evil (to which we have a natural repugnance, or rather which of it ſelf is contrary to our nature) is otherwiſe felt and otherwiſe obſerved than good is, which ſeems to be eſſential and conformable to us, and conſequently not ſo capable of making us ſenſible of it but by privation: this is eaſily perceived in the quietneſs of the mind, the health of the body, and the abundance of riches, which are not felt like unto inquietudes, ſickneſſes and poverty; for when theſe pinch us, then we perceive there was good in their contraries, which we hardly took notice of, when we had them in poſſeſſion.

Agrippa would have ſpoken more to this purpoſe, and poſſibly from this general diſcourſe, he would have paſſed to particulars, finding an object in Eliſa's preſence that encouraged and inflamed him more and more, if Cornelius had not interrupted him to lead the Princeſſes to dinner which ſtaid for them, and was haſtened a few hours, that they might the longer enjoy the pleaſure of hunting: They took their repaſt together, and they had no ſooner made an end of it, but they went down into the Court of the Palace, where all things were ready for that days divertiſement. The Princeſſes mounted into a light Chariot, drawn by ſix white Horſes, open before and upon the ſides, and covered only behind as much as was needful to ſhade the Princeſſes from the beams of the Sun, without hindring them from diſcerning all the objects in the fields. They were ſeated together, and Clity and Cephiſa at their ſeet without any other company. Agrippa and Cornelius being mounted upon two ſtately Horſes, marched by the Chariot, each as his inclination lead him; the perſons of their train followed them in a very handſome equipage, and the Hunters with all their company attended at one of the City gates. Agrippa and Cornelius were in a hunting garb, but they had affected more neatneſs and elegancy than they were wont to make uſe of in their ordinary habit, and Agrippa whoſe dawning paſſion had quite metamorphoſed him in a dayes ſpace, out of particular care, had forgot nothing that might ſet off his good parts: The two Princeſſes would not add any thing to their apparel, and had excuſed themſelves upon the account of their ſadneſs, and the condition of their fortune, for not accepting of thoſe habits which Cornelius had ſent them that morning to accouter themſelves conformably to that days exerciſe. The two Lovers marching by the ſide of the two Princeſſes all the way they had to go to the place where the Chaſe was to begin, entertained them with ſome conſtraint: Agrippa not daring ſo ſuddenly to diſcover his thoughts to a Princeſs whoſe Birth and Majeſty obliged him to a more reſpectful ſilence, and Cornelius not having the opportunity before Eliſa and Agrippa, to purſue the diſcourſe, whereof the fair Queen of Ethiopia had heard the beginning with an ill will. Their inquietude might be read in each of their countenances, and if Candace knew too much already of Cornelius his paſſion, Eliſa began to ſuſpect as much of Agrippa's as grieved her to the very heart.

When they were come to the Hunters Rendevouze, which was at the entrance of the woods, a ſhril noiſe of horns, and the cry of the Dogs, and the voices of the Hunters, made the ſhore of Alexandria ring again for divers furlongs; and they found all things as ready as they could wiſh for their divertiſement, by the good order that Cornelius had taken. They preſently put up the Stag before the Dogs, and the Princeſſes had not only their part in the beginning of the pleaſure, but the wood being divided into an infinite number of ways, ſo that their Chariot might go almoſt any way, the greateſt part of that which paſſed in the Chaſe was in their ſight. Agrippa and Cornelius laying aſide that the earneſt inclination they had for [Page] that exerciſe, kept themſelves almoſt all the while cloſe by the Ladies, and the Huntſmen to whom they committed that care at that time, ſerved their intention ſo well, and turned the Stag ſo handſomely, that he was brought to a bay within ſight of the Princeſſes, and almoſt at their feet Agrippa killed him with his Sword.

They had ſpent part of the day in this divertiſement, and the Sun began to decline, when the Princeſſes paſſing along one of the wayes, and their two Lovers at the ſide of the Chariot, they ſaw a Horſe without a Maſter, that leaping and bounding paſſed juſt by them, and drew near to the Chariot Horſes. He was all bloody by reaſon of a wound he had in his flank, and the blood trickled down upon the graſs as he went along: Cornelius ſeeing him in this condition, believed in all probability that his Maſter might be killed, and that there had been ſome combat near that place: and as his charge obliged him carefully to inform himſelf of the buſineſs, and to remedy the diſorders that arrived in Egypt, he parted from Candace, and galloped towards the place whence he ſaw the horſe come, Candace conceiving with her ſelf, that in all adventures her Caeſario had ſome intereſt, and that in all combats where there was blood ſhed, her beloved Prince was in ſome danger, deſired that the Chariot might take the ſame way, and when they knew her mind, they turned the heads of the Horſes thitherward, and Agrippa followed them with all the company out of complacency and curioſity; but becauſe Cornelius, being carried on by a greater intereſt, had put on his horſe with greater ſpeed, he got a great way before the troop, and he had not gone far into the Wood, but he ſaw more horſes feeding upon the freſh graſs at liberty, and a few paces thence a great deal of blood ſhed, and ſeven or eight bodies of men compleatly armed lying dead upon the Turf. The Pretor ſtopped at this ſpectacle, and after he had viewed the dead, and the great wounds which had put them into that condition, with ſurprize and aſtoniſhment, he turned his eyes every way, to inform himſelf concerning this adventure, and commanded ſome of his retinue to diſarm the faces of theſe men, to ſee if there was any amongſt them that had ſo much life left as to declare the truth: Two of his men were already employed in that office; when he ſaw a man come out from between the trees, who drawing near him with an aſſured countenance: Sir, ſaid he, all theſe men which you ſee deprived of life, loſt it by the hand of a ſingle man on foot, and without any other arms but his Sword: they have been puniſhed for their crime by a blow of Juſtice reached from Heaven, and one ſingle man hath performed the combat, whereof you ſee the bloody marks. The victory and the field were his, but he could not hinder by the admirable effects of his valour, but that two great Princeſſes, for whoſe defence he fought, were carried away by the companions of thoſe whom he hath ſlain: I learned the truth of it juſt now from one of theſe men, who died here in my preſence when I ſaw you appear. Gallus was aſtoniſhed at this diſcourſe, as well in regard of what he underſtood concerning the mans valour, as in reſpect of the carrying away of the Princeſſes, whoſe arrival in the Countries under his government he had not heard of, and deſiring to be farther informed: And who, ſaid he, are the Princeſſes who were carried away, and the valiant man that ſo generouſly defended them, and what are they that carried them away? The two Princeſſes, replyed the man, are the Princeſs Cleopatra, and the Princeſs Artemiſa, Siſter to the King of Armenia, he which defended them is unknown, both to me and thoſe he fought againſt, they that carried them away are Armenians, who did this violence in this Country by their Kings command; this is all I could learn from one of theſe men, who did not live long enough to tell me any more. What, ye good Gods! cryed the Pretor, is the Princeſs Cleopatra, who was thought to have ſuffered ſhipwrack, lately carried away, and are not you abuſed by the diſcourſe that hath been made you? As for what relates to the Princeſſes, added the man, I can certainly aſſure you of it, I ſaw them with my eyes, I know them very well, and I have continued with them ever ſince yeſterday; I would likewiſe have been farther informed, and have known the place whither the Barbarians carried them: but, Sir, trouble your ſelf no farther with me, who am not able to give you any more ample inſtruction, but haſten to the aſſiſtance of the faireſt Princeſſes in the world, ſeeing Heaven hath given you ſo fair an occaſion. The man finiſhed his diſcourſe in this manner, and was already gone from Cornelius, who being very much ſurpriſed with ſo unexpected an accident, was preparing to haſten to Cleopatra's aſſiſtance, when the two Princeſſes in their Chariot, and Agrippa not far from them, arrived at the place. They were affrighted at the firſt at the ſight of the dead bodies, and Cornelius having given them an account in few words of what he had learned from the mans mouth, ſtrongly moved Candace and Agrippa upon Cleopatra's intereſt; Agrippa as a friend of that Princeſſes, and of all her family, and Candace as one obliged by a great tenderneſs to all Caeſario's kindred. Ah, Sir, ſaid ſhe, to Cornelius preſently, if it be the will of the Gods that Cleopatra, that Princeſs of whom you your ſelf have made me ſo advantagious a relation, be not periſhed in the Waves, do not ſuffer her to be without ſuccour in thoſe places where you have ſo much authority. There was no need of ſaying any more to a man, to whom the occaſions of pleaſing Candace were as dear as the obligations of his charge, never was ſhe in a condition to make [Page] him any longer diſcourſe, having caſt her eyes upon the man who had ſpoken to Cornelius, and whom croſs the trees, amongſt which he retired himſelf, ſhe thought to be Eteocles the Governour of her beloved Prince. She jogged Clity with her knee, who ſate at her feet, and laying her head to her ear: Look Clity, ſaid ſhe, and obſerve if that man of whom Cornelius hath had all his intelligence, and whom thou ſeeſt retiring a great pace amongſt the trees, be not Eteocles. Clity raiſed up her head at the Queens deſire, but though ſhe ſaw the man, ſhe ſaw nothing but his backſide, and obſerved only that he was of Eteocles his pitch, and had ſuch cloaths as Eteocles wore that day they parted. The fair Queen was not quite free from the emotion which his ſight cauſed, when Cornelius approaching to her, to the Princeſs Eliſa, and to Agrippa, deſired permiſſion of them that he might acquit himſelf of his duty in purſuing Cleopatra's Raviſhers, and departed with ſome of his men, leaving a good number of the reſt to reconduct them into the City.

Agrippa was already ſufficiently engaged to Eliſa not to ſtir from her upon a ſlight occaſion, but the reſpect he had for all Cleopatra's family, and for his own honour, which obliged him to ſuccour the oppreſſed, being powerful enough to make him offer this violence to his inclinations, he took his leave of the Princeſs to go with Cornelius. Had it been for perſons of leſs importance than Cleopatra and the Princeſs of Armenia, the Pretor would have been contented, in relation to the duty of his charge, to have ſent ſome of his men to their aſſiſtance: but for Princeſſes of that conſideration, he believed that he ought to go in perſon, and Agrippa, though Cornelius with words full of civility and reſpect endeavoured to divert him from the trouble, did too much eſteem Cleopatra's birth and perſon, to neglect this occaſion of going to render her that which was due to her from all vertuous perſons. They which ſtaid with the Princeſſes, who were ſtill above twenty horſe, ſome belonging to Agrippa, and ſome to Gallus, returned back with them upon the way to Alexandria, and Candace was ſatisfied with nothing more, than that ſhe conceived that to be the way which the man went which ſhe took for Eteocles. She was ſo much moved at this adventure, that ſhe could not for a long time pronounce one word; and after that ſhe had a little recompoſed her ſelf, ſhe ſpake only to Eliſa. My Princeſs, if you knew what I have ſeen, you would bear a part in the aſtoniſhment which you may obſerve in my countenance: I do not think it ſtrange, anſwered Eliſa, that you ſhould be a little troubled at the ſight of theſe dead men which we have ſeen, and if my grief had not rendred me inſenſible or ſtupid as it were, I could not have beheld this ſpectacle without amazement and terror: But I did not think that beſides the compaſſion and the horror, which this ſight might move in perſons of our ſex, you had any particular occaſion of aſtoniſhment. Beſides that which is common to us both, replyed Candace, I have ſomething that concerns only my ſelf, and ſince I do not deſire to conceal any thing from you, I will tell you, that the man, which it may be you ſaw, and from whom Cornelius received his intelligence, if I be not the moſt deceived perſon in the world, is Eteocles, Caeſario's Governour, of whom I have made you a long mention in my diſcourſe, and whom I left ſome days ago with that Prince; this makes me believe that he himſelf may be ſomewhere near at hand, and Eteocles would not have ſtaid ſo long here, if he were not attending upon him. I believe it as well as you, replyed Eliſa, and I hope this adventure will prove ſucceſsful, ſeeing all probabilities are favoured. Ah my dear Caeſar, added the fair Queen, lifting up her eyes to Heaven with a very paſſionate action, what can hide thee from my eyes, what can deprive my heart of the knowledge of my retreat?

She ſpake in this manner, and Eliſa rejoyced with her in the hopes ſhe ſaw her conceive; when by the road which the Chariot, and thoſe which guarded it followed, they drew near to a very fair houſe, which was at the outſide of the wood, by which they muſt needs paſs in their return to Alexandria. The Chariot with all the company paſſed along the brink of a little Moat, which encompaſſed the houſe, and as the Queen by reaſon of her amorous inquietude, turned her eyes every way to try if ſhe could ſee Eteocles, ſhe caſt them upon one of the windows of the houſe, where immediately ſhe ſpied a man leaning; his head and ſhoulders appeared without the window, and as much of his body as was ſeen was almoſt naked, and in the condition of a perſon riſing out of his bed; his head was bound about with a linnen cloath, under which his long hair, more nearly approaching in colour to fair, than black, fell careleſly upon his ſhoulders. His countenance was very pale, like one that had been long ſick, but what change ſoever he might have received, and what diſtance ſoever there might be from the window to the Chariot, and how ſpeedy ſoever the paces of the Horſes was which drew the Chariot, all this could not hinder the Queen of Ethiopia from obſerving in that face ſome features very like to Ceſario's, and conceiting with her ſelf, either according to the Idea ſhe had had of it in her ſpirit, or according to the truth, that it was Ceſario himſelf. If ſhe kept her ſelf from breaking out into exclamations at this ſight, it was not ſo much by the power ſhe had over her ſelf, as by the force of her aſtoniſhment, which tying [...]p her tongue, and all the functions of the body, by which the reſentments of the ſoul might be expreſſed, [Page] left her immoveable in the Chariot, only holding her eyes turned towards the dear object of her heart as long as ſhe had the liberty to ſee him. Before that ſhe could come again to her ſelf, the Chariot was gone ſo far from the houſe, that though ſhe ſhould have put her head out of the boot, and her ſelf in ſuch a poſture that ſhe might look ſtill towards that which ſhe left behind her, the object was too far off to be any longer diſcerned. She came to her ſelf, as out of a profound ſleep, and ſignified the return of her ſpirits by a great ſigh, which Eliſa obſerved and having taken notice of her action, the intereſt ſhe took in it making her unquiet, ſhe pulled her by the arm: ‘Madam, ſaid ſhe, What is the news, have you ſeen Eteocles again, or any thing that confirms You in Your hopes, or that deſtroys them: Ah! Madam, replyed Candace, embracing her,’ and whiſpering in her ear, that ſhe might not be heard by thoſe that marched behind the Chariot, ‘I have ſeen all that I could deſire to ſee, and I would it had pleaſed the Gods that You had ſeen Artaban as ſure as I ſaw Caeſario from a window of that houſe. Is it poſſible, anſwered Eliſa, and are you not deceived? No certainly, added Candace, 'tis hard if I ſhould be deceived by an Image, which I carry eternally in my heart, I have ſeen my dear Prince himſelf, whoſe features are too familiar to me, for to be miſtaken by me, and I do not account it ſtrange that his countenance is grown pale, becauſe of the wounds which probably he received in the combat wherein I left him engaged ſome dayes ago. The Gods be praiſed for it, ſaid Eliſa to the fair Queen rendring her her careſſes, and though they have not the ſame goodneſs for me, I beg them for You with all my heart that ſatisfaction which they refuſe me. 'Tis certain, replyed Candace, that I now receive from them the greateſt favour that ever I could deſire of them, and ſince I am aſſured of my Caeſario's Life, all my other loſſes, and all my other diſpleaſures are incapable of making any impreſſion upon me: I cannot at preſent follow the impetuoſity of my affection, which would carry me to this dear houſe, where all my happineſs is incloſed, and I have not ſufficient power over theſe men which accompany us, nor confidence enough in them to entreat them to conduct me back to my dear Caeſar, ſince without doubt I ſhould diſcover his abode in this Country to theſe Perſons, who ought to be all ſuſpected by me; but ſince I know that he is alive, and in that houſe, 'tis ſo near to Alexandria, that I may hope by the aſſiſtance of the Gods, and my own invention, to find ſome means to give him intelligence of me.’

Theſe words of the Queen were followed by ſome others, in which ſhe teſtified to Eliſa the ſatisfaction of her Soul for that happy accident, and the fair Princeſs of the Parthians, though ſhe deeply ſighed for her own misfortunes, was more ſenſible of the Queens contentment, than in all probability ſhe could be in the ſad condition of her Soul. She expreſſed as much in words full of tenderneſs and ſweetneſs, to which the fair Queen replyed with prayers and vows to Heaven that the ſame happineſs might befal her, and this converſation full of the expreſſions of mutual affection, ended not till they arrived at the City, where they entred not long after, juſt when the night began to ſpread her black Mantle over the Earth.

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA: OR, Love's Maſter-Piece. PART VI.
LIB. III.

[Page]

ARGUMENT.

Agrippa following the purſuit of Cleopatra's Raviſhers, loſes all his Company, and himſelf in a Wood, where he meets with Coriolanus on foot. He lends him his Horſe to go in ſearch of his Princeſs, and, it being dark, he takes up his Lodging under a tree. There he hears the amorous complaints of Philadelph, who had wandred thither in ſearch of Delia, and ſeeing him part from thence at the break of day, follows him at a diſtance. Philadelph lights upon two Women aſleep, and conjecturing one of them to be Delia, as he is going to make a more perfect diſcovery, he is interrupted by one who calls him to the Combat. They fight, and are parted by Agrippa and the Lady, who proves to be Delia indeed. The mutual joy of Philadelph and Delia at this unexpected meeting. Agrippa invites them to Alexandria. At their entrance there Olympia eſpies the fair Stranger, who had fought with Philadelph, and falls into a ſwoon, and after that into a Feaver. She is viſited by Eliſa and Candace, who endeavour to comfort her, and after a while they leave her to her repoſe.

IN the mean time Agrippa and Cornelius making haſt to the aſſiſtance of Cleopatra and Artemiſa, had croſſed a great part of the Wood without finding any Perſon that could give them any intelligence, they had obſerved the track of the Horſes exactly as they could, and being come to a place where it equally parted into two wayes; that their purſuit might be with the greater hope of ſucceſs, they reſolved to divide themſelves, and Cornelius with his Men taking the way upon the left hand, Agrippa with his party, went to the right, after they had promiſed each other mutually to meet the next night in Alexandria, if they were not detained by ſome impediment.

Agrippa marched a great while along the road which he had taken, turning his eyes and ears every ways. The night was already near at hand, when he thought he heard a great noiſe in a part of the Wood which he had left upon his left hand; this opinion made him ſtop a while to obſerve the place from whence it came, and when he thought he had ſufficiently diſcerned it, he turned his horſe that way at full ſpeed. He croſſed a great deal of ground in a ſmall time, but whether it was that he had miſtaken the place where the noiſe was made, or that the perſons which had made it, where gone before he came, he ſought and looked about every way to no purpoſe, neither could he find any body to direct him. This diſpleaſure did not befall him alone; for being mounted upon one of the fleeteſt Horſes in the World, his Men that ſpurred after him could not keep pace with him, and in a ſmall time they loſt him amongſt the Trees, which deprived them of his ſight; ſo that when he turned that way where he thought they were, he found himſelf alone, and this chanced to be juſt as day-light failed, and the darkneſs began to cover the Earth. He ſtayed a while upon the place in [Page] expectation of them, and called them divers times with a loud voice: but all in vain; for in the error whereinto the ſwiftneſs of their courſe had lead them, they had taken another way quite different from his, after they had loſt the view of him. This accident did much diſpleaſe him, ſeeing himſelf alone, in the dark, and in a Country where he was unacquainted, and conſequently deprived of all means of rendring Cleopatra thoſe aſſiſtances that were due to her, and after he had continued a while uncertain what to do, he reſolved at laſt to ſeek them out, and marched amongſt the Trees at all adventures, calling them ever now and then as loud as poſſibly he could: but becauſe the night was not very clear, and he quite out of all the wayes, he wandred more and more up and down the Wood, and knew not which way to go, either to find his Men, or to return to Alexandria. Any other ſoul but his would have been troubled with melancholy at this petty accident, but he was only diſpleaſed that he had ſucceeded no better in the deſign of doing a good action, and moderating his paſſion by the greatneſs of his courage, he continued marching at adventure whither his Fortune would guide him, ſuppoſing that when he was out of the Wood, it would not be difficult for him to find the way to Alexandria.

In the mean time as he called out often to make himſelf heard by his Men if it were poſſible, a Man which wandered, as he did at thoſe hours in the Wood, being drawn thither by his voice, drew near the place where he was, and when he was at a diſtance that Agrippa might hear him: ‘What art thou, ſaid he, thou which makeſt the Woods to eccho with thy exclamations at a time when all things elſe are buried in ſilence?’ He that ſpake theſe words was on foot, and Agrippa by reaſon of the darkneſs, ſpying him only a little amongſt the Trees, and coming nearer to him: ‘But who art thou thy ſelf, ſaid he, thou which demandeſt who I am, and who, as well as my ſelf, doſt take this ſolitary walk during the ſhadows of the night? I am, replyed the Man, a miſerable Creature abandoned by the Gods, and by Fortune, a man to whom thou wouldſt do a pleaſure in killing of him, or in furniſhing him with any means to get out of the misfortunes into which he is fallen.’ Hearing theſe words, which the Unknown accompanied with ſome ſobs, Agrippa believed that this voice was not abſolutely unknown to him, but ſeeing little appearance in the Idea which preſented it ſelf to him, he would not ground any thing upon it, but the better to inform himſelf: ‘Thou muſt needs be, anſwered he, very much afflicted, ſeeing thou deſireſt death, to which we are not wont to have recourſe but only in the extremity of miſery: and in ſtead of being a means of that I would more willingly beſtow ſome eaſe upon thy grief, if the opportunity of doing it were in my power. Thou ſpeakeſt like a generous Perſon, added the Unknown, and if I be not deceived, thy voice reſembles a Mans who is likewiſe generous enough to adminiſter conſolation to the miſerable in their diſtreſs. I know not, replyed Agrippa, whether thou findeſt any reſemblance in my voice to any Perſon that is known to thee: but ſince thou haſt begun to ſpeak to me, I have thought the ſound of thine to be ſo like a mans with whom I have had long acquaintance, and whom I very much eſteemed, that if there were any probability that he might be in this Countrey at the hour and in the condition I meet thee, I ſhould certainly have taken thee for the ſame Man: For my part I have no intention to conceal my ſelf, and I have no Enemies that can oblige me to deny that I am Agrippa.’

Upon this diſcovery, the Unknown continued a while without ſpeaking, but a little after reſuming his diſcourſe: Your voice hath not deceived me, ſaid he, and I knew it at the firſt to be Agrippa's, but the time of night, and the condition wherein I meet You made me have reaſon to doubt of a truth, which ſeemed to me as improbable, as that I ſhould be here alone by night, and on foot in a place which my misfortune hath made my Enemy. I tell You enough to make a perfect diſcovery of my ſelf to You, and I ſuppoſe You are not ignorant now; that I am the unfortunate Juba Corolianus, upon whom You once beſtowed a ſhare of Your friendſhip, and who probably may have loſt it by becoming Caeſars Enemy. The confidence which I have in Your vertue, and the ſmall reaſon I have to be in love with my Life, baniſh all the fear I might have had of diſcovering my ſelf to You in a Countrey where I cannot be known without manifeſt danger: but though You ſhould be of the mind of my moſt cruel Enemies (which I have all the reaſon in the World to believe ſince the change of Marcellus and Cleopatra) though you ſhould acquaint Caeſar, that I wander alone and unknown in his Dominions, and though by declaring my ſelf to you, I ſhould run upon the infallible loſs of my life: in loſing this wandring and unfortunate life, I ſhall loſe nothing but what is odious to me, and which I would have ſacrificed my ſelf to my grief this deplorable day, if I had not thought it my duty to employ the remainders of it in the ſervice which I owe to that ungrateful Creature to whom I have devoted it all.

Whilſt the valiant King of the Moors was ſpeaking in this manner with a throng of ſighs and ſobs that accompanied every word, Agrippa hearkned to him with an amazement and [Page] irreſolution which kept him a time immoveable and quite aſtoniſhed; He owed all he had to Caeſar's bounty, and he could not without ſome offence to his vertue conſerve any amity for his greateſt Enemies: but beſides the eſteem he alwayes had for the admirable qualities, and the ſublime vertue of Coriolanus he thought he ſhould brand himſelf with a deteſtable baſeneſs, if in ſo deplorable a condition as he ſaw him in, which he partly knew by the loſs of his Dominions, and by what was repreſented to him in his diſcourſe, he had conſerved the thoughts of an Enemy, and had looked upon him according to the conſideration due to his Fortune, rather than according to that compaſſion which is due to vertuous men in miſery. After he had made a ſhort reflection upon it, which by reaſon of his excellent nature, and the greatneſs of his ſoul, wrought a much more ſudden effect upon him, than it would have done in a perſon of more common thoughts, he alighted from his horſe, judging it not to be civil to ſit on horſe-back before ſuch a Prince as he, as long as he ſtood on foot, and accoſting him with an action which expreſſed the conſideration he had for him as much as the obſcurity of the night could permit: ‘I cannot, ſaid he, without a very great aſtoniſhment, ſee You in Your Enemies Countrey in a condition ſo diſproportionable to Your Birth, and the rank You held ſome moneths ago: 'tis true, I am bound to Caeſar by ſuch ſtrong obligations, that without ingratitude I can make no diſtinction between his Enemies and my own; but the eſteem I have alwayes made of Your vertue and of your perſon, hath oppoſed thoſe reſentments which probably ought to be common to me, with him, to whom I owe all, and beſides I have found ſo much juſtice in one part of your actions, and even in thoſe which have made Caeſar Your Enemy, that at the report of thoſe great things which You had done for the recovery of your Dominions, I was not moved as poſſibly I ought to have been by the part, which I ought to take in the intereſts of Auguſtus. You might have received ſome proof of it in this, that I have avoided the occaſion of going to bear arms againſt You, and if I had not expreſſed ſome repugnance as to that employment, Domitius poſſibly had not commanded that Naval Army which You defeated, and I ſhould have had the charge of that expedition as well as of divers others, which I joyfully undertook, and from which I returned with ſucceſs enough, I was afterwards afflicted at your ill Fortune, more, poſsibly, than is honeſt for the ſervants of Caeſar to confeſs, and I could heartily have wiſhed, that by a happy reconciliation, he would have left You at peace in a Kingdom of Your Fathers. You have put your ſelf into no danger by diſcovering Your ſelf to me, and inſtead of doing You hurt in a condition which obliges all vertuous perſons to comfort You, I will ſerve you in what I am able without wronging the fidelity which I owe to my Maſter. 'Tis certain, he is Your Enemy, and Your life would not be in ſecurity if you ſhould be known in theſe Countries; either depart ſpeedily from hence, or keep your ſelf concealed, if You be ſtayed here by any neceſſity of Your affairs, and in the mean time let me underſtand what ſervice You deſire of a perſon, who will always reſpect, as he ought, both your birth and the eminent qualities of your perſon.’

Agrippa expreſſed himſelf in this ſort, and Coriolanus, after he had meditated a little upon an anſwer. ‘I did not almoſt doubt, ſaid he, but that I ſhould find in you ſtill, all the marks of that generoſity whereof all the World hath taken notice, I am too much obliged to thoſe remains of friendſhip which hindred you from employing againſt me that valour of Yours, againſt which without doubt I ſhould not have had the ſame ſucceſs which Fortune gave me againſt Domitius. I have little reſentment againſt thoſe, who during my abſcence have deprived me of a Kingdom which I could not go to defend, and of which I can make no great account ſince the loſs of my repoſe, neither do I deſire any proof of your amity which may claſh with your duty to Caeſar, I ſhall alwayes eſteem you too much to deſire any thing of you that may hinder your fortune; or diminiſh the eſteem you have acquired all the World over; and I am not ſo fond of my life, or any thing that is left me beſides, to ſeek any ſecurity or refuge by your means, at a time when I look for it no where but in death; but only I would deſire of you without any longer diſcourſe (for the preſſing condition wherein I am in, doth not permit me to converſe any longer with you) the means of purſuing the Raviſhers of Cleopatra, who was lately carried away in my preſence, having been too faintly defended by me. What, ſaid Agrippa interrupting him, are you then that valiant man, who alone, and without arms ſlew ſo many armed men for the defence of Cleopatra? I am that Wretch, replyed Coriolanus, which had not valour enough to guard that Princeſs from the violence of a few Barbarians, I have now arms upon my back, but I am on foot, and I have ſo wandred in the Wood, that I cannot find the way back to the place where I might recover Horſes to poſt to the aſſiſtance of that Princeſs. Such a grand action, anſwered Agrippa, as that whereof we ſaw the marks upon the place where it was done, muſt needs proceed from ſuch a hand as Yours, I was going, as you were, to Cleopatra's aſſiſtance, and juſt as You did, I wandred and loſt all my company in the turning of the wood, & [Page] the obſcurity of the night: If You could ſtay till day, You ſhould find all manner of aſſiſtance amongſt us; but in that urgency which You expreſs, I can only offer You this Horſe, which you may make uſe of, as one of the beſt the World affords, to go whither Your deſires, or Your Fortune ſhall direct you.’

Coriolanus, what neceſſity ſoever he had, at firſt refuſed Agrippa's offer, making ſome difficulty to leave a man of that importance, alone, on foot, in the Wood, and in the dark: But Agrippa being offended at his modeſty; When you are upon a buſineſs of ſuch conſequence, ſaid he, you ought not to ſtand upon punctillio's, I would not deal ſo with you upon the like occaſion, and You uſe me as an an Enemy if You refuſe any longer that which is now in my power to offer You; You will conſtrain me to follow You on foot if You continue obſtinate: my attendants are not far off, the worſt that can come to me, is to paſs the reſt of the night here in expectation of them at a ſeaſon when my ſtay will not be incommodious; I have no reaſon to fear any accident in a place where all perſons are my friends, and where I ſhall find no body from whom I may not receive aſſiſtance.

Though Agrippa had added a great many more, and more preſſing expreſſions, Coriolanus would never have ſuffered himſelf to be overcome, if he had had any other buſineſs in hand but the aſſiſting of Cleopatra: but upon a neceſſity of that importance, at laſt he cloſed his eyes againſt all that civility could poſſibly repreſent to him, and receiving the horſe which Agrippa preſented to him; Both You and my bad fortune, ſaid he, conſtrain me to do an action, which I would never have conſented to for the recovery of my Kingdom, the Gods will recompenſe You for it, if I cannot, and in the mean time reſt aſſured, that during the ſmall remainder of my life, I will treaſure up in my heart, as I am obliged to do, the memory of ſo generous an action. As he ended theſe words, he put his foot into the ſtirrop, and mounted into the Saddle, Agrippa holding the Bridle of the Horſe himſelf, and promiſing him that when he found his Men, he would poſt after him to Cleopatra's aid. Adieu generous Agrippa ſaid Coriolanus to him at parting, pardon this action which You force me to do, and believe that if I live never ſo little while, I will not die ingrateful for this good office. Having ſpoken theſe words, he parted from him, and turning the head of his horſe that way which he thought might lead after Cleopatra, he poſted away amongſt the trees with as much ſpeed as the darkneſs would permit.

Agrippa remained amazed at this accident, as well to find that Prince in ſo ſtrange a condition, and in ſo unexpected a manner, in a place where there was little likelihood of his being found, when he thought him to be a great way off, as to hear him expreſs ſo much intereſt, and ſo much earneſtneſs for Cleopatra, to whom he thought, as well as a great many others, that he had been unfaithful. He reflected then upon it, not having had time during the converſation they had together; or at leaſt Coriolanus his impatience not having permitted him to enquire why he tormented himſelf ſo for a perſon, whom, according to the vulgar opinion, he had ingratefully forſaken. This conſideration took up his thoughts a good while, before he could paſs any judgment upon the uncertainty which this adventure afforded; but a little after he believed that Coriolanus, whoſe generoſity was known to all the World, might do that meerly upon the ſcore of Verture, which another would have done for love, and that having ſeen the Princeſs, whom he had dearly loved, in ſome danger, he had fought for her, and was ſo paſſionate to aſſiſt her, onely out of the motions of his Vertue. He did not find it ſtrange, knowing himſelf to be capable of doing as much, and eaſily gueſſing by his own inclinations at the thoughts of vertuous perſons, he meditated a while upon this accident, and turning his memory with compaſſion upon the divers revolutions of Fortune, who did ſo differently ſport her ſelf in the life of this brave African, whom ever ſince his birth ſhe had made the object of her inconſtant Capricio's, making him fall before he was born, from Royalty into ſervitude, favouring him in a thouſand gallant actions which had acquired him immortal glory amongſt men, and after ſhe had cauſed him to remount his Throne maugre all the forces of the Empire, tumbling him down again with the ſame ſuddenneſs into the loſs of all, into miſery, and that deplorable condition wherein he had met him, he could not but be very much moved at it, and lifting up his eyes to Heaven with a ſigh: ‘O Gods, ſaid he, how incomprehenſible are Your judgments, and how inconſiderable is the life of man, ſince the greateſt and moſt vertuous are ſubject to ſo many misfortunes? 'tis in the Fortune of this Prince, the braveſt perſon that ever the Sun ſhined upon, that the inſtability of humane things is eaſily remarkable, and thence we learn a very obſervable leſſon how little confidence we ought to have in things ſo inconſtant and ſo apt to periſh.’ He had ſtayed longer upon this conſideration, which produced powerful effects in ſuch a ſoul as his, if his new paſſion, which at that time left little room for other thoughts, had not inſenſibly baniſhed thence another mans intereſts, to take full poſſeſsion of his mind it ſelf.

[Page] By the misfortunes of Coriolanus, which love alone, for the moſt part had produced, he foreſaw what he might fall into himſelf by the ſame paſſion, and making a ſhort meditation thereupon: ‘Alas, ſaid he, that which I deplore in another, may poſſibly ere long befall my ſelf, and Eliſa without doubt is able to cauſe the ſame diſorders in my ſoul and Fortune, that Cleopatra had cauſed in Coriolanus's: I have all the reaſons that can be to fear it, ſeeing in the ſpace of one night and a day, that imperious beauty hath ruined my repoſe, which to all appearance was ſo well eſtabliſhed, and hath made a greater progreſs in this little time than another could have done in divers years. I feel and ſuffer already all that perſons grown old in Love can feel and ſuffer, and if in the very beginning my paſſion handles me with ſo much violence, what may I expect when its forces are augmented, and its powers are abſolutely eſtabliſhed over this heart, which it ſpares ſo little already? Ah! continued he, a little after, though I ſhould have all the reaſon that might be to be afraid of this fatal engagement of my heart, yet it is too handſome for me to make any attempt to break it off, and that deſtiny that brings a divine beauty, from the fartheſt parts of Aſia, and from out the midſt of our cruel enemies, to work that upon my ſoul which the Roman beauties could not do, binds me up already ſo powerfully, that it hath not left my will ſo much as one ſingle motion or deſire to diſengage my ſelf.’

As he uttered theſe words he laid himſelf down at the foot of an Oak, being reſolved to paſs away the reſt of the night there; for it was at that ſeaſon of the year when they are at the ſhorteſt. In this place, he uſed ſome vain endeavours to catch ſome ſleep, which fled from him, and the Image of Eliſa which gained an abſolute power over his ſpirit more and more, did not a great while permit him to find any repoſe, in the leaſt conformable to the firſt violences of his Love: ‘What, ſaid he, with a little motion of choller, or reſentment, have I loſt all in ſo little a time, and will ſleep approach my eyes no more, ſince the beauties of Eliſa have fatally appeared to them? Well, purſued he, let us ſubmit to the force of our deſtiny, and ſeeing we muſt watch, let us watch with the Stars which bear us company, and which can only bear witneſſe of our ſighs, and the words which love draws from our mouth.’

Agrippa ſpake theſe words as he thought very loud, certainly believing, that at ſuch an hour, and in that deſart place, he was not over heard by any body, and that he really had only the Stars as witneſſes of the effects which his paſſion might produce; but he was deceived, and that night being to him a night of adventures, 'twas the will of Fortune, that a few paces from him, there lay a man under the trees paſſing the reſt of the night, and expecting the approach of day in imployments not much different from his. This Man whoſe ſoul was much more enflamed with love, than Agrippa's was, and poſſibly as much as a ſoul was capable of, no ſooner heard the amorous words, which Agrippa had uttered, but he found ſome conſolation in that rancounter, and after two or three impetuous ſighs, beginning to ſpeak loud enough to be diſtinctly heard by Agrippa: Alas! ſaid he, is it poſſible then that I am not the only man whom Love cauſes to ſpend the night in this dark and ſolitary place, whileſt ſleep Exerciſes its Dominion over the whole Earth? Agrippa who expected not that accident, was a little ſurprized at it at firſt, thinking that he had been in a place where he might freely diſcover his thoughts to the face of Heaven: yet being of a Spirit not eaſily daunted, he quickly recompoſed himſelf, and finding, as well as the unknown ſome conſolation in meeting with an amorous perſon, he thought it not amiſs to enter into a diſcourſe with him that might render their ſolitude the more comfortable, and returning an anſwer to thoſe few words he had ſpoken, without ſtirring from his place, ‘No, ſaid he, you are not the only man, whom Love cauſes to ſigh at theſe hours in ſolitude, and though fortune hath conducted me hither, yet 'tis certain that Love only keeps me company, and takes up all my thoughts. They cannot be more worthily employed, replyed the Unknown, and even amongſt thoſe whom hope hath almoſt deſerted, there are ſome, which find all the entertainment of their life, only in the thoughts of their Love. As for thoſe, anſwered Agrippa, whom hope hath abandoned, their thoughts cannot but be very full of grief and affliction, and hope doth not ordinarily leave us but in ſuch extremities, when we hardly can tell what to think upon: Yea divers perſons believe that after the loſs of hope, Love cannot be eaſily preſerved, and as hope, in Love, cannot be intirely loſt, but by the loſs of the Object beloved ſo, by the ſame loſſe, it is probable that Love abandons us together with our hope. Alas! added the Unknown with a ſigh,’ how little experience have you, ſo far as I can judge, in the effects of this paſſion, to which nevertheleſſe, it ſeems, You have ſubmitted your Spirit. ‘'Tis true, anſwered Agrippa, that I have paſſed a good part of my Life in liberty enough, and 'tis not long ſince that my ſoul hath been made Loves ſubject by ſuch powers as have diſarmed my heart at the firſt ſight, and which at the very beginning have already made me feel whatſoever others have felt moſt violent in whole years. I eaſily [Page] believe it, replyed the Unknown, and I do not doubt but that at the firſt ſight a heart may be diſarmed, and ſubmit it ſelf to Loves greateſt cruelty: I have had experience enough of it my ſelf, to make me believe it upon anothers account, but if Your paſſion be yet in its infancy, upon which all Souls do not equally fix themſelves at firſt, or at leaſt if you be not ſo far ingaged that you have no power left over your Spirit, avoid, if it be poſſible for you, any farther engagement, and ſtop the courſe betime of an infinite number of paines and ſufferings: in compariſon of which all others are trivial, and by which, life is rendred worſe than the moſt painful death. O Gods! continued be, with a new ſupply of ſobs, how different would mine have been from this deplorable condition, wherein I miſerably ſpend my dayes, if I had followed the counſel which I venture to give to others? how many evils had I been ſpared from, under which my unfortunate Soul alwayes groaned? how many troubles both of body and mind had I avoided, under which both have deeply ſuffered? And yet, O my adorable (there he ſtopt becauſe he would not name her) and yet O dear Miſtriſs of my heart how ſorry ſhould I have been if I had followed theſe counſels, which were profitable indeed as to my repoſe, but contrary to the glory, and the ſatisfactition which I find in paſſing my dayes for your ſake in theſe miſeries which are a thouſand times more ſweet and more dear to me than all the pleaſures and felicity I could have taſted in my life, if I had not devoted it to you.’

The unknown ſpake in this manner, and ſuffering himſelf to be carried away by the current of his paſſion, he held ſome other diſcourſes by which Agrippa obſerved, that never poſſibly any other Spirit had been more ſtrongly or more really poſſeſſed with love, and being of a noble and compaſſionate mind, he could not chuſe but be troubled for the unknown, and beginning to ſpeak when he had done: ‘I know not what you are, ſaid he, and yet I cannot but take part in your diſpleaſures, and believe, by all appearances, that few perſons have more ſincerely loved than You. You have reaſon to do ſo, replyed the afflicted Lover, and 'tis very certain that never poſſibly did a ſoul ſo entirely ſacrifice it ſelf to love as mine hath done, nor devoted its life thereunto with a more perfect reſignation;’ They are not hopes (that we may return to our former diſcourſe) alas! they are not hopes that maintain it, ‘and though they are not abſolutely extinguiſhed in me, by reaſon of the natural diſpoſition we have to preſerve ſome reliques of them to the laſt extremity: yet according to reaſon and probability there is ſo little hope left, and that little is ſo diſproportionable to the greatneſs of my love, that in all likelihood 'tis not by my hopes that my love is preſerved. I love with a diſengagement from all other thoughts, that which appeared amiable to my eyes, that which my heart loves without reſervation and intereſt, that which it may be neither is nor ever was ſenſible of my love, and I love, O Gods! that which poſſibly hath no longer a being in the world, either for me, or any man beſides.’

He concluded not theſe words without ſome ſobs, which confirmed Agrippa in the opinion which he had already conceived of the greatneſs of his love, and deſiring to give him ſome conſolation; ‘Your condition, ſaid he, would be truly deplorable, if it were ſuch as you repreſent it, but ſince you are ſtill prepared to hope for better fortune, I adviſe you to expect from Heaven thoſe aſſiſtances, which it ſeldom denies to perſons whoſe intentions are innocent and conformable to vertue. We ſee things fall out every day very far from our expectation, and oftentimes in the moſt deſperate affairs the Gods have ſent remedies unlooked for, and contrary to appearance; In the mean time take a little reſt, if you can poſſibly, and when the approach of day ſhall permit me to ſee you as the darkneſs hath permitted me to hear you, I ſhall perhaps deſire a farther knowledge of your perſon, out of the diſpoſition which I have already to eſteem a man whoſe thoughts do not ſeem to me to proceed from a common perſon, and it may be I ſhall find ſome means of giving ſome eaſe to your diſpleaſures, in a place where I have ſome acquaintance and ſome credit.’

Agrippa made him his diſcourſe, out of the diſpoſition which he felt in himſelf to eſteem and ſerve him, and by reaſon of ſome approaches of ſleep which began to ſeize upon him, and after two nights watching, and that dayes toyl lay heavy upon his Eye-lids. The Unknown anſwered his offers with all the civility his grief could leave him for a man of whom he judged very advantageouſly already, and after ſome replies between them, Agrippa grew very drouſie, and fell at laſt faſt aſleep. The fair Image of Eliſa, wherewith his Soul was continually poſſeſſed, appeared to him as he was aſleep, with all thoſe powers which had ſo ſuddenly made him her Subject, and he had the contentment to entertain her, and to give her aſſurances of his paſſion, during the time of his ſleep; but it was for no long continuance, and at the coming of the day, which appeared a little after, he was awakened by a noiſe which the man made with whom he had converſed, as he roſe from the place where he was, and mounted his horſe with two Squires which had ſpent the night ſome paces from him. [Page] At another time this man, which wanted neither acknowledgment nor civility, would not have gone from that place without being better acquainted with Agrippa, or without thanking him for the offer he had made; but having his ſoul prepoſſeſſed with a paſſion, which extinguiſhed in him all other deſires, and all other remembrances but of his beloved object, he would not engage himſelf in the company of a man, from whom he feared he could not retire to ſeek either that which he had loſt, or ſolitude which was more dear to him than the ſociety of men. He was already upon his horſe, by that time Agrippa was fully awake, and the Roman being got up at the noiſe he made, ſaw him amongſt the trees parting from the place where he had ſpent the night, and taking the way on the right hand with his two Squires, who following their Maſters pace, marched very ſlowly.

Agrippa judged by this departure of his, that he had no deſire to make himſelf known: and eaſily pardoned in him, out of the knowledge he had of the pre occupation of his Spirit, that which a leſs rational perſon would have taken for want of civility; he conceived a greater deſire to ſee him, and to inform himſelf more fully concerning his fortune and his perſon, whereof he already had a very good opinion. Conducted by this curioſity, he followed him at a diſtance amongſt the trees, and that was not difficult for him to do, becauſe the unknown having no certain way to go, but being directed rather by chance, than by deſign, went on a ſoft pace, deeply engaged in a profound muſing: Agrippa did already diſcern the handſomneſs of his body as he rode, and the faſhion of his arms which were black, enriched with ſome Jewels of great value, his Caſque was covered with a black Plume of Feathers, ſomewhat ſpoyled with the rain, and worn with a long voyage, and that which appeared of his Caſque was black too, covered with an embroidery of ſilver, which had been very handſome. Agrippa might obſerve all this as he walked amongſt the trees and though he was on foot, and in a condition unconformable to his quality, he was grown more curious upon this adventure than naturally he was, or probably could be at a time when his growing paſſion ſufficiently employed his Spirit.

The unknown had marched a good while without breaking ſilence otherwiſe than by a few ſighs, and then calling one of his Squires to him, ‘But Dion, ſaid he, doſt thou believe that I ought to ground any farther aſſurance upon that mans diſcourſe, and is it probable that his ſcience ſhould give him knowledge of my fortune for the future, when poſſibly he is ignorant of his own deſtiny? That is not without example, Sir, anſwered the Squire, and by that which he hath told you concerning the preſent condition of your ſoul, you may give ſome credit to what he hath promiſed you for the future. He hath promiſed me nothing punctually, replyed the Unknown, but hath only given me ſome uncertain hopes, which I ſhould not have fixed upon, if I had any deſigns which that confidence might divert me from: Seek not, ſaid he, as I remember, ſeek not far from the ſhore of Alexandria, that which thou haſt loſt; thou ſhalt not find it any where elſe, and thou maiſt hope that the Gods will reſtore it to thee in the ſame condition they gave it thee at firſt. Theſe were his very words, ſaid the Squire, and I expect ſome ſucceſs from them, becauſe of the impreſſion which his ſcience hath made upon my Spirit. The ſucceſs, added his Maſter, is in the hand of the Gods that can do all things, and 'tis from you, O ye great Gods, continued he, lifting up his eyes to Heaven, 'tis from you only that I ought to expect the end of theſe miſeries, to which this deplorable life is condemned.’

As he had finiſhed theſe words he perceived himſelf to be near a little brook, which ariſing from a neighbouring ſpring, ran amongſt the trees down to the Sea, which was but a few furlongs off. This ſight revived ſome remembrance in his mind, which renewed his ſighs, and ſtopping at the place to look upon the clear waters which glided along upon the little pebble ſtones, with a pleaſant murmur: Alas! ſaid he, 'twas in ſuch a place as this, that my deſtiny preſented my Delia to me, and if the Gods would pleaſe to reſtore me what I have loſt in the condition wherein they gave it me, it muſt needs fall out that upon the brink of this rivulet I muſt find out my deplorable Delia.

The amorous Philadelph (for theſe words did ſufficiently diſcover him to be the amorous Philadelph) had hardly ſpoken theſe few words, but caſting his eyes along the brook, whilſt his horſe was going over it, he thought he ſaw at a good diſtance off ſome perſons lying upon the bank, and looking that way with more attention than before, he perceived they were women. At this ſight, he knew not why, a ſhivering ran over his whole body, and ſtopping the bridle of his horſe, he continued with his face towards that object unmoveable and aſtoniſhed. Dion which followed next to him, ſeeing him ſtand ſtill in this poſture, and reading in his countenance, which was partly viſible, his bever being up, all the ſigns of a ſtrange amazement: What ayles you Sir, and by what ſurpriſe is your viſage ſo ſuddenly changed? Dion ſpake thus to him twice without receiving any anſwer, and Philadelph was ſo moved and troubled, that for a long time he was not in a condition to make a reply: [Page] at laſt endeavouring to diſſipate this ſtrong emotion. ‘Behold, ſaid he, pointing to the place, behold thoſe women which lye upon the bank of the rivulet, and remember that it was in this condition that fortune ſent me Delia. This ſight and the reſemblance of the place and the accident, with that which was ſo fatal to my life, have ſo much moved me, that 'tis impoſſible for me to recompoſe my ſelf, and if the Gods be but pityful, it may be amongſt theſe perſons I may find my Delia. It may be ſo, if it pleaſe the Gods, replyed Dion, and things more improbable often come to paſs: but it may be with more likelyhood that it will not fall out ſo, and I do not adviſe you to ground any hope upon it, that may redouble your diſpleaſures when you find your ſelf deceived. I will hope for nothing, ſaid the Prince, and I yet will neglect nothing, it muſt be by ſome extraordinary adventure that Delia ſhall be reſtored to me, if ſhe be ſtill in the world for one, and though I judge that the extraordinary motions wherewith my heart is agitated, proceed from the violence of my love, rather than from any preſage that is ſent me from Heaven, yet I am reſolved not to part from this place without ſatisfying my ſelf in this point, and without ſeeing the faces of theſe perſons, whom fortune preſents to me in the ſame condition wherein I firſt ſaw Delia.’

With theſe words he alighted, and leaving his horſe to Dion, he walked along the bank of the brook with an uncertain pace, and went towards the place where the women lay along upon the graſs.

By means of the delay which this adventure had cauſed, Agrippa had the more time and convenience to follow Philadelph, without being perceived, he heard part of the words which were ſpoken to Dion, he ſaw him alight from his horſe, and gueſſing at ſomething of the truth by his diſcourſe, the goodneſs of his nature made him intereſs himſelf in this adventure more than before, and wiſh the man, though he was unknown to him, happy ſucceſs in his buſineſs. The richneſs of his Armour made him already conjecture that he was of no mean condition, and every thing in Philadelph's perſon pleaded for his advantage. The paſſionate Prince marched towards the place where he ſaw the Ladies lye, with an extraordinary emotion and throbbing of his heart, and he was ſo troubled between ſome beams of hope, and fear of being deceived, that he hardly had ſtrength and aſſurance to go along. He came at laſt with the leaſt noiſe that was poſſible, to the place where upon the green graſs two Ladies were aſleep: at firſt the number diſpleaſed him, remembring that Delia went from Cilicia with her Aunt and her Siſter; but he ſtaid not long upon this conſideration, judging that in the voyages ſhe had made ſince, ſhe might be ſeparated from part of her company. He looked upon the two women with a very paſſionate action, and lifting up his eyes to Heaven in a very ſuppliant manner: ‘Immortal Gods, ſaid he, (but with his heart more than his mouth: for that continuing mute for fear of making a noiſe, left all its functions to the heart) pitiful Gods; if by a miraculous effect of your goodneſs, ye permit me amongſt theſe perſons which chance preſent to me, to find my Delia, how much ſhould I be beholding to your pity, and for which ſhould I be moſt obliged to you, for the former life which I have received from you, or this latter which you render me? He paſſed from this thought to ſome motions of an uncertain and wavering joy, but immediately after that was deſtroyed by contrary appearances, and his heart freezing again with fear, which had been thawed by hope: Alas! replyed he to himſelf, what reaſon can I have to imagine that this adverſe fortune, by whoſe means I have paſſed ſo many days in ſo deplorable a condition, ſhould deal ſo favourably with me to day? Have not I ſeen a hundred thouſand women ſince I ſought after my wandring and fugitive Delia, without meeting her in all that great number, and muſt I hope becauſe ſhe appeared thus once to me, that every thing which preſents it ſelf ſo afterwards muſt needs be my adorable Delia? Ah! vain hope, how haſt thou abuſed me to no purpoſe, and how eaſie is it to judge that my reaſon is troubled by my misfortunes, ſeeing I hope ſo eaſily for that which I deſire, contrary to all probabilities? 'Tis not in woods, nor a dreadful ſolitude that Delia ſpends her nights, and if my deſtiny cauſed me to find her there that fatal day, when I loſt my ſelf, muſt I expect the ſame fortune every day? Go thy way then unfortunate man, to purſue thy uncertain ſearch, ſeek that which thou haſt loſt in the company of men, rather than in the retreat of beaſts; and do not diſturb the reſt of thoſe perſons which dream not of thee, nor ſo much as know thee.’

Being deſerted by his hope, and abandoning himſelf to grief, he ſate down upon the graſs full of ſadneſs and irreſolution, and continued a long time in deliberation, whether he ſhould go on his way without relying upon the vain hope which had deceived him, or whether he ſhould have any indulgence for thoſe extraordinary preſages which endeavoured to perſwade him, that he ſhould receive ſatisfaction from this adventure. ‘At laſt, ſaid he, though I ſhould find my ſelf deceived in this expectation, which flatters me, I ſhall be in the ſame [Page] condition I was a few moments ago: if I fail of finding Delia here in this place, ſhe will be no more loſt to me, nor any farther from me, than ſhe was before, and ſeeing I live only to ſpend my life in ſearch of her, I ought not to neglect any occaſion of finding her, how improbable ſoever it be. Let us try our fortune then, with a firm reſolution to expect from Heaven, whatſoever it ſhall pleaſe to ſend us, and let us beg of it, if it refuſe to give us Delia, either conſtancy enough to ſupport the redoubling of our grief, or weakneſs enough to yield to it, without lingering out this wandering and unfortunate life any longer.’

With this reſolution he roſe up, and drawing nearer to thoſe perſons, he viewed them over in a trembling poſture, and endeavoured to take exact notice of their faces; which was not eaſie for him to do without waking them, one of the two having her face covered with a linnen cloth, and the other lying in another poſture, leaned one of her cheeks upon her right arm, and covered the other with her left which ſhe had laid over her head, 'twas to her that he addreſſed himſelf, becauſe ſhe had black hair, and her companions fair hair made him know very well, that he muſt not expect her to be Delia. Never, in the moſt evident danger, did the moſt fearful ſouldier march with ſo much fear and confuſion, and if the amorous Philadelph had ſeen death preſent before his eyes in its moſt terrible ſhape, he would certainly have encountred it with more aſſurance and reſolution, than this ſhadrw or appearance of Delia whom he ſought throughout the world. He ſtood a while upright before them with his arms acroſs over his breaſt, in the poſture of a man deprived of a part of the faculties both of body and ſoul, not daring hardly to venture his looks to ſeek between thoſe envious arms, the face which they concealed from him. He had continued a time in this condition, when he was aſſaulted by a new fear, which till then had not aſſailed him, and making cruel reflections upon what was paſt: ‘Alas! ſaid he, though by ſome favourable miracle it ſhould be true that this is my Delia, I ſhould have found her again, poſſibly to my greater misfortune, and conſidering the inhumanity ſhe had to defend her ſelf againſt my love in a Country where I gave her ſo many teſtimonies of it, and to forſake me by a flight which expoſes me to ſo many miſeries, juſt when I believed that by my love I had merited the utmoſt recompenſe I had pretended to, ought not I to fear that my preſence will be diſagreeable to her, and that ſhe will fly from me ſtill, as from an enemy, whom ſhe avoids in all parts of the World. If ſo many obligations could not move her in the place of my birth, what ought I to expect from my importunate purſuits in this deſart, whither poſſibly ſhe is conducted by ſome affection which renders her inſenſible of mine, which robs me of her ſight all the World over, and which without doubt hath cauſed all my misfortunes, both by her flight, and by her hard-heartedneſs when ſhe was in Cilicia.’ This thought afflicted him very ſenſibly, but it was not able to interrupt his deſign, and he reſolved to try whether this woman that lay aſleep, was his ingrateful or his acknowledging Delia.

After he had rallied up the remainders of his courage, he kneeled down upon one knee before her, and lifted up his eyes to Heaven, begging his Delia of the Gods, with ſighs and vows proceeding from the bottom of his heart? as if he had expected from them, that if this Woman was an Unknown perſon, they ſhould transform her into Delia at his requeſt. After this he put himſelf to the venture of looking what he could diſcover in her face; but as ill luck would have it, it was ſo cloſely covered by her arm, which was jealous of his content, that he could diſcern nothing: this put him into an inquietude full of impatience, not knowing whether he had beſt attend her awaking, or interrupt her ſleep. ‘If this be not Delia, ſaid he within himſelf, why ſhould I trouble the repoſe of a perſon, whoſe Sex I ought to honour? and if it be Delia, why ſhould I take the liberty to awake her, ſince I may patiently wait till the end of her ſleep? Ah! added he, correcting himſelf, if this be not Delia, a little incivility, which may be pardoned in relation to ſuch a paſſion as mine will preſently free me of this error, and if it be Delia, ſhe will eaſily pardon this ſmall diſturbance of her repoſe, when ſhe remembers that for her ſake my life is abſolutely deprived of all quietneſs, and that for her ſake, I ſpend my nights without ſleep, and my days without joy and comfort.’

Upon this thought he reached out his arm to raiſe up that which covered her face, but at the ſame time his fear pulled it back, and in this uncertainty, devouring, as it were, the Unknown perſon with his eyes, and bowing down his head towards her with tranſports full of ardor and violence: ‘Delia, ſaid he ſoftly, if you are my divine Delia, as my heart tells me, more than all appearances, open, open, thoſe fair eyes, whoſe firſt looks made ſo ready a paſſage to my heart: and with thoſe fair eyes, my Kings, my Maſters, and my Gods, which ſleep too cruelly hides from me, look upon the unfortunate Philadelph, which ſeeks after you all the World over; and can neither find repoſe nor reſting place in all the World without you: or if you be not my Delia, whoſoever you are, pardon an error in me which is [Page] not injurious to you, and believe that I do you no wrong in taking you for that which I adore, and for that, than which the whole world can ſhew nothing more fair and amiable.’ This thought troubled him again, and kept him for a while uncertain what to do; but at laſt not being able to maſter his impatient deſires, and fearing (as unfortunate men have reaſon to fear all things) that ſome accident might deprive him of this favourable opportunity, the ventured ſo far as to lay his hand upon the arm which was contrary to him, and to endeavour to remove it from her face, as gently as he could: He had already diſcovered that part of her forehead which was towards him, and began to ſee one eye cloſe ſhut, and ſeemed with an exceſs of contentment to perceive nothing but what confirmed him in his hopes: when the Perſon half awaking at the touch, removed her ſelf, and turning more upon one ſide, ſhe put her ſelf into a poſture more contrary to Philadelph's deſires.

He drew back his trembling hand, and out of a fear which love only could cauſe in him, he continued for ſome moments more immoveable than a ſtatue: But at laſt ſuppoſing he had ſurpaſſed the greateſt difficulty, and that by what he had ſeen conformable to his deſires, they were become more violent and impatient, he put himſelf again into a condition to give himſelf more ample ſatisfaction, and beginning again to uncover the Ladies face, his own was ſo near to hers, that his mouth did almoſt touch part of that cheek which appeared: but as he was very earneſt in his diſcovery, he was diſturbed by the voice of a man, who cryed out to him a few paces off: Hold, hold inſolent, or thou dyeſt. Theſe words having made him turn his head that way which the voice came, he ſaw an armed man, who riſing up from between the trees where he had layen a while, covered his head with his Caſque which he held in his left hand, and with his right hand drew his ſword, with an intention to fall upon him with a great deal of fury. If Philadelphs grief and trouble had left him time to conſider the face, and the whole perſon of his Enemy, he would have ſeen, that poſſibly there was not a man in the World more handſome, or more compleat in every reſpect, his age was not above two and twenty Years, and his face being of an exact Symetry, had in it ſo noble and ſo agreeable a fierceneſs, that any one but a perſon threatned and aſſaulted, as Philadelph was, would have looked upon him with reſpect and admiration. He haſtily threw on his Headpiece upon his long curled hair, which covered part of his ſhoulders, but inſtead of his face, the proportion of his body might be ſeen, which was ſomewhat taller than Philadelph's but the ſtreighteſt, and the moſt exactly formed that could be. His arms were all compoſed of little ſilver ſcales filletted with Gold, his Caſque of cloth of ſilver, and his Caſque covered with a great Plume of white Feathers. Philadelph had not time to obſerve either his armour or his perſon, but as ſoon as he ſaw him running towards him, he aroſe from the poſture wherein he was, to defend himſelf, and drawing out his ſword to oppoſe his Enemy, he advanced towards him full of reſentment and grief, not ſo much for his threats, and the attempt he was going to make againſt his life, as for being an obſtacle to his ſatisfaction.

This Lady whom this noiſe had ſtartled out of her ſleep, haſtily got up, and ran with her companion behind the tree, to put themſelves into ſome ſecurity, or to ſee the event of a buſineſs, whereof they knew not the cauſe. Philadelph breathing out fiery ſighs through the paſſages of his Head-piece, would have turned his eyes that way to look after his Delia, but his enemy gave him no time to do that, nor hardly ſo much as to put himſelf into a poſture of defence. Then his choler mounted to the higheſt extremity, and looking upon him with eyes inflamed with indignation: I know not, ſaid he, why thou ſetteſt upon me, whom I never injured, nor poſſibly ever ſaw; but what occaſion ſoever thou mayſt have, thy life ſhall make reparation for the bloody outrage thou haſt done me. Thine rather, replyed the Unknown, holding up the arm which he had raiſed before, is forfeited by thy inſolence, and at that rate thou ſhalt learn what reſpect is due to ſuch Ladies as thou lately injuredſt.

Philadelph might eaſily have defended himſelf againſt this accuſation, but he would not juſtifie himſelf to an Enemy againſt whom he was infinitely enraged, and by whom [...] thought himſelf to be infinitely injured: beſides he thought he ſhould ſooner make, an end of the combat with him, than declare his innocent intentions to him, and in that choler which tranſported him, he imagined that man would make but little reſiſtance; but he was deceived in his opinion, & he had to do with an Enemy, who in valor was not inferior to him, nor hardly to any perſon in the World. By the firſt blows they beſtowed each upon other, they took notice one of the others ſtrength, and their arms with which they both held their ſhields bowed under the weight of them: they ſeconded the firſt with a great number of others with more fury and precipitation, than judgement and addreſs, and in a few moments they were engaged in a combat, in which one, or poſſibly both, of their lives was in manifeſt danger, if Agrippa who was a ſpectator of it, though at a far diſtance, and by theſe beginnings had conceived a marvellous opinion of both their valors, had not quitted the place, from whence he attentively beheld theſe accidents, to go and hinder what might come of ſuch a furious combat. [Page] As he ran towards them, he cried out to them divers times to hold, but they were ſo eager that they took no notice of his calling to them, and he was got up to them before they turned themſelves to look towards him.

Though Agrippa was alone on foot, and without any other armes but his ſword, his courage which had carried him upon ſo many great and famous deſigns, made him eaſily ſlight the danger, that might be in going in that condition to part two armed men, quite blinded with choller: and Philadelph's two Squires, who upon equal terms would not have dared to aſſiſt their maſter, being very joyfull for all that to ſee the endeavour which Agrippa uſed to part them, advanced towards him to help on that deſign as much as poſſibly they could; Agrippa being come near to them, and laying his ſword upon the point of theirs: ‘Valiant men, ſaid he, be not ſo obſtinate in fighting, poſſibly, for a ſlight cauſe, no body will hinder You from proceeding, when the reaſon of it is known to be of an importance enough to endanger the lives of two ſuch men as you ſeem to be; but in the mean time forbear a while at my requeſt, and at the command I lay upon you by the authority of Caeſar. Agrippa ſpake in this manner, and poſſibly he would have had ſomewhat to do to obtain what he deſired of two men ſo extraordinarily enraged, if the Lady which had been the cauſe of the Combat, had not ran to him to ſecond him in his intention, and conjured him in the name of the Gods, not to permit (if he could poſſibly hinder them) theſe two men to fight any longer.’

At the tone of her voice Philadelph being ſtruck to the very bottom of his heart, turned his eyes that way, and ſuch was his fortune, that in that face, wherein by admirable preſages he had hoped to find Delia, he really obſerved all the lineaments of his well beloved Delia. No joy, tranſport, raviſhment was ever comparable to his at the ſight of that adored countenance, which had been ſo much ſought after all the World over, and after he had expreſſed his firſt reſentments by a loud exclamation, ſlighting the Enemy he was enga ged againſt, and the danger which threatned him if he were never ſo little negligent, he let fall his Sword, and ſhield upon the graſs and ran to Delia with ſo much ſuddenneſs, that he had embraced her faſt about the knees before that either ſhe or his enemy had time to perceive his intention. The tranſport which poſſeſſed him, depriving him of the uſe of his ſpeech, he expreſſed it at firſt by his action only, and Delia ſeeing her ſelf between the armes of a man whom ſhe knew not, becauſe he had not had time to diſcover his face, was more troubled than before, and he that had fought for her, being ignorant of his enemies deſign, maugre the hindrance he had received from Agrippa and Philadelph's Squires; advanced towards him with his ſword elevated: when the Prince of Cilicia violently tearing off his Headpiece, and at laſt beginning to ſpeak amidſt a throng of ſighs which hardly gave him liberty to expreſs himſelf: ‘Delia cryed he out, my Divine Delia, the Gods do then reſtore you to him, whom you fly from throughout the whole World, and my heart did not deceive me, when it perſwaded me that in your perſon I ſhould find my Delia. In the concluſion of theſe few words he made divers exclamations without order,’ or coherence, by which his violent paſſion diſcovered it ſelf to thoſe who obſerved his action, and particularly to his Enemy, who having ſtayed himſelf when he ſaw him no longer in a reſolution or a condition to fight, looked upon him with more amazement than the reſt.

Delia (for this was really ſhe, and the Gods for this time had with compaſſion looked upon the ſincere and violent paſſion of Philadelph) could not any longer miſtake either the voice or viſage of that Prince, but was ſo ſurprized at it, that for a long time, ſhe did not appear capable to expreſs her reſentments, and her aſtoniſhment was taken notice of by the ſtanders by in her countenance, her ſilence, and her immobility. When ſhe had a little time to ruminate upon this adventure and partly to recover her ſelf from the amazement into which this accident had put her: her face (which in Agrippa's judgement, who looked upon her with admiration, might compare with the moſt beautiful upon Earth) was ſpread over with a [...], which gave it a new luſtre, and it was hard to diſcern whether it proceeded from a principle of ſhame to ſee her ſelf accoſted by a man with ſo much expreſſion of paſſion or whether it was for joy of having met a Prince to whom ſhe was ſo much obliged, and towards whom ſhe was not inſenſible. At laſt her aſtoniſhment being a little diſſipated, by the power which naturally ſhe had over her Spirit, and by that admirable prudence which ſhe had expreſſed in all the actions of her life, ſhe endeavoured to reduce her Countenance to her former marks of tranquility, and poſſibly laying ſome violence upon her ſelf not to diſcover to Philadelph her more paſſionate thoughts by more tender endearments, ſhe reached him one of her fair hands with a great deal of ſweetneſs, and looking upon him with an air, which in a perſon of Delia's humour, might perſwade him to any thing to his own advantage: Philadelph ſaid ſhe, I am too much obliged to you to ſly from you, and the memory of thoſe obligations I have to you is too dear to me, for me to let ſlip out of my heart the eſteem and acknowledgement [Page] which I owe to your goodneſs and to your perſon. ‘Nothing ever kept me from you but the effects of my bad fortune, which hath expoſed me to great croſſes ſince our ſeparation, and I ſee you now again with as much joy, as I can be ſenſible of at the meeting of thoſe perſons which ought to be moſt dear to me.’

As ſhe made an end of theſe words with an admirable grace, ſhe made uſe of that hand which ſhe had reached out to Philadelph to raiſe him up, and the paſſionate Prince, who could hardly get himſelf looſe from her knees, yielding to that little violence with tranſports of joy, which his diſcourſe was not able to expreſs, and raiſing himſelf out of a poſture, wherein Delia would not let him continue any longer, fixing his eyes with a violent ardour upon that beloved face: Great Gods cryed he, is it poſſible, that you ſhould reſtore me Delia, whom my cruel fortune had taken and detained from me with ſo much cruelty? And you Delia, or that which appears to my eyes under the ſhape of Delia, is it poſſible that you ſhould be really that Delia, to whom I gave my heart the firſt moment I ſaw her, and whom I have carried in the middle of my heart, in all the journeys which I have made in ſearch of her? Or am I not abuſed by ſome dream or illuſion, which in all manner of Objects preſents to my crazed imagination the Image of my Divine Delia? Then he continued ſome moments viewing that ſo fair Perſon from head to foot, with an action that eaſily made the company take notice of the violence of his love, and Delia, who was tenderly moved at it, and could hardly her ſelf conceal part of her own reſentments, deſiring to help him out of this aſtoniſhment, ‘Yes Prince, ſaid, ſhe, I am Delia her ſelf without illuſion, and you cannot any longer miſtake her in me, if you have preſerved any Idea of her, andit it be true that you have been ſo mindful of her as you would perſwade me.’

At theſe words, Philadelph perfectly confirming himſelf in the knowledge of his happineſs had ſcarcely force to reſiſt the joy, which violently ſeized upon his Soul: It wanted but a little of depriving him of his ſenſes and knowledge, and it was as much out of weakneſs, and inability to ſuſtain himſelf, as out of deſign, that he let himſelf fall the ſecond time at Delia's feet, which, notwithſtanding all the endeavours ſhe uſed to put him out of that poſture, he waſhed with a flood of tears, which the exceſs of his joy drew from his eyes at this accident as abundantly as grief could have done. 'Twas in this condition that he had found himſelf incapable of making any coherent or rational diſcourſe, and abandoning himſelf to paſſion which entirely poſſeſſed him, he ſpake things and did actions more capable to perſwade the ſtrength of his love, than of his judgement. At laſt, quitting Delia's knees by the little violence which ſhe uſed to him, and lifting his hands and eyes to Heaven: Immortal Gods! ſaid he, your goodneſs hath ſurpaſſed my hopes, and ſince by that ſo great and uncommon a benefit, you blot out of my ſoul the remembrance of thoſe misfortunes, to which my unfortunate life hath been expoſed, I beg your pardon for thoſe murmurings, which out of humane frailty I may have made againſt Your divine Wills: and You my pains, and my ſufferings how dear and precious are You to me now, ſince by your means I find again the Jewel of my life, and the only good for which the remainders of this wandring life were preſerved.

He made, after this, divers diſcourſes of the ſame nature in this tranſport, which wanted but a little of prejudicing his reaſon or his health, and Delia, who in all the Princes actions obſerved the progreſs of that great Love, whereof ſhe had received ſuch fair proofs in Cilicia, and which poſſibly ſhe took notice of with more joy and ſatisfaction than ſhe durſt expreſs, after ſhe had given ſome time to this firſt heat, and this firſt impetuoſity of Philadelph, taking up the diſcourſe with a compoſed action, and a look wherein, as modeſt as ſhe was, a part of her thoughts was diſcovered: Generous Prince, ſaid ſhe, I do not deſerve the teſtimonies which you give me of your affection, though I can truly proteſt to you, that I am as joyful to meet you as you would deſire, and certainly I ſhould be very ungrateful for the goodneſs you ſhewed to one Unknown, to a maid expoſed to the diſgraces of Fortune, if I had not received into my heart the reſentment due to it, and for your Perſon all the eſteem which ſuch an extraordinary merit as yours ought to introduce there.

Delia, ſpake in this manner, and the amorous Prince being highly taken with her diſcourſe, hearkned to her with tranſporting raviſhments, which might be obſerved both in his action and in his countenance: when the valiant Man who had fought againſt him, and till then had ſeen their actions, and heard their diſcourſe without interrupting them, pulling of his Caſque as Philadelph had done, and approaching to him with a countenance, which not only had nothing of an Enemy in it, but might cauſe love or admiration in the moſt inſenſible ſouls: Generous Prince, ſaid he, I take too much intereſt in the good offices you have rendred Delia, and your Vertue is already too well known to me by the handſome effects which it hath produced in its own favour, not to be obliged to deſire of you, together with your pardon for the vain attempt I made againſt you, ſome part in your friendſhip: I owe [Page] this deſire both to the particular obligation I have to you, and to the merit of your Perſon.

Philadelph who till then had taken little notice of any thing but Delia, at this diſcourſe of the Unknown turning his eyes towards his face, found occaſion enough in the compleatneſs of his Perſon to fix them there with aſtoniſhment: He found him but too handſome, and too compleat in every reſpect, and ſeeing in what manner he was with Delia, and what intereſt he took in the good offices which he had rendred her, he imagined preſently that he had met with a rival, ſo far as ſo little a time could diſcover, as was not contemptible. This thought immediately made a chilneſs run over all his body, and his jealouſie was almoſt as ſtrong in its original as if it had been of long continuance. He looked upon him without returning any anſwer, with thoughts that had little conformity to the diſcourſe which he had heard from his mouth, and meditated with himſelf, as unreſolved what anſwer he ſhould make him, when Delia reading part of the truth in his looks, and deſiring to draw him out of the diſquiet whereinto he began to plunge himſelf; ‘Philadelph, ſaid ſhe, do not refuſe this Prince your amity which he deſires of you, and who merits it upon all manner of conſideration: there is no poſſible reaſon that ought to hinder you from it, and you cannot grant it to a perſon, who is or ought to be more dear to me.’ What repugnance ſoever Philadelph had already conceived againſt the Unknown, he had a love for Delia, and a ſubmiſſion to her will, which did not permit him to refuſe what ſhe deſired, and ſo turning towards the man with a countenance not ſo full of kindneſs as his, I know not, ſaid he, what obligation you have to me, nor what ſervice I have rendred you in the Perſon of Delia, but what intereſt ſoever you take in that, the proofs I have had of your valor could not but give me thoughts of eſteem for you, and the attempt you made againſt my life, leaves me no reſentment, but what your merit and Delia's command may eaſily diſſipate. I perceive very well, replyed the Unknown with a ſmile, that you have not abſolutely pardoned me: but I hope that effect from the ſervices which I ſhall render you, and from the aſſiſtance of Delia.

With theſe words he embraced him with an admirable grace in his careſſes, and Philadelph payed him back as much as he believed himſelf obliged to do by civility and Delia's Will.

All theſe things paſſed in Agrippa's preſence, who ever ſince the endeavour he had uſed to part the two combatants, had ſtood immoveable to hearken to their diſcourſes and to obſerve their actions, wherein he thought he ought not to interrupt a perſon, from whom their paſſion took away all other conſideration: But by the Name of Prince which they had often pronounced, and that of Philadelph which had many times reached his ears, judging of the qualities of theſe perſons, he interreſſed himſelf in their adventures more than before, and reſolved to offer them his aſſiſtance, in a condition when they might have need of it, and in a Country where he had credit and Authority. Upon this deſign coming to Philadelph, who was better known to him than the reſt by the converſation which they had had together the night before, ‘Prince, ſaid he, the diſcourſe we had together laſt night when we did not ſee each other, cauſed a great deſire in me to ſerve you, and though you ſhunned me this morning with a kind of diſdain, that ſlighting did not make me loſe my deſign, nor hinder me from ſerving you in getting near enough to hinder your combat: I believe your condition is changed, and the ſadneſs which you expreſſed to me by your diſcourſe laſt night is diſſipated by this happy meeting; I take a great ſhare in your ſatisfaction, in regard of the knowledge I begin to have of you, and in reſpect of that which the very ſight of you, and that which you did in my preſence, perſwade me to, to your advantage: and upon that which I have underſtood of your birth in the diſcourſe of that admirable perſon; I offer to you now as to a Prince, and to thoſe which are with you, as to the perſons of a condition little different from your own whatſoever, upon your preſent occaſions, you ſhall poſſibly deſire of one who is intereſſed in your affairs, and is not without credit in theſe parts.’

Agrippa expreſſed himſelf thus, and Philadelph, as deeply engaged as he was in his paſſion, turning towards him, and having looked upon him very attentively during his diſcourſe, eaſily knew him by his voice, for the ſame man with whom he had entertained himſelf in the dark, and by whom his enemy and he had been parted in their combat. His diſcourſe was not only obliging and generous, but ſignified too that he was a man of authority, and though Agrippa was alone and on foot at ſuch an hour, in a deſart and ſolitary place; yet his garb made ſomething extraordinary remarkable in his perſon, and his habit which he wore that day, to appear in Eliſa's preſence though it were but a hunting ſuit, was yet ſet cut in divers places with Gold and Jewels, and did not ill become Agrippa's gallant appearance.

Philadelph having viewed him a while, was about to return him an anſwer, though he did not know very well how he ſhould treat with him, when they heard a great noiſe, and at the ſame time ſaw a great troop of horſe appear, who came up to them as ſoon as they [Page] had ſpied Agrippa. Delia and her company were troubled at this ſight, and the unknown and Philadelph were putting themſelves into a poſture of defending themſelves, if theſe men ſhould offer any incivility, but by this action they ſaw they had no need to fear them; for they all alighted and came round about Agrippa with ſuch ſubmiſſive reſpects as made them judge that he was their Maſter. They were indeed the People of Agrippa's retinue, who having ſought all night for him in places far diſtant from that place where he was, came thither a laſt having ſearched all the corners of the wood: he that was the chiefeſt amongſt them coming to Agrippa before the reſt: The Gods be praiſed, Sir, ſaid he, that we find you in ſo good a condition, after we have ſpent all the night in ſearch of you, not without cruel apprehenſions that ſome accident had befallen you. They made likewiſe great excuſes for having loſt him, laying the fault upon the ſwiftneſs of his horſe, which had ſo far outſtript theirs, that they could never find him again, having unluckily followed different wayes from that which he had taken. Agrippa received their excuſes without paſſion, and in the mean time the fair Delia, the brave unknown, and the Prince of Cilicia, confirming themſelves by this great train, and by the reſpect which the perſons gave him, in the opinion which they had begun to conceive of Agrippa's dignity, looked upon him with more attention than before, and Philadelph to whom he had particularly addreſſed himſelf, taking up the diſcourſe to anſwer his civilities: ‘I have not deſerved, ſaid he, the goodneſs you expreſs to me by intereſſing your ſelf in my affairs, as you do, and if I went from you this morning without giving you thanks for the offer you then made, it was not for want of acknowledgment, but out of the knowledge of my own melancholy humour, which made me avoid all manner of Company, becauſe it made mine troubleſome, 'tis true my condition is changed, at leaſt if I do not find in the Spirit of this adorable Perſon whom you ſee, an averſion or an inſenſibility which may throw me back into my former miſeries, and having found that which I ſought for throughout the world, and the only thing for which I continued in the world, the mortal grief wherein I have paſſed ſo many dayes, and of which you obſerved ſome marks in our laſt nights converſe, is changed into a joy which my Soul is not able to contain; be pleaſed to pardon the tranſports which it hath cauſed me, and the faults I might commit againſt you, and judge if you pleaſe, whither the miraculous recovery of ſuch a loſs as mine was, and the loſs of ſuch a perſon as appears before you, might not cauſe ſome alteration, and trouble in a more ſolid and leſs paſſionate Spirit than mine. As for what you have judged of our birth by our diſcourſe, I will confeſs to you that I am a Prince, and that the incomparable Delia is ſuch, that there is neither Princeſs nor Queen under Heaven, to whom the ſervices and the reſpects of all vertuous perſons can be more juſtly due. As for this valiant man againſt whom this happy adventure cauſed me to draw my ſword, I can give you no account of him, having never ſeen him before: but all the marks in his countenance, and in his whole perſon are ſo extraordinary, that one cannot but judge very advantageouſly of them. The judgement you make of them, replyed the Unknown, is too favourable on my part, and 'tis not by the marks which appear in my perſon that my birth can be diſcovered: Delia will anſwer for me that it is none of the meaneſt, and then poſſibly you will grant me a part in your friendſhip, which you can hardly vouchſafe me now.’

Philadelph was going to reply, whilſt Agrippa having accoſted Delia with reſpect and admiration, offered her all manner of ſervice and aſſiſtance: When Dion coming to his Maſter, informed him, as he had learned of his followers, that this was Agrippa. Agrippa was known over all the world, for his dignity in the Empire, for the greatneſs of his actions, and the favour of Auguſtus: there was not a King, that was acquainted with the Roman power, which did not ſeek his friendſhip and aſſiſtance; and as he had joyned a great number of excellent vertues to the dignity whereunto he was advanced, ſo next to Caeſar's there was not a name amongſt men more famous and more reverenced than this. Philadelph had no ſooner underſtood this, but turning towards him with a more reſpective action than before ‘I: had obſerved before, ſaid he, by diveres marks, that you were no common Perſon, but I was not informed of the truth, and I deſire your pardon if I have not rendred you that which is due to the name and perſon of the great Agrippa, At the name of Agrippa, the fair Unknown ſtepping ſome paces back, and viewing him with more attention than before, 'tis certain, ſaid he, that, it is a Name to which all men, and particularly all the Princes that are friends and allies to the Roman Empire, owe reſpect; and I eſteem my ſelf very happy, by this adventure, to ſee a man, whoſe great actions make him ſo well known over all the world. Agrippa, anſwered both their diſcourſes with a great deal of modeſty, and reiterated the offers he had made them, when they ſaw, Corlius Gallus arrive at the place, followed by a party of thoſe which had accompanied him in the ſearch of Cleopatra: as ſoon as he ſaw Agrippa, he rodeup directly to him, and alighting, becauſe he ſaw him on [...]oot:’ [Page] I was extreamly in pain for you, ſaid he, and having underſtood by one of your retinue, that you were wandred from your company, I have employed in ſearch of you all the time we had, ſince we loſt the ſearch of Cleopatra: And have you no news of that Princeſs, ſaid Agrippa, with great ſigns of diſcontent? I have ſpent the night in queſt of her as well as you, replyed Cornelius, and but an hour ago I met with two men who ſaw her yeſterday with her companion between the arms of their raviſhers, and having followed them at a diſtance by their out cryes, they ſaw them carried into a veſſel hidden behind the rocks upon this coaſt, which immediately after went off, and put to Sea with full ſails. O Gods! cryed the vertuous Agrippa, ſhall not that Princeſs be ſuccoured then? All that I could do, added Cornelius, hath been to ſend order for ſome veſſels to go from the port in purſuit of them, and by the command, which you know I have received from Caeſar, neither you nor I are permitted to go far from Alexandria: and beſides, the perſon which I have ſent to her aſſiſtance, will render it her, without doubt, with the ſame ſucceſs that we our ſelves might hope for. May it pleaſe the Gods to guide them, replyed Agrippa, for it would be a great loſs, if ſuch a Princeſs as Cleopatra ſhould continue at the mercy of her enemies, whoſoever they be.

After theſe words and ſome others which they had together upon this ſubject, by which Agrippa particularly expreſſed how much he was diſpleaſed that he could not go in perſon to the aſſiſtance of Cleopatra, Cornelius caſt his eyes upon the fair Delia, and upon the admirable Unknown who was by her, with the Prince of Cilicia: the ſight of theſe three perſons, who were of no ordinary appearance, made him preſently make a ſtop, and he turned his eyes towards Agrippa, to be informed by him, when preventing the effect of his curioſity: I perceive, ſaid he, that you look with ſome aſtoniſhment upon theſe perſons who carry ſuch uncommon marks in their countenances: mine was no leſs than yours when I firſt met with them, and I judged conformably to the truth, that under ſuch noble appearances perſons of the moſt ſublime condition were concealed. They are Princes of rare merit, and extraordinary valour (as far as I could judge in the ſmall time when I ſaw them have occaſion to expreſs it) whom fortune hath brought into the Countries under your government, and I thought I ſhould not be diſowned by you, if I ſhould offer them a place of retreat here, and all the aſſiſtances which they could deſire of vertuous perſons. Both in theſe Countries, and throughout the whole Empire, replyed Cornelius, my power ſhall always ſubmit to yours: and if upon your own account, you had not offered what is due to ſuch perſons, they carry enough in their garb to command entertainment and ſervice, as they ſhall do at Alexandria, ſo far as I can promiſe them upon all the credit that Caeſar hath given me there.

The fair Unknown taking occaſion at this diſcourſe, and addreſſing himſelf to Agrippa and Cornelius: ‘I did not doubt, ſaid he, but that all manner of aſſiſtance and courteſie might be found in ſuch perſons as you; and I do leſs attribute it to that which might appear ſomewhat advantageous in us, than to your vertue only, and inclination which carries you out to generous actions. As for theſe Ladies and my ſelf we will not refuſe, in the preſent condition of our affairs, the retreat which you offer us, and as for Prince Philadelph, I do not think he is willing to quit Delia ſo ſuddenly. Philadelph bluſhed at this diſcourſe of the Unknown, and laying a reſtraint upon the ſuggeſtions of his jealouſie: 'Tis true, ſaid he, that after I have ſought for Delia over all the world, there is little probability that at that very moment when the Gods have reſtored her to me, I ſhould part from her upon any conſideration but her own command, and if ſhe be pleaſed that I ſhould wait upon her, you may anſwer for me, as you do, that I will never be divided from her whilſt I live. I eſteem your perſon too much, replyed Delia, and am too much obliged to your goodneſs, to refuſe your company: it ſhall not be by my will that we ſhould part ſo ſuddenly, and the meeting with you ought in all reaſon to be too dear to me to loſe the benefit of it ſo ſoon. Ah Delia! cryed the Prince of Cilicia, with a countenance, wherein his contentment was viſible to all the company: Ah Delia! how charming are you in your generous goodneſs, as well as in that admirable beauty in which the Gods have given you an advantage above all the perſons of your ſex? and how well do I know that you are the ſame Delia, ſenſible as to acknowledgement and pity, but inſenſible in the way of love.’

He would have ſpoken more to that purpoſe, if Agrippa and Cornelius after ſome other diſcourſes full of civility, had not intreated them to take horſe to go towards Alexandria.

The fair unknown and Philadelph had horſes in their Squires hands, and Delia and her Companion made uſe of ſuch as Cornelius furniſhed them withall, They were not ſo delicate, but that by the accidents of their life, and the voyages they had made, they were accuſtomed to more difficult things, than to ride on horſeback, and Delia being mounted by the aſſiſtance of Philadelph, drew the eyes of Agrippa and Cornelius upon her then, more than ſhe did before. She ſeemed to Agrippa more beautiful than all that he had ever ſeen, except Eliſa only, Cornelius could find no equal to her in his remembrance, but the Queen Candace, and [Page] if this judgement, which, (beſides its conformity to the truth) was backed by their paſſion, permitted them to go beyond their own intereſt to find a beauty not inferiour to hers, none but Cleopatra could be ſhe. Indeed there was hardly ever ſeen in the world, a more exact beauty than the fair Strangers was, and beſides the advantages, which by the ſparkling quickneſs of her eyes, and the juſt proportion of the lineaments of her face, ſhe had over the moſt illuſtrious beauties, never did the faireſt viſages carry in them ſo many marks of modeſty and vertue as hers did, in which they might be ſeen as in their moſt real and moſt natural place. The Symetry of her whole perſon was ſo compoſed, as that it might ſecurely out brave envy, her port and her actions were accompanied with a grace, wherein nature had imprinted ſomething as great and high as ſhe was able to repreſent.

The amorous and tranſported Philadelph marching by the ſide of this admirable perſon, by the compliance of Agrippa and Cornelius, who knowing the ſtrong intereſt wherewith he was engaged, were willing to give him free liberty to entertain her, and looking upon her with eyes almoſt ſparkling with the ardency of his affection: ‘Divine Delia! ſaid he, Delia, the only aym, and the only cauſe of my life, where ſhall I begin to declare to you the thoughts of my ſoul, or deſire to know yours, upon which my days are inſeparably fixed? Shall I blame you for that cruel flight, by which you have made me wander ſo long in the moſt deplorable condition, that ever an unfortunate Lover was reduced to? Shall I repreſent to you the grievous ſufferings, wherein I have paſſed my life, occaſioned by the loſs of your ſight, and almoſt all my hopes? Or rather, ſhall I ask of you, if there remains ſtill in your Spirit any remembrance of my love, any reliques of pity, or any favorable intention for your faithful Philadelph? Alas! 'tis upon this laſt point only that I ought to inſiſt: my complaints will work no more effect upon your Spirit, than they did heretofore in Cilicia: you will apprehend nothing of the pain which your abſence hath made me ſuffer, but what you know already by the knowledge you have of my love. All that is paſt is pleaſing to my memory, when I call to mind, that 'tis for you that I have ſuffered all, and in ſtead of calling it to mind by my diſcourſe, 'twere much better Delia, that I ſhould ask you, and expect from your mouth the deſtiny of Philadelph. But, O Gods, here it is that my courage fails me, and I continue without reſolution or aſſurance in expectation of a ſentence upon which my life or death doth certainly depend. I am ſtill ignorant whether amongſt the thoughts of acknowledgement, which work ſome effect upon ſuch a ſoul as yours, there was formerly intermingled any motion of a particular affection. I know not whether thoſe thoughts, whatſoever they might be, continue in the ſame condition, in relation to me, as they were diſcovered to me in Cilicia, whether your departure out of our Country, was not cauſed by ſomething that deſtroyes all the hope which my love had permitted me to conceive; whether that heard-heartedneſs which you always had for me, be not increaſed by abſence, or rather Delia, (and I tremble in ſpeaking it to you, both for fear of offending you, and for fear leſt my ſuſpicions ſhould be too true) whether all the avenues of that heart, which I have ſo vainly attempted with ſo much love, be not blocked up againſt me by ſome other affection which received its birth ſince our ſeparation, or before our acquaintance.’

Philadelph ſpake theſe words with ſome pain, and finiſhed them with his eyes caſt down to the ground, with an action that ſignified to Delia, a great deal of fear and confuſion: the fair Lady looked upon him a while in that condition, without returning him any anſwer, and a little after ſmoothing her countenance with a little more than ordinary ſweetneſs and ſerenity, and giving the paſſionate Prince a look, able to recal him from the grave: Be pacified Philadelph, ſaid ſhe, and believe that if my Spirit was ever capable of any affection, or may be ſo for the future, it never was, nor ever ſhall be, but for you: by this aſſurance you may be ſecured againſt all your fears, with part of which I could find ſome occaſion to be offended, if the obligation I have to you did not make me eaſily paſs over ſlight conſiderations. As to the reproach you make me concerning my departure out of Cilicia, I thought I had been partly juſtified by the reaſons which I alledged you for it, in the paper which I gave you at our parting, and I believe that you would find enough there to excuſe a procedure which appearances made you condemn. Ah! Madam, cryed the Prince, interrupting her, I underſtood nothing upon that account, and if the Gods had left me that means to let me know my fortune, it may be I had not wandred ſo long in ſearch of you, with ſo much miſery and grief: that ſacred paper wherein the ſecret of my life was incloſed, was taken from me by an incredible misfortune, and the religious obſervation of the prohibition which you made me when you gave it me, cauſed me a loſs whereof I was more ſenſible, than I ſhould have been of the loſs of my Fathers Crown.

Upon that he related to her how he loſt the Cabinet where the paper was incloſed, and he made her that diſcourſe in ſuch terms as made her more and more acquainted with the violence of his paſſion, and when he had done ſpeaking, Delia, who had quietly hearkened to him, taking up the diſcourſe with a ſmile: You have loſt nothing, ſaid ſhe, ſince by our meeting, [Page] the addreſs I gave you to inform your ſelf of me is rendred unneceſſary. If you might be accuſed of the negligence, for having ill kept a thing, which in regard of the intereſt you take in it ought to be of ſome importance to you, yet the reſpect you had to the requeſt I made you when I gave it you, ought to ſatisfie me, and I receive it as no ſlight proof of your affection, which ſhall always be as dear to me as you can deſire. I did a little wonder to hear you talk in ſuch a manner as might make me judge that you were ſtill ignorant of thoſe things which you might have underſtood by that means: you ſhall ſhortly underſtand them from the mouth of a perſon, who is too much obliged to you to uſe any diſguiſe with you whilſt ſhe lives, and then I will acquaint you with the adventures which have beſallen me ſince our ſeparation, which weer the cauſe that you failed of finding me in the Country where I was born, which I did not conceal from you.

Philadelph even ſurfetting with a joy which his ſoul was hardly able to contain, was about to anſwer Delia's obliging diſcourſe, when the brave unknown, who looked upon him with a countenance full of all the marks of amity, rode up to his ſide, and came to participate in their converſation. Philadelph, who upon another account would have looked with love and admiration upon the wonders that appeared in his perſon, and who naturally had a ſoul as full of ſweetneſs and courteſie as any man in the world, beheld this man with a repugnance which he could not diſſemble, and ſeemed as little ſenſible of the teſtimonies of eſteem which he gave him, as if he had loſt his judgement and knowledge. The meeting of a man as highly accompliſhed as ever any nature framed, in Delia's company, and the familiarity that ſeemed to be between them, was ſo much ſuſpected by him, that had it not been for the reſpect he bare to Delia, he had made the effects of his jealouſie appear againſt him without any farther delay: and whilſt Agrippa and Cornelius looked upon him as an admirable man, and as one that did equal at leaſt all the compleateſt perſons that ever they ſaw, all the confidence he had in Delia's words, and the long experiences he had of her admirable vertue could not hinder him from looking upon him as a Tygre ready to tear his heart in pieces: The brave Unknown highly courted him without being repulſed at his coldneſs, and gueſſing ſomewhat nearly at the cauſe; I hope, ſaid he, that you will not be always inſenſible of the eſteem I have for you, and that you will bemoan me inſtead of hating me, when you ſhall know that my ill fortune can move nothing but pity in ſuch perſons as you are. He ſpake only theſe words to him holding him by the hand, and being unwilling to interrupt him any farther, breathing out a deep ſigh, he turned his horſe towards Cornelius, juſt as the company was arrived cloſe by the gates of Alexandria.

Cornelius would willing have lodged this laſt company in the Palace of the Kings of Egypt, with Eliſa and Candace, had it not been for Caeſar's coming, for whom all the lodgings were already taken up, though Cornelius had left his two illuſtrious gueſts in theirs, ſuppoſing that the Emperor himſelf would be well pleaſed that he had rendred this civility to the Heirs of the Crown of Parthia, and he conducted them to one of the faireſt lodgings in the City, which he had ſent one of his men before to take up for them. The brave Unknown and Philadelph were compleatly armed, but they had given their Head-pieces to their Squires, and marched bare-faced through the ſtreets of Alexandria. The brave Unknown rode by Cornelius his ſide, and his handſomeneſs drew upon him the eyes and the admiration of all that were preſent at his paſſing by: amongſt thoſe, a woman, who with ſome others ſtood upon one of the Belconies of the Palace, had no ſooner looked upon him and viewed him a little while, but without conſidering how many people were about her, lifting up her hands and her eyes to Heaven, O Gods! cryed ſhe, O great Gods! and at the ſame time being overpreſſed with ſome violent motion, ſhe loſt her ſences, and fell down between the arms of thoſe perſons who were near her. The fair unknown was not ſo far off, but that this voice came conſuſedly to his ears, and he took notice of the buſtling of the people upon the Balcony, that carried away the woman that ſwooned, yet he did not hear the tone of the voice diſtinctly enough to diſcern it perfectly, neither did he hear ſo little, but that he preſently felt an extraordinary emotion thereupon: the Idea which was preſent in his memory carried the ſound into the middle of his heart, with ſo much trouble that it was taken notice of by Cornelius, and not being able to diſſemble it; Am I a Fool? ſaid he, changing his colour two or three times in a moment. Agrippa making a ſtop to look upon him, asked him if he found himſelf ill? and the unknown endeavouring to recompoſe himſelf: 'Tis nothing, ſaid he, but ſomething muſt be indulged to a man, whoſe imagination is a little crazed, and who is not always himſelf. As he ſpake theſe words, he endeavoured to diſſipate that which he attributed to his imagination, and recovering his former condition as much as poſſibly he could, he rode on, and arrived with Cornelius at the lodging which he had deſigned for them.

Cornelius after he had given order himſelf for their accommodation, with a care whereunto he was not obliged in relation to perſons of a meaner quality than thoſe of Soveraign dignity, and had learned from Philadelph's mouth his birth, and a ſmall abridgement of his [Page] principal adventures, returned to the Palace to diſpatch divers affairs, which were then upon his hands, and (more than upon any other conſideration) to ſee Candace, and to render her ſome account of the diligence he had uſed in the ſervice of Cleopatra, wherein he had ſeen her intereſſed. He found that fair Queen in the Princeſs Eliſa's chamber, where ſhe had lain that night to diſcourſe with her concerning the diſcovery ſhe thought ſhe had made of her dear Caeſario. Ever ſince that moment, wherein that well-beloved countenance appeared to her eyes, the Spirit of that great Princeſs could not recover its ordinary compoſure; and all that an exceſſive joy, yet moderated with a fear of being miſtaken, could produce in a ſoul, had agitated her's without intermiſſion. All that night ſleep never approached her eyes, and ſhe experimented that joy was much more contrary to it, than grief which ordinarily cauſes ſleep, and doth not keep the Spirits in that agitation, which hinders the repoſe of the body. The ſad Eliſa was conſtrained to watch a good part of the night to anſwer the Queens diſcourſe, and to give her the counſel ſhe deſired upon that adventure. Candace was very uncertain what way to take, to inform her Caeſario of her condition, and having no man near her whom ſhe could truſt with a ſecret of that importance, ſhe remained very much unreſolved and ignorant what to do. But however it was ſome comfort to her to know (if her ſight did not deceive her) that her Caeſario was at ſo little a diſtance from her, and if the paleneſs which ſhe had obſerved in his countenance, did grieve her in relation to the bad condition of his health, ſhe aſſured her ſelf on the other ſide, out of a belief ſhe had, that in that caſe Caeſario could not ſuddenly go far from Alexandria, and ſo ſhe ſhould have what time ſhe deſired to make uſe of this adventure. She was not likewiſe without ſome hope that the Prince had ſeen her from the window where he leaned, and reflecting upon that thought: If my Image be in his heart, ſaid ſhe, as his entirely poſſeſſes mine, without doubt he ſaw me and know me, and he did not fix his ſight ſo much upon the perſons of our company and our train, but that he diſcerned amongſt the number, her, who not long ſince, was the object of all his thoughts and all his affections. From this brief reaſoning with her ſelf, ſhe paſſed to a conſultation with Eliſa how to find out ſome means to help her ſelf, and after ſhe had ſufficiently meditated upon it, ſhe believed it could not be better done, than by the aſſiſtance of Prince Tyridates, to whom ſhe was already beholding for her life, whom ſhe had acquainted with part of her adventures, and whom ſhe knew to be very generous, and well affected to her intereſts.

Upon this thought addreſſing her ſelf to Eliſa: My fair Princeſs, ſaid ſhe, the Prince Tyridates your Uncle is a Prince ſo vertuous, and ſo worthy of the eſteem of all his relations, that you cannot without injuring your ſelf, neglect the opportunity of knowing him, and I ſhould be ingrateful for the obligation I have to him, if I ſhould not contribute what I could to the making of you known to each other: though he diſcovers himſelf to few perſons, and eſpecially to thoſe of Phraates his family: I aſſure my ſelf he will take it well at my hands when I ſhall have procured him the ſight of ſuch a Neece as you, and of a Princeſs who is diſcontented, and that flyes as well as he from the cruelty of Phraates: the averſion he hath from company, and the difficulty there will be to perſwade him to quit his ſolitude to come amongſt the world of people in Alexandria, obliges me to propoſe a walk to you towards the houſe which he hath choſen for his retreat. Cornelius will willingly furniſh us with a neceſsary equipage for this deſign, and I preſume upon my ſmall intereſt, which partly obliges me to make you this propoſition, to make uſe of Tyridates his goodneſs, after I have diſcovered Caeſario's retreat to him, which, ſo far as I can judge is not far diſtant from his. By the aſſiſtance of this courteous Prince, to whom I have diſcovered my name and part of my affairs, I may, without doubt ſee my dear Caeſario, or find out ſome means to let him know where I am. Candace expreſſed her ſelf in this manner, and Eliſa having a little meditated upon her diſcourſe: That which you propoſe to me, ſaid ſhe, is not very improbable, and beſides the deſire I may have to know a man of mine own kindred, and a vertuous man too, as you deſcribe him, and as the common report goes of him; I ſhall be very much ſatisfied, my fair Queen, if upon this occaſion you can find out any mean to ſerve your intentions. I will go with you to ſee both Tyridates and Caeſario, and I ſhall receive no ſmall conſolation of my own diſpleaſures, if I can any way contribute to the caſe of yours.

Candace tenderly embraced Eliſa upon this diſcourſe, and they were ſtill engaged in this converſation, when Agrippa and Cornelius came into the Chamber. The ſight of Cornelius was not very welcome to Candace, ſince ſhe had knowledge of his love, and the ſuſpicion Eliſa had conceived of Agrippa's affection, cloſed her eyes againſt the conſideration of his great qualities, to make him avoid what was troubleſome and diſagreeable to her. Yet they received them both, according to the dignity of Agrippa, and the obligation that Candace had to Cornelius. The Queen of Ethiopia preſently asked what news concerning Cleopatra, and Cornelius having told her as much as he knew, and what diligence he had uſed [Page] towards her aſſiſtance, put her into as much inquietude for her Caeſars ſiſter, as her own affairs could permit her to be capable of. Agrippa gave them an account in his turn, of the employments he had had that night: but if he ſaid nothing to them of the meeting of Coriolanus, for fear of doing that Prince ſome hurt by diſcovering his abode in his Enemies Country, he enlarged himſelf upon the rancounter of Philadelph and Delia, and made the two Princeſſes hearken with great attention to the relation he made them of that adventure: he preſented to them the admirable beauty of Delia, the handſomneſs of Philadelph, and inſiſted particularly upon the deſcription of the wonders he had obſerved in the perſon of the fair Unknown, whom he repreſented to be one of the moſt accompliſhed men in the World: Ah! if you had ſeen my Artaban, Ah! if you had known my Caeſario, ſaid the two Princeſſes to themſelves, at the ſame time, you would be ſilent concerning all other men, to give them alone all the praiſes which you beſtow upon the Unknown: They continued a while in this converſation, and though the two Lovers had ſomething elſe upon their hearts, Agrippa durſt not declare himſelf to Eliſa before Candace and Cornelius, nor Cornelius proceed in that he had begun with Candace, before Agrippa and the Princeſs of the Parthians.

After they were gone forth, the two Princeſſes had ſome farther diſcourſe concerning the reſolution they had to go and ſeek out Tyridates and Caeſario, and they agreed to take that walk the next day, if Cornelius would give them opportunity to do it. After they had pitched upon this deſign, they thought upon the Princeſs Olympia, towards whom for her beauty and rare qualities they were very affectionately inclined, but they had not ſeen her that day. The evening before, the trouble wherein Candace's ſpirit was, in relation to the adventures which had befallen her, had hindred them from deſiring of her the continuation of her Hiſtory: but when they ſaw themſelves a little free, they reflected upon it, and found themſelves very deſirous to be acquainted with the ſequel of it, and to give the Princeſs new teſtimonies of the amity which they had already contracted with her. They would have gone preſently to viſit her in her Chamber, and they were not ignorant that they owed that civility to a perſon, who in birth, and all manner of excellent parts was little inferiour to them, but they knew ſhe had no intention to diſcover her ſelf, and that they could not render that good office to a Slave, without making that ſuſpected which ſhe deſired to conceal. They contented themſelves for that time to ſend Cephiſa to her, to know how ſhe did, and to make their excuſes, becauſe they did not viſit her, out of fear of diſpleaſing her. Cephiſa went to do her meſſage, and a little while after ſhe returned to the Princeſſes with ſome aſtoniſhment in her countenance: Candace having preſently asked her the cauſe; Madam, ſaid ſhe, the Princeſs of Thrace is not in a condition in to give you a viſit to day, and I have left her upon her bed in a violent feaver, with greater troubles in her mind than there appears diſturbance in her body. The Princeſſes at this report, had no regard of their former circumſpection, and made no doubt but that in this caſe they ought to go and viſit Olympia. Let us go ſee her, Madam, ſaid Eliſa to Candace; for I have ſuch an eſteem and affection for her, that I cannot hear of her being ill, without being afflicted at it. I will bear you company very willingly, replyed Candace, and as far as I can judge, that Princeſs is ſo worthy of the affection and eſteem of thoſe Perſons that know her, that I ſhould be very ſorry that you ſhould go beyond me upon that account.

Having ſpoken theſe words, they went together to the Chamber of the Princely Slave, which was hard by theirs, and as they came in they were aſhamed to find her in a place ſo unconformable to her condition. She was upon the bed juſt as Cephiſa had told them, and only Ericia with her, who had ſhut the Windows, and left but little light in the Chamber. As ſoon as the Princeſſes were come near, Candace, ſitting down upon the ſide of the Bed, and leaving Eliſa a Chair at the beds head: ‘What is the matter, my fair Princeſs, ſaid ſhe, and what alteration have you received ſince yeſterday in your health, which is very dear to all the Perſons that know you? The alteration, replyed Olympia, is very great, both in my health, and my condition, and you ſee me now, as it pleaſes the Gods and Fortune, in a very different eſtate from that wherein I was this morning. And what is befallen you of ſo great importance, added Eliſa preſently? be pleaſed to tell us, that we may take our ſhare in it, as we have hitherto done, out of inclination and knowledge, in every thing that concerned you. I am ſo diſcompoſed, anſwered Olympia, that I know not whether I ſhall be able to expreſs my ſelf, and all the paſſions are confuſed in my ſoul with ſo much violence, that my body is not able to reſiſt them, and I have hardly ſo much as my ſpeech at liberty, I know not whether it be joy that puts me into this condition, or whether it be grief that works this effect both upon my body and my ſpirit; but however it be, I will tell you if I can, ſeeing you have the goodneſs to intereſs your ſelves thus in my fortune, that the man of whom I formerly ſpake to you with ſo much paſſion, the fair Unknown, to whom by a ſtrange fatality I gave my heart at the firſt ſight, he who afterwards by divers great actions, and great proofs of his love took the abſolute poſſeſſion of [Page] of my ſoul, he, for whoſe ſake only I have ſurvived ſuch long ſorrows, and for whom I preſerved this unfortunate Life with a little hope of ſeeing him again, is now in Alexandria. O Gods! cryed Candace, what do you tell us Olympia, and what aſſurance have you of his arrival? That replyed Olympia, which my eyes gave me, and being with Ericia and ſome other perſons upon that Belcony which looks into the ſtreet, when Agrippa and Cornelius returned, I ſaw him with his face uncovered, I ſaw him ſo plainly, that I could not be miſtaken, and I could not ſee him but with ſo great a trouble and emotion, that my ſenſes failed me, and I fell into a ſwoon betwixt Ericia's arms. Ah! without doubt, added Candace, 'tis the fair Unknown, of whom Agrippa ſpake to us with ſo many Elogies, he, whom he found in the Wood with a Lady, whoſe admirable beauty he repreſented to us. 'Tis the very ſame, anſwered Olympia, and Agrippa could not ſpeak to you of him with ſo many praiſes, but he muſt forget ſome admirable qualities in his perſon, he, for whom I have breathed out ſo many ſighs, is at laſt returned to me, and he for whoſe ſake I lingred out my dayes in Slavery and miſery, comes to be a witneſs of my captivity, and ſervitude, which I ſupported with patience through the love I had for him. Well, ſaid the ſad Eliſa, interrupting her. Well, my dear Olympia, ſee, you have the greateſt occaſion of joy that ever you could deſire, and in the mean time it produces in you ſuch effects as do not ordinarily proceed from any thing but grief: Alas! You recover all that you had loſt, and Eliſa only remains without hope of ever ſeeing again that which the pitileſs deſtinies have taken from her. 'Tis indeed to me, replyed Olympia, with two or three ſighs, the only occaſion of joy that I could wiſh for, to ſee him again whom I ſo dearly loved; and the Gods bear me witneſs, that had it not been for the hope I had of it, my unfortunate days [...]had not been of ſo long a continuance: but 'tis indeed to me a greater occaſion of grief if I ſee him again unfaithful, than if I had never ſeen him again, nor out-lived ſo many miſeries, only to be a witneſs of his infidelity: It had been more acceptable, and much better for me to have loſt this deplorable life, either amonſt the Waves, or in thoſe miſeries wherewith hitherto it hath been turmoiled. You have ſome reaſon, ſaid Candace, much troubled, but what knowledge, or rather what ſuſpicion have you, that this Man, from whom you have received ſo many teſtimonies of love, is now unfaithful to you? I have, anſwered Olympia, the ſame that your ſelf gave me, when you told me that he was found in the Wood by Agrippa with a Lady of admirable beauty; thoſe few words you ſpake of it exaſperated my wound with a violent pain: but beſides that, I will tell you, that being come again to my ſelf out of my ſwoon, whereinto ſo unexpected a ſight had caſt me, and being hardly able to give credit to my eyes upon the report they had made to my heart, nor believe that this object of my Life had appeared to my ſight any otherwiſe than by illuſion, or the effect of my imagination, I deſired Ericia to go preſently to make a farther diſcovery, and having enquired out the houſe, where Cornelius had lodged thoſe ſtrangers, I commanded her to mingle her ſelf amongſt the other Slaves which were employed in their ſervice, and to go into the houſe with her face covered; to take notice of him who had put me into the trouble I was in: She punctually executed this order, and eaſily found means to ſlip into the Chamber, whither he was then retired, ſhe ſaw him, and ſhe knew him ſo well, that ſhe could not doubt in the leaſt, but that it was he. But O Gods! ſhe ſaw him with that young Lady, of whom Agrippa ſpake to you, who divers times in Ericia's preſence threw her arms about his neck, and uſed many affectionate expreſſions, which this perfidious man anſwered again with careſſes full of Love. The report which Ericia plainly made me of it, put me into the condition you ſee, and there needs no more to ſend this unfortunate Creature to her Grave.’

She ended theſe words with many ſobs, and a multitude of tears, which her reſentment drew from her fair eyes.

Eliſa and Candace ſympathized in her grief, and were nearly touched with compaſſion at it; they reflected at the ſame time upon the report which Agrippa had made them of the beauty of Delia, and the marks of amity which in his preſence ſhe beſtowed upon the Unknown, and upon the remembrance of this diſcourſe they conjectured that the ſuſpicions of the ſad Olympia might be rational enough, yet they would not confirm her in them, nor declare their real thoughts to her for fear of aggravating her affliction. And Candace reſuming the diſcourſe, after ſhe had been a while ſ [...]ient: ‘My fair Princeſs, ſaid ſhe, your Grief would be juſtifiable, if you ſhould really find infidelity in a Man, to whom you expreſs ſo much affection, or rather this grief ought to make way for a juſt reſentment, which with reaſon enough might baniſh him from your heart and memory; but you ought not upon ſlight apperaances to entertain this belief, which is the Enemy of your repoſe; and the importance of it is ſo great that you ought not to neglect any thing that may inſtruct you in the truth. Olympia inſtead of returning an anſwer to Candace's words, lifting up her eyes to Heaven in a very [Page] pitiful manner: Great Gods! ſaid ſhe, if my Prince be unfaithful, do not permit me to ſurvive a moment after this cruel diſcovery, and end the courſe of my unfortunate daies by a favourable effect of your pity, rather than expoſe this miſerable Princeſs to the only effect of your indignation, which as yet ſhe hath not felt. She accompanied theſe words with divers others to the ſame ſence, at the end whereof the two Princeſſes being tenderly moved, uſed all the arguments their invention could furniſh them, to comfort her, and to baniſh out of her mind that cruel opinion, which put her into ſo pitiful a condition.’ After they had ſpent ſome time with her in this employment, they believed ſhe had need of reſt, and that her paſſionate expreſſions in their preſence might redouble her feaver. This belief obliged them to quit her, after they had promiſed her that they would return within an hour, and not leave her till ſhe was better ſetled in her mind.

The End of the Third Book.

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA: OR, Love's Maſter-Piece. PART VI.

LIB. IV.

ARGUMENT.

Philadelph miſconſtrues Delia's kindneſs to her fair Companion. His jealouſie, almoſt heightned to revenge, is diſſipated by a diſcovery that he is not the Lover, but the Brother of Delia. Delia diſcovers her ſelf to be Arſinoe, Daughter to Artabaſus King of Armenia, and relates her ſtory to Philadelph. She tells him of her departure from the Cilician Court under the conduct of Antigenes, who, inſtead of conveying her into Armenia, carries her by force into Ciprus, and there having unſucceſsfully uſed all probable means to gain her love, he at laſt reſolves to ſtorm her chaſtity. As he is about to act his villany, Arſinoe's outcries call in Britomarus accidentally there, to her reſcue. By the death of Antigenes and his companions, Britomarus frees the Princeſs and undertakes to conduct her into Armenia. At Sea they are ſet upon by Pyrates, but by the valour of Britomarus, and of a gallant Slave in the Pyrates Ship, the Pyrates are diſcomfited. Britomarus leaves Arſinoe to the conduct of her Brother, and ſuddenly departs. Ariobarzanes upon ſome important occaſions takes Egypt in his way, and near to Alexandria they are found in a Wood by Philadelph.

IN the mean time the charming Delia, the fair Unknown, and the amorous Philadelph paſſed the reſt of the day in little differing cares and employments, in the houſe where Cornelius had lodged them. Philadelph being alone in his Chamber, began to ſtudy with a profound meditation, what judgement he ſhould make of his Fortune, and conſidering the bleſſing he had received from Heaven that day, he was ready to give himſelf up to tranſports of joy, but he quickly found that moderated by the motions of his jealouſie. ‘I have found my Delia again, ſaid he, and after ſo long a ſearch, and an abſence ſo cruel to an amorous ſpirit as mine is, the [Page] Gods have looked upon me with pity, and have reſtored to me the only aim and object of my life. I will live no longer in that dreadful darkneſs, wherein my ſoul hath been ſo long entombed, and I ſhall be permitted to look upon my Delia with the ſame eyes, which have ſhed ſo many tears for her ſince our ſeparation. Ah my ſorrows! Ah my languiſhings! Ah my tedious nights! You are all diſſipated by this bleſſed day which Delia hath brought back into my ſoul, and from hence forward the ſad remembrance of my cruel ſufferings, ſhall work no other effect upon my Spirit, than to render the good things I am to taſte, more ſweet, more charming, and more ſenſible.’

He pauſed a while upon this conſideration of his good fortune, but a little after, that paſſion, the enemy of repoſe, which having its original from love alwaies endeavours its ruine, that importunate jealouſie which corrupts the beſt thoughts, bringing to his remembrance the fair Unknown, and the marks of amity, and familiarity which he had ſeen between Delia and him, overclowded all his joy, and troubled him in ſuch a manner that he was but very imperfectly ſenſible of any part of it. ‘What doth it avail me, ſaid he, to have found Delia again, if I find her unfaithful? and what advantageous change have I received in my condition, if I ſee her again whom I loved ſo dearly, only to ſee her in a Rivals arms? She travels up and down the World, ſhe lies in Woods in the company of a Man endued with all manner of lovely parts; ſhe careſſes him, and treats him with friendſhip in my preſence, and indeed forgets nothing that may occaſion a juſt ſuſpicion. Ah! Delia, how ſtrange an alteration is this in you, and how different is this manner of Life from that ſevere and ſcrupulous vertue, which cauſed me ſo many ſufferings in Cilicia.’

‘But on the other ſide, added he, checking himſelf, ſeeing I have ſo many teſtimonies of the vertue, the ſincerity, and the purity of Delia's heart and ſpirit, ought I upon the firſt conjecture to overthrow an opinion grounded upon ſo many proofs? did I find any change in her countenance, or in the entertainment I received from Delia? and have not I received from her own mouth more clear and ample aſſurances of her affection, than ever ſhe gave me heretofore? did there appear any conſtraint in her countenance in the performance of that action? did ſhe vary in any thing which might make me ſuſpect her inconſtancy? and do I not owe reſpect and conſideration enough to the knowledge I have of her ſpirit, to give abſolute credit to her words? All this is very true, purſued he, but yet, who is this fair Unknown? what is this man, who poſſeſſing ſo many amiable qualities, accompanies her almoſt alone in her. Voyages, that paſſes the nights with her in the Woods, that armed himſelf againſt me with ſo many teſtimonies of affection and familiarity from her in my preſence? what is this Unknown if he be not a Lover, if he be not a Man beloved and favoured by Delia? Ha! whatſoever he be, continued he, growing into paſſion, he ſhall be the object of the moſt juſt reſentment that ever ſoul conceived, and if it be true that he deprives me of Delia, the reſpect I have for her, which tied my hands to day in her preſence, will not be able to hinder me from killing him in any part of the World where I ſhall find him, or from leaving at the point of his Sword a life, which he hath already more cruelly aſſaulted, than he can do by the way of arms.’

He entertained himſelf t [...]us in his thoughts, when he heard a noiſe at his Chamber door, and caſting his eyes immediately that way, he ſaw the brave Unknown come in, who at that time took up all his thoughts, and who was no leſs the object of his hated and reſentment, than Delia was of his Love. Philadelph who was not prepared for this viſit, grew pale at the ſight of him, and by the changes of his countenance made him eaſily gueſs at the agitations of his ſoul, and the little inclination he had for ſo unexpected a ſight. The fair Unknown was not repulſed by the coldneſs of his entertainment, but accoſting him with a countenance, wherein if there were not all the marks of joy, there were at leaſt all the aſſurances of amity: ‘I come, ſaid he, to render you that which I owe you, both in relation to the merit of your perſon, and to the obligation by which you engaged both me and my relations to your ſervice. You are not obliged to me, replied Philadelph, except you pretend to be ſo for the ſervices I rendred Delia, when her fortune made her Land in our Country, where ſhe received nothing from me, but what ſhe might expect from all perſons that were capable of knowing her. 'Tis upon that very ſcore, anſwered the Unknown, that I am redeuable to you, and you could not render Delia, thoſe aſſiſtances which ſhe received from your generoſity in defending her againſt the Enemies, which your affection raiſed her, and preſerving her with ſo much care and bounty from thoſe dangers which threatned her life and reputation, without laying a ſtrong obligation upon a Man, who intereſſes himſelf in Delia's preſervation as much as in his own. I free you from that obligation, replied Philadelph, beginning to be cholerick at this diſcourſe, and if my deſire was to preſerve Delia from thoſe dangers whereinto ſhe fell by my misfortune, 'twas never my intention to preſerve her for you, or for any perſon elſe, that might make benefit of the effects of my Love [Page] and dutie, as long as I have a drop of blood, or a moment of life left to defend my pretenſions. If I be not obliged to your intentions, ſaid the Unknown, I am ſo without doubt, to the effects of them, and 'tis that which partly injoins me to deſire that friendſhip of you, which you have little diſpoſition to grant me, though Delia her ſelf deſired it of you for me. You have, anſwered Philadelph, all the qualities that might gain more important friendſhips than mine, but that ought to be very indifferent to you, ſeeing I cannot receive yours, nor look upon you but as upon the moſt cruel of my Enemies, as long as you ſhall dream of Delia, and pretend to reap the fruit of the ſervices which I have rendred her. There is no neceſſity of diſſembling any longer. No, you can but be my Enemie, and the reſentment you expreſs for an office, which I never had a deſign to render you, kindles another in my ſoul, which renders our two lives incompatible. If you intereſs your ſelf in the ſervice which I rendred to Delia, ſo much as you make ſhew of, or rather if you love her as well as you would expreſs, you muſt diſpute her with me other waies, than by the offers of a friendſhip which I cannot receive from you. The reſpect I bear to Delia hindred me from declaring in her preſence that which hath been upon my heart all this day, but ſince ſhe knows very well that the love I have for her hath made me fail a hundred times in my dutie to my Father, ſhe will pardon me, what the ſame paſſion ſhall make me undertake againſt a Man, whom ſhe looks upon but too favourable to my miſfortune, and whom ſhe ought never to have looked upon to the prejudice of ſuch a fidelitie as mine.’

Philadelph ſpake in this manner, and by theſe words vented a part of his inward fire with a furious impetuoſitie, when the fair Unknown looking upon him with his former coldneſs, and adding a ſmile full of ſweetneſs to the moderation which appeared in his countenance, ‘I know, ſaid he, whether I ever wanted courage hitherto, or whether dangers and threats have over much affrighted me in the occaſions I have met withall, but I very well perceive that you will hardly make me reſolve to draw my Sword any more againſt you, and if Delia cannot be diſputed between us but by arms, the pretentions we may have to her will not be ſuddenly decided. I am very unhappy to find in you ſuch a hardneſs of heart as I thought not to have met with, and no bodie but your ſelf would poſſibly be ſo cruel as to deny me a friendſhip which I thought I might merit by the deſire which I have expreſſed of it. You deſerve better, anſwered Philadelph, and you have but too excellent parts to be my Enemy; I ſhould have had leſs diſpoſition to become yours, if you had nothing but ordinary in you, and this is an effect of my ill Fortune that finding in you whatſoever, upon another account, might have attracted my eſteem and affection, it muſt needs be, that principally in that reſpect, you are ſo much the more odious to me, by how much you are the more redoubtable: But I wonder purſued he, looking upon him with a ſeverer eye than before, that you perſevere in this manner of acting with me, ſeeing the little ſenſibility I expreſs of your kindneſs, and it ſeems you have a mind to make a piece of raillery of the moſt important buſineſs that ever you medled with in your life. If you really love Delia as your words and actions do declare, there is little probability that you ſhould deſire my friendſhip ſo much as you would perſwade me you do, and I know not upon what conſideration you court a Man, from this concurrence can leave you nothing but repugnance and averſion: and if you do it to inſult over an unfortunate man in your happy condition, know that as yet it is but ill grounded, and you have not ſo contemptible an Enemie of me, but that you have need of all your power to preſerve that, which at the rate of your life he will diſpute with you to the laſt moment of his own.’

Philadelph uttered theſe words with violence, and not being able any longer to endure the ſight of the Unknown, was going to fling out of the chamber, when he ſtaid him by the arm, and having much ado to hold him: ‘Stay Philadelph ſaid he, and if you cannot endure me as the Lover of Delia, at leaſt endure me as her Brother. As her Brother? cryed Philadelph, looking upon him with an action full of aſtoniſhment: Yes as her Brother, replyed the Unknown; Delia is my Siſter, and upon this confeſſion which I make to you, henceforward our amitie will be no more ſuſpected by you. O Gods, ſaid Philadelph, what is it you tell me, could it be poſſible that you ſhould be the Brother of Delia, or is it to make your ſelf more ſport that you make me this diſcourſe? I am the Brother of Delia, replyed the Unknown, and ſhe knowing that our amitie cauſed your jealouſie, would not have me deter any longer the diſcoverie of this truth to you my ſelf. I was not unwilling to give her that ſatisfaction, and beſides what the knowledge of your merit might produce in me ſince I ſaw you, the relation ſhe made me of your generous procedure towards her, cauſed ſo much eſteem and ſo much affection in me for you, that there was hardly any thing in the World which I could more ardently deſire than the opportunity of ſeeing and ſerving you.’

[Page] With theſe words he ſtretched out his arms to him, and Philadelph receiving him into his with an exceſſive joy. ‘O Gods, ſaid he, how happy am I, if it be true that You are the Brother of Delia, and how ſatisfied ſhall I be, that now I may love and adore in you thoſe admirable parts which cauſed ſo much jealouſie in me? Never doubt, anſwered the Unknown, of a truth which in time and at leaſure you will learn from Delia's mouth: my actions ſhall make you a fuller diſcovery, and you ſhall receive from me, as from the Brother of Delia, ſuch ſervices in relation to her, as you could not expect from her Lover. I beg your pardon then, added Philadelph, tranſported with joy, for the faults which my error made me commit, and I conjure you with a real repentance, to grant me that friendſhip now which my indiſcreet jealouſie made ſo unhandſomly reject.’

With theſe words they embraced each other with a real Brotherly affection, and Philadelph looking upon him then as Delia's Brother with different eyes from thoſe which his jealouſie before had opened, felt himſelf preſently inclined to love and admire him, who had a little before cauſed ſo many ſuſpicions in him; they continued a great while embracing each other, and after they had made divers mutual proteſtations of eternal amity: ‘Delia, ſaid the Unknown, muſt perfect our reconciliation, let us go and viſit her together, if you pleaſe, and you ſhall begin to know whether I intereſs my ſelf in Philadelphs ſatisfaction, as the Brother, or as the Lover of Delia.’

Having done ſpeaking theſe words, they went together out of the Chamber, and paſſed into Delia's, which was not far off. That fair Lady was laid down upon her bed to repoſe her ſelf after a little wearineſs, and ſhe no ſooner ſaw the two new Friends approach, but addreſſing her diſcourſe to the Unknown: ‘well Brother, ſaid ſhe,’ have you appeaſed that Enemy, which had ſo much repugnance for the Brother of Delia? The Brother of Delia, anſwered Philadelph, is, and ſhall alwayes be as dear to me as my life, but the reaſon of a Lover, and of a Lover favoured by Delia, could not but be very odious to me. ‘You ſhall never, replied Delia, cauſing him to place himſelf in a chair near her bed's head, You ſhall never have cauſe to envie the favours you ſhall ſee me do any other; and ſince the time you have ſeen me, you might have known me well enough, to believe that it is not eaſie to find any loves favoured by Delia: 'Tis true, this man whom you have ſo much ſuſpected is my Brother, continued ſhe, making him ſit down upon the ſide of her bed, and imbracing him with a great deal of tenderneſs, who is as dear to me as my life: but I will make no difficulty to tell you before him, that he is not more dear to me than Philadelph, and though the qualities of your perſon had not been capable to produce the effect you may hope for from them only, the remembrance of your pure and generous affection continues in my heart with ſuch a real reſentment, that nothing will ever be able to efface it thence. I lived in Cilicia with ſome circumſpection, that poſſibly you did not approve of, and I went from thence at a time when you might probably expect all the acknowledgement that might be of your affection, but 'tis time now, Philadelph, to declare to you thoſe reaſons which may juſtifie my actions, and to let you know that Fortune hath not been ſo blind, as you believed, in making you addreſs your affections to a perſon of a baſe and obſcure birth; truly you have been generous and diſ-intereſſed in loving with ſo honeſt and ſo rational intentions, a Maid, whom you believed to be infinitely inferior to you, and deſigning of her, meerly out of the knowledge you had of her face and vertue, a Crown and a place which the greateſt Princeſſes of Aſia would gladly have accepted of: but it was not the will of the Gods that this generoſity ſhould remain without recompence, and they have permitted you, in the perſon of that obſcure Delia, to love the Daughter of a great King, and a Princeſs that might pretend, being known to you, to that which you freely offered her before you knew her. What Madam, cryed Philadelph, are you a Kings Daughter? I am ſo without doubt, replyed Delia, and the Daughter of a King of the ſupreameſt rank of Aſia. Ha! Madam, anſwered the Prince, falling upon his knees by her bed ſide, this diſcovery cauſes me more grief than joy, and if I take part in the ſatisfaction which you have in being of a birth conformable to the greatneſs of your vertue, what excuſes ſhall I be able to find for ſo many faults, which my error hath made me commit againſt you? 'Tis that, added Delia, for which I have great cauſe to commend you eternally, and though you had known my true condition, I could not deſire more reſpect from you, than you have alwaies expreſſed to me. Ah! without doubt, replied the Prince, I might have perceived by ſo many marks of greatneſs which appeared in your perſon, and your actions, that you were not born of an obſcure bloud; and I had great ſupicions of the truth, which I often communicated to the Princeſs Andromeda: but this belief was ſtifled by the little reaſon we ſaw in you to conceal that truth with ſo much perſeverance, at a time when this declaration might have freed you from a great many diſpleaſures, and given a great deal of ſatisfaction to thoſe perſons of whoſe affection you could not doubt. I had ſome reaſons [Page] for it, anſwered the Princeſs, which other perſons poſſibly might have paſſed by, but in thoſe of my humour they were capable of doing what they did; and if it were advantageous for me in your mind to declare that I was born of Royal bloud, it was dangerous for me to confeſs that I was of a family, which is an enemy to yours, and ſo much hated by yours, that I could expect nothing upon any conſideration but a ſhameful and cruel uſage from the King your Father. Ha! Madam, interrupted Philadelph, though you were the Daughter of Artibaſus, and the Siſter of the cruel Artaxus King of Armenia, who by the death of our near relations hath done ſuch bloudy injuries to our family; you carry that in your countenance which might guard you from all dangers, and you ſhould have alwaies found me your Slave, that would have defended you to the laſt drop of his bloud againſt his Father as well as againſt the ſtrangeſt enemies. I was afraid too upon your account, replyed the Princeſs, not of any ill uſage, being ſo well acquainted with your vertue and goodneſs, which without doubt would have protected me, though Love had not interpoſed, but ſome change, or coldneſs in your affection of which I alwaies had a high eſteem: but ſince it is come to the proof of ſuch a declaration, I will make no more difficultie to confeſs to you that I am Arſinoe Daughter to the King of Armenia, and Siſter to the ſame Artaxus, from whom you have received ſome bloudy diſpleaſures in your Family, and this Prince for whom at firſt you had ſo much averſion, is the Prince Ariobarzanes my Brother, of a very different humour from the King his elder Brother, and who had no hand in that crueltie, which cauſed ſo great a reſentment againſt Artaxus in the Spirit of the King your Father. See now, Philadelph, whether you love Delia ſtill, or the Siſter of Artaxus, and whether I have not loſt what my good fortune had gained upon your Spirit, by being born of a bloud which is odious to your Family. Ah! Madam, cryed the tranſported Prince, imprinting almoſt by force a fiery kiſs upon Arſinoes fair hand, though Artaxus ſhould have expoſed me my ſelf to the moſt violent effects of cruelty, the Priceſs Arſinoe his Siſter, and yet my adorable Delia, is not leſs worthy of my reſpects, and I do not only continue in the former terms of my love to her, but upon her conſideration Artaxus is no longer odious to me, and ſeeing he is Delia's Brother I would ſerve him with my life and bloud.’

Upon theſe words the Prince Ariobarzanes ſtretching out his arms to him: ‘And may not I, ſaid he, who did no way contribute to thoſe actions which gave you ſo juſt an occaſion to hate the cruel Artaxus, I who was a great way off from the place where they were committed, and after I had heard of them alwaies looked upon mine own Brother with averſion and repugnance, may not I hope more juſtly than he, that the ſame goodneſs which cauſes you ſo eaſily to pardon the culpable, will incline you to love the innocent, and thoſe which have never offended you nor yours? Philadelph tenderly embracing Ariobarzanes: What reſentment ſoever, ſaid he, my jealouſie cauſed in me to day againſt you, you are compoſed of ſuch admirable parts, that it would be no difficulty for you to gain the hearts of your moſt cruel enemies, and if any thing could remain upon my heart againſt you, it would be becauſe I believed you were the Lover of Delia, and not becauſe I know you to be the Brother of Artaxus: But Madam, continued he, turning to the Princeſs, you ſurprize me with your diſcourſe, I have been informed that in the King of Armenia's Family there was a Prince Ariobarzanes and a Princeſs Arſinoe, born both with admirable qualities: but there came a report to us ſince, that as they were going to Rome, both Arſinoe and Ariobarzanes periſhed by a ſhipwrack, which made all Armenia deplore their loſs, as being two incomparable perſons. We did really ſuffer ſhipwrack, replyed Arſinoe, and I believe we are dead ſtill in the opinion of the Armenians, and of the greateſt part of thoſe that knew us: but the Gods to whom the perſon of Ariobarzanes was precious, would not let him periſh, but ſaved me too for his ſake.’ This is that which I would now acquaint you with, and after that I have briefly made known to you the reaſons which cauſed me to conceal my ſelf in Cilicia, and which obliged me to depart thence, I will give you an account of that which hath befallen me ſince our ſeparation, which hindred me from retiring into Armenia, as my intention was to do.

With theſe words ſhe cauſed him to ſit down again in his chair, and in the mean time the Prince Ariobarzanes, not judging it neceſſary for him to be preſent at a relation, whereof he knew all the particulars, and deſiring to give the two Lovers leiſure to diſcourſe of their adventures with all freedom, whilſt he went to entertain himſelf with thoſe thoughts with which his Spirit was diſturbed, went out of the Chamber, to go and walk in a garden, which he ſaw under the windows. Only the Princeſſes maid continued with her own and Philadelph's Miſtris, and the Princeſs having kept ſilence a while to call to remembrance thoſe things which ſhe intended to relate, ſhe began her diſcourſe in theſe terms.

The Hiſtory of the Princeſ ARSINOE.

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THere are few remarkable things in my life wherewith you are not acquainted: thoſe of the moſt importance befell me in Cilicia, whereof you are a witneſs and the principal cauſe: and you are ignorant of nothing almoſt, but what hath happened ſince our ſeparation, and that I ſhall acquaint you with at large, after that I have ſuccinctly paſſed over former buſineſſes, and thoſe reaſons which may defend me againſt your accuſations.

I will not begin my diſcourſe with the beginnings of my life, which have nothing of importance in them, but what is known throughout all Aſia; my firſt years paſſed away with ſweetneſs and tranquillity enough, and the time of our tender infancie was ſpent in a flouriſhing Court, and a peaceable and fortunate Kingdom: but I hardly began to have the uſe of reaſon, or any knowledge of our condition of life, when by the cruel ſurprize of Anthony, the unfortunate Artibaſus our Father was carried priſoner to Alexandria, and all his family with him, except Artaxus our elder Brother, who ſucceeded him in the enjoyment of the Crown. My Brother Ariobarzanes, my Siſter Artemiſa and my ſelf lived in a captivity in a pompous Court, till I was about eight or nine years old, and this loſs of our liberty (the ſorrow whereof was ſo cruelly redoubled by the deplorable death of the King our Father, which I believe no perſon is ignorant of) was not repaired till after the defeat and the laſt misfortunes of Anthony and Cleopatra, at which time Caeſar being Maſter of Alexandria, and the Empire too by the fall of his Competitor, freed us from captivity, and ſent us back with an honourable Convoy to the King of Armenia our Brother, whom he received into the number of his Friends and Allies.

I relate this to you in a few words as a thing ſufficiently divulged, and I will not entertain you with the reception which Artaxus gave us, who looked upon the rank of our family with great reſentments for our common misfortune. We lived in his Court with all the ſplendor we had loſt, and we recovered there, together with our libertie, our former rank and dignity. We were brought up, my Brother, my Siſter, and my ſelf, with great care, and it was not the fault of thoſe perſons who were put about me, that the ſlight advantages which I might have received from nature were not favourably ſeconded by good education. There was nothing forgotten, which might frame my Spirit to the horror of vices, and to the love of vertue, and I will ſay, if I may do it without offending againſt modeſty, that I had my inclinations naturally carried to eſteem that, which ſeemed good, and to avoid that which appeared to me to be vicious. I had a good Governeſs, the very ſame you ſaw in Cilicia, whom I made to paſs for my Aunt, who took a great deal of pains to cultivate whatſoever ſhe thought ſhe obſerved of good in me, and contributed as much as poſſibly ſhe could to form me according to her deſires, and vertuous inclinations.

About this time, as you know, the King my Brother prompted by a very juſt deſire of revenge, made war upon the King of the Medes your Allie, and in the firſt year he had ſome advantages, which made him hope the abſolute ruine of his enemies. 'Tis true, by what we could underſtand, he diſhonoured them by his crueltie, and the Gods likewiſe to puniſh him for it, ſtopt the courſe of his good fortune by the ſuccours you gave Tygranes, which changed his fortune, and forced him to be gone out of the Dominions of your Allies. 'Twas at that time that he committed that action, which hath been ſo much condemned by all vertuous perſons, to cut the throats of two Princes of your bloud, priſoners in a juſt war, and againſt whom he could have no lawful reſentment.

This was that which made him loſe the valiant Britomarus, whoſe valour had been ſo favourable to him in the firſt year of the war, and upon the relation which was made me of the generous quarrel he had with the King for the ſafetie of his priſoners, what cauſe ſoever I had otherwiſe to blame the preſumption of that young warrior, I could not but have his vertue and greatneſs of courage in admiration, and that eſteem made me forget ſome part of the reſentment I had againſt him. Ariobarzanes, who by the Kings command continued at Artaxata, as well becauſe of his Youth which as yet was not capable of bearing arms, as to keep the Armenians in obedience, whilſt the King made war in forreign Countries, wept for regret and grief at the relation of this crueltie, and made all thoſe judge who ſaw him at that time, that his inclinations would be very different from thoſe of the King his Brother. I enlarge my ſelf particularly upon this action of Artaxus, becauſe it was upon this account that the hatred of the King your Father was ſo violently exaſperated both againſt him and his, and it was upon the reſentment of this action that he made an oath never to pardon any perſon of the bloud or Alliance of Artaxus whom fortune ſhould cauſe to fall into his hands, and it was upon this knowledge, and out of the fear of this choler, that I obſtinately reſolved upon ſo long a diſguiſe in Cilicia. You know better than I, what were the laſt ſucceſſes of that War, and how at laſt it was ended by Auguſtus's authority, who by the terror of his power, made [Page] theſe Kings, who were cruelly bent to ruine each other to lay down their arms, and forced them to peace, when the weakneſs of them both might ſufficiently have diſpoſed them to it, if their hatred had not maintained the war rather than their forces. ‘'Tis true, (ſaid Philadelph, interrupting the Princeſſes diſcourſe) that the King my Father retired with ſo much grief and reſentment againſt Artaxus for the death of Ariſton and Theomedes his Nephews, that to revenge himſelf of that cruelty, there was no cruelty but he would have exerciſed; and I believe if fortune had made you your ſelf fall into his hands with this miraculous beauty and theſe divine graces, which might have diſarmed the rage of a hunger-ſtarved Tygre, he would have made you to have felt the effects of his indignation without any reſpect. Do not think it ſtrange then, if I was afraid of him, replied Arſinoe, and do me the favour to believe ſtill, that the conſideration of my life was not the cauſe of the greateſt fears, and I had not thought it due to my honour, which in his indignation an implacable enemy might poſſibly have expoſed to ignominy to take the more ſevere revenge upon Artaxus's cruelty. I ſhould not poſſibly have had this fear of a man born of a Royal bloud, and of one that was your Father, if it had not been confirmed in my Spirit, by the knowledge he gave me of it, as you ſhall underſtand in the ſequel of my diſcourſe.’

You know that a little while after this forced peace, Auguſtus ſent to demand Ariobarzanes and my ſelf to be brought up at Rome near him, with divers Kings Children which were educated there in the ſame manner, and were kept by Auguſtus near himſelf, either to teſtifie his affection to their Parents, or to have a greater aſſurance of their fidelity by means of thoſe hoſtage. Artaxus knew not preſently what to judge of it, but he durſt not diſobey Auguſtus's will, of which in all probability this was an obliging effect on his part, and having communicated to us the order which he had received, he found us not unwilling to go the voyages. Ariobarzanes being naturally amorous of great things, joyfully received the propoſition which was made him of going to that ſtately City, Miſtris of the greateſt part of the Univerſe, to paſs ſome years in that pompous Court, where almoſt all the Kings in the world came to pay their homage: and beſides he had ſmall inclination to the ſevere dealings of Artaxus, but being of a ſweet and pitiful diſpoſition, he could not live without repugnance, with a man ſo cruel and in exorable towards thoſe who had offended him.

Theſe were the reaſons which obliged Ariobarzanes willingly to undertake the voyage to Rome, and his good will eaſily gained mine, without him I ſhould hardly have ventured upon this enterpriſe, but ever ſince we were little ones there was contracted ſo near an amitie between us, that we could hardly live one without the other, and I did more eaſily reſolve to go all the world over with Ariobarzanes, who was as dear to me as my ſelf, than to ſtay at Artaxata without him.

It would be to no purpoſe to relate to you the preparations for our Voyage, and regrets which Artaxus and Artemiſa expreſſed at our departure, it will ſuffice me to tell you, that all things were ordered as they ſhould be, with an equipage beſeeming our birth, we departed from Artaxata upon the way towards Italy, and marched as far as the Egean Sea, where we embarqued; after we had croſſed a good part of Armenia, and coaſted Licia and Pamphilia by land, without any memorable accident. From the Egean Sea, in ſtead of paſſing over the Streight, to deſcend into Macedonia, and to take Shipping again upon the Adriatique Gulph, as that was our moſt direct way; fearing the tediouſneſs of thoſe long Voyages by land, and wherewith we were already tired, we turned upon the left hand towards Peloponneſus, and deſcended into the Mediterranean Sea, believing, that though it would be the longer, yet it would be the eaſier way, not being obliiged to embark and diſembark ſo often. It was rather our deſtinies that would have it thus, and the Gods who reſerved Ariobarzanes and I for other adventures, had not ordained that we ſhould ſee the banks of Tyber.

We had been but a ſmall time upon this Sea, when we were ſeized upon by that furious tempeſt, wherein we ſuffered that ſhipwrack, which you have heard ſpoken of, and loſt our lives in the opinion of ſo many perſons. I will not deſcribe to you the particulars of that impetuous ſtorm, I will content my ſelf to tell you, that the winds immediately roſe ſo contrary to us, that they made us take a quite contrary way to that which we had begun to ſail; and after we had been toſſed up and down two daies and two nights in perpetual fears of death, which preſented it ſelf to our eyes; they caſt our battered Veſſel upon that Coaſt of Cilicia which is oppoſite to Cyprus, where Navigation is ſo dangerous by reaſon of an infinite number of ſmall Rocks, which reach no higher than the ſuperficies of the water, againſt one of which our Veſſel being diſabled from ſailing, was daſhed all to pieces and left us expoſed to the mercy of the pitileſs Waves. I could not know then what became of Ariobarzanes: and though the ſtrict amity which had alwaies been between us, rendred his ſafety as dear to me as mine own, yet I was in part of the Ship, diſtant from that [Page] where he was employed, and the dreadful danger I was in at that time, made me forget every thing elſe but the preſervation of my life; I had little hope of it, and yet I would not neglect the means which Heaven might give me to prolong it. I cloſely embraced a piece of the Maſt, upon which I laid hold juſt when the Veſſel ſplit, and my Governeſs and one of my Maids who were alwaies cloſe by me, were likewiſe Companions of my Fortune, and holding by my two ſides they were carried above water by that favourable piece of Wood, to which I owed my ſafety; the violence of the Waves made us many times almoſt let go our hold, but neceſſity gives ſtrength in ſuch extremities as thoſe, to which next to the aſſiſtance of Heaven we owed without doubt the preſervation of our lives. By good fortune the ſhore was not far off, and after we had been a long time toſſed up and down with little hope, and ſmall ſtrength or knowledge left, the Maſt which ſuſtained us, by a Wave, which was more impetuous than all that went before, was driven on ſhore with ſo much vehemence, that we found our ſelves upon the land, when we almoſt deſpaired of ever reaching to it.

We continued lying a long while upon the ſhore, half dead with wearineſs, the coldneſs of the waters, and ſo many miſeries as we had ſuffered, where I looked upon what had befallen us as upon a dream, and had hardly ſo much knowledge left as to reflect upon my ſhipwrack. We were in this condition, when Briſeis that good woman, at whoſe houſe you met me, arrived, as ſhe was walking upon the ſhore, and being moved with compaſſion at ſo pitiful a ſpectacle, ſhe preſently offered us all the aſſiſtances we could deſire of her in our preſent miſery. I did not refuſe her offers in the neceſſity we had of her ſuccour, and I eaſily diſpoſed my ſelf to go with her to her houſe to dry my ſelf, and to take ſome reſt which I had need enough of: But I hardly began to know that the Gods had ſaved my life from the danger which had threatned it, but I remembred my Brother, and upon that remembrance, grief wanted but a very little of making me loſe that which the Waves had ſeparated, I would not leave the ſhore as wet and weary as I was, without ſearching it as far as my ſtrength would permit, and calling on every ſide with a feeble voice upon the name of Ariobarzanes.

I will not Philadelph, deſcribe to you the particulars of my grief, that diſcourſe would be too troubleſome to you; but I will proteſt to you truly, and the Gods bear me witneſs, that the loſs of my dear Brother, hindred me from being ſenſible of any joy for my own ſafety, I earneſtly complained that Heaven had permitted me to ſurvive ſo amiable and ſo well-beloved a Brother, and if I had not been flattered with ſome ſmall hope that he might have received from Heaven an aſſiſtance like to that which ſaved me, whereof being much ſtronger than I, he might make much better uſe, my grief would have been ſtrong enough to have given me that upon the land which I avoided upon the water. The comfort which my Governeſs laboured to give me in this uncertainty, and the endeavours of Briſeis, who applied her ſelf to comfort and ſerve me with a great deal of goodneſs, wrought no effect upon my Spirit, and I ſpent the three or four firſt daies in tears, which no diſcourſe could dry up; I had the name of Ariobarzanes perpetually in my mouth, and his viſage eternally before my eyes, loſing no time in the mean while, in making the ſhore to be ſearched every way by Briſeis's ſervants, to learn ſome news of him.

This affliction which abſolutely took up my thoughts, did not permit me for above eight daies ſo much as to inform my ſelf in what place we were; but when I was rendred capable of ſome diſcourſe and the firſt tranſports of grief were a little diſſipated by a ray of hope which I conceived, that the deſtiny of Ariobarzanes might be the ſame with mine, I gave my Governeſs leave to enquire, and I underſtood that we were but a daies journey from the capital City of Cilicia. This intelligence filled me with as much fear as I was capable of in my profound ſadneſs, and not being ignorant upon what account the King of the Countrie was an enemy to our familie, and an enemy full of hatred, which could let me hope for nothing but all manner of ſhame and ill uſage, if I was diſcovered in his Dominions, I had reſolved to diſguiſe my name and my birth, and underſtanding by Ericlea my Governeſs, and by Melite, who, as you knew, is the Maid who is ſtill with me, that they had not acquainted Briſeis with any thing of the truth, I concealed my true name under that of Delia, and my condition under that of Ericlea's Niece, praying my Governeſs to carry her ſelf towards me in publick as her Niece, and Milete to treat me as her Siſter. This was performed as I deſired, and the ſame day Briſeis was informed by us of thoſe things which we deſired ſhe ſhould know, and which were related to you a few daies after: I had divers Jewels upon my Clothes, which I took off the better to diſguiſe the truth, and I cauſed part of them to be given to Briſeis by my Governeſs in acknowledgement of her generous bounty, though ſhe refuſed them a great while, and did not reſolve to take them till we threatned to be gone from her, if ſhe refuſed thoſe ſmall tokens of our gratitude and amity.

[Page] We were upon theſe terms, Philadelph, and waiting for ſome favourable opportunity to return into my own Country without being diſcovered, I ſpent my time, when I could get free from thoſe women, in ſolitude, which was more agreeable to me than any company, by reaſon of the ſadneſs which the loſs of Ariobarzanes had eſtabliſhed in my ſoul, when it pleaſed the Gods that I ſhould meet you in that fatal wood, whither our common deſtiny conducted us. You know better than I all that befel me in Cilicia from that day till the day of our ſeparation: but you did not know part of the reſentments and the thoughts which poſſeſſed my ſoul ſince that time, I will give you a brief account of them before I proceed to the relation of that which befel me ſince your departure out of Cilicia.

Do not think, Philadelph, that I could look upon ſo many proofs of ſo pure, and ſo perfect an affection, from a Prince ſo highly accompliſhed as your ſelf, with that inſenſibility wherewith you have ſo often reproached me. I had eyes, as well as any other perſon, open, and clear-ſighted in the knowledge of your excellent qualities, I had a Spirit capable of reſentment for ſo many good offices as you rendred me, and I had a ſoul upon which this reſentment and this knowledge might produce all the effects which are not contrary to vertue; I did really eſteem you as much as in reaſon you could poſſibly deſire, as ſoon as by a little experience I had obſerved the conformity of the exterior qualities of your perſon to the beauty of your interior perfections, and this eſteem was ſo ſtrongly fixed in my Spirit, that I did not believe there was any perſon in the world more worthy of it than your ſelf. I began at laſt to approve very well of your affection, after that the purity of your intentions was made known to me; and I could not ſee a great Prince, as you were, love an unknown Maid with ſo much ſincerity and reſpect, and with a deſign to make her his Wiſe, without feeling my ſelf tenderly obliged to ſuch obliging intentions.

For a long time you gained nothing more upon my Spirit, than this eſteem and acknowledgment; and beſides that I believed that this was all I could in reaſon grant you; till than my Spirit had never any diſpoſition to engage it ſelf in that paſſion which is a troubler of repoſe, and which, in my opinion, how juſt a ground ſoever it may have, is not abſolutely permitted with decency to perſons of our ſex. I had ſeen but one man in my life, compoſed of admirable parts, in whom I obſerved particular thoughts for my ſelf, and though his perſon was ſuch, that if his birth had been proportionable to mine, I ſhould have looked upon him without repugnance; yet the inequality which was between us made me look upon his boldneſs with averſion, and rendred all his good qualities uſeleſs to his intentions. I had my Spirit free then, when I came into your parts, and this liberty, Philadelph, defended it ſelf a long time againſt all the teſtimonies of your love.

You began at laſt to make ſome attempts upon it, and it does not trouble me to make this confeſſion to you, when I call to mind that the moſt obdurate ſoul in the world would have been moved with ſo many proofs of your paſſion. Yet I oppoſed my ſelf divers dayes againſt the birth of theſe particular reſentments, till then unkown to my Spirit, and to which my heart could not accuſtom it ſelf. I was offended at the weakneſs which I found in my Spirit, and I endeavoured to fortifie it by calling to mind my former reſolutions, which till then had oppoſed all manner of engagement, and by all the conſiderations, which in the condition I was then, might divert my inclinations from it. The beſt remedy I could find for the defence of that, which you too ſtrongly aſſaulted, was to deſire leave of the Princeſs your Siſter to be gone, and to fly the occaſions of engaging my ſelf any farther, by leaving of Cilicia: I had other pretences enough without diſcovering that, and beſides the deſire of ſeeing my native Country, and our family which without doubt had reſented my loſs with ſome affliction, and of getting out of a condition which was ſo different from that wherein I was born, and the danger which threatned me, if I was diſcovered in the King your Fathers Court; the troubles which I raiſed there, and the diviſions which I innocently cauſed between the King and you, were a ſufficient motive to make me haſten my departure out of Cilicia. This was that likewiſe which I ofteneſt alledged, both to the Princeſs your Siſter and your ſelf, when I prayed you both to conſent to my return. You know I preſſed you very often to it, and at laſt I had concluded upon it, if I could have upheld my reſolutions againſt the grief which you expreſſed at this propoſition, and the proteſtation you made with tears and oaths, and with all the marks that might perſwade a verity, that you could not, without dying, endure this ſeparation.

'Twas in that weakneſs, Philadelph, that I knew I loved you, and you might have taken notice of it your ſelf, whatſoever intention I had to conceal it, if you had conſidered that complacency onely was not capable of making me expoſe my ſelf to ſo many diſgraces as had almoſt ruined me through the indignation of the King your Father, nor to make me continue in his Kingdom againſt the orders which he ſent me to be gone, and to put my ſelf into danger of an eternal confinement, and of poyſon, by which a little after you ſaw me [Page] reduced to the utmoſt extremities; 'Twas in this rancounter, Philadelph, that my ſoul received a very ſenſible impreſſion for you, and though I could accuſe nothing for my approaching death, but only your love, in ſtead of having any reſentment againſt you for it, you did ſo move me with your grief, that I was hardly ſorry for the loſs of my life, but only for your ſake; and I ſhould not at that time have deſired the prolongation of it, but only to beſtow the reſt of it upon you, when the change of my condition, and the conſent of my friends would have permitted me to do it handſomely. You may remember how that when I thought I had been at my laſt gaſp, I began a diſcourſe by which you might probably judge, that I was going to diſcover to you ſome things which till then you had been ignorant of, and 'tis certain that it was my intention to acquaint you with that then, which I have declared to you to day, and to free you at my death from the regret or ſhame which might remain to you, for having debaſed your thoughts and your deſigns to a perſon unworthy of you in regard of her birth. Alas! cryed Philadelph, interrupting the Princeſſes diſcourſe with a ſigh, Alas! Madam, how well do I remember that paſſage of my life, and how often hath it come into my memory ſince our ſeparation, as one of the moſt remarkable things, and moſt worthy to be fixed in my memory? 'Tis true, that when you were in a better condition you repented your ſelf of the good intention you had had, and though I urged you much upon it, you made as if you had forgotten what you had ſo well begun. But ſince that time, Madam, after you had received ſuch proofs of my love, as could not in reaſon permit you to be thus cloſe, and diſtruſtful of me, and then too when by your vertue you had reduced the King my Father to deſire, and requeſt ſo earneſtly himſelf of you, that which till then he had ſo much rejected, what juſt reaſon could you have to conceal from me the truth of your birth, and what could you fear upon this confeſſion in a place where you were adored by the perſons who had any power there? I was afraid of every thing, replyed Arſinoe, and beſides what I heard you ſay your ſelf every day, of the hatred you bare to the King of Armenia, which might make me apprehend ſome change in your affection (for as for any other ill uſage I was ſecure on your part by the knowledge I had of your vertue) my fears were redoubled by an accident which diſcovered the Kings thoughts to our family, more fully than I had underſtood them till then, and I will tell you, if you do not know it already, that about the time that you recovered of that ſickneſs which reconciled you to him, and he began to ſignifie by his diſcourſe that he would no longer oppoſe your intentions, he came one evening into the Princeſs your Siſters Chamber, who having been indiſpoſed that evening, had no body with her but my ſelf and two of her Maids, one of which read to her the Hiſtory of Dionyſius the Tyrant of Syracuſe, when the King entred into the Chamber, ſhe had newly heard read of the cruelty which the Syracuſians exerciſed againſt the Daughters of that Tyrant, making them die the moſt cruel death they could invent after they had expoſed them to all manner of ſhame and ignominy? The Princeſs who had her mind full of the Idea of that which had been read, could not forbear ſpeaking immediately to the King, with deteſtation and horror, concerning the cruelty of the Syracuſians, making imprecations againſt thoſe Barbarians who had uſed ſuch young, ſuch fair, and ſuch innocent Princeſſes with ſo much inhumanity. The King after he had patiently hearkned to her: This action was very cruel, ſaid he, but a juſt and violent reſentment may carry us to many things, and though I have not a natural inclination to cruelty, the outrage I received from the King of Armenia in the death of my Nephews, hath filled me with ſuch a grand reſentment againſt him, that I believe that if fortune ſhould put into my power any perſons of his family, of what Age or Sex ſoever they were, I ſhould uſe them as bad as poſſibly might be, to revenge my ſelf upon that cruel man. Theſe words filled the Princeſs, who heard them full of horror; but if they had obſerved my countenance in thoſe emotions, they would eaſily have perceived the ſtrange effect, which they produced upon my Spirit. All that night, nor for many days afterwards, I could not overcome the fear that this diſcourſe cauſed in my Spirit, and I conceited every moment that I was ready to be diſcovered, and expoſed by the Kings implacable hatred againſt our Family, to all manner of bad uſage; this was that which at laſt made me take a full reſolution to be gone out of Cilicia, and to wait for an opportunity to put it in execution in good earneſt.

Not long after it offered its ſelf of its own accord, when Tigranes being outed of his Dominions, came to Tharſus to beg ſuccour, and it was reſolved that You ſhould go at the head of an Army to reſtore him to his Kingdom. This is another paſſage, Philadelph, wherein I confeſs my weakneſs, as I obſerved it my ſelf in that tranſaction, I believed that nothing but Your abſence could give me courage enough to depart out of Your Country, and if You had ſtayed there ſtill, I know not whether I ſhould ever have been able to reſolve to leave You in that grief, whereinto, as I might judge by former probabilities, my departure would put You. Beſides, Philadelph, 'twas not without ſome diſpleaſure upon my own part, that I diſpoſed my ſelf to be gone from You, and You might have taken notice by divers marks that You were [Page] not indifferent to me. I judged then that I ought to take this time in Your abſence, to free my ſelf from all difficulties, and from all the impediments which Your affection, and all that was on my part, had laid in my way to hinder my departure, but believing that without ingratitude I could not part from You for ever, and make You loſe all the hopes which in regard of Your love and ſervice, You might with a great deal of reaſon have conceived, I deſired partly to exempt my ſelf from the reproach which You might lay upon me for it, and to comply with mine own inclination, which would not have permitted me without grief to part with You for ever, and upon this deſign, I thought it beſt (by ſome way or other, which might not retard the effect of my intention) to acquaint You with the truth of my name and birth, and the place whither I intended to retire; to the end, that if You perſevered in Your affection, after You knew who I was, and to whom You ought to addreſs Yourſelf, You might find out ſome means to come and ſee me, and obtain me for your Wife of the King my Brother, by thoſe wayes which are ordinarily uſed amongſt perſons of our Birth. And moreover I will tell you (and that will poſſibly make you excuſe in part the refuſal I made of the honour which the King Your Father preſented me) that though I might have been diſcovered in his Court without any danger, and though my inclinations had been more favourable to you, I ſhould never have conſented to the marriage which was propoſed to me, without putting my ſelf into the power of the King my Brother, and obtaining his conſent in my abſolute liberty, and not whilſt I was in the power of his Enemy. This likewiſe was one of the ſtrongeſt reaſons that made me haſten my departure for your ſake, thinking that this was the beſt way for me to be gone as ſoon as poſſibly I could to that place, in which only you could hope to find your ſatisfaction. Behold, Philadelph, the naked truth of my intentions. In order to the executions of them I meant to ſerve my ſelf with that Paper which I gave you, and and knowing the ſincerity of your love, I made no difficulty to truſt you with it, after you had promiſed not to open it without permiſſion. Seeing you have loſt it, I will tell you the contents of it, which were expreſſed almoſt in theſe words.

To Prince PHILADELPH.

I Am conſtrained at laſt to take that leave, which you have ſo long refuſed me, and to ſeek a retreat in our own Family, where with more conveniency than in yours I may receive the teſtimonies of your affection. Upon this deſign your abſence is favourable to me, ſeeing it ſecures me from the complaints and reproaches of a Prince, whom I could not leave in grief without reſenting a great deal of it my ſelf. 'Tis to the Court of the King of Armenia my Brother that I retire my ſelf, and if, after you know this, you have any love left for the Siſter of your Enemy, 'tis in that place you may ſeek for Delia, in the Perſon of Arſinoe, and there learn that my birth is not inferiour to yours. By this declaration I partly juſtifie what you condemned, and you will know without doubt that the Siſter of Artaxus had reaſon to keep her ſelf concealed in the King of Cilicia's Court, and that a Princeſs of Arſinoe's extraction was obliged to a greater circumſpection in the conduct of her life, than a mean and unknown Delia. You know the wayes you muſt uſe to acquire me, if you retain any deſire to do it, the enmity which is between our Families will not hinder Artaxus from conſidering the obligation I have to you, and the merit of your Perſon, if the King your Father deſires his alliance: I am obliged by decency and by vertue to ſubmit my ſelf to his will, but as far as they can permit my inclinations to act for you, I promiſe you that Arſinoe will be as favourable to you, as you can expect from the honour and the generous treatment you have ſhewed to Delia.

O Gods! O omnipotent Gods! cryed Philadelph, having heard out the words of Arſinoe's Letter, from how many pains and troubles, and ſorrows worſe than death might I have ſecured my ſelf, if I had been permitted to read theſe ſacred words wherein my deſtiny was contained! O my too regular obedience, and yet ſuch an obedience as I cannot repent of, how many tears haſt thou cauſed me, how many torments, and cruel traverſes haſt thou coſt me! Accuſe your negligence rather, replyed the Princeſs ſmiling, ſeeing by your negligence only in not preſerving of that which you ſay was ſo important to you, you expoſed your ſelf to all the diſpleaſures you have been ſenſible of: yet I will willingly pardon it upon the ſcore of the obligation I have to that regular obedience whereof you complain, and to give you ſome comfort upon that account, let me tell you that though you had read that Letter, the loſs of which hath ſo much afflicted you, you would have received no other ſatisfaction by it, but onely to have known that in the perſon of Delia you had loved the Daughter of a King, without knowing, for all that, the place of my retreat, which hitherto hath been quite contrary to my intention. I wrote the Letter in theſe terms, I gave it to you, and I exacted of you the promiſe which was neceſſary for my ſecurity, and I ſaw you depart, if I may be permitted to ſay ſo, with more regret than I expreſſed to you either by my countenance or diſcourſe: yet you [Page] obſerved by that, that I was not inſenſible of that ſeparation; and 'tis certain, though I may be blamed for this confeſſion, that you were not ſo indifferent to me, but that I felt the grief of it at the bottom of my heart: I endeavoured to diſſemble one part of it, and diſcovered the other, believing that I was ſo far obliged to you, that I might, without crime, give you theſe marks of my acknowledgment and affection. Nevertheleſs I would not quit your Country immediately after your departure, that I might receive news from you, which was very welcome to me, and that the Princeſs Andromeda might not judge by my ſudden going away, that your conſideration only detained me with her. During the ſtay I made there, I heard, with a great deal of joy, of the happy ſucceſs of your arms, and the particular relation of your gallant actions, in the glory whereof I intereſſed my ſelf, poſſibly a little more than I ſhould have done, and at laſt, when I judged that the affairs of that War were very forward, that you might ſhortly return into Cilicia, I reſolved upon my departure, to the end that if your return was more ſpeedy than was believed, you might not find me in a place where poſſibly your preſence and your Prayers would have ſtaid me ſtill, contrary to my intention. 'Twas the knowledge of my own weakneſs which made me haſten my Voyage, and I was very ſenſible of the trouble I had to reſiſt thoſe tears, and thoſe marks of grief and diſpair which had retained me ſo long in Cilicia.

I will not repeat particularly to you the difficulty I had to obtain leave to go of the Princeſs your Siſter: but truly you have this obligation to her amity, that out of the care ſhe had of your ſatisfaction, ſhe ſpared neither prayers, nor tears, nor any teſtimony of the moſt ardent affection, to ſtay me. I continued divers dayes before I could diſpoſe her to let me go, and beſides the diſpleaſure ſhe expreſſed at my departure upon her own conſideration, ſhe proteſted to me that I could not have that deſign, except I meant to take away your Life, and that I committed an action of ingratitude and inhumanity unworthy of my ſelf: I told her, but in vain, that the matter was not ſo bad as ſhe made it, and that in the Letter which I had given you, you would find wherewith to comfort your ſelf, and all the addreſs you could deſire towards an abſolute ſatisfaction and contentment, which doubtleſs would be more dear to him, than my continuance in Cilicia: She took all this diſcourſe for a put-off, and I believe I had never wrought her to conſent, if ſhe had not remembred the requeſt you made to the King, and to her, to uſe fair means only to retain me, and not to offer me any violence. This conſideration brought her at laſt to that which I deſired of her, when ſhe ſaw that my reſolution could not be altered, ſhe acquainted the King with it her ſelf, and prayed him, as I had requeſted her, to cauſe me to be ſafely conducted to one of the Cities under the obedience of the King of Armenia. I deſired no more for fear of declaring my ſelf too far, and I knew well enough, that when I diſcovered my ſelf in the King my Brothers Dominions, I ſhould find all manner of aſſiſtance and convoy to Artaxata.

The King himſelf, after the Princeſs had done, employed a great deal of care to ſtay me, and proteſted divers times to me that he was as deſirous now that I ſhould be his Daughter, as he had been averſe from it before. At laſt when he ſaw me reſolved upon my deſign, he offered me all I could deſire for my Voyage, and after he had conſidered whom he might truſt to conduct me, he gave the employment to Antigenes. This man at firſt I ſuſpected, becauſe he had formerly made love to me with a great deal of earneſtneſs, and with aſſurance to marry me by the Kings favour, who as you know, upheld him in that deſign, yet remembring how he had behaved himſelf towards me ſince the day you prohibited him to ſee me, the reſpect he expreſſed to me in all his actions, and all the Apologies he often made me for thoſe things which he was conſtrained to do in obedience to the Kings command, I believed he had abſolutely loſt that intention, which he only pretended for fear of incurring the Kings diſpleaſure, and I as eaſily imagined that he would acquit himſelf of his commiſſion with more affection than another, that by that means he might the better gain his Prince's favour. At laſt I diſpoſed my ſelf to depart under his conduct, after the King had aſſured me of his fidelity and diſcretion, and after I had taken my laſt leave of the Princeſs Andromeda with a great many tears upon both ſides, and received from the King all the teſtimonies of love and good will, I mounted with my Governeſs, and Melite into a Chariot which the King cauſed to be provided for us, and Antigenes accompanied us on horſeback, being attended by ſeven or eight Men in the ſame equipage.

The good uſage I received from the King your Father after your departure, the endeavours he uſed to retain me, and the belief I owe to the word of a King, and of a King, who is the Father of Philadelph, alwayes hindred me from ſuſpecting the Treaſon that was practiſed againſt me, which might proceed only from the villany of that Perſon which committed it, or if it was by any order, I never accuſed any body for it but the Queen your Step Mother, who hath alwayes born a great deal of reſentment againſt me, for being, though innocently, an hindrance to your marriage with the Princeſs Urania her Daughter. Howſoever it was, [Page] we departed from Tharſus, and travelled the firſt Stage the direct way to Armenia: but the next morning, without being perceived by me, by reaſon of the little knowledge I had of the ways, Antigenes made us take one quite contrary, and having no body with him but ſuch perſons as he abſolutely diſpoſed of, he followed his premeditated way, without being oppoſed by any body in his intention. All that day I miſtruſted nothing, marching under the faith of my Conductor, and not ſuſpecting any ſuch infidelity in a man in whom the King had repoſed ſo much confidence; but the next day I was amazed when I ſaw my ſelf upon the Sea ſide, and ſaw a Veſſel that waited for us, by Antigene's private order, into which he told me I muſt enter.

Though I was ſo ignorant of the Country, as not to perceive the firſt cheat they put upon me, yet I was not ſo ſimple, but that I knew well enough, that to go the direct way out of Cilicia into Armenia, there was no Sea to paſs, and I had ſeen in the Map, and had often heard that the way lay by Land, croſſing over Mount Taurus, and entring into Armenia the leſs. I preſently let Antigenes know as much, and refuſed to enter into his Veſſel, telling him I knew very well that was not the way to Armenia. Antigenes at firſt would have amuſed me with words, and have made me believe that I was miſtaken in my Map: but when he ſaw me ſtedfaſt in my opinion, and that he had no hope to get me into his Veſſel by his diſcourſe and perſwaſions, he took me under one arm and making one of his companions do ſo by the other, theſe two men carried me by force, and put me into the Veſſel, my words, my cries, and all the reſiſtance I could make, not being able to ſave me from it. They which followed did as much by my Governeſs and Melite, and they were not much troubled to do it, finding them fully reſolved to follow me into what part of the World ſo ever my ill Fortune ſhould conduct me. In concluſion, they ſtript the Chariot and the Horſes, and after they had hoiſed up their ſails, they commanded the Pilot to ſteer towards the Iſland of Cyprus, which as You know, is ſeparated from Cilicia, but by a little arm of the Sea.

You may judge very well, Philadelph, without my ſtriving to repreſent it to You, what my grief was upon the knowledge of this cruel Treaſon, and with what fears I was ſeized, ſeeing my ſelf in the power of a man, who had the confidence of committing this diſloyalty. I am not naturally apt to be over-paſſionate, and if I may ſay it of my ſelf, I patiently ſupport the aſſaults of my bad fortune; but in this unlucky adventure, by which I was become the prey of a Traytor, and of a Man who by this action made me ſufficiently judge him capable of any thing that might afflict me, I loſt my conſtancy and moderation, and looking upon perfidious Antigenes with eyes inflamed with indignation: Traitor, ſaid I to him, is it thus that thou acquitteſt thy ſelf of what thou oweſt to the fear of the Gods, to the command of thy King, the intereſt of thy Prince, and the honour of our Sex? are all the conſiderations of honour, fidelity, and vertue extinguiſhed in thy ſoul? or if they have no power to ſet the horror of thy crime before thy face, doſt thou not fear to be puniſhed for it by ſo many Enemies as thou raiſest againſt thy ſelf by thy infidelity? Madam, anſwered the diſloyal man, I hope to be pardoned by Gods and men, and your ſelf too, for the offence which you reproach me with, and the Gods will not be angry with me for it, ſeeing they themſelves have viſibly contributed to it. Do not judge, Madam, by the conſtraint which I laid upon my ſelf in reſpect to Philadelph, that the love, which formerly I expreſſed to you is either extinguiſhed or diminiſhed; it was never ſo ſtrong and ſo violent in my ſoul as now, as you may judge by this action, ſeeing it makes me to deſpiſe all that any other man might fear in relation to the anger of the King and Prince Philadelph, and abandon all things, to confine my ſelf with you in a place, where without any obſtacle, or diſturbance, I may give you teſtimonies of that love which you have ſo much diſdained. Fear not, Madam, nor afflict your ſelf, your deſtiny will not be bad with a man, who adores you, and you ought not to grieve for a Prince whoſe inclinations poſſibly are already changed, nor for a Crown which you never would have poſſeſſed, and which you quit your ſelf of by retiring into Armenia. To theſe words, the perfidious man added a great many others, to cauſe ſome moderation in my grief, but it was exaſperated the more by them, and throwing a look upon him that partly ſignified my intention; Do not think, ſaid I to him, do not think thou monſter of infidelity that thy baſe flattery can gain any thing upon my Spirit: thy perſon which before I did only diſdain, is now made as odious to me by thy treaſon, as the moſt deteſtable man in the world, and my moſt cruel Enemy. Do not hope that theſe thoughts may be changed, but only by the repenting of thy crime, and returning into the way by which thou promiſedſt thy King to conduct me into my own Country, and be well aſſured that whenſoever thou ſhalt add violence to thy flatteries, thou ſhalt ſee that I can ſo much deſpiſe death, that the face of it ſhall be much more ſupportable to me than thine.

Though Antigenes might partly have known my humor in the time I had ſtaid in Cilicia, and have obſerved a great deal of conſtancy in my reſolutions, yet he believed I might be changed in time, and being willing to let the heart of my firſt reſentments cool, he ceaſed from afflicting me any farther with his diſcourſe. 'Tis very certain, that in this encounter I [Page] had need of that little courage, and ſtrength of Spirit, which the Gods had beſtowed upon me, and had it not been for the reſignation I had to their will, I ſhould have died rather, than have any longer patiently endured the misfortune whereinto I was fallen. Ericlea and Melite though they were well acquainted with my humor, yet they did not ſo much truſt to it, but that they alwayes kept cloſe to me, to hinder me from attempting any thing againſt my own life. They did not ſee me any way go about it, but they had much ado to make me take any nouriſhment, and I rejected all as poyſon which my infamous Raviſher cauſed to be offered to me. In fine, they repreſented ſo many things to me, and did ſo plainly convince me that I ought to commit the conduct of my deſtiny to the Gods, and that I might ſtill hope for the ſuccour, after the example of divers perſons, who in as miſerable a condition as mine had received viſible aſſiſtances from them, that at their intreaty I took ſomething, after I had faſted almoſt two dayes.

We paſſed the Streight which ſeparates Cilicia from the Iſland of Cyprus, and being landed in that Iſland, Antigenes put us again into the Chariot, and with the ſame violence, as before, carried us whither he pleaſed. He choſe this retreat becauſe his Kindred were originally of this Iſland, and his brother dwelt there, to whoſe houſe it was his deſign to carry me, ſuppoſing that the news could never come to the King your Father, nor to you, and that being born of an obſcure and unknown family, there would be no body to enquire after me, or ever think upon me after I was gone out of Cilicia. Beſides, if you ſhould know the truth, he believed he was ſecure, being out of the Dominions under your obedience, and if he could conceal it, as he hoped he ſhould, by the diſtance of place, and the ſeparation by Sea, he had the conveniency to return to Tharſus, leaving me with his brother, where he thought me ſecure, and report to the King that he had executed his commiſſion.

In concluſion, whatſoever his thoughts were, or howſoever I could expreſs to him, that he ſhould never gain any thing upon my Spirit either by fair means or by violence, he carried me to his Brother's who was as bad as he, whoſe houſe was ſcituated upon the bank of the River Lapithus in a place very ſolitary, and proper for his intention. He was received there according to his expectation, and I was treated there as a perſon whom they deſired to pacifie with their careſſes.

You are willing, Philadelph, as I ſuppoſe, that I ſhould relate theſe paſſages, the moſt diſagreeable of my whole life, as ſuccinctly to you as I can poſſibly, and you will content your ſelf that I ſhould tell you, without deſcending to the particulars of all the diſcourſe I had with this perfidious man, that he forgot nothing which he thought was capable to perſwade me, and diſpoſe me to his intentions. He made a propoſition of marriage to me, as a great advantage for me, and would have made me believe that my condition ſhould be very happy with ſuch a man as he, who paſſionately loved me, and was Maſter of no mean fortune, that in time he ſhould make his peace with you, and the King your Father, and might recover all the poſſeſſions and dignities which he had in Cilicia, and which he forſook only for my ſake; but I rejected his propoſition with ſo much ſcorn, that he not being able to endure ſuch uſage, which (judging of my birth as he did) he imputed to an unjuſt pride, from fair means he fell to threatning, and made me fear all things from the violence of his paſſion, and the power he had over me. You muſt have a Kings ſon, ſaid he to me ſometimes in his choler, and you will look upon no body under a Crown, and ſuch a Prince as Philadelph. This ambitionis very laudable Delia, but you may be very certain that Philadelph dreams no more of you, and if the King his Father had had any care of it, he would not have committed you to the conduct of a man, whoſe love and intentions were known to him: He ſpake divers other words to perſwade me that the King your Father was not ignorant of what had befallen, and that you would make no account of it when you knew it: but beſides the little diſpoſition I had to ſuſpect either of you of that infidelity, I thought ſo ill of every thing that came out of ſuch a man's mouth, that I gave no credit at all to it.

Melite, when ſhe ſaw him tranſgreſs the bounds of reſpect, would have had me declare the truth of my condition to him, and I was often almoſt reſolved to do it, but I conſidered at laſt, that this knowledge in ſtead of making him reſpect me the more, would have rendred him the more bold to injure the Siſter of Artaxus, out of hope of being eaſily pardoned by the King of Cilicia, whoſe hatred was ſo cruel againſt our family; or poſſibly if he could not work me to his will, he would put me himſelf into the Kings hands, from whom I might expect the worſt that could be, if I were known to be the Siſter of Artaxus. He kept me in this manner above two moneths at his brothers houſe, who being as bad, or worſe than he, employed every day both prayers and threatnings to make me change my humour. But neither of them could prevail, and the wicked Antigenes after he had tryed both wayes in vain, at laſt ſlew out to the extremities of inſolency and villany, and let me know the perfidiouſneſs of his intentions in a buſineſs that threatned me with manifeſt danger, if the Gods had not ſuccoured me.

[Page] I am going now to relate to you, without any farther delay, the moſt diſagreeable paſſages of my ſtory. I was permitted to walk upon the bank of the river, which waſhes the foot of the houſe, and in a great wood which environed it on every ſide, but never without having with me, either Antigenes, or his brother named Thraſillus, or many times both of them with ſix or ſeven men at their heels.

One day, attended by this convoy, having followed the bank of the river, where the walk was very pleaſant, and being gone farther from Thraſillus's houſe than ever I had been before, drawing near to a little brook which there about ran into the river, being bordered on both ſides with a tuft of trees thicker than the reſt of the wood, upon our right hand, ſome paces diſtant from us, I heard, after divers ſighs and ſobs, the voice of a man, who by the violence of his grief was forced to complain in that ſolitary place before inſenſible witneſſes. At the firſt ſound that reached my ears, I ſtopt and lent attention, but not out of any emotion of curioſity which at that time had little room in my ſoul, Antigenes who followed me ſtaid as well as I, and we had not long continued attentive, but we diſtinctly heard the complaints of that afflicted perſon. ‘To what intent, ſaid this diſconſolate man, to what intent, wretch as thou art, doſt thou ſpin out the remainder of thy unfortunate life in an extremity of miſery, when thou ſeeſt thy ſelf abandoned by all hope? what motive can any longer make thee endure this deplorable life which hath been divided between glory and misfortunes, and what effect at laſt doſt thou expect from thy grief to execute that, which thine own hand ſhould have performed? Doſt thou believe that by that courage which hath acquired thee ſome reputation amongſt men thou oughteſt to ſupport with conſtancy, or rather with inſenſibility evils worſe than the moſt cruel deaths, from which one death only might have ſecured thee? The Sun doth now unwillingly lend thee his light, and after the perfidiouſneſs and ingratitude of men, whereby thou ſendeſt thy ſelf expoſed to ſo many miſeries, all things are contrary to thee, all things are enemies to thee; there is no more day, there is no more light for thee amongſt men, and if that which made thee love the day, be yet alive, it is no more for thee, poor wretch, it is no more for thee, the out-caſt of men and fortune.’ He ſtopt a while after theſe words, and it ſeemed to me that this tone of voice was not an abſolute ſtranger to me, although I could not well diſcern it. I turned my ſelf towards Melite to communicate to her what I thought of it, but I was diverted from it by the ſequel of his complaint, which he continued in this manner: ‘O the obſcureſt night! O the moſt gloomy darkneſs, how dear and agreeable are ye to me in compariſon of this importunate Sun, which poſſibly gives light to day to the Fortune of my enemies! All the rayes it darts upon me are ſo many witneſſes of my misfortunes, and by its light henceforth I can behold nothing, whereupon to fix my ſight without repugnance, ſince that for ever, alas! for ever I have loſt the ſight of my adorable Princeſs. Ah! my grief, ah! my juſt reſentment, is it poſſible that upon ſo ſad a remembrance you can leave my ſoul in ſo great tranquility? Can you content your ſelves with a few regrets, and a few tears, which teſtifie my weakneſs as much as my affliction, when you ought to have made your ſelves known to all Aſia by Tragical and dreadful marks, and by rivers of blood which ſhould rerepair ſuch bloody injuries. Ah! without doubt my hand will ſerve me ſtill upon that deſign, and that valour which hath acquired me ſome reputation amongſt men, will arm thouſands of them ſtill in my quarrel, if I would wear this ſword amongſt them to which heretofore they have attributed the gaining of battels: but alas! I have my hands tyed by a reſpect which I ought to preſerve to my grave; and my adorable Princeſs is ſo much the more worthy of it, as ſhe is innocent of my misfortunes, and hath ſympathized in them by her pity; neither can I accuſe any body of them, but the cruelty of men, and my own ill fortune.’ The ſad Unknown accompanied theſe laſt words with a throng of ſighs, which ſtopped the paſſage of them; and ſighs and ſobs were the only language in which his grief did conclude its expreſſions, not a word more proceeding from his mouth that we could underſtand.

Some moments after, having heard, as I believed, ſome noiſe in the place where we were, and I avoiding nothing ſo much as company, he aroſe from the place where he was to look out one more private, and permitted us to ſee, as he retired between the trees, the handſome proportion of his body, and part of his face. By that which appeared to our eyes, we knew that he was extreamly pale and wan, and I perceived very well that his grief might be taken notice of by other marks beſides his complaints. My heart was tenderly moved at thoſe which I had heard, and though it ſeemed to me, as I told You before, that the voice (though a little changed with weakneſs) was not an abſolute ſtranger to me, I conjectured by the words which I had heard, which ſpake of Princeſſes and the gaining of battels, that he which uttered them was no common perſon. I muſed upon it being very penſive, as much as the remembrance of mine own miſery could permit me, when Antigenes who had heard all as well as I: This man, ſaid he, whoſoever he is, eaſes his grief by his complaints, whilſt [Page] another man more wiſe than he would have been ſeeking remedies for it. 'Tis, replyed I ſmartly, becauſe he is not a Villain, becauſe he is not a Raviſher, and becauſe he rather chooſes to be miſerable all his life, than to owe the end of his miſery to his crimes. You ſee how well he fares for it, anſwered Antigenes, and how happy his condition is, for having been ſo reſpectful and circumſpect. 'Tis more happy than Yours, ſaid I, being much netled and much concerned in this diſcourſe, and beſides that, he poſſibly hath the comfort of being beloved by a Perſon whom he ſerves with reſpect, as much as You are hated and deteſted by her whom You uſe ſo baſely, he hath the ſatisfaction of not being troubled with any remorſe, whilſt Your conſcience may well torment You worſe than the moſt cruel death.

I ſaw that Antigenes grew pale at theſe words, and was like one amazed, he changed his colour divers times in a moment, he trembled from head to foot, and he ſeemed to me in the condition of a perſon that meditated upon ſome grand deſign. I confeſs that the changing of his viſage, and his troubled countenance made me afraid, and ſeeing him in ſuch a form as he had never appeared in to me before, I began to tremble my ſelf out of an apprehenſion of fear which promiſed me no good. I was not fearful without reaſon; for the diſloyal Villain approaching to me with a furious look: If I am ſo much hated, and ſo much deteſted by You, ſaid he, I muſt merit this hatred and deteſtation by ſuch actions, as may ſecure You from the blame which You would have for hating me unjuſtly, and if I muſt be expoſed to remorſe, it ſhould be for a crime which may yield me ſome profit, and not for thoſe reſpects and adorations, which hitherto I have ſo unprofitably rendred You; my patience is ſtretched to its uttermoſt dimenſions, and I will know this day, whether a heart which is invincible by love and pity can be tamed by any other ways.

Upon theſe word [...] I know not whether his action was premeditated or not, as in probability it was, or whether the occaſion prompted him to the deſign) having made a ſign to his Brother, and another of thoſe which followed him, they came at the ſame time to pull Ericlea and Melite from off my arms, who held by me on both ſides, and Antigenes putting himſelf in Ericlea's place, began to lead me by force, towards the moſt private part of the Wood, whilſt his Brother, and one of his Men held my two Women by violence.

This action made me deſperately afraid, and believing that in ſuch an extremity a diſguiſe was no longer neceſſary: Antigenes, ſaid I, think of what thou goeſt about, and look no more upon me as an Unknown Delia, but as the Daughter of a great King, and as a Princeſs who in what part ſoever of the world thou ſhalt retire to, will make the vengeance of thy crime light heavy upon thy head.

I believe that Antigenes gave no credit to theſe words, which he thought I was inſpired with by the preſſing neceſſity wherein I was, to draw him off from his deſign by the reſpect which they might imprint in him. Howſoever it was, he did not ſeem to be moved at them, and not vouchſafing ſo much as to give me a reply, and continued dragging me with all his force towards the moſt ſolitary part of the wood. In this extremity I made the wood to Eccho with my cryes, and my Women, whom they hindred from coming to my aſſiſtance, were as loud as I: Their cryes and mine without doubt did us more good, than our reſiſtance could have done, and they drew a man to us, who was retired into that thick and ſolitary place, whom we preſently knew to be the ſame, whoſe complaint we had heard a little before: He came out from between the trees where he ſought for ſilence and obſcurity, and caſting his eyes upon us, he preſently ſaw the cauſe of our cryes, and the violence they offered to us, and his grief not being capable to extinguiſh generous reſentments in his ſoul, and the remembrance of the ſuccour that was due to oppreſſed Maids, he ran to us with more ſpeed than could have been expected from the languiſhing and dejected condition wherein he appeared to us. Antigenes ſeeing him come, and fearing the hindrance of his deſign more than any other harm he could do him, being accompanied as he was, called his brother, who leaving my women in the hands of two of his men, came to Antigenes with the reſt. This number did not trouble the Unknown, but addreſſing himſelf to Antigenes without ſo much as looking upon the reſt, Baſe fellow, ſaid he, with an impetuous voice, ſtay, and do not oblige me to give thee thy death for a puniſhment of thy crime. Antigenes ſeeing himſelf fortified by the number of his companions mocked at the pride of the Unknown, and not vouchſafing to forbear from his deſign for him, he made a ſign to his brother either to ſtay him or puniſh him: but he had to do with a man who was not eaſily corrected in that manner, and though he had no more then Antigenes and his companions had, only his ſword, without any other arms, he preſently preſented it to the eyes of his enemies, and fell upon them with as much aſſurance as if he had been backed by a greater number than theirs. O Gods! Philadelph, what proofs of valour did he give us in a few moments, and what ſpeedy execution did he make before our eyes, of five or ſix men, who ſeemed as nothing in his ſingle hands. The firſt that fell under his [Page] ſword was the brother of Antigenes, whoſe right arm he cut off at one blow, and made a large paſſage in his ſide, through which his ſoul bare his blood company: and almoſt at the ſame time, having avoided a blow which another enemy made at him, he thruſt his bloody ſword into his body up to the hilts. I could ſee that action, and thoſe he did afterwards, becauſe perfidious Antigenes no ſooner ſaw his brother fall, but leaving me with a cry, he ran either to revenge his death or to bear him company. Theſe two which were left to guard my women ran to Antigenes at his cry, and theſe three enemies fell upon the valiant Unknown, juſt as he had cloven the head and half the face of the laſt of the others with a back blow. He cared as little for theſe as he had done for the former, and picking out Antigenes between his two companions, he gave him a mortal wound into the throat, with which he fell at his feet, and preſently after was choaked with his blood and dyed. My valiant defender received at the ſame time a ſlight wound upon his ſide, which did but encourage him the more, and haſtened the death of him who gave it; for as he was juſt turning his back to run away, he thruſt his ſword into his reins, and laid him dead cloſe by Antigenes. The laſt ſeeing ſo bloody an execution, had not confidence any longer to reſiſt ſo terrible an enemy, and committing his ſafety to the nimbleneſs of his heels, he ran croſs the wood in a deadly fright.

I cannot tell you whether was greater in me, the aſtoniſhment at ſo prodigious a valour, or the joy of ſeeing my ſelf delivered from the hands of my treacherous raviſher, or the horror of being amongſt ſo many dead men, who had loſt their lives upon my occaſion. I was ſo amazed, and ſo troubled, that I had not ſo much as power to return thanks to my valiant deliverer, and I continued in a confuſion not knowing how to begin to ſpeak to him, when he approaching to me with his bloody ſword in his hand, and with a colour which the heat of the combat had raiſed in his face: Your enemies are dead, Madam, ſaid he, and if there remains any thing to do for your ſervice, I have ſtrength enough ſtill to free you out of a greater danger. He ſpake no more, becauſe aſtoniſhment cut off the thread of his diſcourſe, and he had no ſooner caſt eyes a little nearer upon my face, but he was full of amazement, and confuſion: My ſurprize was no leſs than his, when having looked upon him with attention, and diſcerned the tone of his voice, manger the change which three or four years, and an extraordinary paleneſs might have wrought upon his countenance, I thought I knew him for that brave and valiant Britomarus, of whom I made ſome ſmall mention to you in my diſcourſe, who by his miraculous actions of valour in a few months attained to the higheſt martial employments in the ſervice of the King my brother, and quitted it out of a generous reſentment againſt the cruelty, which cauſed the King your Father's hatred againſt our family; the very ſame, who being puffed up with the glory of his gallant actions, had the boldneſs to raiſe his eyes to me; and the ſame, whom, as I told you, I repulſed with choler, and diſdain, only for the meanneſs of his birth, not finding any thing elſe in his perſon which might not make him aſpire to the higheſt fortunes.

‘I have heard much talk of Britomarus, ſaid Prince Philadelph, upon this paſſage of the Princeſſes relation, and beſides the eſteem which the ſame of his great actions hath given me for him, the obligation I have to him for this laſt, adds to it an acknowledgement and an affection which will render him dear and conſiderable to me as long as I live: but why muſt it needs fall out that the puniſhment of the perfidious Antigenes ſhould be reſerved for any other hand than mine? and how could it be juſt that any other but Philadelph ſhould free his Princeſs from the danger whereinto ſhe was fallen by the imprudence of the King my Father? It was not neceſſary, replyed Arſinoe, that you ſhould add that obligation to ſo many others for which I am reduable to you, and I had received ſufficient proofs of your affection, without having need of this laſt, which without doubt your vertue only would have prompted you to, upon the ſcore of an unknown perſon reduced to the ſame extremity.’

I doubted ſtill that my eyes did abuſe me in the knowledge of Britomarus; but he cleared my doubts in deſiring to ſatisfie his own, and after he had looked upon me a long time with an attention that ſignified the ſurprize of his Spirit: O Gods! cryed he upon a ſudden, can it be poſſible that you ſhould be the Princeſs Arſinoe? I am Arſinoe, anſwered I, but is it true that you are Britomarus? Yes, Madam, replyed he, I am Britomarus, and Britomarus much more happy than he durſt hope to be in the deplorable condition whereunto he is now reduced, ſince he is permitted to ſee a Princeſs living, whoſe death is publiſhed all over Aſia, and ſince he hath had the fortune to render you a ſervice which may partly repair the offence by which I formerly merited your indignation.

Theſe word [...]s recalling what was paſt to my remembrance, made a bluſh mount up into my face, but did not hinder me from returning him an anſwer in theſe terms: ‘The offence you did me might be repaired by repentance and diſcontinuation, and the ſervice which [Page] you have rendred me is of ſuch a value, that it may not only repair ſuch an injury, but command all the acknowledgement that is due to the generous defender of my life and honour.’

I ſpake theſe words with a real reſentment, as without doubt was due to the importance of ſo great a ſervice, and yet I was not without ſome diſpleaſure to ſee my ſelf fallen again into the hands of a man that had made love to me, and though by the knowledge which I had of his vertue, I thought my ſelf ſecure from thoſe violences and dangers which I had lately eſcaped, I was affraid of the company of a man, whom I could not look upon with a particular affection, without being ungrateful to Philadelph's love, and betraying my own courage, which made me formerly ſo much diſdain his preſumption: I believed too, as we are apt to flatter our ſelves, in the good opinion we have of our ſelves, that I might have partly cauſed, either by my diſdain, or by the report of my death, his ſadneſs and ſolitude, and I did not make a ſudden reflection upon the words, which I had heard him ſpeak a few moments before, which might partly have freed me from that ſuſpition.

I know not whether my countenance did any way expreſs the thought wherewith my Spirit was at that time diſquieted, or whether Britomarus obſerved any thing by it; but howſoever it was, he ſpake to me as if he had ſeen my very heart, and reſuming the diſcourſe after he had been a while ſilent: ‘If the diſcontinuation of my fault, ſaid he, may make me hope for pardon, I hope, Madam, that you will look upon me without anger, and though ſuch impreſſions as are received from ſuch divine powers as yours can hardly be araſed out of a ſoul, yet 'tis certain that mine hath repented of its boldneſs and the fear of your diſpleaſure, and other adventures wherein my life hath been ſince employed, have wrought that change upon me, that I need not to be any longer odious to you. Do not make any difficulty then to receive thoſe ſervices of me which I am able to render you, and which may be neceſſary to you in the condition wherein I meet you, and be fully aſſured, that during the time that I ſhall be obliged to bear you company, either to compleat your delivery from your Enemies power, if you have any yet left, or to re-conduct you to the place whither you deſigned to retire, you ſhall ſee nothing in my actions that may importune you, or at leaſt make you fear the return of that paſſion which you juſtly condemned.’

Theſe words of Britomarus made me very joyful, and having a good opinion of him, as all thoſe had who were acquainted with his vertue, I preſently gave abſolute credit to them, and made no difficulty to commit my ſelf to his diſcretion in the urgent neceſſity wherein I was at that preſent; but ſpeaking to him with a more aſſured countenance than before; ‘I ſhall never doubt, ſaid I to him, but that vertue will be your guide in all your actions, and you are ſo habituated in the practiſe of it, that I ſhould be much too blame if I ſhould be affraid to find any thing troubleſome or diſagreeable in you: The change you have received in that paſſion, which I condemned out of a natural repugnance I had againſt it, rather than out of any diſdain of your perſon, adds a new obligation to the ſervice which you have rendred me, and in this condition you may believe that I ſhall eſteem and reſpect you as long as I live, as the merit of your perſon, and the importance of the aſſiſtance I have received from you do oblige me: I do not refuſe the generous offers which you make me, and though I have ſuffered much for having committed my ſelf to the conduct of men, I will not be affraid to truſt my ſelf with you, becauſe of the knowledge I have of you.’

After theſe words, which he received with a great deal of reſpect, he asked me what my intention was, and I having told him that I would return no more to my Enemies houſe, where I had been a long time captive, and in the danger out of which he had reſcued me by his valour: he told me that he was lodged but a few furlongs from that place, at a friends houſe who was a native of that Country, where he had been ſtaid by a ſickneſs which detained him there ſome days, and that if it pleaſed me to take my retreat there, I ſhould be ſecured from all manner of Enemies to the laſt drop of his blood, and in the mean time he would give order to accommodate us with a veſſel, and other neceſſaries to conduct me into Armenia, or any other part of the world whither it ſhould pleaſe me to retire. I thanked him very much for his good intentions, and did not refuſe the effects of them, making the extremity whereunto I was reduc'd, my excuſe for the incivility which I was conſtrained to commit, in ſuffering him to quit his own intereſts for mine, and to interrupt the deſigns he might have to protect me in Cyprus, and to conduct me into Armenia.

After I had deſired his pardon, I made no difficulty to follow him; but permitted him to lead me to the houſe where he had taken up his abode. It was diſtant from that place about a quarter of an hours walk for ſoftly goers, and Britomarus ſeeking after nothing ſo much as ſolitude, avoyded the company of his ſervants, and all perſons that might interrupt him in the entertainment of his ſad thoughts. We found there ſome number of his domeſticks, who durſt not follow their Maſter in the walks, though they would not part from him in his voyages, [Page] what change of fortune ſoever might befall him. Though the houſe was not very great, yet I had a very convenient lodging there for my ſelf and my women, and I was ſerved with all the reſpect that I could deſire of ſo vertuous a man as Britomarus. The Maſter of the houſe (who was one of the Officers) had the care of procuring from the next Town all things that were neceſſary for us for the ſtay we were to make in that houſe, and another of his ſervants went the ſecond day after, to go ſeek and ſtay a Veſſel at the next port upon the way to Armenia.

In the time of our tarrying there, I received from Britomarus, as much as his ſadneſs would permit him, all the conſolation he could give me in my diſpleaſure, and I did all that poſſibly I could upon my part to mitigate the mortal grief that appeared in all his actions: but in that I laboured in vain, and though he conſtrained himſelf very much to make his company ſupportable to me, I think that during all the time of our continuance together, I did not ſee him laugh ſo much as once, or any way expreſs to me that his affliction had been eaſed for ſo much as a moment. His ſighs made continual ſallies out of his breaſt, accompanied with ſobs, and ſometimes with ſome complaints, which with all his moderation he could not refrain, and at thoſe hours when he did not think himſelf obliged to keep me company, he went abroad in the morning to ſeek for ſolitude in thoſe places which were leaſt frequented by the ſociety of men. He kept his promiſe very exactly with me which he had made not to give me any mark of the return of his former paſſion either by his diſcourſe or actions, and inſtead of making me fear any ſuch thing, he made me judge with a great deal of probability, that paſſion had given place to a ſecond, wherewith his Spirit was at that time diſquieted, and which in my thoughts, made up the greateſt part of his diſpleaſures and inquietudes. As I ſaw no deſign in him to diſcover himſelf any farther to me, ſo I did not deſire to preſs him to it, and I expected that only from his own will, which I could not ask him without indiſcretion; yet one day having expreſſed a little more curioſity than ordinary, yet not ſo much as to make him judge that I deſired to know more of him than he was willing I ſhould, forcing ſome ſighs which commonly brake off the thread of his diſcourſe, and hardly retaining ſome tears which were ready to overflow his eyes; Madam, ſaid he, if there were any thing of divertiſement in my life, I would have given you a relation of it, to paſs away the tediouſneſs of your ſolitude: but of all that I have to tell you there is nothing worthy of your attention. I will only tell you, that Fortune hath diverſely ſported her ſelf with my deſtiny; ſhe hath given me in all places, where I have worn a ſword, all the glory and reputation that I could deſire amongſt men; by a little valour which ſhe hath well ſeconded, ſhe hath ſometimes put me into a condition that the moſt conſiderable Kings Daughters in the world would have endured the declaration and progreſs of my love, without being offended at it, and ſhe hath ſometimes puffed me up with ſuch a pride, that I could hardly look upon the moſt puiſſant Kings upon earth as my ſuperiors; but if ſhe hath ſerved me in my glory ſhe hath abandoned me in the repoſe of my life, and hath left me nothing of all the good I received from her or my ſelf, but the regret of having loſt all, and the cruel remembrance of thoſe fair hopes which poſſibly I had unjuſtly conceived. Since this hard change, or rather ſince this deplorable fall, I wander like a Ghoſt amongſt men, finding nothing amongſt them but ingratitude and infidelity, and I ſpin out a languiſhing life by an abſolute command which hath not permitted me to diſpoſe of my deſtiny, as without doubt I ſhould have done, if an obedience; which ought to continue as long as my life had left me at liberty.

Britomarus ſpake in this manner, and I perceived that he was not willing that I ſhould know any more, ſo that I expreſſed no deſire that way, I only let him know that I ſympathized with him in his diſpleaſures, and I did all that poſſibly I could, by ſuch reaſons and examples as I alledged to him, to make him hope for ſome happy change in his condition. I was not ſo reſerved towards him as he was to me, but the ſecond day I ſpent in his company, I told him plainly all that had befallen me ſince his departure from Armenia, believing my ſelf obliged to put that confidence in a man to whom I was ſo much reduable, and not ſeeing (after the change of his affections) any reaſon which engaged me not to acquaint him with the truth. I may truly ſay, that by the relation which I made to him of your generous and ſincere carriage towards me, I rendred him very affectionate to you, and he often teſtified to me by his diſcourſe, that he ſhould be much ſatisfied in the opportunities of ſerving a Prince, whoſe vertue he infinitely eſteemed upon my narration.

In the mean time, I know not, Philadelph, whether I am obliged to tell you what place you poſſeſſed at that time in my memory, and whether modeſty will permit me to confeſs that my thoughts were daily upon you, as a perſon whoſe Idea did pleaſingly flatter me, and as a Prince, whom without ingratitude I could not forget. 'Tis certain Philadelph, and I will tell you as much without any fear that you ſhould abuſe it, or make any ill conſtruction [Page] of it, that during the time I continued captive with Antigenes, and at liberty with Britomarus, you came oftener into my mind than poſſibly you ſhould have done, and when I complained of my misfortunes, I complained of them more upon your conſideration than upon mine own. I will ſpeak no more of this Philadelph, and without doubt I have ſpoken enough to make you judge that I have wanted neither acknowledgement, nor inclination for you.

Our ſtay at that houſe was longer than we expected, and though the man whom Britomarus had ſent to make ſtay of a veſſel, executed his commiſſion with a great deal of diligence, yet we were fain to wait till the wind, which was then quite contrary to our intended courſe, became favourable to our navigation; and in the mean while, by a misfortune which made me ſhed a great many tears, and which I ſtill do oftentimes deplore, my Governeſs Ericlea, whom you ſaw paſs for my Aunt in Cilicia, and to whom I had dear and tender obligations, as well for the care ſhe had beſtowed upon my education, as for her readineſs to comfort me in my afflictions with a great deal of conſtancy and firmneſs of courage, fell ſick, and dyed within fifteen days. I was very nearly ſenſible of this loſs, as well for the reaſons which I have alledged to you, as in reſpect of our friendſhip which was much more ſtrongly eſtabliſhed in my Spirit by our voyages, and common croſſes, than if we had never ſtirred out of Armenia; but after I had beſtowed ſome days in deploring her death, the acquaintance which I had long ſince contracted with grief, did a little mitigate it, and made me accuſtom my ſelf to this diſpleaſure, as I had inured my ſelf to ſo many other afflictions, that my ill fortune had raiſed me.

After we had rendred her our laſt devoirs, and furniſhed our ſelves with all things neceſſary for our voyage, as well by Sea as by Land, we departed from that houſe under the conduct of Britomarus, attended by fifteen or twenty men which continued ſtill in his ſervice, and we went down the River Lapitbus in boats, which carried us to Cemunia, where the River diſembogues it ſelf into the Sea, and there we embarked the ſame day in the veſſel which waited for us.

Our ſtreighteſt way to go into Armenia, was to return to Tharſus, and to croſs all Cilicia, and this way we had only an arm of the Sea to paſs over: but I deſired to avoid all occaſions of being ſeen again in the King your Fathers Court, whither you might have been returned, and where I might have been ſtayed by ſome accident; and becauſe we could not avoid paſſing through a corner of Cilicia, Britomarus, who was well acquainted with the Map, was of opinion that we ſhould coaſt between that Kingdom and the Iſland which we left, and go land at the foot of the mountain Amanus, hard by the place called the Streights of Amanus, by this means our voyage by Sea would be much longer, but our journey by land much ſhortened.

I abſolutely committed my ſelf to the good conduct of Britomarus, and having ſo much confidence in his vertue, I hardly enquired what his intention was. He had a reſentment againſt the King my Brother, for the diſpleaſure he had done him by the death of your two Kinſmen, which would not permit him to go to his Court, and conduct me to Artaxata, but he promiſed me to bring me as near the City as I pleaſed, and it was ſufficient for me to be conducted to the firſt place upon the frontiers, where I believed I ſhould find a convenient convoy, and all things neceſſary for the performance of my voyage: But the Gods diſpoſed things otherwiſe than we had propoſed, and ſailing with a favourable wind, we had hardly loſt the ſight of the Iſle of Cyprus, when we met with a Veſſel of Pirats, which having ſailed cloſe up to us with all the ſigns of peace, and paſſed by us to view us without diſcovering themſelves, they had no ſooner obſerved the ſmall number of our men, but truſting in their own, which was a great deal bigger, they turned their prove towards us, and after they had cryed out to us to yeild, they fell upon us with a deal of fury.

Britomarus clapt on his armour in a moment, and encouraging his men with a few words, he put himſelf in the head of them with his ſword in his hand, and finding himſelf more fit for this kind of combat, than for that with arrows which the Pirats ſhot at our men, he gave them leave to grapple our Veſſel, and preſented himſelf the firſt upon the deck to the Enemies that would enter.

You may judge, Philadelph, in what a fright I was at that time, and though I had a very great confidence in the valour of my Defender, the great number of our enemies froze me with fear, and made me, not without reaſon, to tremble in thinking what might be the ſucceſs of ſo unequal a combat, yet I was aſhamed to go and hide my ſelf, and though thoſe enemies which could not come to handy blows, ſhot arrows at us, with which I might have been hurt, yet I did not go down into the Hold as Melite adviſed me, but ſtood a little out of the way, where I might ſee a good part of what paſſed, and there according as neceſſity preſented it ſelf to my ſight, I made vows to Heaven with a great deal of fervency.

[Page] You will nor credit my diſcourſe Philadelph, when I ſhall relate to you the prodigious effects of Britomarus's valour, but it's certain for all that, that I ſhall add nothing to the truth, when I ſhall tell you that a batalion of armed men upon the deck could not have done greater ſervice, nor made greater reſiſtance than he did with his ſingle hand, and the few men he had with him, being ranked on each ſide of him, and animated by his example, did things infinitely above their ordinary ſtrengths. The firſt that were ſo bold as to board our veſſel were tumbled back dead either into their own or into the Sea by the hand of Britomarus, and in a few moments he was ſo covered with the blood of the moſt adventurous, that the reſt were as much affraid of his approach as of lightning and thunder-bolts, and aſſaulted him with the more precaution. The ſucceſs of the combat was ſtill doubtful, and if the valour of Britomarus gave ſome hope of the victory, the number of our enemies which exceeded our men by one half, made us partly deſpair of it, and in all likelyhood there was as much cauſe to fear as to hope, when amongſt the Slaves which were in the Pirates Veſſel, one above all the reſt who had both his legs and arms laden with Irons, turning himſelf towards ſome of his companions, whilſt the laſt of the Pirates, ſeeing that all their forces were but neceſſary, were run to the combat: Friends, ſaid he, what hinders us from attempting to regain our liberty, free me from theſe Irons which ſhackle me, and you ſhall ſee how I open you the way to it: He had hardly uttered theſe words, but two Slaves who owed him a more partilar reſpect than the others, preſently took his Irons in hand, and by the help of their companions having freed him of them with ſome pains, he inſtantly clapt a ſhield upon his arm, which he found at his feet, and ſnatching, with as much ſwiftneſs as an Eagle, the ſword out of the firſt Pirat's hand that came in his way, he laid two of them dead at his feet with the two firſt blows he gave amongſt them, and throwing himſelf amongſt the reſt with a marvellous fury, he preſently filled them with terror, diſorder, and confuſion. Only three or four men followed them in this encounter, and the reſt being uncertain of the iſſue, expected it with a great deal of fear, not daring to declare themſelves. Britomarus having perceived this aſſiſtance by the tumult which he ſaw, and the cryes which he heard amongſt the Pirates, reſolutely leapt into their Veſſel, and laying the firſt he met at his feet, he flew amongſt the others like a Lion; he was couragiouſly ſeconded by his men, and to abridge the diſcourſe of a thing wherein I have no skill, after the general fright had ſeized upon the Pirates they made no conſiderable reſiſtance.

In this condition the Slaves who durſt not expoſe themſelves to danger a few moments before, killed a good part of them, and a ſmall number of the reſt were ſaved by the pity of Britomarus, and that valiant Slave which had ſo great a ſhare in the victory. Britomarus and he did mutually admire each other, and if the Slave ſaw Britomarus kill the Commanders of the Pirates with his own hand, and lay more of them upon the ground than all that followed him, Britomarus ſaw the Slaves, though without any arms more than a Sword and a Shield, give almoſt as many deaths as blows, and hew the bodies of the Pirates with ſuch wounds as could not proceed but from a prodigious force.

After that their hands had no more employment to exerciſe themſelves about that was conformable to their generoſity, and they had cried to one another to pardon thoſe who made not reſiſtance, they advanced reciprocally one towards the other, and by their looks prevented the teſtimonies of mutual eſteem which they deſired to give each other. Britomarus lifted up the Bever of his Helmet, but the valiant Slave had his face bare, and Britomarus had no ſooner caſt his eyes upon him, but with an admirable beauty he diſcerned ſome features which were not unknown to him. Amazement immediately ſurprized him in ſuch a manner that he continued dumb ſome moments; but a little after, having veiwed his face with a little more attention: Gods! cryed he, do not I ſee Prince Ariobarzanes? for it was he indeed. By this tone of voice perfectly knowing Britomarus, whom his countenance and valour had almoſt diſcovered: Yes, anſwered he, running to him with his arms open, I am Ariobarzanes, and having ſeen the miracles you have done upon this occaſion, I make no more doubt but that you are Britomarus. After theſe words they embraced each other with expreſſions full of affection, and all the ſatisfaction they were capable of receiving one from another in the condition of their fortune; but Britomarus was the moſt amazed of the two, to ſee before him a Prince whom he thought to be dead, both according to the publick report, and the particular account I had given him of our ſhip-wrack. He began to expreſs his aſtoniſhment to him, and my brother was about to give a true relation of what had paſſed when the name of Ariobarzanes was carried from mouth to mouth to the place where I was, and hearing them ſay divers times the Prince Ariobarzanes was in the pirats Veſſel, I was ſo tranſported at it, that running amongſt the dead bodies without fear, and throwing my ſelf into the Veſſel, which was grappled to ours, I went to ſeek in the middle of the throng for that brother whom I had ſo much lamented, and who had always been dearer to me [Page] than my life. I found him, I ſaw him, I knew him; and he was not a little amazed when he felt me hanging about his neck, and heard me uſe all the expreſſions that ſo unexpected a joy could put into my mouth. I gave him no leiſure a long time to inform himſelf, and to ſatisfie his eyes in thoſe doubts, which his ears had raiſed upon my interrupted diſcourſes.

It would be very hard, Philadelph, to repeat to you our diſcourſes full of tranſport and confuſion, and to repreſent to you the amazement we were both in at ſo unexpected an encounter, it wouuld be ſufficient to make you comprehend it, if you had known with what friendſhip we had been always linked together, and had well underſtood what grief we endured whilſt we thought each other dead. We could not for a long time give credit to our eyes or ears, and a whole hour being ſpent in exclamations and incoherent queſtions, could hardly make us believe our happineſs. At laſt when we had reſolved our ſelves that we were alive indeed without illuſion, amazement ſurrendred its place to joy, and we ſolemnized it by all the marks that could be expreſſed in ſo uncommon an adventure. Ha! brother, ſaid I, how can I contain the joy which I have to ſee you living after I had ſhed ſo many tears for your ſuppoſed death? Ha! ſiſter, ſaid he, what other comfort could I receive in my afflictions, but to meet ſo dear a ſiſter, whom the Gods beſtow a new upon me, after that, in my opinion, they had taken her out of the World? The opinion of your loſs, replyed I, made me out of love with life: And the meeting with you, added he, interrupting me, makes me endure it with pleaſure, at a time when my misfortune makes me ſupport it with regret.

We ſpent a great deal of time in this manner of converſation, but Ariobarzanes brake it off at laſt, to render due thanks to Britomarus for his liberty, to inform himſelf by what fortune I was in his company, and to be ſatisfied in a great many particulars of this adventure which cauſed his aſtoniſhment. Before I acquainted him with other things, as I pretended to do at large, I told him in a few words the obligation I had to Britomarus, and the adventure that obliged me to put my ſelf under his conduct, and having let him know by this diſcourſe how reduable we were both to him, I filled him with reſentment for that valiant man to whom we owed our honour, life and liberry. Ha! generous Britomarus, ſaid he, hugging him between his arms, with how much envy ſhould I look upon you, if the benefits with which you have chained us to you, would permit to do it without ingratitude, and how unjuſt will Heaven be if it do not recompence your vertue with the higheſt fortunes that it can beſtow upon men? I have received great favours thence ſome days ſince, replyed Britomarus, in being permitted to render a ſmall ſervice to thoſe perſons, to whom I owed and had vowed a great deal more; but as for this valiant Prince, you have little reaſon to believe that you are reduable to me for it, and this victory which hath regained your liberty is the effect of your own valour, and the aſſiſtance you gave us, rather than of any thing I could have done without your help,

Ariobarzanes anſwered the modeſt diſcourſe of Britomarus with the like ſubmiſſion, and after a converſation full of civility, and as many careſſes as two men could uſe, who were under the tyranny of grief, they deſired we might paſs into our Veſſel, which was not ſo much imbrewed with blood, not ſo full of Tragical ſpectacles, as the Pirats was, in which Britomarus intended to put things in order, and ſet the ſlaves at liberty, reſtoring them the goods which were taken from them. Amongſt them there were two Medes, whom, as we retired inour Veſſel, we ſaw fall down-at Britomarus's feet, and expreſs divers ſigns of aſtoniſhment and joy to meet him.

Whilſt Britomarus was diſcourſing with them, Ariobarzanes and I retired our ſelves into my Chamber, where preſently we began to give one another an account of the ſucceſſes by which we were ſaved from ſhipwrack, and of thoſe things which had happened ſince our ſeparation. I made a relation of my adventures firſt, being unwilling to deprive Britomarus who was abſent and well acquainted with mine, of the ſatisfaction he might receive in hearing Ariobarzanes's ſtory. The Prince was ſenſibly touched with my diſcourſe, and upon the relation I made him of what you had done for me in your Kingdom, he received ſo much reſentment, and ſo much affection for you, that often brake out into exclamations, and proteſted to me that he never more earneſtly deſired any thing than to ſee you, and to expreſs his acknowledgement to you for your generous bounty. He himſelf in ſome paſſages blamed my procedure of a little too much ſeverity and circumſpection, but he was partial, Philadelph, and of the opinion of all other men, to whom the rules of our duty are not known, or rather to whom the practiſe of them is not agreeable.

We had paſſed two or three hours in diſcourſe without ſeeing Britomarus, and when we enquired for him, they told us that after he had entertained himſelf a while with the two Medes, to whom he had reſtored their liberty, and the goods which the Pirats had taken from them; he ſhut himſelf up in the Cabin of the Veſſel, and prayed them to let him alone a few hours without interrupting him. The acquaintance I had with him, which rendred his ſadneſs [Page] very familiar to me, made me receive this news without aſtoniſhment, and I was not at all ſurprized at it; preſently after they ſerved in ſupper, and part of the night was ſpent and yet we had no ſight of him.

We beſtowed the reſt of the night in ſleep, I having certified my brother, that we could not do a greater diſpleaſure to Britomarus than to trouble his ſolitude: But the next day we were no ſooner awake, but we ſaw him come into the Cabin in ſuch a condition as preſently filled me with fear and pity. His countenance was ſo changed that it could hardly be known, and one could hardly have imagined that the ſpace of divers days could have wrought that change which appeared there in a few hours, his complexion was pale & wan, his eyes wild and rouling in his head with a fierce look, and in all his countenance there was the true image of a man not far from the brink of deſpair. Yet he uſed ſome endeavours to refrain himſelf before us, and forcing ſome ſobs that oppoſed the current of his ſpeech: Madam, ſaid he, though I had no inclination to appear again to the world in this ſad condition, which makes my company inſupportable, yet I have a deſign to render you the ſervice which I owe you, and I ſhould not have left you, till you had been conducted to the place where you would have pleaſed to make your reſidence. The Gods are my witneſſes that the wretched remainders of my life were employed in that office with a great deal of ſatisfaction, and I ſhould never have neglected the opportunities of doing you ſervice upon any conſideration of mine own intereſt: But ſeeing that the Gods have more advantagiouſly provided for your conduct, than when they called me to that honour, and have permitted me to commit you into the Prince your Brothers hands, who may conduct you into your own Country a great deal more conveniently than I can do; give me leave, if you pleaſe, to run that courſe which my deſtiny calls me to: my condition, and the ſtate of my mind are ſo much changed ſince yeſterday, that I have no comfort nor remedy left in the world, but only what I am now going in ſearch of, I leave you this Veſſel furniſhed with all neceſſaries, and of all theſe perſons, of whom you may have need in the reſt of your voyage, I will have only three of my ſervants along with me, and the reſt ſhall continue at your ſervice in this Veſſel; that which we have taken from the Pirates ſhall ſerve my turn, with the aſſiſtance of ſome perſons that I have met there, who will guide me to there, whither I muſt needs make all the haſt I can. Pardon, Madam, pardon, generous Prince, continued he, addreſſing himſelf to Ariobarzanes, the haſtineſs of my departure, and believe that the neceſſity which conſtrains me to it, renders me more worthy of your pity, than of your diſpleaſure for this incivility.

Having ſpoken theſe words, he parted from us, without giving me time to reply, to thank him for his generous aſſiſtance, and to expreſs my ſorrow for the redoubling of his grief. Ariobarzanes having continued a while very much ſurprized and full of paſſion, aroſe from the place where he lay to run after him, but he was already gone into the Pirates veſſel, and having cauſed it to be diſengaged from ours, was put off to Sea at full ſail.

See, in what manner the valiant Britomarus went from us, and not heard of him ever ſince, leaving us in a very great regret for his departure, a juſt reſentment for the obligations we had to him, and an admiration of his vertue, which makes us preſerve the memory of him as of a miraculous perſon.

Ha! Madam, cryed Prince Philadelph, at this paſſage, how much reaſon have you to preſerve this eſteem, and how willingly would I purchaſe opportunities to ſpend my blood for the intereſts of a man to whom I owe my Princeſs.

If you were acquainted with his perſon, replyed the Princeſs, you would ſay more, and you would judge that Fortune would not have denyed him to have been born to a Crown, but only becauſe they are all inferior to his courage and vertue.

I am very happy, Added the Prince ſmiling, that he was no longer my rival, and though he was not born to a Crown, I ſhould be more affraid of him, than of thoſe whom Fortune had beſt befriended that way.

You need not fear any thing, anſwered Arſinoe, for beſides your birth and your Crowns, you are endued with all the qualities which may make a perſon conſiderable; and more than that, you have the advantage of ſo many ſervices, and of ſo many precious proofs of affection, that I ſhould be the moſt ingrateful perſon of the world, if I ſhould not prefer you as long as I live before the Maſters of the Univerſe.

But to finiſh my narration, I will tell you, that we would have continued our voyage towards Armenia, but the Prince my brother prayed me firſt to hear the relation of his adventures, and having diſcourſed them to me in the ſame place, where he acquainted me with as great and as wonderful things as ever I heard of, which you ſhall hear at better leiſure, either from his mouth or mine; he let me know at laſt that he was neceſſarily obliged to be at Alexandria with all poſſible ſpeed, believing that in that place only he might hear news of a perſon, to whom he had abſolutely devoted his life, and without whom he could have neither repoſe nor comfort. Though I had a great deſire to return to my native Country, [Page] and though the memory of you might make me fear on your behalf, that, if I had any place ſtill in your thoughts, you would ſeek for me in Armenia to no purpoſe; yet my brothers intereſt was ſo urgent, and of great importance (as you will underſtand when I ſhall acquaint you with it) that I ſhould have been abſolutely void of friendſhip, and reſpects towards him, if I ſhould have expreſſed the leaſt repugnance to go that voyage, before I went to Armenia.

Ariobarzanes gave me to underſtand that we went to ſeek in that Country for what he had loſt, that being the only part of the world where he believed he might receive intelligence: and that if the Gods would permit him to find ſatisfaction there, we ſhould go into our native Country full of joy and contentment; but if fortune croſſed him, he would reconduct me out of Egypt into Armenia the ſhorteſt and the eaſieſt way. I loved Ariobarzanes ſo well that I deſired his repoſe as much as mine own, and by the relation which he made me of his ſtrange adventures, I did ſo much intereſs my ſelf in the fortune of that perſon for whom he ſought, that I was the firſt that urged that voyage, and told him that all the trouble I could endure upon that account was not conſiderable in relation to a deſign of that importance.

Ariobarzanes embraced me with tears in his eyes, as well in reſpect to the marks of affection which he found in me, as to the memory of the deplorable condition of his fortune, wherein I did ſo participate, that he hardly ſeemed to be more afflicted than I.

We turned about our Veſſel, and the wind not being contrary to us, in a ſhort time we entred into the Syrian Sea: but, as ill luck would have it, either the troubles of my mind, or the toyl of my body made me fall ſick, and it came to ſuch an extremity, that Ariobarzanes, notwithſtanding the impatience which carried him along in that voyage, perceiving that in that condition I could not brook the Sea, landed us at Sidon, where (to make as quick diſpatch of a thing of ſo ſmall importance as I can poſſibly) whatſoever care I took to forward my recovery, I was not in a condition to endure the Sea for above a month.

After that time we put to Sea again, where contrary to my expectation, I ſuddainly recovered my health. The man which Britomarus left us accompanied and ſerved us all the voyage with a great deal of affection; and by the diligence, and good conduct of his Mariners, without any adventure worth ſpeaking of, we arrived yeſterday in the evening upon this coaſt. But our Veſſel was in ſo bad a condition, having born the brunt of a furious Tempeſt but a few days ſince, that we did not think we could lye there all night in ſafety: and leaving the care to our men to re-accommode it, we came out of it in that condition wherein you met us, to come to this City; but it was ſo late, that night ſurprized us in the Wood, and ſo dark, that not knowing the way, we were conſtrained to take up our lodging under the trees, where we ſpent the night, and whither our common deſtiny conducted you, to render you what you ſought for with more trouble than I deſerved, and to give me the comfort of ſeeing a Prince again, who for ſo many reaſons ought to be moſt dear to me, and highly eſteemed by me as long as I live.

Arſinoe ended her diſcourſe in this manner, and when ſhe had done ſpeaking, the paſſionate Prince throwing himſelf at her feet, and embracing her knees with tears of joy, expreſſed himſelf with ſo much ardor, that the Princeſs to whom the teſtimonies of his love were not diſagreeable, was more moved to tenderneſs than ever ſhe had been before, and gave him all the marks of affection, that he could expect from ſo eminent a vertue as Delia's was.

The end of the Sixth Part.

HYMEN'S PRAELVDIA: OR, Loves Maſter-piece. PART. VII.

[Page]

LIB. I.

ARGUMENT.

Candace and Eliſa beſtow a ſecond Viſit upon the Princeſs Olympia, and find her in a very hopeful way of recovery. At their deſire, ſhe goes on with her Story, and acquaints them that the fair Stranger whoſe life ſhe had ſaved in the deſart-Iſland, is Ariobarzanes, Brother to the King of Armenia. She relates their deplorable Condition in that place, and the ſtrange manner of their Delivery out of it. Ariobarzanes ſaves Adallas's life, and is like to loſe his own by Adallas's Jealouſie; but is diſmiſſed with a ſtrict prohibition never to ſet foot in Thrace, nor to ſee Olympia. Adallas being detained in Cyprus by his wounds, ſends into Thrace to know the Condition of his Kingdome Intelligence is brought that his Kingdom is invaded, and almoſt quite loſt. Adallas, haſtning homewards, is hindred by a Tempeſt; but after a long ſtay for a Wind, he puts to Sea again, and, near the Coaſt of Thrace, meets ſome of his Subjects, who inform him, That by the incomparable Valour of a Stranger, named Ariamenes, now their General, the remainder of his Dominions was preſerved, and the progreſs of his Enemies retarded. Adallas underſtanding the Coaſt to be clear, continues his Voyage, and arrives at Byzantium.

THE fair Princeſs of the Parthians, and the beautiful Queen of Ethiopia, had conceived ſo much eſteem and amity for the Princeſs Olympia, that they could not permit her to continue long in the trouble wherein they had ſeen her; without diſpoſing themſelves to render her a ſecond Viſit as ſoon as might be, and to uſe all poſſible means to adminiſter ſome eaſe and conſolation unto her. This was no ſlight effect of Olympia's excellent qualities, to have produced in ſo ſmal a time this intereſt for her Fortune, in the minds of two perſons ſo ſtrongly and ſo juſtly prepoſſeſſed with their own; and 'tis certain that Eliſa and Candace had cauſe enough abſolutely to employ their memory upon the conſideration of their own miſhaps, and in the care of their own affairs; but their ſouls were of the moſt exquiſite temper, and they were not ſo totally taken up with the natural ſenſe of their own misfortunes, but that there was room left ſtill for compaſſion towards a perſon of Olympia's birth and merit. Beſides, by that affection which bound them up to her intereſts, they had given entrance to a curioſity, which upon the ſcore of a leſs extraordinary perſon, and more common adventures, it would not have eaſily found in their ſpirits; and they could not call to mind the admirable beginning of that Princeſſe's Fortunes, and the paſſage wherat her Relation had been interrupted, without being moved with a great deſire to underſtand the Sequele, which according to apparences could not but be compoſed of very ſtrange Accidents; and in particular to know the name of the Unknown, which Olympia had at her Tongues end, when ſhe was forced to break off the Thread of her Diſcourſe.

This Reaſon, though indeed more weak than the former, made them reſolve to ſteal that Evening from Agrippa and Cornelius, whoſe Viſits they much feared, to give it intirely, if they could poſſibly, to this afflicted Princeſs; and upon this deſign, having taken a light Supper together in Eliſa's lodging, they charged the Maids that waited upon them, to ſay, That the Princeſs of the Parthians being a little indiſpoſed, they were gone to Bed together, not doubting but by theſe means to ſecure themſelves from being interrupted by perſons full of diſcretion, and well-verſed in all the Rules of Civility. After they had given [Page] this order, wherein, in regard of the Quality of the perſons whom it concerned, they obſerved a great deal of Circumſpection; they went into Olympia's little Chamber, and, as the gods would have it, they found her in a better Condition than they hoped.

This Princeſs, who naturally had as gallant a ſpirit as any perſon of her ſex, and who ſolidly relied upon a real vertue, and an abſolute reſignation to the will of the gods, had made a reflection upon the tranſports wherinto the firſt ebullitions of her Paſſion had caſt her, and by an endeavour not very uſual in a ſpirit ſtrongly prepoſſeſſed, ſhe had found room to combat with that croſs-opinion, which at firſt had made ſuch a diſorder in her ſoul; contrary apparences to the return of her repoſe, had very much tormented her, and ſhe had found cauſe enough in Ericia's report, to ſuſpect the infidelity of the perſon which ſhe loved; but other conſiderations, and other more important remembrances, wherby ſhe had reaſon to be confirmed in a quite contrary opinion, had powerfully taken his part; and if they could not cure her of thoſe cruel impreſſions which thoſe apparences had wrought upon her, they had at leaſt diſpoſed her to ſeek without precipitation a more evident clearing up of the Truth, and in expectation of the knowledge which the next day might afford her, to incline her ſpirit rather towards hope, than towards a deadly fear; the firſt effects whereof had been ſo contrary to the quiet of her mind, the health of her body, and her ordinary moderation. Certainly few ſpirits would have ſo readily ſubmitted to the Empire of reaſon; but indeed few ſpirits were like to hers, and in all the courſe of her life ſhe had given examples of her gallantry, wherein her conſtancy and admirable reſolution had no leſs appeared than in this laſt Adventure. By this little calm which ſhe gave her mind, her body likewiſe received eaſe; and in fine, ſhe was ſo ſenſible of it, that when the Princeſſes came into her Chamber, her Feaver was gone.

They were very joyful to underſtand by Ericia, as they approached the Bed, this change of her health; and they had no ſooner opened their mouth to enquire of it, but the fair Princeſs looking upon them with a much more compoſed countenance than before: My fair Princeſſes, ſaid ſhe, I have had a great Combat againſt thoſe cruel apparences which hurried me to deſpair; and if I have not gotten the Victory over them, at leaſt I have diſpoſed my ſpirit to wait for a more certain aſſurance of my miſhap, before it fall into thoſe extremities from which I ſhould hardly keep it, if I had received any confirmation of it. Whatſoever report they have made me of the beauty of that perſon, whom the Prince, which I have loved ſo well, accompanies; and though I have been told of their mutual Careſſes, I can hardly believe, that a Prince in whom I have obſerved ſo much Vertue, and who by ſo many great and dangerous difficulties which he hath gone through with an admirable Courage, hath given me ſuch fair proofs of his Love, could in the time which is paſt, ſince our ſeparation, fall ſo lightly into an infidelity, ſo contraryto the ſenſe of that ſublime Vertue which he practiſes. And though he could become unfaithful, I doubt whether he would come to ſhew his perfidiouſneſs in a place where certainly he had hope to find me, where I expected him, and where I would bid him ſeek me, if it ſhould pleaſe the gods that he ſtill continues faithful. I would perſwade my ſelf to imagine that Ericia's eyes were deceived, or that the perſon which ſhe ſaw him embrace, is related to him by ſome ancient Amity, which might engage him in other Tyes than thoſe of Love▪ And however it be, I will ſtill expect from Heaven, to which I have abſolutely abandoned my ſelf, what it ſhall Decree concerning my deſtiny, and not haſten my misfortune by a promptitude, which might make me commit ſuch faults, as poſſibly might be hard to repair.

The two Princeſſes extreamly approved of Olympia's reſolution; confirming themſelves more and more in the eſteem they had for her; and whil'ſt Eliſa ſitting down in a Chair which was at the Beds-head, felt her pulſe with one of her fair hands, Candace being ſate upon the Beds-ſide, ‘My dear Princeſs, ſaid ſhe, You do ſufficiently aſſure us both by all your Diſcourſes, and by all the marks which you give us of your thoughts, that your Vertue is not ordinary, and thoſe gods to whom you have abandoned your ſelf with ſo much Courage and Piety, muſt needs be cruel and unjuſt, if by an unfortunate ſucceſs they ſhould deceive the confidence you have in their goodneſs. I confeſs, that upon the like occaſion, I ſhould do the like, if it were poſſible: And I do ſo approve of your Reſolution, That I do almoſt certainly promiſe you the moſt happy ſucceſs you can deſire.’ ‘I have the ſame hope that you have, added the Princeſs Eliſa, and 'tis upon a ground very far from Envy, that I foreſee that, of us three, I only ſhall remain unfortunate.’ ‘I have ſome confidence, replied Candace, for you in your Fortune, and my heart tells me that in a ſhort time your deſtiny will not be ſuch as your fear ſuggeſts.’ ‘Alas! replied the Princeſs ſighing, How full of flattery are you, my fair Queen? And how eaſie is it to judge, that Compaſſion puts this Diſcourſe into your mouth, rather than the belief of telling me the Truth? We ſee every day, ſaid Olympia, Events ſo little conformable to our expectation, that I ſhall not be ſurprized, when) in extraordinary Fortunes, as ours are, I ſhall ſee Accidents happen, which would ſeem admirable in a life which never varied from [Page] the ordinary courſe: And I will tell you, Madam, according to my real belief, That I, deſpair no more upon your account, than upon our own, and I would not for a good value, loſe the part I pretend to take in the joy which you ſhall receive by the recovery of your loſſes.’

Eliſa only ſhook her Shoulders at this Diſcourſe: And Candace, who deſired to change the Scene, to enter upon Olympia's Adventures; But you, forgetful Princeſs, ſaid the to her, who are inſtructed in the leaſt particularities of our Lives, would you have us be eternally ignorant of the Sequel of yours? And do you not remember, that you left us in a part of your Relation capable to torment leſs curious perſons? Shall we any longer be deprived of the knowledge of the unknown, whoſe Name you were about to tell us, when you were interrupted? He of whom we talk ſo much, and of whoſe fidelity we aſſure you, not knowing yet who he is. And laſtly, Is it not juſt, that we ſhould be acquainted with your life, that we may have more reaſon and knowledge to take that intereſt in it we do? If any remainders of your indiſpoſition, or pre-occupation of ſpirit doth not permit you to be ſo ſoon in a condition to give us this ſatisfaction, be pleaſed that Ericia may ſave you the labour, and that we may underſtand the reſt of your Adventures from her mouth, ſeeing, as I think, I heard you ſay, that ſhe is not ignorant of any particular. I find my ſelf in a good condition enough, replied Olympia, to finiſh what I began ſome dayes ago: And though Ericia be as well acquainted with the Accidents of my life, as I my ſelf; yet I ſhall better expreſs the thoughts of mine own mind, than ſhe can; & I ſhould be ſorry, that you ſhould have receiv'd from any other mouth than mine, that which I owe to the Compaſſion which makes you take ſo much intereſt in my Affairs, and to the real eſteem I have for you.

Upon theſe words, the Princeſſes told her what order they had taken not to be interrupted in this Narration, as they had been in the former: And after they had conveniently ſeated themſelves for a long Audience, Olympia, after a ſhort interval of ſilence, continued the Story of her life in theſe terms.

The Continuation of the Hiſtory of Olympia

MY Narration was interrupted, as I think, when I made you the Relation of the unexpected Adventure, whereby the fair unknown had acquainted himſelf with the ſecret thoughts of my Soul; and from the knowledge he had of them, took the boldneſs to diſcover his to me: I had declared to you the trouble of my ſpirit at ſo unexpected a buſineſs, and the confuſion wherinto I was fallen by the imprudent diſcovery of that, which poſſibly, had it not been for this accident, I had kept private all my life; and the repugnance I had to receive Declarations of Love from a man, who, though he were very amiable, and already very dear to me, was then but three dayes old in my acquaintance, and I had repeated ſome part of our Converſation, by which you perceived that the unknown, having judged by my Diſcourſe that inequality which I believed to be between his birth and mine, made up a good part of the difficulties he had to ſtruggle with, was reſolved to let me underſtand the Truth, and had already opened his mouth to tell me who he was. 'Tis certain (anſwered Candace interrupting her) That the laſt words of your Diſcourſe were, I am,—and upon that I am,—which as you may believe, left us in an extream trouble, the Arrival of Cornelius hindred your Progreſs.

I will proceed then, continued the Princeſs, with the ſome words at which it was cut off, and will tell you, that after our firſt communication, whereby the unknown had ſufficiently diſcovered his thoughts, continuing his Diſcourſe with the ſame boldneſs, I am, ſaid he, extracted from a Noble blood, enough to countenance my confeſſion without bluſhing at it, and if I had been born of any other than Princes, who have alwayes worn a Crown, I ſhould have ſtifled thoſe audacious thoughts which have aimed ſo high as you. My Name is Ariobarzanes, my Family is the Royal Houſe of Armenia, Artaxus King of that Realm, is my Brother, our Father was King Artabazus, who loſt his life in the Priſons of Cleopatra.

Eliſa, who by reaſon of the nearneſs of Armenia to her Fathers Kingdoms, and the Alliance which had been between their Families, had heard of the Shipwrack of Ariobarzanes, and Arſinoe, which was noiſed throughout all Aſia, and according to the general opinion, believed them to be dead, holding up her hand, and ſtaying Olympia at the beginning of her Diſcourſe, ‘What? ſaid ſhe, Is the fair unknown, of whom you have diſcourſed ſo much to us, who hath merited your Love, and whom you have ſeen to day in Alexandria, Ariobarzanes Prince of Armenia; who, as 'tis known all over Aſia, being Shipwracked with the Princeſs Arſinoe his Siſter, hath paſſed for dead till now, in the opinion of the whole World?’ ‘The very ſame, replied Olympia; and that ſo famous Shipwrack which expoſed that Prince, and the Princeſs his Siſter to the mercy of the waves, hapned at the ſame time, and almoſt in the ſame place, that ours did. I believe that Arſinoe, [Page] periſhed in the pitileſs waters; but Ariobarzanes being more ſtrong, and more favoured by Heaven, was, by the aſſiſtance of a Planck which he had laid hold of, carried upon the Rock where we were, and when he was ready to exſpire, he received of us thoſe aſſiſtances that were neceſſary for him, as I have related to you.’ ‘Ah! without doubt anſwered Eliſa, the Reputation of that Prince's former years, is very conformable to the Relation you have made of him; and when he parted from Armenia with his Siſter to go to Rome to wait upon Auguſtus, he paſſed, in the common Report, as well for the handſomneſs of body, as the qualities of the minde, for an admirable Perſon; and the Princeſs his Siſter, for one of the rareſt Beauties of the World. Thus much Fame hath ſpread as far as our Countrey, and I ſhall intereſs my ſelf more than I have done in the Adventures of a Prince, whoſe deſtiny I regretted upon the common Report.’ ‘I am very joyful, replied Olympia, That a Deſcription, which I poſſibly made with a little too much Paſſion, is authorized by your Teſtimony, which is very conſiderable to me, and I ſhall more freely inlarge my ſelf upon the excellent qualities of Ariobarzanes, where I ſhall be obliged to ſpeak of them, ſince that Fame hath already given you ſome knowledge of them.’

I will tell you then, to return to my Narration, That it was no ſmall ſatisfaction to me to ſee that Fortune had ſo much favoured my wiſhes in the birth of a man, whom ſhe had cauſed me to love before I knew him; and that Ericia, who preſently caſt her eyes upon my face, told me afterwards, that ſhe ſaw in a moment all the marks of Joy depainted there, ſo that ſhe did not doubt but that I was very ſenſibly moved with it. I will add to this likewiſe, That though this Diſcourſe of Ariobarzanes did not ſeem very conformable to Truth, and might, not without ſome reaſon, have been ſuſpected of Fiction in the mouth of an amorous and intereſſed perſon; 'tis certain for all that, that I did not ponder what credit I ſhould give to him, nor ever imagined that there was any baſeneſs in a man, whom I could not believe to be capable of any thing unworthy; or rather I will tell you, That his Noble, Sublime and truly Royal Garb, and whatſoever I had obſerved till then in his Actions, ſo ſtrongly confirmed his Diſcourſe in a mind where inclination did not ſlightly take his part, that I had no difficulty to perſwade my ſelf that he was a Kings Son, and born with all the advantages of fortune which I could wiſh might accompany Nature.

This agreeable ſurprize held me a while in ſilence, and in a poſture which ſignified ſome confuſion. The Prince perceived it, and, according to the example of Lovers, finding an occaſion of fear in every thing, Can it be poſſible, ſaid he, being very much moved, that the knowledge of my Name and Birth, ſhould diſadvantage me with you? And hoping to remove an obſtacle of Glory and Fortune, have I created one my ſelf? Is the Royal blood of Armenia any way odious to you or yours? or rather, O gods! Is it the want of a Crown, which the priviledge of Birth-right hath beſtowed upon my Elder Brother, that puts me into too mean a condition to raiſe my deſires to the glory of ſerving you? Ah! if it be a Crown I want (as it is probable that the honour of acquiring you, ought to be ordained for ſome great King) I finde my ſelf to have Courrage enough to hope for that from my Sword, which Fortune hath refuſed me; and the deſire I have to render my ſelf worthy of you, will make me poſſibly to ſurmount that, which I ſhould never attain to, if I had any other Object in my Enterprizes.

As he ſpake theſe words, a bluſh mounted into his face, which made him appear more beautiful than ordinary in my eyes; and deſiring not to leave him in an opinion, which according to my humor did a little injure me: I perceive nothing (ſaid I) in the knowledge you have given me of your Name and Birth, which can be diſadvantagious to you; and the want of a Crown in ſuch a Prince as you, and deſcended as you are from Royal Perſons, is no deficiency which can render you contemptible in my thoughts. (You are, contiued I with a bluſh, which ſufficiently ſignified my confuſion) ſuch as I deſired you ſhould be, to render thoſe infirmities partly excuſable which Surprize, or Accident, made you acquainted with, and which, poſſibly you had never underſtood from my mouth, but by the effect of that deſtiny, which as you ſay, acts in us after an extraordinary manner; but you and I are ſuch in the eſtate of our preſent condition, that a particular eſteem can ſerve for nothing but to render us the more miſerable; and perſons, whoſe death in all probability is ſo near at hand, cannot lay foundations of Amity but in an unſeaſonable time.

Ariobarzanes ſighed at this Diſcourſe, and looking upon me with an eye, which made me judge that this menace of our death more ſtrongly afflicted him for fear of mine, than upon the conſideration of his own: ‘Our deſtiny, ſaid he, is in the hand of the gods, and poſſibly for the preſervation of ſo precious a life as yours, they will do ſomthing extraordinary; but though we had no hope of that, yet I ſhould eſteem my ſelf ſuperlatively happy, and much more obliged to this effect of your goodneſs, than to that which cauſed you to render your pitiful aſſiſtances to this dying body, if you would own as yours the remainder off my dayes, what length ſoever the gods ſhall preſcribe to them, and permit me to hope, That if by their help we eſcape out of the danger which threatens us, you will [Page] not diſdain Vows full of the ſame reſpects we owe to them, and ſuffer the glorious Ariobarzanes, to render his laſt breath in the occaſion and the glory of ſerving you. I conjure you to it, continued he, embracing my knees with an action all compoſed of paſſion, by the ſame pity which you may deſire of Heaven for your own misfortune, and proteſt to you before the Celeſtial Powers, that it can never be employ'd in a greater neceſſity, nor for a perſon who will acknowledge it with greater veneration and fidelity.’

I confeſs that my inclination did ſo effectually aſſiſt his words, that I could not but be touched with them, and I had not the power to diſſemble it ſo well as I deſired, and poſſibly ought to have done. I continued a while without reply, and at laſt beginning to ſpeak, without raiſing my eyes to his face; ‘You are ſufficiently acquainted with my thoughts, ſaid I, contrary to my deſign, ſo that there is no neceſſity of any farther Declaration; and you know enough to make you believe, that neither your perſon, nor your ſervices can be diſagreeable to me. You would be unjuſt, if you ſhould deſire any more, or pretend that I ſhould determine any farther of my ſelf, as long as there ſhall be any perſons in the World to whom I ought to leave the diſpoſing of me.’ ‘I am more happy a thouſand times, replied he, than I deſerved, or durſt to hope; and I ſhould render my ſelf much more unworthy of your goodneſs, if I did not, as I ought, receive a favour which I can never ſufficiently acknowledge; but I plainly perceive that our preſent danger, if it threatned none but me, is not the greateſt misfortune I have to encounter with; and by what I have heard of your Story, and the cauſe of your flight, I ſufficiently foreſee, that the perſon to whom Heaven hath left ſome lawful power to diſpoſe of you, will never conſent that any other ſhould raiſe his hopes to a Fortune, which againſt the Laws and order of Nature he pretends to for himſelf.’ ‘This difficulty, anſwered I, very nimbly, ought to divert you from your reſolution, and you will be the more comforted, if in our approaching death, you loſe nothing but hopes, which with any probability you could not conceive.’ ‘Ah! Madam, replied Ariobarzanes, very much moved, Do not imagine that this difficulty can make me loſe my Courage; you ſhall ſee me Conquer far greater, if you be pleaſed to grant your conſent; and all the moſt powerful and dangerous obſtacles ſhall not be able to terrifie me, if you do not oppoſe me.’ ‘You ought not to hope, ſaid I, that I ſhould be favourable to you contrary to my Duty; and the eſteem which I may have for you, ſhall never make me do any thing unhandſome, or not conformable to the Rules preſcribed to perſons of ſuch a Birth as mine.’

Ariobarzanes ſeemed a little aſtoniſhed at this Diſcourſe; and ſtood a while, as if he ſtudied for terms to expreſs himſelf; but at laſt breaking ſilence with a very paſſionate action, ‘If the reſpect, which I ſhall equally preſerve with my life, ſaid he, did permit me in the leaſt to conteſt with your thoughts, I would take the liberty to tell you, that by the uſage you have received from him, and the horrible intentions he had expreſſed to you, the King your Brother, hath abſolutely loſt the priviledge which Nature gave him to diſpoſe of you; and if your ſelf had had a deſign to leave it to him, you would not have run the hazard of mortal dangers to avoid his Tyranny. In fine, If he may, and muſt diſpoſe of you, he will never do it but in his own favour; and you will ſee your ſelf reduced to the neceſſity, either of conſenting to that horrible Marriage which he propoſes to you, or denying his power to diſpoſe of you.’ I found ſufficiently convincing Reaſons in Ariobarzanes's Diſcourſe; yet it being a Subject upon which I was alwayes prepared, I did not continue without a Reply. ‘It will be very lawful, ſaid I, for me to oppoſe Adallas's will, as long as he ſhall have any deſign to be my Husband; and in this reſolution I ſhall alwayes have Courage enough to ſuffer this death to which I am already ſufficiently expoſed, but I will never take the liberty to chooſe a Husband my ſelf; and I muſt wait the leaſure of Heaven for the change of my Brothers humor, or ſome other condition of my Affairs which may give me that liberty.’ ‘I will be contented to wait with you, Madam, replied the Prince, with a very ſubmiſſive Action; and I ſhall be but too happy, if you permit me to engage my life upon the account of thoſe changes. I know very well, that the happineſs which my Ambition aims at, is of too high a value to be attained by ordinary difficulties; and it ſhall be without a murmuring thought, that I will attend upon the effects of your pity to the laſt period of my breath; uſe me as a criminal, if you ſee me in any impatience contrary to this reſignation; and in the mean time, if you be pleaſed to think well of it, and if Heaven permits us to get out of this Iſland by ſome unexpected ſuccour, let me have the honour to wait upon you to the place of your intended Retreat, and there let me regulate my life, according to the Orders which you ſhall pleaſe to give me, and ſeek ſome means, though with the greateſt hazard, to work a change in the King your Brothers intentions to my advantage, or to ſee ſome change in yours, if his be unalterable.’

My Relation would be too long, if I ſhould repeat to you all the words we had together. [Page] In brief, I found the Diſcourſe, and the Propoſitions of Ariobarzanes, too juſt to be contradicted; and we reſolved at laſt, that if the gods ſhould ſend us any means to ſave our ſelves, I ſhould continue my journey to the Court of the King of Cilicia my Uncle, whither Ariobarzanes ſhould accompany me, and there leave me at liberty to conſider what he might merit of me by his Services, whil'ſt he endeavoured by all manner of wayes to gain upon the ſpirit of the King my Brother, and employed all manner of powers, even that of Auguſtus himſelf, to cauſe him to conſent to the deſign he had to ſerve me. But becauſe Ariobarzanes knew the deadly hatred which the King of Cilicia had againſt his Family, for ſome Cruelty that the King of Armenia his Brother, had exerciſed againſt the Princes his Nephews; and was not ignorant, that in that Court he could not be in any ſecurity. We purpoſed that he ſhould enter into Cilicia, al' incognito, and from that moment ſhould conceal from the perſons of our Company, his name and condition under that of Ariamenes. This was ſo much the eaſier, becauſe he had not as yet diſcovered himſelf to any, but to us; and there was little danger of his being known, after the Report of his Shipwrack had been ſo long current.

After that we had ſpent ſome time in fixing theſe Reſolutions, I deſired Ariobarzanes to acquaint me by what Adventure he had been caſt upon that Rock, in the condition wherein we found him; which he did in a few words, which I will not repeat to you; for in brief, his Relation contained nothing elſe, but only that the King Artaxus his Brother, having received a Command from Auguſtus, to ſend him to Rome, with the Princeſs Arſinoe his Siſter, to be educated there with a great many other Princes; and not daring to diſobey that Order, cauſed him to imbark with the Princeſs his Siſter to go that Voyage, which at firſt was proſperous enough, but at laſt upon the Coaſt of Cilicia, their Veſſel was overtaken with the ſame Tempeſt that caſt away ours, and ſo battered by the impetuouſneſs of the ſtorm, that he believed himſelf only to have eſcaped from the fury of the waves, by means of a Plank which he laid hold on, and the violence of the waves which drave him upon the Sand. That paſſage of his Diſcourſe which he moſt inſiſted upon, was, concerning the Shipwrack of the Princeſs Arſinoe, whoſe loſs, after he had made us a ſhort deſcription of her rare qualities, he deplored with ſo many tears, and ſo many ſtrong ſenſible ſigns of grief, that I could not forbear weeping, and bewailing with him the loſs of ſo extraordinary a perſon, whom he had ſo dearly loved. He proteſted to me divers times, that nothing but Love, which tookfull poſſeſſion of his Soul at firſt ſight, was able to counterpoize his grief; and without the aſſiſtance of that paſſion which made it ſelf Miſtreſs of his heart above all the reſt that had any room there, he ſhould ſcarcely have had ſtrength of ſpirit enough to defend himſelf againſt this affliction.

After I had endeavoured to give him ſome part of the Conſolation which was neceſſary for him upon this occaſion, he deſcribed to me the birth of his Love, which, he proteſted to me, was formed in his Soul the firſt moment of our firſt interview; and in the declaration he made to me of all his moſt particular thoughts he expreſſed himſelf with ſuch a grace, and was ſo skilful in taking his advantages where he found me weakeſt, that I perceived the fatal inclination I had for him to be augmented by this Relation.

Why ſhould I detain you any longer upon this paſſage? I conſented before we parted from that place, that he ſhould love and ſerve me; and I permitted him to hope, either for thoſe few dayes which in probability were left us, or for a longer time, if Heaven ſhould pleaſe to give it us; that I would do all that my Duty could handſomly permit me to do, to expreſs my acknowledgement and eſteem to him. He ſeemed to be contented with this hope which I gave him, and ever ſince that moment he continued to ſerve me with ſo many marks of real Love, ſo much diſcretion and reſpect, and ſo much grace in all his actions, that I ſtill found more fuel to encreaſe my flame. And yet he lived ſo with me before the perſons of my Retinue, that no body could find any ground to ſuſpect his real thoughts; only Ericia, who was acquainted with mine too, had knowledge of them. I confeſs at laſt, by his admirable parts, and handſome way of carriage towards me, he perfected the Conqueſt of my heart, ſo that at laſt I was conſtrained to avow to him without diſſimulation; that I loved him as much as I was permitted to love him; and to promiſe him that I would do all that my Duty would ſuffer me to do, never to have any other Husband but himſelf. I could make him this promiſe with ſo much the more liberty, becauſe I had neither Father nor Mother living, by whoſe will mine ought to have been regulated; and the obedience, which after their death, was due to the King my Brother, ſeemed to me to be perfectly extinguiſhed by his intentions which were ſo unconformable to that degree of Proximity, which might have given him that Command over me. In fine, my fair Princeſſes, If there was too much facility in this engagement of my Soul, I will not ſtudy to excuſe it; and though poſſibly I might find ſome part of an excuſe in the extraordinary merit of Ariobarzanes, yet I will not make uſe of it to ſecure my ſelf from the blame which you may lay upon me for my weakneſs.

This union of our ſpirits, which was ſo well formed, would have given us mutual ſatisfaction, [Page] if the fear of approaching death had not cruelly croſſed it; and as I perceived, that the fear which Ariobarzanes was in for me, was the ground of all his grief, and the cauſe of all his complaints; ſo I confeſs, that I loved him ſo well already, that my regret was no leſs, upon the conſideration of his loſs, than for my own. He did all that poſſibly he could, to diſſemble part of his affliction before me, and he flattered me every day with ſome hope of ſuccour; but when he came to conſider, that in all probablity I had but a few dayes to live, all his Conſtancy was diſſipated, and his great Courage could not hinder him from ſhewing all the marks of ſenſibility. 'Tis certain too, that in this Adventure, the weakneſs of my Sex did not hinder me from expreſſing as much Reſolution as he; and I was often reduced to give him comfort, of which by little and little, he rendred himſelf uncapable. Ah Madam, ſaid he to me one day, How different are the Subjects of our grief? And how much greater ought my regret to be than yours, there being ſuch an inequality between the loſſes we are like to ſuffer? You are in danger of loſing a life, which, as precious as it is, hath not been hither to over-dear unto you; but, with my life, I loſe the faireſt Hopes, and the moſt glorious Fortune that ever any man aſpired to. As he ſpake theſe words, he removed his eyes from off my face, to fix them upon the ground; and I ſaw them at the ſame time ſo overflown with tears, that I was extraordinarily moved at them. Ariobarzanes, ſaid I to him, I would have you conform your ſelf to the will of the gods, who can ſuccour us ſtill, and poſſibly will do it, if we have merited their aſſiſtance; if they have determined the end of our dayes, we muſt ſubmit to it without repugnance; and I deſire you, that you would not let the grief which you apprehend for my loſs, make you excced the limits which your Courage ought to preſcribe to it. Ah! Madam, replied the afflicted Prince, How highly is your Reſolution to be commended? but as much Conſtancy as you have received from Heaven, how hard would it be for you to make uſe of it, if the loſs of Ariobarzanes were to you, as the loſs of the Princeſs Olympia is to Ariobarzanes. Do not doubt (ſaid I) but that I ſhall be as ſenſible of the loſs of Ariobarzanes, as you can deſire: But I ſhall ſupport it more patiently, becauſe it muſt be accompanied and probably preceded by mine, than if I ſhould continue in the World in the regret which that might cauſe me. Alas! cryed he ſuddenly, Can it be poſſible, that within a few dayes, I ſhould ſee theſe fair eyes cloſed up by death? Having uttered theſe few words, he continued by me like one half dead, and what endeavour ſoever I uſed to reduce him to a better condition, it was impoſſible for me to get any thing elſe from him, but ſighs intermingled with ſobs, and looks caſt up towards Heaven.

We were oftentimes in a day upon this ſorrowful Converſation! but our affliction was much augmented with our fear, when all our proviſions were quite ſpent, and we had nothing at all to keep us alive, but a little Fiſh, which our people took with a great deal of difficulty; and it was ſo little, that there was not enough for half the perſons there were of us; and that little being ſeaſoned with nothing that might give it any reliſh, you may judge how long our dayes were like to continue with nothing but that nouriſhment, and a little water. As I did not take the ſame care of all the perſons that were with me, as I did of my ſelf; ſo there were ſome that were more ſenſible of our miſery, than I. My Governeſs was the firſt, who being enfeebled with Age, and but of a weak Complexion beſide, yielded to our miſery; and after two dayes ſickneſs only, breathed her laſt in my preſence. I received this loſs with all the ſorrow I was capable of, in the condition whereunto I ſaw my ſelf reduced; and looking upon her whil'ſt ſhe exſpired, with my face overflown with tears, Adieu Mother, ſaid I; I ſhall ſhortly bear you Company; and were it not for that belief, your loſs, a loſs which I have been the cauſe of, would not be ſupportable. The good Eurilas her Husband being caſt down with grief for the death of his Wife, and enfeebled by our miſerable manner of life, ſurvived her but two dayes, and left me deprived of his Conduct, and the comfort I received from him, in reſpect of his Age, his Prudence, and the Affection he had to my intereſts.

Then it was, that I looked death in the face, as the approaching end of our miſeries, I ſaw it preſent before my eyes, and thought upon thing elſe; and yet truly the fear I had of it, troubled me more for Ariobarzanes, than for my ſelf only. Looking upon him with an eye drowned in tears, whil'ſt I cloſed poor Eurilas's eyes, and ſeeing no body but Ericia near us, ‘Ariobarzanes, ſaid I to him, I hope that within a few dayes you will render me the ſame office, and take care to ſee me buried.’ He was ſo ſenſible of theſe words, That inſtead of making any Reply, his face grew pale, his eyes cloſed, and he fell into a Swoun in my preſence. I had my heart ſo preſſed with this Accident, that I wanted but a little of bearing him Company; and Ericia was fain to aſſiſt him, and throw water upon his face, to make him recover his ſenſes. When he came to himſelf, he brake out into ſuch tender and paſſionate expreſſions, as would have broken the heart of the moſt inſenſible perſons; I will not repeat them to you, becauſe theſe unneceſſary particulars would ſpin out my Diſcourſe into a tedious length.

[Page] In Concluſion, our condition was abſolutely deſperate; one of my Maids was dead ſince the death of Eurilas, and the number of all our men was reduced to two or three; only I was better provided for than the reſt, by the continual pains which Ariobarzanes took in catching Fiſh to nouriſh me, and to prolong my dayes as much as he could poſſibly. When one day being upon the ſhoar, employed in that exerciſe, he ſaw out at Sea two Veſſels engaged in Fight; but one of the two gave way to the other, and defended it ſelf retiring, by little and little approaching to our little Iſland. This ſight made him lift up his hands and eyes to Heaven, with ſome hope of ſuccour; and it encreaſed more and more, when he ſaw the two Veſſels, the one chaſing, and the other retiring, take the direct way to the little Iſland, and come up cloſe to it. He began to diſcern particular Objects, when Ericia and I came to a little Riſing near the place where he was, where immediatly I ſaw the ſame Spectacle; and after I had lifted up my hands to Heaven with a great cry, I ſent back Ericia to our Lodging, to fetch a linnen Cloth to faſten to the top of a Staffe, and by that ſign to deſire ſuccour of thoſe perſons which were in the Veſſels. But theſe were people, who took no notice of any ſigns we could make to them; and a little after, the Veſſel which fled before the other, having reached the ſhoar, thoſe that were in it, ſuddenly leapt out, and having gained the Rock as well as they could, they put themſelves into a poſture of defending themſelves againſt the Enemie which purſued them, and to diſpute their landing with all their force. Their number being much inferiour to the other, they had taken the ſhoar, to make uſe of the advantage of the place, againſt the inequality of their Forces.

I was too far off to ſee all theſe things diſtinctly; but Ariobarzanes, who was hard by, eaſily obſerved them, and ſaw that theſe perſons had a man of a gallant appearance at the Head of them, who preſently put them in a condition of fighting, and defending their lives by their Valour, againſt the number of their Enemies; he had hardly time to put them in Order, but their Enemies came up cloſe to the Iſland, and the moſt reſolute of them throwing themſelves firſt into the Water, which was up to their middles, advanced furiouſly towards the ſhoar; and without making uſe of their Arrows, which without doubt they had uſed in their former Combat upon the Sea, they engaged with their Enemies at handy blows, and in a little time began to make the ſhoar wear the red Livery of both parties. The weakeſt in number had an advantagious Poſt, which afforded them ſome means to reſiſt their Enemies Forces; and their Commander did ſo encourage them by his Voice, and by his Example, that their Adverſaries found a longer reſiſtance than they expected: But in fine, the laſt having received a ſupply of thoſe men who had ſtayed in the Veſſel, the firſt began to quit the ſhoar; and they had no ſooner left their footing, but the others hotly purſuing them, and landing with facility, made the Victory clearly to incline to their own ſide. The Commander of the weaker Party defended himſelf with a great deal of Valour, but it was difficult for him to prolong his deſtiny; for his Enemies uſing neither Generoſity nor Clemency towards him, or his, purſued them, and killed them without mercy. Part of them lay already dead upon the Turfe; and the Captain having received ſome wounds, and being encompaſſed by thoſe which were left, diſputed his life with more Courage than Hope, when Ariobarzanes, who till then had been a Spectator of the Combat, without ſtirring out of his place, and had waited upon the ſucceſs, in hope to be beholding to the Conquerours for our ſafety, perceived (manger the intereſt that might make him flatter the ſtrongeſt ſide, in hope to get out of miſery by their means) his natural generoſity to arouze it ſelf, and not being able to endure, that Valiant men ſhould be cruelly murthered by a greater number than their own, without ſome endeavour on his part to aſſiſt them, he ran to them with an admirable ſpeed, and ſeizing immediately upon one of the dead mens Swords and Buckler, he flew amongſt his Enemies, though unknown, with ſuch a Confidence, as made me grow pale, and tremble in the place from whence'I beheld it. I ſhewed him to Ericia, who returned to me with the linnen Cloth ſhe went for, and we began both of us to invoke the gods for his ſafety, and to beg their aſſiſtance with more fervency, than ever we had done in all the time of our miſery.

In the mean time Ariobarzanes having his left Arm covered with a Shield, and brandiſhing his Sword in his right, threw himſelf preſently into the thickeſt preſs, with ſo terrible a fierceneſs, that if till then, by reaſon of his handſomneſs, and the ſweetneſs of his contenance, he ſeemed to me an Adonis, or ſomething far more beautiful; in this poſture he appeared like Mars, or ſomething much more formidable. Both Parties were immediately ſenſible of his Arrival; the ſtronger, by the damage which it received; and the weaker, by the ſuccour which he gave it. I could tell you, Ladies, of ſuch things as you would hardly credit, if theſe examples of prodigious Valour were not familiar to you; and if that which you have ſeen Ceſario and Artaban do, did not make you find a probability in the Relation of the ſtrangeſt things. Ariobarzanes was alone, without any other Arms [Page] but a Sword and Buckler; and yet his Valour appeared to be ſuch in the firſt actions which he did, and the firſt blows which he ſtruck, that the vanquiſhed Party amongſt whom he ranged himſelf, received a greater aſſiſtance from him, than it would have done from a number of men of ordinary Valour; and their Enemies having ſeen two or three of their boldeſt Companions laid dead by this unknown hand, looked upon him with aſtoniſhment, were ſomewhat terrified at his ſight. They had already reduced the Captain of the vanquiſhed Party to ſuch an extremity, that not being able to ſuſtain himſelf any longer, he fell upon a corner of the Rock with very weakneſs and wearineſs, where he who ſeemed to be Commander of his Enemies, leaping to him without pity, had his Arm lifted up to ſheath his Sword in his Breaſt, when Ariobarzanes, who had taken particular notice of that man, whoſe life was more conſiderable than any of the reſt, and preventing with a reverſe the mortal blow which his Adverſary made at him, cut off his Arm cloſe by the ſhoulder, and made it fall, together with his Sword, amongſt the feet of the Combatants. After this action, putting himſelf before him whom he had ſuccoured, and covering him with his Shield, ‘Ariſe, ſaid he, and ſummon up all your Forces for the defence of your life, the gods will aſſiſt you, if you do not loſe your Courage.’ As he ſpake theſe words, he did ſo ſcatter thoſe which were hotteſt about him, that having laid another of them at his feet, the reſt were afraid of his blows, and kept at ſuch a diſtance from him, that the man which was down had the opportunity to get up to recover his Sword, and to recall his Vigour which was almoſt extinct, and to encourage his men to a couragious defence. He found more facility in it than he expected; and his Enemies by the death of their Commander, whom Ariobarzanes had deprived of life, and by the aſtoniſhment which ſeized upon them at the ſight of the wonders which they ſaw the unknown perform, were ſtruck with extraordinary Terrour, and loſt a good part of their Fury. Ariobarzanes ſeeing them waver, and ſtagger in the uncertainty of a Victory, which a few moments before was abſolutely in their hands, animating both by word and example thoſe whoſe part he had taken, beat down thoſe which made Head againſt him, with ſo much force, that he cleared his paſſage every way, and reſtored his Companions to the hope of Safety and of Victory.

Alaſs! My fair Princeſſes, in what a condition was I in the mean time? and if on the one ſide, the prodigious actions of my Ariobarzanes filled me with admiration, and raviſhed me with joy, to ſee that that Prince whom we found ſo excellent in all his other parts, was yet more admirable in this, the moſt eſſential and moſt commendable part in a Prince to whom I had given my affections; with how much fear was I environed, ſeeing with what neglect of his life, he threw himſelf amongſt the points of ſo many Swords that were turned againſt him? Some other perſon, better verſed than I in the deſcription of Combats, would, without doubt, give you a more exact Relation of this: All that I ſhall ſay of it, is, That the Commander of that Party which Ariobarzanes had engaged for, after he had ſpent ſome moments in admiration of the things which he ſaw him do,, and in the firſt acknowledgment of the Safety he owed to him, ſeeing in what manner he opened the way to Victory, ſeconded him with a great deal of Vigour, and ſo encouraged his men, whom Ariobarzanes alſo, not ſeeling himſelf capable of compleating the Victory alone, did continually animate both by words and actions, that at laſt they charged their Enemies with ſuch a Fury as they could not ſupport; and when they had filled them with fear and diſorder, they purſued them with ſo much eagerneſs and reſentment, that in a few moments, they gave the beſt part of them their mouthes full of dirt, and the reſt leaving behind them their Victory, with theit Companions, either dead or wounded, leap't into the Water, and got again to their Veſſel with all the ſpeed they could make, Divers of them periſhed before they could get on Board, and thoſe, whom a little before they had uſed with ſo much Cruelty, being extraordinarily animated with Revenge, made uſe of their Victory with extream Rigour.

This Combat being finiſhed in this manner, and the men having no more Enemies to fight with, ranked themſelves about their Commander with great marks of Reſpect; and their Commander, who as feeble, as weary, and as wounded as he was, had his Soul repleniſhed with admiration and acknowledgment for Ariobarzanes, ſtriving with his weakneſs and wearineſs to go to him, accoſted him with a countenance, which ſufficiently ſignified his reſentment. If he had been aſtoniſhed at his Valour, he was no leſs ſurprized at the compoſition of his Perſon, and ſeeing a Body formed in every part according to the exacteſt Model of perfection; and a countenance, which at Ariobarzanes Age, might have paſſed for one of the ſofter Sex, and have ſurpaſſed the handſomeſt of them; he was ſo raviſhed, that for a long time he could do nothing elſe but view him from head to foot, not knowing whether he ſhould take him for a god, or for a mortal perſon.

The modeſt Ariobarzanes making no reflection upon the cauſe of his aſtoniſhment, began [Page] to ſpeak to him with a great deal of ſweetneſs and civility, asking him if he was not wounded, and if he had not need of reſt, after the great pains he had endured, and the great Combat he had fought. We have finiſhed a Combat, replied the unknown, whereof the Glory is all yours, in which you have ſaved my life; and not only mine, but of all the perſons which bear me Company; and in which you have done ſuch things, as being joined to the other prodigies which I obſerve in your Perſon, fill me ſo full of admiration, that I have ſcarce time to think upon my wounds, and the repoſe which is neceſſary for me. You ſee nothing in me, modeſtly anſwered Ariobarzanes, but what is very common; and in putting my ſelf to ſome hazard for your aſſiſtance, I have done nothing, but what all vertuous perſons are obliged to do, and what I am very glad I have done, ſuppoſing I have rendred this little peice of Service, to a man which doth not carry the marks of a vulgar perſon. 'Tis true, replied the unknown, I am of no common extraction, and Fortune hath given me means enough to requite a good turn, if I had received it of a perſon, who might be paid with ordinary recompences; but if I be not deceived in my opinion of you, I fear I ſhall be a long time ungrateful, if Heaven doth not favour me with ſome extraordinary occaſion, as to that deſign. The ſervice which you have received from me, is very ſlight replied Ariobarzanes; but ſuch as it is, you have an opportunity amply to requite it, not only in ſaving a life which I was upon the point to loſe, had you not arrived here; but the lives of other perſons too, who are in the ſame neceſſity of your aſſiſtance, and whoſe ſafety is of much greater importance than mine. O gods! cryed the unknown, is this poſſible that you tell me, and ſhall I be ſo happy as to be able to render you part of that which you have beſtowed upon me?

Upon theſe words, Ariobarzanes briefly acquainted him with the Shipwrack we had ſuffered, the condition we were in for want of proviſions, and a Veſſel to carry us off, and the expection of our certain death, if his Arrival had been deferred but a few dayes longer; he made him this Diſcourſe, without telling him either his own name or mine, being reſolved not to diſcover himſelf, before he knew my pleaſure; and the ſtranger, without asking him any thing at that time more than he deſired to tell him, expreſſing an extraordinary joy in his look, ‘I praiſe the gods, ſaid he, for the good Fortune they ſend me beyond my hopes, and I proteſt before them, that I will make ſuch uſe of that no body ſhall ever poſſibly accuſe me of ingratitude: I will not only carry you, and the perſons which are with you out of this place; but if the abſolute Command which I offer you in thoſe places where I can claim it, cannot cauſe you to ſtay there, I will cauſe you to be conducted to any part of the World whether you would retire,’ and in all reſpects I will expres the acknowledgment which is due to the miraculous preſerver of my life: having ſpoken theſe words, he would have gone along with Ariobarzanes, to look for thoſe perſons which he had ſignified to him to be ſo conſiderable, but Ariobarzanes ſeeing that he was weak, and loſt blood, prayed him to retire into his Veſſel, to cauſe his wounds to be bound up, ſuppoſing that it might be more commodiouſly done there, than in the little Iſland, where we were not provided of any thing neceſſary for that purpoſe, whil'ſt he went to ſeek us to conduct us into his Veſſel. The unknown gave way to Ariobarzanes's will, and ſome of his men being gone to put the Skiff into the water, he paſſed into his Veſſel with his men, whil'ſt the joyful Ariobarzanes came back to us to acquaint us with his good fortune, and ours.

You need not doubt, but that the fear which I had during the Combat, was ſucceeded by an exceſſive joy, when I perceived the ſucceſs of it; and that from the place where I was, I could obſerve that it ſuited with my deſires, though I was not without ſome trouble, for fear Ariobarzanes might have received ſome hurt, I ſaw that the Commander of thoſe men whom he had aſſiſted, being followed by all his Company, came to him; and though I did not hear their Diſcourſe, yet I conceived, and partly knew by their action, that it expreſſed their thankfulneſs. I had two cauſes of joy at the ſame time almoſtequally great, the one to ſee Ariobarzanes eſcaped from that great danger with ſo much glory, after he had performed ſuch actions as made me know him to be one of the moſt valiant men in the World; and the other, to ſee our ſelves probably upon the point of being freed from the danger of death which had ſo long threatned us, and from which we had ſo little hope to eſcape. I began for all that to wonder, when I ſaw all the men go away, and reconduct their Captain to the Veſſel, without taking us with them; and I apprehended that all was not well, when I ſaw Ariobarzanes come to us. His Cloaths in ſome places were covered with the blood of his Enemies, and the heat of the Combat had overſpread his Cheeks with a colour which made him look more handſome than ordinary. I did not know what to expect from him, when by the chearfulneſs of his countenance I gueſſed he had no bad News to tell us, he expreſſed as much in coming to us, throwing himſelf at my knees with Tranſports full of violence; ‘Madam, ſaid he to me, you ſhall not dye, and 'tis not without reaſon, that I alwayes hoped for particular aſſiſtances from Heaven for you. I will not render you, continued he with tears of joy, the Office for which you deſigned [Page] me, and it ſhall not be in this Iſland, that you ſhall recieve from Ariobarzanes the Duties of a Burial.’ He uſed many more expreſſions of joy and tranſport; but in all the actions which were occaſioned by his joy, he made it alwayes ſufficiently appear, that his contentments were much greater for my ſafety, than for his own; my ſatisfaction was not inferiour to his, and believing that it was unneſſary to diſſemble it before him and Ericia. Ariobarzanes, ſaid I, I rejoyce, as I ought to do, to ſee eſcaped out of ſo great a danger with ſo much glory; and I am ſenſible, as you may very well judge me to be, of the happineſs we have in being reſcued from the death which we expected. I look upon both occaſions of joy with little difference, and you ought not to believe that I am leſs contented to ſee Ariobarzanes Conqueror in ſo gallant a Combat, than to vnderſtand that we are upon the point of getting off from a place, where we believed we ſhould lay our Bones.

I was too favourable in my expreſſions without doubt, if you cenſure them with any Rigour; and Ariobarzanes's joy was ſo augmented by them, that it would have broken out into exceſs, if he had not taken notice of the coming of thoſe few perſons that were ſtill left of my Retinue, who upon the report of that great Combat, which one of them had related to his Companions, came all about me to receive my Commands. I ordered them to go and fetch thoſe things of ours which were worth the carrying; and the gods know, away they ran with exceſſive contentment, and were no long time returning; theſe poor people being quite tranſported to ſee themſelves almoſt miraculouſly delivered from a death which they believed to be inevitable, did ſuch things as ſufficiently ſignified the diſorder which joy had occaſioned in their Souls; and this ſpectacle did ſo move me to tenderneſs, that I could not hinder my ſelf from ſhedding tears after their example.

In the mean time we enquired of Prince Ariobarzanes, if he was not wounded; and after he had retired aſide to ſearch himſelf, he told us he had a little hurt upon his left Arm, and the skin of his body a little razed in two or three places. I praiſed the gods for this good Fortune, and when our little Company was come together, we marched towards the ſhoar, where we found the Skiffe which waited for us to conduct us into the Veſſel. We paſſed into it, thanking Heaven for our Fortune; and though I looked upon the Rocky Iſland which we left behind us, as upon a place where a few moments before I thought to have found my Grave, and where I had loſt ſome perſons, whoſe remembrance did very ſenſibly afflict me; yet I confeſs I could not hate it, when I remembred that it had beſtowed Ariobarzanes upon me; and the Prince, as he hath told me ſince, looked upon it with tenderneſs, when he remembred that within its little compaſs, a paſſion had received its birth, which cauſed all the care and engagement of his life.

As we entred into the Veſſel, Ariobarzanes, who led me, underſtood that the Maſter of the Veſſel, and of the perſons that were in it, was in his Cabin, with the Principal of his Retinue, where he had already cauſed his wounds to be dreſſed, and waited with great impatience to ſee the valiant Defender of his life again. We went immediately thither, without ſtaying amongſt the reſt of the perſons; but as ſoon as the door was open, the firſt man that met us, had no ſooner caſt his eyes upon my face, but ſtepping backwards all amazed, O gods! cryed he, This is the Princeſs Olympia. At the name of Olympia, his Maſter, who lay upon his Bed, though much incommodated with his wounds, raiſing himſelf up, and turning his head toward me, repeating the name of Olympia, made me ſee that which I avoided with the hazard of my life, and that was the face of the King my Brother.

Imagine, my Princeſſes, the greatneſs of my aſtoniſhment, or rather fancy to your ſelves the greateſt that ever any Soul was ſurprized with, and you will conceive a part of mine. At the ſight of this face which was ſo terrible to me, I was ſuddenly blaſted, my Viſage grew pale, my Tongue was immoveable, I trembled all over, and wanted but little of loſing all ſence and underſtanding. The moſt hideous thing that I ſaw upon the waters, when we were expoſed to their fury, and the moſt cruel thing that I imagined in the approaches of that death which I had lately eſcaped, was nothing ſo dreadful to me, as this Encounter; and I wiſhed divers time in that moment, rather to be expoſed again to the fury of the waves, and the mercileſs famine, than to have been in Adallas's preſence; but I was not alone in my ſurprize, never was there a more general aſtoniſhment in any Company and if mine was eaſie to be obſerved in my countenance, Adallas's was no leſs depencilled out in his, and Ariobarzanes's was as great as either. Adallas looked upon me with a variety of paſſions which he could not expreſs; and he looked upon Ariobarzanes with an emotion which was legible in his eyes, and the troubledneſs of his countenance. I looked upon Adallas, not only as my Perſecutor, whom I had fled from by Sea, at the mercy of ſo many dangers; but being ſenſible of ſome ſmall reproach, or at leaſt ſome accuſation, becauſe of Ariobarzanes's preſence, and the affection I bare him. I looked upon Adallas as my Judge, with ſo much fear, that I durſt hardly fix my eyes upon his face; and I had not ſo much confidence, [Page] as to look upon Ariobarzanes; and Ariobarzanes, who by what he ſaw, did already comprehend the Truth; looked upon Adallas, not as my Brother, but as my Lover, and as his Rival, and cruel Enemy; and out of the fear he had to diſpleaſe me, and the part he took in my confuſion, he durſt not raiſe his eyes up to my face. All theſe looks proceeding from ſo many different paſſions, were accompanied with an equal ſilence throughout the whole Cabin, and all the perſons which were there, diſcourſed with their eyes inſtead of their tongues, in an amazement whereof they all participated; and as they were all perſons intereſſed either in Adalla's thoughts or mine, they all waited with fear or uncertainty for the end of this ſilence, and the event of this interview.

Ariobarzanes had no opportunity to ſpeak firſt, I had not the confidence to do it, and 'twas Adallas at laſt that brake the ſilence which had been ſo long obſerved. Yet he continued a good while, conſidering which of all his paſſions ſhould put the firſt words into his mouth; and as to my misfortune, his love was the moſt prevalent, ſo that was the firſt that deſired to make it ſelf appear, and expreſs ſome marks of his joy for my recovery, rather than of his diſpleaſure for my flight, or of his growing jealouſie at the meeting of Ariobarzanes! O gods! cryed he, Do you then reſtore me back Olympia, whom I deſpaired of ſeeing any more; and in the Arms of death, which I beleived to be inevitable, do you cauſe me to find Olympia? He made a ſtop at theſe firſt words, to obſerve by my eyes how I had received them; but ſeeing me caſt them down without replying, with an action which ſufficiently confirmed him in the knowledge he might have of my diſpleaſure. I ſee very well, Olympia, replied he, I ſee very well that you are ſtill Olympia, that is that cruel and pitileſs Princeſs, whim I have not been able to mollifie by all the effects of my paſſion; that implacable Enemy, that flies me throughout the World as a Monſter; that to avoid me, caſts her ſelf into the moſt dreadful dangers; and at preſent is more afflicted with meeting of me, than ſhe was without doubt with the fear of that death which ſhe had preſent before her Eyes, when Fortune conducted me to her aſſiſtance.

In the time he was ſpeaking theſe few words, having recovered ſome Courage, and looking upon him with more confidence than before. Yes Sir, ſaid I to him, I am as much afflicted at the meeting of you, as I ſhould be comforted, if I found you ſuch as you ſhould be towards a Siſter. The gods know, that if you had recovered your rational thoughts, or had never fallen into thoſe which cauſe ſo much horrour in me, I ſhould have been ſo far from throwing my ſelf into danger to avoid you as a Monſter, that I ſhould have expoſed my ſelf to all manner of ſufferings, rather than have ſeperated my ſelf from the preſence, & the friendſhip of my Brother; but to avoid thoſe deteſtable perſecutions which have made me deſpiſe, and hate my life, all that hitherto, either tempeſt or famine could threaten, ſeems ſo light to me, that to eſcape a leſſer miſchief, I ſhould willingly throw my ſelf into far more manifeſt dangers. Thoſe very dangers, replied Adallas, by which you prove to me the greatneſs of your hatred, do equally declare to you the greatneſs of my love; and if to avoid me, you expoſed your ſelf to the fury of the inconſtant Seas, and to other miſeries, by which poſſibly the gods had a mind to puniſh your cruelty; to ſeek you, I have not only thrown my ſelf upon the ſame Sea, and into thoſe cruel Adventures wherein you ſaw me to day, and by which I am reduced to this condition wherein you ſee me now; but together with my perſon, I hazard a whole Kingdom, which I abandoned for love of you, and left to run after you, upon the point, it may be, of a greater Revolution. But Olympia, continued he, raiſing his voice, and delivering himſelf with a more terrible accent. I need not ſeek any longer for the laſt cauſes of your flight, your hatred was not the only ground of it, and love without doubt had a ſhare in it. I had good reaſon to doubt, that it was not ſufficient for you to hate Adallas, but that you muſt needs love ſomething elſe, to be inſpired with ſo much Courage; and at laſt I perceived the truth of my doubts, by the meeting with this too handſome, and too valiant unknown, whom you have ſought after, or rather, whom you have followed in your flight.

He made me a ſhort ſtop at theſe words, and Ariobarzanes and I, opened our mouths both at the ſame time to make a Reply, but he prevented us by the continuation of his diſcourſe, and looking full upon Ariobarzanes with an action full of fury and of grief; Ah! ſaid he with a loud Exclamation, Whoſoever thou art, Thou valiant Defender, and cruel Tormentor of my dayes. Ah! How dearly doſt thou ſell me the life which I hold of thee? And to how much greater an extremity haſt thou reduced me, than that was wherein thou ſaweſt me ſtand in need of thy ſuccour, in taking from me, by the obligation which I have to thee for this unfortunate life, the means of depriving thee, without ingratitude and baſeneſs, of thine which I cannot leave thee, but with the loſs of all the repoſe, and all the felicity of mine own? He ſpake theſe words with ſuch an action as made me tremble; Ariobarzanes changed colour too, but it was out of reſentment, being not accuſtomed to endure threatnings patiently; and I ſaw very well by his countenance, that the fear of diſpleaſing me, or of rendring my [Page] condition worſe than it was by his Diſcourſe, was the onely cauſe of his greateſt trouble; I took too great a ſhare in it to neglect the occaſion of eaſing him of it to the utmoſt of my power, and ſuddenly preventing the Anſwer which he intended, Sir, ſaid I to the King, you may give what credit you pleaſe to my Diſcourſe, and I will not ſeek to juſtifie an action ſo innocent, that I may rather expect to be commended, than to be blamed for it; but I deſire of the gods, which in part of my miſeries I have not invoked in vain, that they would leave me deſtitute of all ſuccour in my laſt diſgraces, if ever I beheld this ſtranger, if ever I thought of him, or ever heard ſpeak of him, before I found him in the Iſland, where it pleaſed the gods he ſhould be for the defence of your life, whether by a ſhipwrack like to ours, he was carried half dead upon the ſhoar the ſame day that our Veſſel was caſt away; you know well enough what means we have had to ſeperate our ſelves ſince, and you accuſe him very unjuſtly for having any hand in my flight; ſeeing what reproach ſoever you caſt upon me, you cannot poſſibly be ignorant that I have vertue enough to have done that upon the ſingle conſideration of my Duty, which you impute to the aſſiſtance of another paſſion which I was never ſenſible of. If you were not ſenſible of it then, replied the King, you may have been touched with it ſince, and ſo without doubt you are; I knew it by your countenance, and by your Diſcourſe; I knew it by the expreſſions of the unknown, when he prayed me to free you from the danger wherein you where; I know it by all your actions, which know not how to deceive ſuch eyes as are ſo intereſſed as mine; and I know it more than by all other marks by the qualities of this unknown, which are too great and too amiable for my repoſe; and without doubt, have been ſo to for the converſation of yours. Sir, ſaid Ariobarzanes at laſt to him with a very confident action, and a compoſed countenance, I am neither Maſter of thoſe great qualities whereupon you ſeem to ground your ſuſpition, neither would the Princeſs your Siſter, if ſhe had diſcovered any ſuch in me, have poſſibly looked upon them in an unknown perſon, and of an inferior Birth to hers. This is, in my thoughts, as much as I can ſay as to her ſentiments; but as for mine Sir, I leave you freely to judge of them; nor will I go about to diſguize or juſtifie them, out of the fear of death, which I have ſeen this very day in divers forms, without expreſſing much fearfulneſs, and with which I was never threatned by any one before. Thou wouldeſt juſtifie thy ſelf, replied Adallas, and thou wouldſt diſguize thy ſelf in vain from me, either out of fear of death, or upon any other conſideration; thy qualities are but too remarkable, and I ſee nothing in thy perſon, but what makes me judge thee to be of no mean extraction; and the higher it is, the more fatal ſhall my knowledge of it be to thee; and thou wilt never be ſo odious, nor ſo cruel an Enemy to me, as when I ſhall ſee thee in a condition publickly to aſpire to the poſſeſſion of Olympia. Let me therefore know no more of it, and take notice that Fortune hath given me this day a greater occaſion than ever ſhe could offer me, to exerciſe all my vertue. I will do all that poſſibly I can to avoid the reproach which may be caſt upon me, of ingratitude and baſeneſs towards thee; and yet I will do my endeavor too, to hinder thee from triumphing over my misfortune, and the acknowledgment I owe for the benefit I have received of thee; and I will make ſuch uſe of it if I can, that thou may'ſt have no cauſe to complain, nor yet to deride me.

As he ended theſe words by misfortune, Ariobarzanes caſt his eyes upon my face, and mine at the ſame moment being turned towards his, Adallas ſurprized us in that mutual aſpect, which poſſibly had ſomething more of tenderneſs and paſſion in it, than ordinary looks. The ſight made him fall into a fury which he could not diſemble, and raiſing his voyce more than before, Ah! this is too much, cryed he, this is too much to be declared to a ſpirit which was but too well informed of this truth before; your looks do ſufficiently interpret your thoughts, and thou want'ſt but a little, thou too too audacious ſtranger, of forcing me beyond the limits which I would preſcribe to my juſt reſentments; in the name of the gods do not provoke any farther, a Soul tormented with the moſt cruel paſſions, and leave me ſome hours at liberty to deliberate of thy deſtiny and mine. My deſtiny, ſaid Ariobarzanes (who began to be moved, and would not have endured ſo much, if he had not been afraid to diſpleaſe me) would not be at thy diſpoſing, if I had not prolonged thine by my Valour. I know it too well, interrupted Adallas, I know it too well; and if the memory of it were not freſh, thou ſhould'ſt not ſee me waver, as I do, in a cruel uncertainty.

Ariobarzanes went out of the Cabin without making any Reply, but not without expreſſing to me, by a ſtollen look, the divers agitations of his Soul, and the violence he uſed to himſelf upon my conſideration. I ſaw him go out with an emotion, which it was impoſſible for me abſolutely to diſſemble; Adallas being interreſſed, preſently perceived it, and reproached me with it upon the place. I took little care to juſtifie my ſelf before a man to whom I thought my ſelf to owe no Duty; and if I did take any, 'twas more for Ariobarzanes's ſecurity, than out of any reſpect to my ſelf. When he was gone forth, the King conſtraining me to ſit down by his Beds-ſide, ſet his paſſion defore my eyes, in the moſt moving rerms that it could furniſh him withal, and repreſenting to me the pains and the [Page] hazards to which he had expoſed himſelf in following me, as proofs of affection, for which he judged I was very reduceable to him; but the more he ſpake of it, the more repugnance I had to hear him; and at laſt my patience being tired, I ſo much encouraged my ſelf, that contemning all the power he could have over me, and looking upon him with a diſdain, not conformable to the thoughts we ordinarily have for a Brother and a King. Adallas, ſaid I to him, Do not think thou haſt found any favourable change in thy condition by this encounter, and think that Olympia is not ſo fallen into thy hands, but that ſhe can get out of them when ſhe pleaſes; the wayes are alwayes open to perſons, who like her, know how to condemn death, and thou may'ſt be well aſſured, that to flie thy Arms, ſhe will make no difficulty to caſt her ſelf into the embraces of death. Do not think therefore to triumph over my former Reſolutions, by the power which Fortune ſeems to have given thee over me; and believe with an abſolute certainty, that at that moment when thou ſhalt go about to abuſe it, I will either throw my ſelf into the Sea in thy preſence, or ſheath a weapon in my Breaſt; or if theſe means of avoiding thy Tyranny, be taken from me by force, I will infallibly obtain that by faſting, which may be denied me by any other aſſiſtance.

I ſpake theſe words with ſuch a reſolute action, that Adallas did not doubt, but that I had Courage enough to execute what I expreſſed; and having a freſh example of what I had lately done, he certainly believed, that a perſon who had braved death with ſo much aſſurance, and by the memory of the dangers which ſhe had lately eſcaped; was not ſtaggered at all in her deſigns, was capable of undertaking any thing, and of throwing her ſelf ſelf into greater extremities than the former, when ſhe ſhould ſee her ſelf conſtrained to it. The reflection he made upon it, kept him a long time from ſpeaking, lifting every moment his eyes to Heaven, and uſing ſuch geſtures as did ſufficiently expreſs the trouble and the inquietude of his ſpirit. At laſt breaking ſilence, and looking upon me with an action full of the marks of his paſſion. Olympia, ſaid he to me, the gods are my witneſſes, that if it were in my power to ceaſe from loving you, I would cure my ſelf of this paſſion which is ſo diſagreeable to you for our common repoſe, and that hence forward I have ſo little hope to conquer your inclinations, that I would no longer endeavour to conteſt with them; but ſeeing that in the violence whereunto my love is arrived, this hope is forbidden me, I cannot Olympia, I cannot promiſe you that I will ceaſe to love you. Neither will I promiſe you, that I will give you no more teſtimonies of my love by my diſcourſe and actions; it will be difficult for me to live near you, without making that appear to you which takes up my whole life. I will love you to my Grave, and to my Grave I will teſtifie to you, that I cannot ceaſe to love; but I will promiſe you, and do now promiſe you before all the gods, That I will never employ any thing whil'ſt I live, but love, perſeverance, and all the devoiers of a true lover to perſwade you, without having recourſe to the Authority which my Birth gives me, and I was heretofore reſolved to make uſe of. Yes, Olympia, you may be very certain, that you ſhall never be forced to give me thoſe teſtimonies of your affection which I might deſire, if you be not induced to do it by my love and ſervices, and with the aſſurance you may return without fear into a Kingdom, where you ſhall reign as in my heart; but withall believe aſſuredly, that I will never conſent whil'ſt I breath to anothers happineſs, but will rather undo all, and bury my ſelf in the ruines of our Family, than permit that any body elſe ſhould obtain that of you, which you ſo cruelly deny me. In fine, Olympia, I will never enjoy you by force, nor will I ever ſuffer any other to poſſeſs you, as long as I ſhall have any life left to hinder; and if it be poſſible for me, I will be the death of all thoſe who ſhall have the intention to do it.

Theſe words made me tremble upon Ariobarzanes's Account, to whom this menace was particularly addreſſed; but finding ſome conſolation in the promiſe which Adallas made me, never to force me to marry him, I thought it beſt to make uſe of this good motion, in expection that Heaven might ſend more abſolute aſſiſtance; and that by time, and the Accidents which might happen in my life, there might arrive a greater change in my Fortune. Sir, ſaid I to him upon this thought, you would undoubtedly obtain a very glorious Victory, if you could baniſh out of your Soul this paſſion which is ſo fatal to your repoſe, and ſo injurious to your Reputation, and you ſecure me but from one half of my pains in reſerving to your ſelf the liberty of loving me, and of continuing to give me teſtimonies of that fury which you call love. Yet I will endure them more patiently. than the violence which I feared at your hands; and if you obſerve the promiſe you have made me, never to uſe your Authority to conſtrain me, I will be contented to wait till the gods ſhall change your inclinations, without uſing any extremity againſt my life.

The King being well pleaſed to ſee me a little recompoſed, confirmed his promiſe to me, and conceived ſome ſmall hope, that time might work ſome favourable revolution in my Fortune.

In the mean time the Chyrurgions prayed the King to give ſome intermiſſion to this [Page] long and vehement Conſervation, if he would not have his wounds grow worſe; and 'twas with a great deal of conſtraint that he reſolved to keep ſilence, and to let me go from him for ſome few hours. I had the liberty to walk in the Veſſel, and ſo had Ariobarzanes too, the King having taken no care to retain him any other way, knowing very well that he had no means to get out of his power, but by throwing himſelf amongſt the waves, but though I ſaw him, and had a thouſand things to ſay to him, yet I durſt not ſpeak to him, ſeeing my ſelf obſerved by all the Kings Retinue, who were as ſo many Spies, and could not have informed him that I entred into a particular Converſation with Ariobarzanes, without redoubling his Jealouſie, which might have broken out into Tragical effects; yet my looks, which I did not retain with ſo much Circumſpection as in the Kings preſence, did partly declare my thoughts to him; and fearing leſt they ſhould fail in the diſcovery of my mind, one time, when I ſaw his eyes fixed upon me, I took my Bodkin out of my Head, and making as if I played with it, and made ſome letters upon one of the boards of the Veſſel; after I had muſed my ſelf in that manner for a while, at laſt I wrote my intention there in a few words, making him a ſmall ſign with a private wink, that when I was gone from thence, he ſhould come and read what I had written. Ariobarzanes eaſily apprehended my deſign, and coming into the place a little after I was gone, he did not fail to look what I had written; and though the letters were ill made upon the wood, yet he made a ſhift, with ſome trouble to read theſe few words, ‘Bridle your great Courage, if you love me, endure any thing at the Kings hands, ſo long as his reſentments go no farther then words, and endeavour to gain his heart by ſubmiſſion and ſervices.’ Ariobarzanes read theſe words, which immediately after he ſcratched out with a Bodkin, only ſubſcribing, I will obey.

In the mean time we were all intended upon by the Kings Officers, and though they knew the reſentment he had againſt Ariobarzanes, they could not chooſe but love him for his rare qualities, remembring the wonders he had done in their defence, to which they were ſenſible that they were beholding for their lives. That little of the day which remained, and the Night following paſt away, before we ſaw the King again, there being another Cabin in the Veſſel, whereinto I was put with my Maids; and Ariobarzanes being accommodated amongſt the men, who all looked upon him with Veneration.

The next day the Chyrurgions ſeeing that the Kings wounds grew worſe, and knowing that the Sea, and the agitation of the Veſſel were naught for him, they told him that he muſt of neceſſity land at the neareſt Port, and continue there till his wounds were in a better condition, if he would not put his life in great danger. Adallas received this News with impatience, and yet he was neſſitated to reſolve upon it; and being not far diſtant from the Coaſts of Cilicia, and the Iſland of Cyprus, he commanded the Veſſel to put in to land with all ſpeed; not in Cilicia, for he knew that there it was where I would have choſen my retreat; and he was afraid to ſee the King our Uncle, who probably would not have approved of the wicked intentions he had for me; but in the Iſle of Cyprus, where in the next Town he might attend the cure of his wounds. Yet he ordered his men, to conceal his Name, and not to diſcover him to any body, during all the time he ſhould be forced to continue there. This order being given, and the Veſſel being turned that way, the King made me be called, and after his firſt Diſcourſes, which were ſtill of the ordinary ſtile, and that he had told me that he had reſolved what to do with Ariamenes (whom he knew by that Name) he commanded him to be brought into his Chamber. The Prince came in, and opproached his Bed with a countenance which were no marks of fear, and which cauſed admiration and love in all thoſe that ſaw him. The King looked upon him a while without ſpeaking, and then beginning to diſcourſe with a more compoſed action than the day before. Ariamenes, ſaid he, The gods are my Witneſſes, that I look upon the benefit which I have received from thee in ſuch a manner, that if it were not counterpozed by the outrage thou haſt done me, I have neither Eſtate nor Dignities, no not ſo much as a Crown, but what I would make thee partaker of as my Deliverer, and the Preſerver of my life. And the ſame gods know likewiſe, that the offence which I have received from thee, doth ſo ſenſibly move me, That if it were not equalized by the greatneſs of the Service which thou haſt rendred me, there is no conſideration or humane power which could hinder me from taking away thy life. I have therefore been obliged to ſeek out a middle way between the offence and the benefit, to moderate the reſentments which are due to both; and ſeeing I am not permitted to deſtroy my moſt cruel Enemy, becauſe he is the Defender of my life, I do not owe that acknowledgment to the Defender of my life, which I intended him, becauſe he is my greateſt and moſt cruel Enemy. Know then that I acquit my ſelf of the obligation which I have for the Service which thou haſt rendred me, in leaving the thy life and liberty, offering thee according to my promiſe, the conveniences of conveying thy ſelf into any part of the World whither thou wouldeſt [Page] retire, except my Dominions; and I ſatisfie my revenge and my repoſe as much as I can, by withholding the Recompences which I deſigned for thee in my Court, by forbidding the ever to ſet foot in any part of the World, where thou may'ſt ſee Olympia's face again; and proteſting to thee by all the powers of Heaven, that all the powers upon Earth ſhall not ſave thy life, if after this prohibition thou falleſt again into my power in my own Dominions; prepare thy ſelf therefore to be gone as ſoon as we come a ſhoar, and demand any thing that may be neceſſary for thy Equipage or Conduct; but remember that our ſeparation muſt be eternal, and that thou can'ſt not ever dream of ſeeing Olympia again, without expoſing thy ſelf to an inevitable death.

Adallas ſpake in this manner, and I trembled all the while that his Diſcourſe laſted; but Ariobarzanes hearkned to him without changing his countenance, or ſhewing any ſign of paſſion, though he laid a great deal of violence upon himſelf to obey the command which I impoſed upon him, to endure the Kings threatnings with patience; and when he had done ſpeaking, the Prince looking upon him in a reſolute manner, ‘Sir, ſaid he, I never did you any injury, nor have I rendred you any Service, but what you have already requited; and as my death ought not to ſatisfie for thoſe outrages wherewith you reproach me, ſeeing it is certain that you never received any from me; ſo you owe me no Recompence, for having expoſed my life for the defence of yours, ſeeing you ſaved my life afterwards, by freeing me from a place, where in all probability I ſhould quickly have ſeen an end of it. By this only benefit, I acknowledge my ſelf paid for the Service I have rendered you, and I acquit you of it, deſiring nothing elſe of your liberality, but the liberty you have offered me to retire into any Dominions but yours, and to a place whither it ſhall pleaſe the gods to conduct my Deſtiny.’ He would not ſpeak any more, for fear of letting fall ſome word that might diſpleaſe me, or diſcover our intelligence; neither would he receive any thing that the King offered him for his Conduct, and to put him into Equipage; and I was not troubled at it, remembring that I had ſeen him have a Picture Caſe, which he had formerly received from the King his Father, with the Pourtraicture of that Prince, enriched with Diamonds of a great value, which would yield him above Thirty Talents at the firſt Town he came to, though he ſold them for half their worth. The King, by the refuſal he made of his aſſiſtance, confirmed himſelf in the belief he had, That he was of no mean extraction, and that thought rendred him the more ſuſpitious and redoubtable to him, and yet he confeſſed in his preſence, that it was his misfortune to obſerve in a man, whom he neither could, nor ought to love, all the qualities that might attract both love and admiration.

I will not tell you how Ariobarzanes reſented our ſeparation, for we had not the liberty to ſpeak together; but for my part, my fair Princeſſes, I confeſs I was ſo ſenſible of it, that I had no room for comfort in my Soul; and it was no ſmall redoubling of my greif, to ſee my ſelf in a condition, and in a place where I could no way diſcover it, and where I was obliged to a cruel and rigorous conſtraint. I ventured for all that once more to write ſome words to Ariobarzanes, by that means which I formerly made uſe of; and having taken my time, as before, though with a little more trouble and fear. I was ſo continually afraid to expoſe him to ſome danger, I gave him opportunity to read theſe few words engraved upon the ſame Plank, and with the ſame Bodkin which had rendred us the former Office. Wait, as I do, upon the leaſure of Heaven for ſome change in our Fortune, endeavour it if you can without expoſing your ſelf; but be ſure you do not make your ſelf known, and if you cannot ſee me without putting your life in danger, in the Name of the Gods never ſee me more. I could not write theſe laſt words without ſhedding ſome tears, and Ariobarzanes could not read them, without having need of all his conſtancy to diſſemble his grief, He preſently blotted out that which I had writ, and added theſe few words below, I will love you to my Grave, I will ſee you again whatſoever befalls; and I ſhall expoſe nothing that is mine, when in ſeeing you, I ſhall only hazard that life which I have devoted to you. It being ſomewhat difficult to grave upon the Wood, we could not write longer Letters; and after I had blotted out this laſt, I would not venture any more, for fear that at laſt we might have been ſurprized.

Nevertheleſs I found opportunity to let Ericia ſpeak with him, and ſhe being much leſs obſerved than I, it being no ſtrange matter, that upon the acquaintance which they had contracted in the time which they had been together, they ſhould have ſome Diſcourſe, ſhe took her time to aſſure him from me, of the firmneſs of my affection, and to proteſt to him, That though I was not reſolved ever to beſtow my ſelf upon him upon my own ſingle motion, in aſſuming a liberty which would be condemned by perſons of my Birth; yet for all that, I would do all that poſſibly I could, never to be any ones elſe but his; and I would govern my ſelf ſo in that deſign, that he ſhould never have any cauſe to accuſe me: She told him, That as for his part, he might take any courſe that his affection and prudence [Page] ſhould direct him to, and provided, he did not hazard his life too raſhly. I had ſo good an opinion of him, as to commit to his conduct whatſoever might concern me; but above all, he ſhould keep himſelf from being known to be a Kings Son, and be aſſured, that the equality of our conditions rendring him more ſuſpicious and redoubtable to Adallas, would be infallibly fatal to him, Ariobarzanes received theſe Teſtimonies of my affection with great expreſſions of content and comfort, and after that he had loaded Ericia with a thouſand proteſtations of eternal fidelity. ‘Aſſure my Princeſs, added he, That no difficulty, no fear of death ſhall be able to deprive her of one moment of my life that I will live to ſerve her; that I will ſee her again, and find out wayes for her to make me happy, if her goodneſs continues favourable to me: Let her never fear my Conduct, as young and as paſſionate as I am, I will manage her intereſts in that manner, that ſhe ſhall never receive any diſpleaſure upon that account. In the mean time, my good and generous Ericia, keep her ſtill, if you can poſſibly, in theſe inclinations of pity which ſhe hath for me, and repreſent to her, if you pleaſe, that ſhe cannot forget her faithful Ariobarzanes, without committing a cruelty which the gods will never pardon: he made her divers other very paſſionnate Diſcourſes, till he thought the length of their Converſation might make it be ſuſpected. Ericia tenderly affected me with the Report ſhe made me of it, and it was eaſie for Adallas to perſwade himſelf more and more, by the ſadneſs which he obſerved in my countenance, that the departure of Ariamenes did not leave me without diſpleaſure.’

In the mean time we drew near to the Iſle of Cyprus, and the City of Carpaſia, which was the neareſt Port. The King made us go aſhoar, and cauſed himſelf to be carried out of the Veſſel, to one of the Houſes in the City, but he was minded to ſee Ariobarzanes gone firſt, and when the Prince took his leave of him, ‘Farewell Ariamenes, ſaid he, Accuſe my misfortune, and not my ingratitude, that I cannot be thy Friend; and be ſure to remember, that we muſt never meet again; and that Thrace is a Country fatal to thy life, whither thou muſt never come, but with a reſolution to loſe it.’ ‘I know it, Sir, ſaid Ariamenes, and I ſhall remember it without doubt; but if we ever do ſee another again, it may poſſibly be in ſuch a manner, that the ſecond view may be as welcome to thee as the firſt.’ Adallas poſſibly did not underſtand theſe laſt words, at leaſt he made him no Reply, neither did Ariobarzanes give him time to do it; but having taken his leave of me with a profound Reverence, which Adallas's preſence could not hinder him from expreſſing to me, he turned his back, and all alone, and on foot, he took a different way from that which we went. I confeſs that I was as ſenſible of this ſeparation, as if I had loſt one half of my ſelf; but I was forced to diſſemble my grief by a cruel conſtraint, and I could not ſo eaſily do it, but that Adallas found occaſion in the changing of my countenance, to make me divers reproaches. We went to the City, where without diſcovering our ſelves, we were well lodged, and there the Kings Chyrurgions took care of his recovery.

You will wonder, my Princeſſes, That having made you a long Relation of the great Combat, wherein the King my Brother received his wounds, I have not told you the cauſe of it, nor who the perſons were againſt whom he fought; but indeed the King himſelf was ignorant of it, and ſo were all thoſe that were with him; and the Kings wounds having hindred him in the time of the Victory from thinking to take ſome Priſoners, who might have acquainted him with the Truth, when he had an intention to do it afterwards, it was too late, and he could find no body that could give him any information. At the beginning of the Combat, he thought they had been Pirats who had ſet upon him; but he perceived afterwards, that his Enemies aimed more at his life, than at booty, and they were too cruelly violent in the purſuit of him, to be carried on by no other intereſt, but the deſire of Pillage, as ordinary Pirats are. At that time they could make no further diſcovery, but time and things which hapned afterwards, acquainted them with the Truth, as you ſhall likewiſe underſtand by the Sequel of my Diſcourſe.

The King knowing very well, that there were in his Kingdom ſome perſons ill-affected to his Service, and that at his departure, he had left things diſpoſed to ſome Inſurrection, fearing leſt his long abſence, and the uncertainty of his life, might cauſe a great prejudice to his Affairs, ſent ſome of his Followers in his Veſſel, to go and aſſure his people, That he had a deſign to return very ſpeedily to them, and to retain them within the limits of their Duty, as much as poſſibly they could. In the mean time, the Chyrurgions employed themſelves with a great deal of care in the curing of his wounds; they were not dangerous, but the Sea, and the violent paſſions wherewith the Kings mind had been diſturbed, had exaſperated them, and rendred the cure of them more difficult. In this place every one was ignorant of the Name and Quality of the King, and the Countrey being very quiet, his Equipage did not make him ſuſpected, and his Servants were ready with an Anſwer, telling thoſe who asked them, That he was a Lord of Quality born upon the Frontiers of Thrace, [Page] and had been wounded by Pirats, who were frequently met withal upon thoſe Seas.

In the interim I was guarded like a Priſoner, though in all other reſpects I was treated & ſerved like a Queen; and the King, who remembred what I had undertaken a little before, and fearing to loſe me by a ſecond flight; or being afraid leſt Ariobarzanes, who might be concealed in that Iſland, ſhould uſe ſome endeavor to ſee me, and poſſibly to get me out of his hands, cauſed me to be ſo ſtrictly watched, that I had ſcarce liberty to go into my Chamber which joined cloſe to his; and during all the time that his Chyrurgions permitted him to ſee any body, I was forced to be continually by his Beds-ſide, and conſequently always expoſed to his cruel perſecution. Yet when he ſaw my ſpirit exaſperated with a little more than ordinary violence, he gave me a little intermiſſion, and proteſted to me, that he would inviolably obſerve the promiſe he had made me, not to force my inclinations; but that was not capable of giving me any repoſe, but was perpetually diſturbed by his purſuits, which I could not endure without horrour: And if I may dare to confeſs it, my fair Princeſſes, that was not able to comfort me for Ariobarzanes abſence. His Image, ſince I muſt conceal nothing from you, continued in ſuch a manner engraved in my memory, and the remembrance of his Excellent qualities, and the teſtimonies which he had given me of his love, were ſo preſent, and ſo dear to my memory, that nothing could intermingle with them though but for a few moments, without cauſing me a diſpleaſure. The Converſation which I had with my faithful Ericia, was all my comfort; and thoſe hours when I had the liberty to converſe with her without Witneſſes, I uſed all the expreſſions that a real affection could put into the mouth of a perſon that is very ſenſible of it; and received from her mouth, all that in that condition could afford any conſolation to my ſorrows. Alas! How many times hath ſhe dryed up the tears which the conſideration of my misfortunes made me ſhed, promiſing me ſome change in my condition, by the ſight, and by the cares of Ariobarzanes? And how often, againſt her own thoughts, hath ſhe flatter'd a grief, which ſhe judged to be capable of bringing me to my Grave? The Name of Ariobarzanes was Muſick in my ears, but I could not ſo much as fancy a real hope of ſeeing him again; and I found ſo little probability of it, and ſo little ſafety for him, that I could not comprehend how it might be done, and indeed I did not know whether I might deſire it or not. ‘Ericia ſaid I ſometimes to that Maid, My misfortunes are real, and my happineſs is nothing but illuſion. I know that I am really tormented by the cruel perſecution of Adallas; that I did really expoſe my ſelf to the mercy of a tempeſtuous Sea; that I ſuffered ſhip wrack in an Iſland where I had almoſt periſhed by famine, with thoſe perſons who were dear to me; and I know very well, that by the countenance of my ill Fortune, I am really fallen into Adallas's power; but as for all that concerns Ariobarzanes, it ſeems no more to me, than a Dream or a Viſion: But alas! ſuch a Viſion as hath imprinted deeper Characters in my heart, than the moſt real things. In the very Arms of death, Ariobarzanes appeared to me like a flaſh of lightning, he inflamed me the firſt moment, and in a ſhort time after diſappeared from my eyes with the ſame ſuddenneſs. Whatſoever Beauty, Valour, Wit, and all the moſt excellent qualities could contribute to accompliſhment, was preſented to me in the perſon of a man unknown; and at a time when I expected nothing elſe but death, this admirable Maſter-piece of perfection immediately opened himſelf a paſſage to my heart, and it ſeems my deſtiny ſhewed him to me by ſo extraordinary a way, only to ſubdue a Soul till then in vincible to that paſſion; and when it had wrought its effect, when the miſerable Olympia was upon ſuch terms, whereunto ſhe never thought to ſee her ſelf reduced, the ſame deſtiny ſnatched away Ariobarzanes, deprived me of that which made me in love with life, and deprived me of it ſo, that I ſhall ſee him again no more. No Ericia, I ſhall never ſee him more; and the gods who have ſent him to me by a prodigious Adventure, do not work Miracles every day in our favour. I will not ſuſpect the ſpirit of Ariobarzanes of inconſtancy, or infidelity, and I believe what you tell me, That he will be alwayes faithful to me; but what Advantage will that be to my happineſs? And how can he ſerve me, without expoſing himſelf to that death wherewith Adallas hath ſo cruelly threatned him? Beſides, Is it reaſonable that I ſhould deſire the return of that poor Prince? And if I love him really, ought I to deſire that, to come and ſee me, he ſhould throw himſelf into ſuch a manifeſt danger? Ah! No Ericia, let us never hope it, let us never deſire it, and let us ſeek our utmoſt conſolations in our tears.’ As I ended theſe words, I ſhed a great quantity of tears, and all that the poor Ericia could alledge to me, did but very little diminiſh my grief. 'Tis true, that having accuſtomed my ſelf from my infancy to an abſolute reſignation to the will of the gods, I endeavored to practice it in this Adventure, and in that indeed it was that I found ſome eaſe, alwayes hoping that the Divine goodneſs would favour innocent deſigns, or at leaſt would give me conſtancy enough to ſupport whatſoever it had reſolved as to my deſtiny.

[Page] Lingring out my dayes in this manner, two whole Months were ſlip't away before the Kings wounds were cured, and he was not yet in a condition to go to Sea again, when the two men whom he had ſent into his Kingdom, returned back in the ſame Veſſel which he had furniſhed them with, and brought him the ſaddeſt, and the moſt unpleaſing News that he could receive, which was, in a word, of a general commotion, and almoſt the total loſs of all his Dominions. This hapned in ſuch a manner as I am going to relate to you in a few words. The King Adallas our Father, was not ſetled in the poſſeſſion of Thrace, till after he had had great War with a Neighbouring Prince, Sovereign of Taurica Cherſoneſus, and pretending to the Kingdom of Thrace, by a great many Reaſons that he alledged, ſaying, That he was deſcended from the lawful Kings of that Kingdom; and quarrelling upon theſe pretenſions, with the King my Father as an Uſurper; divers perſons affirmed that his pretenſions were juſt enough, and grounded their Diſcourſe upon very probable Arguments; but howſoever it was, there was a great deal of blood ſhed in this quarrel, and though the King my Father was more ſtrong in men, and had larger Dominions than his Enemy, the events of the War were a long while doubtful; and poſſibly it would not have been ended a long time, if Anthony had not interpoſed his Authority to bring them to agreement a little before that War, wherein he decided the Empire of the Univerſe with Auguſtus, and in which the King my Father kept him faithful Company, and ſerved him with his Perſon, and his Forces. Theſe two Princes, either willingly, or out of fear, remitted their intereſts into Anthonies hands, who being favourable to our Family, diſmiſſed the King of Cherſoneſus from the pretenſions he had to the Crown of Thrace; yet leaving him a ſmall part of that Kingdom joining to Cherſoneſus, which his Father, and all his Predeceſſors had alwayes poſſeſſed, by means of a Tribute which they annually paid to the King of Thrace, which he obliged him to pay as before. After this Accord, my Father continued peaceable in his Dominions; and the King of Taurica, though he thought himſelf ill-uſed, lived at peace with his Neighbour, whom he knew to be more ſtrong than he; but he dyed almoſt at the ſame time that the King my Father did, and left his Dominions to a Son which he had almoſt of the ſame Age with the King my Brother, a fierce and haughty man, but of exceeding Valour, and born with all the neceſſary qualities for a great Warrior. He had already acquired great Reputation in the War which the Queen of Dacia made in Scythia: And though he had ſome diſadvantage againſt the Valiant Alcamenes Prince of the Scythians, and had been conſtrained to renounce the pretenſions he had to the Princeſs of Dacia, 'twas certain for all that, that he had rendred his Name famous by a hundred gallant Actions. This Prince named Merodates, being not contented with what was allotted him, but complaining of the injuſtice which was done him by the judgment of Anthony, after the death of my Father, was oftentimes upon the point of taking up Arms to begin the War afreſh upon the old pretenſions of his Family; but he ſaw himſelf unequal in Forces, and though he was raſh enough, yet being prudent withall, he diſſembled part of his deſigns in expectation of an occaſion to diſcover them, when he ſhould be in a condition publickly to undertake the execution of them, endeavouring in the mean while to gain and keep ſome intelligences in Thrace, and ſowing the ſeeds of Diſcontentment and Rebellion in the minds of the Thracians, who are naturally inconſtant and unfaithful; and to whom beſides, I know not by what misfortune, my Brothers Government was not very agreeable.

Adallas having had ſome ſuſpition of Merodates's practices, and ſeeing him otherwiſe very ſlow and backward to pay him the Tribute which he owed him for the Lands which he permitted him to poſſeſs in Thrace, after he had cauſed it to be ſharply demanded of him; and not receiving preſent ſatisfaction, he ſent his Troops into thoſe places which he held in Thrace; and they being ill furniſhed for defence againſt the Forces of a mighty King, Adallas quickly made himſelf Maſter of them, and abſolutely diſpoſſeſſed Merodates, leaving nothing in his power within the limits of Thrace. After this Adallas might believe that his Enemy would loſe no opportunity he could meet with to revenge himſelf; and knowing him to be haughty and full of Courage, he had a reaſon to fear him, or at leaſt not to leave him in a condition to expreſs his reſentments; and yet the gods, whom the unlawful paſſion of the King my Brother had provoked againſt him, permitted him to be ſo blinded, That he did not only neglect to put himſelf into a condition to keep his Enemy within his limits; but as deſtiny would have it, a little while after I flying from his Court and Kingdom, as I have related to you, his paſſion did ſo tranſport him, and did ſo cloſe his eyes againſt all other conſiderations, that without foreſeeing the evils which apparently threatned him, he committed the whole Government of his Dominions into the hands of his Favorite Eurimedes, and running whither his Folly carried him. He went to Sea with one ſingle Veſſel, and being attended only with a hundred men, taking no greater Equipage [Page] with him which might diſcover him in the deſign he had to ſearch all the Seas all incognito, till he had met with me. He had been two Months at Sea to no purpoſe, when he landed at the little Iſland where we had ſuffered Ship-wrack; and as I told you, we had ſtayed two Months in Cyprus, when theſe two men came back to us, and brought us News of the Diſaſters which in thoſe four Months were hapned in his Kingdom.

They informed us then, That a little after his departure, Merodates ſeeing ſo fair an occaſion for his revenge, and for the recovery of his Countrey, came in with all the Forces he could raiſe; and the places being defended but with very ſmall Garriſons, part of them had their Throats cut by the Inhabitants, part of them were forced to yield, and the reſt being intimidated, marched out upon compoſition, leaving Merodates abſolute Maſter of that which he had loſt not long before. And ſeeing himſelf poſſeſſor of that which lawfully belonged to him; he did not bound his Ambition there, but after he had ſtrengthned his Troops with divers Levies which the Countries which were reconquered furniſhed him withal, and which he ſent for out of Cherſoneſus,, to make a ſtrong Attempt; with a conſiderable Body of an Army he marched into Thrace, and being prudently Politick, he waſted all with Fire and Sword that made any reſiſtance; and uſed all thoſe very gently who ſubmitted to him without farther trouble. The whole Kingdom ſeeing it ſelf deprived of its King, and being disfurniſhed of Forces, and neceſſary preparations to withſtand a ſharp War, was very much ſtaggered; and thoſe whom Merodates had a long time practiſed withall, did not fail to publiſh all abroad, That their King had abandoned them, and that they were fools and wretches to ſuffer themſelves to be killed, and to expoſe themſelves to all the miſeries of a cruel and a bloody War, to preſerve their Fidelity to a Prince who delivered them up to their Enemies, and had quitted the defence of his Kingdom, and his Subjects, to go and fill the world with the report of the horrible love which he bare his Siſter: And to this Merodates added Manifeſtos. which he ſpread all about, by which he endeavored to make the King odious to a people which he had had ſo little care to protect, and exhorted them to put themſelves under the dominion of a Prince deſcended from their lawful Kings, a Prince, who inſtead of abandoning them, would defend them with his blood, againſt all the powers upon earth. To this, he adjoined great promiſes to thoſe who ſhould come in to his Party, and great threatnings to thoſe who ſhould make any reſiſtance. And in brief, he had wrought in ſuch a manner, either by his perſwaſions, or by the terrour of his Arms, that a great many perſons of conſiderable quality, either intimidated, or corrupted, or diſcontented and ill-affected, joined with his Party, and divers Cities opened their Gates to him.

Eurimedes, to whom the King had left the Government of the Kingdom, had uſed all poſſible Remedies with all Fidelity and diligence, and of all the Troops which he could raiſe; and in levying and conduct whereof, he had employed and encouraged thoſe perſons of quality which were well-affected to the Service of their King, having compoſed the Body of an Army of more than Twenty thouſand men; he marched againſt Merodates, and too unadviſedly gave him Battel. The deſpute was doubtful, cruel and bloody, but at laſt the victory fell to Merodates; and Eurimedes being vanquiſhed, hardly ſaved himſelf, with part of his Cavalry, all his Infantry being cut in peeces. After this Victory, the inſolent Merodates marched directly towards Bizantium, cauſing himſelf to be ſtiled King of Thrace, and receiving every day the Towns which ſubmitted to his obedience. There were ſome, which by the ſtrength of their ſcituation, or the Valour and Fidelity of the Inhabitants, cauſed ſome trouble to the Conqueror; but at laſt he made himſelf Maſter of them, and uſed thoſe ſo rigorouſly who had reſiſted to extremity, that it was much to be feared, that the reſt were diſcouraged, and would rather follow the example of the others, who by their facility in yielding to the Vanquiſher, had received all manner of good uſage. Eurimedes was near to Byzantium, where he raiſed new Forces, and a great many Loyal perſons came in to him; but it was beleived, that he would not be a long time in a condition to hazard a ſecond Battel, neither was it judged ſafe for him to venture it, though he had Forces equal to thoſe of Merodates. In the mean time he fortified the City, and the Haven of Bizantium, and by his orders, and example, divers Governors put their Garriſons into a poſture of defence; but there was a general terror amongſt all, little Fidelity in the hearts of the meaner People; and in brief, a great deal of danger of the loſs of the whole Kingdom, if the gods, and the preſence of the King did not prevent it.

This was the News which was reported to Adallas, and which, maugre his paſſion, cauſed a great deal of trouble and grief in his Soul. He continued a good while not able to open his mouth, and afterwards turning his eyes toward me, and prefacing his intended Diſcourſe with ſome ſighs, Behold Madam, ſaid he, behold the fruits of the Love I bear you; it is not ſufficient, that for your ſake I ſhould be deprived of my Repoſe, but for your ſake [Page] too I muſt loſe the Kingdom of my Anceſtors. By this, Sir, anſwered I, you may judge how much that Love diſpleaſes the gods, ſeeing they puniſh you for it with ſo extream a rigor; and if you would appeaſe them, and render them more favourable to you, you muſt rid your ſelf of that unjuſt paſſion which hath provoked them againſt you. All the afflictions they can lay upon me, replied the paſſionate Prince, ſhall never reduce me to that; and if to the loſs of my Crown, they do not add the loſs of my life too, they ſhall never deprive me of the Love which I have for Olympia, to whom I would willingly have ſacrificed Crowns and Empires far greater than that which I have received from my Anceſtors. Ah! Sir, added I, if you would make good uſe of the inſtruction which you received from Heaven, you might yet without doubt gain aſſiſtances thence, which might reſettle you upon your Throne, and would give you an abſolute Victory over thoſe Enemies to whom your unjuſt paſſion only hath given all the Courage they had to invade your Dominions. Let us talk no more of it, cryed the furious Adallas, let us talk no more of it; but let us go without any farther delay to the aſſiſtance of a Kingdom which is not quite loſt: There poſſibly in a little time, you ſhall ſee what vengeance I will take upon my Enemies, or at leaſt by my utter overthrow, you ſhall be perpetually freed from a wretch who lives only to perſecute you with his Love, and not to be beloved by you. Upon theſe words, though he was not as yet fully cured, he commanded that all things ſhould be prepared for our departure againſt the next Morning, as well to accomode the Veſſel if it had any need, as alſo for the Proviſion of Neceſſaries for our Voyage.

In effect all things being prepared as well as they could be in ſo ſhort a time, the next day we put to Sea, and began to make towards Thrace with all our Sails. We proſecuted our Voyage with a great deal of diligence and ſucceſs for the firſt dayes; and Adallas being inflamed with a deſire of Revenge, did continually encourage the induſtry of his Mariners. We had already paſſed by Apolbuſa, Eramnuſa, and Cholidonia; we had Coaſted Rhodes and Doris upon the right hand, and left Crete behind us upon the left hand; when as we were ſailing forward amongſt the Iſles called the Cyclades, the gods, who were really angry with Adallas, were pleaſed that we ſhould be ſurprized with a furious Tempeſt, which, after it had toſſed our Veſſel divers dayes with great danger of our lives, made us turn back the ſame way, and conſtrained us to land in the Iſle of Crete.

The King my Brother almoſt dyed with diſpleaſure, when he ſaw himſelf ſo cruelly croſſed in his intentions; but he had cauſe enough to exerciſe all his patience, when he was forced to wait above ſix weeks in Crete, till the wind, which all that while was contrary to us, changed to a favourable point, and gave him opportunity of putting to Sea again. You need not doubt, but that this obſtacle put him almoſt in deſpair; and ſeeing that above two Months were ſlip't away, ſince he had received intelligence of the unfortunate condition of his Affairs, he had reaſon to fear that they were grown much worſe, and that his Enemies had gained time enough to corrupt the Fidelity of his Subjects, or to reduce them by force to the utmoſt extremities. He received News in Crete too (whereas in other places he continued always concealed) and the wind which oppoſed our going towards Thrace, being very favourable to them who came from the Coaſts of Thrace into Crete, gave him opportunity oftentime, to ſee ſome perſons, who could give him a confuſed Relation of that which came to their knowledge, by the general Report concerning the eſtate of his Kingdom. They told him, that all things there were in a far greater diſorder than before; that Eurimedes, Lieutenant-General of the Kingdom, having been conſtrained to come to a ſecond Battel, was defeated, and himſelf killed upon the place; and after this laſt Victory, Merodates had hardly found any reſiſtance in the Field; only they thought that the City of Bizantium, and the Country thereabout, continued faithful, and in a defenſive poſture, by his care, who having been Eurimedes's Lieutenant a little before his death, had ſince ſucceeded him in his charge, and, as they ſaid, defended thoſe ſmall remainders with a great deal of Valour. Adallas had much ado to diſſemble his grief before thoſe who made him theſe Reports, not knowing who he was; and in the impatiency which tormented him, he would poſſibly have ſunk under his ſorrows, if that fooliſh Love which did predominate in his Soul above all the other paſſions; had not made him loſe, or at leaſt laid aſide ſome part of the ſenſibility which he might have for all other Affairs.

At laſt, after ſix weeks expectation, as I told you before the wind which had been ſo directly oppoſite to us, giving place to that which we had ſo much deſired, we went to Sea again, and continued our Voyage with our former diligence. We quickly recovered the Cyclades, we left Eubea upon our left hand, and ſailed on in the Egean Sea. But when we were paſt the Iſle of Leſbos, the King underſtanding by the Diſcourſe he had heard, That he could not land in ſafety in any part of Thrace, but only at Bizantium, which continued faithful to him ſtill, he was very much troubled to think what way he ſhould take. And it was not without reaſon that he was ſo ſollicitous, ſeeing that to get into the Straight of Bizantium, [Page] he muſt of neceſſity ſail all along the Coaſt of the Taurica Cherſoneſus, which was his Enemies Countrey, and paſs through all the Helleſpont to enter into Propontis, which he could not do without a great deal of danger, there being no doubt but that his Enemies had Ships at Sea, either to take him, or deſtroy him there; and he almoſt certainly believing (as indeed the Truth was) that the Encounter which he already had at Sea, whereby he was reduced into ſuch great danger, was with the men which Merodates had ſent out upon that deſign. He was forced for all that to reſolve upon ſomething, and ſeeing no other means to land, being naturally very Couragious, he ventured the paſſage; and upon this occaſion, either by his good Fortune, or the negligence of his Enemies, who left the Sea free, having enough to do at Land, the gods were favourable to him, and we ſailed through the Straight along all the Coaſt of Cherſoneſus, and entred into Propontis, without meeting with any oppoſition. When we were paſt the Straight, we kept out at Sea, and ſailed at a further diſtance from the Coaſt, for fear of falling into the Enemies hands, not knowing which way to get to Bizantium without great danger.

We continued two dayes in this uncertainty, and the third day we diſcovered a Veſſel which made towards us, Adallas was in doubt a while, whether he ſhould come near it or no, becauſe of the danger there was of meeting Enemies ſooner than Friends; but his Affairs being in a condition which obliged him to venture very much, and that without hazarding himſelf there was little probability for him to recover that which he had loſt, he determined to try his Fortune, and to enquire of thoſe perſons who were in the Veſſel, in what condition the Port of Bizantium was, and by what means he might land there, in caſe he found them to be his Friends, and faithful Subjects; and if they were his Enemies, he reſolved to fight them. With this Reſolution he advanced towards the Veſſel, which coming directly to us, and no way avoiding us, afforded us all the facility we could deſire of coming near to it. There was immediately a ſignal of Peace given from our Ship, and the other having returned the like, they both came cloſe up to each other, and the perſons which were on Board began to ſpeak one to another; but Soſias, who was the moſt conſiderable man about the King, no ſooner ſaw the Captain of the other Veſſel, but he knew him to be Nicocles, one of his familiar friends, and one of the Kings faithful Servants. Upon this happy Encounter, Soſias, after a joyful Exclamation, called Nicocles by his Name, and he had no ſooner made himſelf known to him, but Nicocles, who knew very well that Soſias went from Bizantium with the King, running to the ſide of his Veſſel, Soſias, cryed he, Where is the King? Where is the King? At theſe words, the King who had concealed himſelf behind ſome of his Servants, knowing the perſon, and the affection of Nicocles, came out before them, and diſcovering himſelf to him, Here he is, Nicocles, cryed he, Here he is. Nicocles being not miſtaken either in the voice or countenance of his Prince, immediately leaped into our Ship, followed by the principal of his Companions, and embracing the knees of his King with tears of joy, he gave him to underſtand, That all Fidelity was not extinguiſhed in his Subjects hearts.

The King having ſpent ſome time in the firſt motions of his joy, and having ſhewed him too that I was in the Ship, began at laſt to queſtion him about the condition of Affairs, and by what means he might land at Bizantium. ‘Sir, ſaid Nicocles, You may go to Bizantium with all the facility that may be; and the Valour of that perſon who now poſſeſſes Eurimedes's place, hath removed the Enemies Troops ſo far from the City, that they cannot hinder your landing, neither have they any Ships upon this Sea which you need to fear.’ He began after that to make a brief Relation to the King of all that he had heard before concerning the firſt proceedings of Merodates in Thrace, the taking of almoſt all the Towns in the Kingdom, and the event of the two Battels which he had gained; in the laſt of which, the faithful Eurimedes loſt his life; and continuing his Diſcourſe concerning thoſe things which were not as yet come to the Kings knowledge: Sir, ſaid he, In the beginning of this War, a young ſtranger who ſought occaſions of ſignalizing himſelf, having been informed of the Juſtice of your ſide, liſted himſelf in your Troops, and in the firſt Battel, applying himſelf particular to Eurimedes, he not only ſaved his life, but ſhewed him likewiſe ſo many other effects of an admirable Valour, that the General admiring his gallant Actions, and acknowledging the particular Service he had received from him, after his Retreat, gave him the Command of Two thouſand Horſe, being the greateſt part of our Cavalry that was left, and put him into ſo much Reputation by the Elogiums which he beſtowed upon him, That all your faithful Subjects looked upon him without envy in the imployment which was beſtowed upon him; and he behaved himſelf ſo in it, That if he had commanded ſtronger Forces, there was great probability, that he would haved ſtopped the progreſs of Merodates. With his Two thouſand Horſe, he daily skirmiſhed with the Enemy, whil'ſt Eurimedes raiſed more men; and being conducted [Page] by ſuch perſons as were better acquainted with the Countrey than himſelf, he continually beat up their quarters, and did ſo much incommodate Merodates, that he with his ſmall body, was more formidable to the Enemy, than all the Forces of Thrace. At all the Sieges which they underſtood he perpetually plagued them; and by his continual Incurſions, and the Supplies he frequently put into the Garrifons, he hindred, without doubt, the loſs of a good part of our Towns; but at laſt the great Number of our Enemies, ſeconded by the Valor of their Prince, who is really one of the moſt Valiant and Couragious Captains upon Earth; and the Diſloyalty, or weakneſs of part of the Thracians, prevailed againſt all the reſiſtance we could make, and conſtrained the Valiant ſtranger to retire to the main body of the Army, which Eurimedes recruited with all poſſible ſpeed. Eurimedes ſeeing in what manner he had uſed the employment which he had given him, he advanced him to higher Offices, in the Function whereof, we looked upon him without diſpleaſure, ſo courteouſly and generouſly did he make uſe of his Fortune, and ſo worthy of it was he eſteemed by all the World for the gallant Actions he was daily ſeen to do. He came at laſt to be Lieutenant-General under Eurimedes, and in the abſence of Eurimedes, no body made any difficulty to receive Orders from him. In brief, Merodates with a puiſſant Army fell upon us, and it was within two dayes Journey of Bizantium, as I told your Majeſty before, that Eurimedes was conſtrained to fight the ſecond Battel, which he loſt, and wherein he was killed by Merodates his own hand. His brave young Lieutenant was not preſent at this Action; for by Eurimedes his Orders, he was gone with Four thouſand men to guard a Paſs, which a Part of Merodates's Troops would have gained to cut off our Retreat to Bizantium. That Valiant man was Victorious on his ſide, and the Troops which preſented themſelves to him, were defeated with ſo conſiderable a loſs, that if on the other ſide we had not been abſolutely ruined, ſuch a notable advantage was capable of repairing ſome of our loſt Affairs. A few dayes after, being deſperately grieved at the loſs of the Battel, and of the General too, he rallied up the Reliques of the Army about Bizantium, and though they were in a pitiful condition, yet he made a ſhift with thoſe which he had ſaved on his ſide, to patch up a body, which he intrenched ſome Furlongs off from Bizantium, having the City behind their backs, that they might receive aſſiſtance thence, and make uſe of it for a retreating place, in caſe they were forced to it. We had divers perſons which in all probability might better pretend to the Command of our Troops, than the young ſtranger; and yet by the greatneſs of his Actions and the Affection, which though a ſtranger, he expreſſed to our Party, he had ſo gained the hearts and admiration of all men, that there was no perſon amongſt thoſe which could expect that Command, but prayed him to accept of it, and ſubmitted to him without any mark of repugnance. Not long after, the Victorious Merodates came and encamped before our Trenches, and made divers Attempts to force them; but by the diligence and Valor of our young Chieftain, he had the diſadvantage in all the Aſſaults he made; and believing that he was not obliged to any great circumſpection in the Guard of his Camp, becauſe he knew the weakneſs of our Troops, he gave an opportunity to our valiant Captain to make ſuch a furious Sally one Night upon his men, who were either a ſleep, or ill-guarded, That we killed him above Four thouſand men upon the place, and returned into our Trenches, having loſt but an Hundred men. Merodates was almoſt in deſpair at this loſs, but a few dayes after, he thought himſelf to be in a poſſibility of Revenge, by reaſon of a ſupply of above Fifteen thouſand men which came in to him. His Army being thus augmented, he believed he ſhould eaſily force us in our Lines; and the judgment of our General was, That we could defend them no longer, and therefore he ordered us to retire into the City, which we did in very good order. The next day Merodates paſſed our Trenches, and laid Siege before Bizantium; but upon his Approaches, there was one of the braveſt Combats in the World, in which our chief Commander charged up to Merodates, who fought in the foremoſt Ranks, and killed his Horſe betwixt his Legs. It would be a difficult thing for me, Sir, to relate to your Majeſty all the Actions which paſſed in a Siege but of a few dayes continuance; there was not a day, but our General made ſurious Sallies, and he never returned within the compaſs of our walls, but covered with the blood of his Enemies, and after he had ſignalized himſelf by ſome admirable Exploit: But the moſt important Action he did in the judgment of all the beſt Souldiers, was to ſink or burn all the Ships which Merodates had ſent to beſiege us by Sea, as well as by Land. Our valiant General having put thoſe few Veſſels we had in the Haven into a good condition to fight, enbarked himſelf with ſome choice men, and fell upon the Enemies Navy with ſo much Vigor and good Conduct, that though he was weaker in number, he did not fail to burn a great part of it, and took or ſunk all the reſt before Merodates's face, who from the ſhoar beheld the defeat of his men, without being able to aſſiſt them; and yet that he might take advantage by the abſence of the General, and thoſe Forces [Page] that were engaged with him, he prepared all his Army to give an Aſſault to the City at the ſame time; but he thought of it too late, and the forwardeſt of his men were hardly engaged in fight againſt thoſe who ſtayed behind the Inhabitants for the defence of the City; but our Victorious General returned into the City, and came time enough to viſit all the places where his preſence was neceſſary, to give Orders, to fight in perſon with his ordinary Valor: And in brief, to defend our walls with ſo much Gallantry, that Merodates's Troops were forced to retire thence with loſs and confuſion. Some dayes after, this Naval Victory having opened a free paſſage by Sea, there came to us by the Boſphorus, a conſiderable ſupply of men, which Eurimedes had ordered to be raiſed upon the Coaſt of Timia, Colonia, and other places near the Euxine Sea, conducted by Euriſtheus; and our General had no ſooner joined them to thoſe which he had before, but he thought himſelf too ſtrong to be Cooped up, and began to weary his Enemies in ſuch a manner with his continual Sallies, that at laſt Merodates perceiving very well, that he had no hope to take ſuch a City as Bizantium by force, being defended by ſuch a Governor, and furniſhed, beſides the great Number of Inhabitants, with above Ten thouſand Souldiers, reſolved to employ his Army againſt that which remained unconquered in Thrace, and ſo raiſed his Siege, after he had loſt there, in leſs than Fifteen dayes, by Sea and Land, above Twelve thouſand men. Our valiant General, though he knew that in drawing his Forces out of the City, he favoured Merodates's Deſign, who had a great deſire to draw them into the Field, went out for all that with a ſmall flying Army, to diſturb the Enemy in their march and quarters; which he performed in ſuch a manner, charging them at all the narrow and difficult Paſſes, giving them Alarums every Night, which made them continually ſtand to their Arms, depriving them of all their Convoyes, and cutting off their Proviſions on every ſide, that Merodates, as we underſtood by ſome Priſoners we had taken, was ready to fall into deſpair. Divers times he would have engaged us to a Battel, but our General not being in a condition with a Body of Six or ſeven thouſand men, to fight an Army of above Thirty thouſand, knew very well how to avoid the occaſion, and to hinder himſelf from being forced to it; and alwayes when Merodates ſent out any looſe Party of his Troops to fall upon us, our brave Captain fought with them with ſo much Valor, that the Victory was abſolutely ours. By this continual torment, he hindred the Enemy from making any progreſs, and from laying Siege to any of the places which were left untaken. 'Tis but four dayes ſince, That he having intelligence that they had a Deſign againſt Bergula, which they thought to carry preſently, becauſe it was unprovided with Souldiers, though they were already encamped before it, and all the Paſſages whereby it might be relieved, were ſto'pt before our Arrival; yet for all that he fell upon one of the quarters with ſo much Vigor, that he opened himſelf a way, and put Six hundred men into the place, leaving about Twelve hundred dead upon the Turfe. He is at this preſent about that place to haraſs the Army upon all its motions, waiting for greater Forces which are expected from divers parts, which I am ſent to meet, whil'ſt Euriſtheus, with Four thouſand Soldiers only, and the Inhabitans, continues Commander in Bizantium. This, Sir, is all the information I can give you of the condition of your Affairs, which certainly have begun to change their face, ſince the gods for our defence have ſent this ſtranger to command us. He hath not been able with an handful of men to drive out a puiſſant and victorious Army, commanded by ſo valiant a Captain as Merodates is; or rather, he hath not been able without men, to recover almoſt a whole Kingdom which you have loſt; but 'tis certain, That he hath defended the remainders of it, after a prodigious manner, he hath very much heartned your Subjects, and diſheartned your Enemies, by ſtopping the courſe of their Conqueſts, when they feared no obſtacle of their Victory; and by making them loſe above Twenty thouſand men in the ſpace of Two Months, and fighting ſo valiantly in your quarrel; That if it be the will of the gods, as I hope it is, that you ſhould preſerve your Kingdom, 'tis certain that you owe the preſervation of it to him.

‘Nicocles expreſſed himſelf in this manner; and the King, who had hearkned to him with wonderful Attention: You have told me ſtrange things, ſaid he, of that man to whom I have ſo great an obligation; and I really believe, as well as you, that I owe the preſervation of my Kingdom to him, if the gods be pleaſed that the Crown of Thrace ſhall continue ſtill upon my Head; but in giving me this contracted Relation of his gallant Actions, you have not told me his Name; and though he be a ſtranger, yet it is not probable but that you know it in all this time.’ ‘We continued ignorant of it, replied Nicocles, as long as this valiant man continued amongſt us without any conſiderable employment; but when he had made himſelf known by the brave things he did for your Service, and Eurimedes had advanced him to the dignity of his Leiutenant, we underſtood that his Name was Ariamenes.’ At the Name of Ariamenes, which I knew to be that [Page] which Ariobarzanes had taken to conceal his true Name, I preſently changed colour; and the King who very well remembred the Name of Ariamenes, could not hear it named without trouble and emotion. What ſaid he, with an action which partly expreſſed the agitation of his Soul, Is your General named Ariamenes? Yes Sir, added Nicocles, and I believe he is an Armenian by Birth, Not long ſince, replied Adallas, I knew a man of that Name, and ſuch a man as you deſcribe that ſtranger to be, to whom as Fortune would have it I was beholding for my life; and if it ſhould fall out to be the ſame to whom I am obliged for the preſervation of my Kingdom, I ſhould be the moſt unhappy Prince upon the Earth. He ſtop't a while at theſe words, caſting his eyes ever now and then upon my Viſage, to obſerve the changes of it; and really I had much ado to keep my countenance, and there was trouble enough in it to diſcover part of my thoughts; but when he had kept ſilence about a quarter of an hour, reſuming his Diſcourſe with a more compoſed Action. There may be divers perſons in the world, ſaid he, that bear the Name of Ariamenes, and there is little probability, that a man whom I did ſo expreſly enjoin never to ſet foot in my Dominions, ſhould be gotten thither ſo long before me, with ſo little care of concealing himſelf, and with ſo little precaution in relation to his life: We ſhall ſee how Fortune hath ordered it, and I heartily deſire of the gods, that I may find it to be another Ariamenes.

Having ſpoken theſe words, and endeavouring perfectly to compoſe himſelf, he proceeded to queſtion Nicocles concerning the condition of the City, and in what manner he might land there; and being informed that he ſhould find no more hindrance in entring into Bizantium, than if the Kingdom were in a profound peace; he advanced towards the City, under the Conduct of Nicocles, whom he cauſed to return back to bear him Company. And being it was very early when he met with Nicocles, before the end of that day we arrived at the Port of Bizantium, without finding any other Veſſels but our own, which Euriſtheus by Ariamenes orders, cauſed to lie out at Sea for the ſecurity of our Party; and as ſoon as they came near us, Nicocles crying immediatly out to them, That it was the King; and the King ſhewing him to them, they came about himſelf with great exclamations of joy, lowdly ecchoing out the Name of their Prince on every ſide.

But, my fair Princeſſes, I am afraid that the length of this Relation is offenſive to you, and if you think good, I will defer the remainder of it till to morrow. No, no, interrupted Candace, my dear Princeſs, in the Name of the gods, do not leave us upon theſe terms, if you your ſelf be not incommodated with the pains you take upon this occaſion. I would not loſe the remainder of it for any thing, except it were to meet with my Ceſario; and I aſſure my ſelf, that the Prince of the Parthians will willingly beſtow part of the Night in giving Attention to ſo lovely a Story. Eliſa confirmed Candace's Diſcourſe, by as urgent requeſts as hers, and the fair Olympia, who deſired to pleaſe them both as much as poſſibly ſhe could, continued her Story in theſe terms.

The End of the firſt Book.

HYMEN'S PRAELVDIA; OR, Loves Maſter-piece. PART. VII.
LIB. II.

[Page]

ARGUMENT.

Olympia continues her Hiſtory. Adallas after his Arrival in Thrace, uſes his utmoſt endeavours to raiſe Forces for the recovery of his Kingdom; and marches out of Bizantium, to join with Ariamenes; he finds him to be the ſame that had formerly ſaved his life. He looks upon him as his Rival, with a furious Jealouſie; and being blinded with that paſſion, notwithſtanding the ſignal Services he had done him, ſends him Priſoner to Bizantium, with an intention to ſacrifice him to his indignation. Adallas gives Merodates Battel, who defeats him, and takes him Priſoner. Ariamenes is ſet at liberty by Olympia, and made General of the remaining Forces. He marches againſt Merodates, and fights him, kills him with his own hand, and totally routs his Army. He draws Adallas by a neat policy to promiſe him Olympia, and thereupon reſtores him to his Crown and Liberty. Adallas is very backward in the performance of his promiſe, but being urged to it, flies out into fury. At laſt he ſeems to be better adviſed, and ſends Olympia with Ariamenes, whoſe true Name is Ariobarzanes, towards Armenia; but commands Euribiades, who was to conduct them, to throw him into the Sea, and to bring back Olympia. A party in the Ship takes Ariobarzanes's part; and after a bloody Fight, the remainder of the men on both ſides, are taken by Pirats. Ariobarzanes and Olympia are parted. She is carried to Alexandria, and there ſold for a Slave. She is bought by Cornelius, and beſtowed upon Eliſa.

IT is not neceſſary that I ſhould give you a particucar Relation of all that paſſed at our entrance into Bizantium; the King was received there with all manner of Applauſe, and Acclamations of Joy; and the people which had been, and might be ſtill afraid of falling under the Dominion of a ſtranger; at this ſight of their King, made uſe of all expreſſions of rejoycing and tenderneſs that he could deſire. I might be bold to ſay, that I had my ſhare in that welcome Reception; and I was not ſo ill-beloved amongſt my Brothers Subjects, but that I obſerved a great deal of ſatisfaction amongſt them for my Return. The King as it concerned him, began immediatly to take care for the reſtauration of his Affairs; he viſited thoſe few Forces which he had left; he took notice what Arms and Proviſions were in the City, and what Number of Inhabitants were capable to bear Arms; he liberally rewarded thoſe who had given him any particular proofs of Fidelity, and ſent Meſſengers to all places which continued under his obedience, to give them intelligence of his Return, and to exhort them to perſevere in their firſt intentions, and to aſſiſt him with all the Forces they could raiſe, to drive his cruel Enemy out of his Dominions, and reſtore them to Peace and Liberty.

His urgent Neceſſities inforced him to beſtow ſome dayes upon theſe employments, and for that time I was releaſed from his cruel Perſecutions, and had a little more leaſure than ordinary to diſcourſe with Ericia concerning thoſe things which troubled me. Truly, my mind had not taſted one jot of Repoſe, ſince the time I had underſtood that the valiant Defender of Thrace was named Ariamenes; and though there was little probability that Ariobarzanes, being known to the King under the Name of Ariamenes, after the cruel threatnings he had made him, ſhould come ſo ſuddenly to expoſe himſelf to a manifeſt danger, without taking ſo much care as to conceal his Name in the Countrey of ſo cruel an Enemy; yet by the Report which was made us of his Youth, his Beauty and Valor, and of all the [Page] admirable marks by which I knew Ariobarzanes, I could imagine it to be any body elſe but he; and when Ericia endeavoured to oppoſe my opinion by contrary probabilities. ‘Ericia, ſaid I, Let us not deceive our ſelves, ſeeing we know not whether the gods ſend me Ariamenes again, for my good or bad Fortune; this prodigious Valour, this marvellous Beauty which are repreſented unto us in the perſon of the brave Defender of Thrace, cannot be in any but our Ariamenes, and any other Ariamenes but ours, would want ſome of theſe admirable parts which Ariobarzanes is compoſed of. This bold confidence which he hath to come and caſt himſelf into the Arms of his Enemy, doth really proceed from that Courage which we have obſerved in him. That great Courage makes him believe, that he ought not to fear a man to whom he is not inferior; and that perſwades him, that without baſeneſs and unworthineſs, he could not diſguize in his Dominions, that Name under which he had formerly made himſelf known to him; and beſides he may probably believe, that after he hath done ſuch great Services for the King, or rather, after he hath preſerved his Kingdom by his Valor only, he might preſent himſelf to him under the ſame Name of the Defender of his life. Howſoever it be, Ericia, my heart tells me, that it is no other Ariamenes but mine; and that he loves me ſufficiently, to undertake more difficult, and more dangerous things upon my Account; I know not whether I ſhall be deceived or not, but in this uncertainty, Ericia, I am ignorant whether I ſhould rejoyce, or afflict my ſelf. 'Tis true, I cannot but be very joyful to underſtand that Ariobarzanes is not far from us, & that the King is newly obliged to him for the preſervation of his Kingdom, and yet I cannot but tremble for fear, when I know that he comes to expoſe himſef to the cruelty of a jealous King, who hath ſo terribly threatned him. I told him indeed, That he ſhould gain the Kings good will by ſubmiſſion and Services, but I did not deſire that he ſhould move him, or ſerve him in ſuch a dangerous manner; or rather, I did not deſire that he ſhould uſe ſo little caution in the preſervation of a life which is more dear to me than mine own.’ Theſe were almoſt the very words I ſpoke to Ericia: and that affectionate Maid making her real thoughts give way in part to the deſire ſhe had to comfort me, repreſented to me, that though this Ariamenes were the real Ariobarzanes, yet I could have no reaſon to fear any thing upon his Account, and that the King, without rendring himſelf deteſtable to all the World, could not conſerve one thought of enmity againſt him, after he had received ſuch important Services from him, there was more probability that Adallas would make all his reſentments give place to others more full of reaſon and acknowledgement; and if Ariobarzanes diſcovered himſelf to be what really he was, he might expect the recompence he pretended to, from a King ſo mightily obliged to him. I partly flattered my ſelf with Ericia's Diſcourſe, and did neither quite reject it, nor abſolutely give credit to it.

The King was no leſs troubled in mind than I, at this Name of Ariamenes; but that he could not imagine, that any man would have been ſo bold, as to come alone to brave him ſo publickly in his Kingdom, after the prohibitions he made him to the contrary: ſo he began to change the opinion he had received, that it might be he; and not being ignorant how much need he had ſtill of the Valour and Service of that ſtranger, whoſoever he might be, he deſired, in giving him intelligence of his Arrival, to aſſure him of his Acknowledgment, and to confirm him in the zeal which he expreſſed for his Service. Upon this Deſign, ſending one of his Servants to him with orders to conſult with him concerning all neceſſary Affairs, he gave him a Letter, of which, I believe, theſe were the very words.

Adallas King of Thrace, to the General Ariamenes.

I Should be ungrateful, if I did not confeſs, that I owe to your Valor and generous Aſſiſtance, the preſervation of whatſoever is left me in my Dominions; and though you are but a ſtranger, you have done that for a Prince, to whom you had no obligation, which poſſibly the moſt faithful Subjects never did for their lawful Prince. I have no recompence to offer you which can equalize the greatneſs of your Services; but if your gallant Actions can find any elſewhere, beſides in the glory of the performance of them, you ſhall make your own choice in a Kingdom, where all things ſhall be at the Service of its valiant Defender.

If the King had ſent one of thoſe men to Ariamenes, who had made the Voyage with him, he might have been ſatisfied at his return of the truth of his doubts; but, whether it was by chance, or by deſign, he put Nicocles upon the employment, the ſame that we met at Sea, who had never ſeen the face of Ariamenes, but in Thrace. However it was, Nicocles went to find him out, with order to confer with him about the Kings deſigns, and to underſtand the condition of his Forces, and of the Enemies Army. In the mean time the [Page] Kingreceived the ſame day by Sea, the ſupplies which Nicocles had made mention of to him; and he hoped, that within a few dayes, from the places which continued under his obedience, and had not as yet been attempted by the Enemies, he ſhould receive Forces conſiderable enough to take the Field, and go and join with Ariamenes, in a condition to give Battel to Merodates. He had reaſon to expect this Recruit, for the Levies were begun before the death of Eurimedes, and continued afterwards by the care of Ariamenes, ſo that in all likelihood they were in a condition to march. Since the time we had arrived at Bizantium, the King forgot nothing that was to be done, in order to their employment in his Service at their Arrival; and in the interim, Nicocles being returned, and having informed him, that Ariamenes with his ſmall Body, attended ſtill upon Merodates his Army, and had no other deſign at preſent, but to raiſe the Siege of Bergula, which the Enemies had inveſted, he gave him his Letter, which contained theſe words.

The Stranger Ariamenes, to the King of Thrace.

THE Services which I have rendred your Majeſty, are too inconſiderable to merit the acknowledgment which you vouchſafe them, and I have been too well paid for the aſſiſtance I have given to your Subjects, by the honour they have done me, in making me their General. 'Tis an honour that I never was ambitious of, becauſe I deſerved it not; and yet I did not refuſe it, becauſe it gave me an opportunity to ſerve you; I will reſign it into the hands of that perſon whom your Majeſty ſhall judge worthy to command your Troops; and while it is in mine, I will behave my ſelf in it with all the fidelity you might expect from the moſt affectionate of your Subjects.

By theſe words, which made no mention of what was paſt, nor expreſſed any precedent Acquaintance, the King ſtill perſwaded himſelf, that this Ariamenes was not the Ariamenes that he was afraid of; and I confeſs, that when he read them in my preſence, I became partly of his opinion, and loſt ſome part either of the hope or the fear which I had conceived. In the mean time, the News came to the King the next day, that Ariamenes with a part of his ſmall Body, had cut in pieces Four thouſand men, whom Merodates had ſent to guard a Convoy; and did ſo weaken him by degrees, that if the Deſtinies continued to be favourable to him, in a ſmall time Merodates would have no advantage in the Field. This News filled the Kings heart with freſh hopes, and to augment them the more, within leſs than ſix dayes, there came from the Coaſts of Thinia, Three thouſand Horſe; and from Halmidaſſus, and the Promontory of Philia, above Seven thouſand Foot. With this grand ſupply, and Four thouſand Souldiers which were ſtill in the City, the King, who had intelligence beſides, that Four or five thouſand men, raiſed in the Countrey of Apollonia, were gone to join with Ariamenes's Troops, would ſtay no longer in Bizantium; and leaving only the Inhabitants for the defence of the City, he made up a Body of about Fifteen thouſand men, which he was reſolved to lead in perſon towards that which Ariamenes commanded, which at that time wanted very little of being as ſtrong as the King's.

I continued in the City at ſome liberty from the importunity which I received continually from the King, and yet ſo ſtrictly guarded, though under pretence of doing me honor, that if I would have undertaken a ſecond flight, it would not have been in my power to have done it. In the interim, my fair Princeſſes, without my troubling you with a long Narration, you may imagine what the perplexities were which tormented me, and how my ſpirit was continually agitated between hope and fear, the deſire of ſeeing Ariobaozanes again, and the fear leſt he ſhould throw himſelf into too great a danger for the ſight of me. I ſhould never have done, if I ſhould go about to repreſent to you all the thoughts which poſſeſſed me, and repeat all the Diſcourſes I had with Ericia upon that Subject. I will proceed with the remainder of my Story, and will tell you, That upon the third day of his march, the King arrived at Ariamenes's quarters, from whence the General came forth at the Head of Five hundred Horſe to receive him, about a Hundred Furlongs from off his Camp. The King no ſooner ſaw the body appear, but he knew that it was that valiant man to whom he was ſo redueable, and diſpoſing himſelf to receive him according to the greatneſs of the obligation he had to him, he cauſed the Troops that marched before him, to open to the right and left, to give him free paſſage. The valiant Ariamenes, as I was informed ſince, wore Arms that day all glittering with gold and precious ſtones; a little Morion, after the Greek faſhion, ſhaded with Twenty white Feathers, covered the top of his Head, leaving his Face all uncovered, and a great quantity of Hair naturally Curled, which fell in great rings as low as his Armour; his Horſe was black, bedapled with white ſpots, whoſe gallant ſtately Pace was leſs remarkable, than the good Grace and Horſmanſhip of him [Page] that rode him. Before he came to the King, he was looked upon with ſo much Admiration by all that ſtood in his way, that they could not forbear to expreſs it by their Acclamations, which came to the Kings ears, and cauſed a greater curioſity in him to ſee ſuch an extraordinary perſon.

As ſoon as Ariamenes ſaw the King, he alighted to accoſt him with the Reſpect due to the Royal Dignity, and in the Head of his Party, he marched towards him with ſuch a Majeſty, as could not be found in any common perſon. As he drew near, the King took notice of his proportion and countenance, and when he was nigh enough to be plainly diſcerned, the King without difficulty, knew him to be the true Ariamenes, that Ariamenes whom he hated, as much as I loved him; and the ſame Ariamenes, to whom he was reducable for his life. Never was aſtoniſhment like to that of Adallas, and never in the moſt ſurprizing Adventure did a mind appear ſo troubled, as Adallas's did at this ſight. He ſtood as immoveable as a piece of Marble, and Ariamenes, though he obſerved his emotion, accoſted him with a confident countenance, did reverence to him with a great deal of grace and humility, the King not uſing any geſture, whereby it might be judged that he perceived his action. Ariamenes, who was prepared for part of what he ſaw, did not ſeem ever a jot the more daunted for it, and beginning to ſpeak with an action that ſufficiently expreſſed his confidence, whil'ſt the King, and all that were about him, made their ſilence ſpeak the greatneſs of their aſtniſhment. Sir, ſaid he, If I have offended in diſobeying the Command which you laid upon me, I come to put the Offender into the hands of your Juſtice; and if by ſome ſmall Service I have repaired part of that fault, I come to beg my pardon for the recompence that is due to me for it.

This firſt Diſcourſe of Ariamenes, though it was bold, and proceeded from a Courage truly Royal, yet it was full of humility, and did ſufficiently expreſs the intention he had, according to the requeſt I made to him, to work upon Adallas his ſpirit, by ſubmiſſion and ſervices. But the King was not ſo ſenſible of it, as probably he ſhould have been, and beholding Ariamenes with eyes ſparkling with rage, What Audaciouſneſs, ſaid he, and what fooliſh raſhneſs is this of thine, to come, after the expreſs prohibition I had made thee, not only to ſhew thy ſelf publickly in my Dominions, but to put thy ſelf in the Head of my Subjects, and to preſent thy ſelf to me with as much aſſurance, as if I were not thy irreconcileable Enemy, and as if I had not proteſted to thee before all the gods, That no conſideration ſhould ſave thy life, if thou ever did'ſt ſet foot in Thrace? It may be, replied Ariobarzanes, I came into your Countrey by chance, and the deſire of doing you Service, hath ſtayed me there; I have done it poſſibly with ſucceſs enough, and if I have reſolved to declare my Name, and to preſent my ſelf before you, after the threatnings you had made me, 'tis at a time, when for the Service I have rendred you, I might expect from a Soul that is truly Royal, more recompences, than puniſhments; and more acknowledgment, than ill uſage. Thou knoweſt, ſaid Adallas, full of fury, That the moſt preſſing obligations cannot produce that effect between us; and that the ſame neceſſity which poſſibly made me to be ungrateful to thee, when I was beholding to thee for my life, will not permit me to look upon thoſe leſs important Services which thou haſt rendred me in the defence of my Dominions. Beſides, Thou can'ſt not deny, but that thy ruine appears more odious now than formerly, and thou could'ſt not come into Thrace, through ſo many dangers as threatned thee, but by the inſtigation of thy Love, and, it may be, of Olympia's Commands. Thou comeſt to ruine the Repoſe of my Soul, in endeavouring the peace of my Kingdom; and thou waſt not ignorant, that the injury thou didſt me in my heart, was more ſenſible to me, than the Service thou could deſt render me in the defence of my Kingdom. After all this, judge what thy deſtiny ought to be, and do not complain of me, if that which thou didſt expect from a King obliged to thy Valor, be not found in an injured and deſperate Love.

As he finiſhed the words, he turned towards Soſias and Euſthenes, the Captains of his Guards, and commanded them to ſeize upon the perſon of Ariamenes, and to be reſponſible for him upon pain of death. At this Command, all thoſe who had followed Ariamenes, and who with the reſt of the Army, had conceived a marvellous Affection for him, could not forbear to murmur aloud at it, and thoſe that came along with the King, who were acquainted with the merit and ſervices of Ariamenes, could not hear it without a deal of diſpleaſure. Ariamenes ſeemed to be the leaſt tcoubled at it, and if he was, was only with ſome motions of Choler, and that Paſſion, of which till then he had rendred himſelf Maſter, upon the conſideration of his Love, could not be ſo abſolutely reſtrained in a fierce and fiery ſpirit as Ariobarzanes's was, but that at laſt it would in ſome meaſure appear. ‘I ſhould lye, ſaid he to the King, If I ſhould ſay, that I expected any other uſage from thee; and thy Actions have ſo much congruity with that gallant Paſſion, by which thou would'ſt excuſe thy ingratitude, that the value of thy life and Kingdom could not make [Page] me expect any other recompence, than what thou beſtoweſt upon me. It ſuffices me for my ſatisfaction, to ſee thee declare that thou art beholding to me for thy life, before thoſe who know already, that thou art obliged to me for the preſervation of thy Kingdom; and I am ſufficiently ſatisfied and revenged upon thee, by the ſhame which I leave thee, for uſing thoſe ſo, to whom thou confeſſeſt that thou oweſt thy Crown and Life.’

After theſe words, ſeeing Soſias and Euſthenes, though very much troubled at the employment, to draw near him, and demand his Sword: ‘This Sword, ſaid he, laying his hand upon the Hilt, hath done too good ſervice in the defence of your King and you, to endure to paſs out of my hand into hands unworthy to bear it; but ſeeing that it is to no purpoſe to defend it againſt an Army, I render it to the Princeſs Olympia: and 'tis to her only, continued he, throwing it at Soſia's feet; that I charge you to preſent it, as being the only perſon in Thrace, who can deſerve that honour, and that hath reaſon to glory, that ſhe hath made Ariamenes, yield up his Arms.’

Theſe words, pronounced with an admirable Grace, re-inflamed the Kings anger afreſh, and not being able to diſſemble it, ‘Thou haſt pronounced the ſentence of thine own death, ſaid he, in pronouncing the Name of Olympia; and that fatal Love whereof thou makeſt ſo publick a Declaration, in throwing thy ſelf into thy Grave, ſhall give a fair example to ſuch audacious Youngſters as thou art, to be more regular in their Ambition.’ ‘Thou may'ſt judge what thou pleaſeſt of my thoughts, replied Ariamenes; but if I love the Princeſs Olympia, know ſhe is not offended by my Love, as ſhe is highly injured by thine; and ſeeing that I am neither her Brother, as thou art, nor of a Birth inferior to hers, ſhe might receive that from me without wronging her ſelf, which ſhe cannot endure from thee without deteſtation.’ Upon theſe words the King had almoſt made his indignation appear in ſome Tragical effect, and ſeeing himſelf covered with ſhame and confuſion, by the reproaches of Ariamenes, he was ready to run him through with his Sword; at laſt retaining himſelf, though with much difficulty: ‘I endure any thing, ſaid he, from a man whom I can puniſh at my pleaſure, a man devoted to death by my juſt reſentments, and his own confeſſion. Take him out of my preſence, and whil'ſt there is order taken for his puniſhment, we will learn if his Birth be not inferior to mine.’ ‘Thou ſhalt know it poſſibly, replied Ariamenes, ſooner than thou deſireſt; and upon this hint which I have given thee, conſider more than once, how thou wilt proceed againſt the Son of a greater King than he of Thrace.’ Having ſpoken theſe words, he turned another way without having any longer Converſation with the King, who being unwilling to have him conducted into the Army, where he was adored by his Souldiers, and where he was afraid of ſome Commotion, if the Souldiery had ſeen their valiant General a Priſoner, commanded Euſthenes to carry him to Bizantium, with a Convoy of Five hundred Horſe, and to ſtay there to Guard him, till he received farther Orders; but he expreſly forbade him, upon pain of death, to permit me to ſee him, proteſting to him, That if any ſuch thing hapned, he would never pardon him.

Euſthenes having received this Order with regret, and yet being forced to obey it, cauſed Ariamenes to mount upon another Horſe inſtead of his own, and putting him into the middle of the Troop which was to conduct him, he cauſed him to march towards Bizantium. Before that he arrived there, the Report of his being taken, and of all that had paſſed upon this occaſion, was already ſpread abroad, and I was one of the firſt perſons that had the Relation brought to them. You may imagine what effect this News produced upon my ſpirit, and you need not doubt but this ſad Adventure made me fall into the moſt violent grief that any Soul could be ſenſible of. Indeed the danger whereunto I ſaw this young Prince, whom I loved, as much as his merit and affection did oblige me to do, expoſed for the love of me, did ſo nearly touch me, that I ſhould tell you nothing but the Truth, if I ſhould proteſt to you, That I would willingly have been in his place, and have been made the mark of all the miſchief that was aimed at him. By the new proofs which he had given me of his Affection, in coming without any care of his life, to make ſuch a generous and noble ſearch after opportunities of ſeeing me, and ſerving his moſt cruel Enemy upon my-Account, he had, as I conceived, ſo far obliged me, That I could not without ingratitude, deny him as much Affection as he expreſſed to me. And in that, my fair Princeſſes, I acquitted my ſelf as I ought, loving him as dearly, and as ſincerely as my Soul was capable to do; O gods! what did I not think? what did I ſay at this cruel News? And what Teſtimonies did I not give to all the perſons which came near me, how much I intereſted my ſelf in this Accident! One while I complained of the cruelty and ingratitude of Adallas, which could not but render him odious to all the world, for the unworthy uſage which he ſhewed to the valiant Defender of his Dominions, and the preſerver of his life. Another while, I accuſed Ariobarzanes of raſhneneſs, and want of conſideration, [Page] as to my Repoſe, for coming and caſting himſelf ſo imprudently into the hands of a man almoſt mad with Jealouſie, who had ſo ſeriouſly threatned him; and ſometimes I checked my ſelf, knowing very well that I had partly contributed to this diſaſter, by the indulgence which I had ſhewed to the Affection of Ariobarzanes, or rather to mine own, which made me approve of all that the young Prince could undertake to ſee and ſerve me. Upon theſe conſiderations, I almoſt drowned my ſelf in tears, and did ſo afflict my ſelf, that had it not been for Ericia's comforting of me, I believe my grief would have been able to have laid me in my Grave.

In the mean while, it was no ſmall conſolation to me in my diſpleaſure, to ſee how all the world participated in it; and the Inhabitants of Bizantium, who a few dayes before had ſeen Ariamenes behave himſelf with ſo much Generoſity and Valor in the defence of their lives and liberties, or rather had looked upon him as their miraculous perſerver, and had ſtill a freſh remembrance of the prodigious Actions which they had ſeen him do for their intereſt, could not ſee him brought priſoner into their City, being accuſed for nothing but for loving the Princeſs Olympia, without expreſſing publickly how much they were diſcontented at it, and plainly declaring, That the King did very ill to Treat a man ſo, to whom he was indebted for his Crown, and to whom, by his own confeſſion, he was beholding for his life too. And when Euſthenes cauſed him to paſs through the ſtreets, to convey him to the place where they were wont to ſecure conſiderable priſoners, he could hardly hinder the people from breaking out into Sedition, and attempting to take him by violence out of his hands.

What fear ſoever I had of exaſperating the Kings ſpirit, yet not believing that it was any longer neceſſary to uſe ſo much diſſimulation to pleaſe a Prince who did not Treat me, nor look upon me as his Siſter, I ſent preſently to demand of Euſthenes, if I might not be permitted to ſee Ariobarzanes. But he came himſelf to make his own Apology, and to tell me, That the King had expreſly forbidden him upon pain of death. This redoubling of my grief, made me flie out more than poſſibly I ſhould have done, and I could not forbear, in Euſthenes his preſence, to exceed the bounds of moderation, which till then I had better obſerved. ‘Well, ſaid I to him, with my eyes covered with tears, Let the King finiſh his ſhameful perſecutions with the utmoſt cruelties that he can exerciſe againſt me, and let him join to that horrible and fooliſh paſſion which already renders him the Fable of the whole world, a cruelty and an ingratitude towards his generous Deliverer, which will make is Name deteſtable to all Princes; He cannot render himſelf blacker than he is, neither can he ever work any thing upon Olympia's ſpirit, but horror and repugnance.’ After I had ſpoken theſe words, I ſhut my ſelf up in my Cloſet, where I paſſed the remainder of that day in the ſaaddeſt contid on imaginable. The next day I received a Letter from the King, by a Meſſenger whom he ſent from the Camp, whereof theſe were the very words.

The King of Thrace, to the Princeſs Olympia.

IT is no time for you to deny that which Ariamenes himſelf hath openly declared to me. He loves you, Madam, and is beloved by you. The knowledge of this, is ſufficient to be the death of Adallas; but it is capable too, of making him ſacrifice that Rival to his juſt reſentments. I owe very much to him without doubt; but, according to the ſenſe of Nature, I owe no leſs to my ſelf; and I had rather ſtain my reputation a little with ingratitude, than make the preſervation of his life an eternal torment to mine own. In brief, Olympia, as our common misfortune will have it, he muſt dye, and dye he ſhall, without doubt; if to ſave a man whom you love, but ought not to love, you do not beſtow your ſelf upon him whom you [...] love not, but ought to love. If you make this attempt upon your inclinations of his ſafety, he will have no cauſe to accuſe you; and doubtleſs he will have reaſon to complain for you at his death, if you refuſe to ſave his life, the preſervation whereof depends upon you. Conſult with your affection hereupon, and be reſolved with your ſelf, that you cannot preſerve the life of Ariamenes, but by beſtowing Olympia upon me.

You may very well comprehend, my fair Princeſſes, how much this Letter augmented my Affliction, and you need not doubt, but that I found a great occaſion to torment my ſelf in that cruel choice which Adallas preſented to me. This Letter made me weep, it made me deplore my misfortune in very pitiful expreſſions, and make imprecations too againſt the cruelties of this unnatural Brother. But whatſoever care I had of the ſafety of Ariobarzanes, or whatſoever fear I might receive from the menaces of Adallas I did not [Page] waver at all in the reſolution I was to take; and knowing very well, that Ariobarzanes would not take it as a Courteſie to receive his life at my hands, if he muſt purchaſe it by my beſtowing my ſelf upon his Rival, I conſulted no farther, either with my Affection, or my Duty, what Anſwer I ſhould return to Adallas, but ſent it him immediately by the man which had brought me his Letter; and I believe I wrote to him in theſe, or the like words.

The Princeſs Olympia, to the King of Thrace.

I Could not hear of the Captivity of Ariamenes, without bearing a ſhare with all your faithful Subjects in their affliction for the misfortune of their valiant Defender. That Captive whom you intend to put to death before you know him, might expect other recompence from you, and you would not be in a condition to threaten his life, if he had neglected the preſervation of yours; nor to keep him Priſoner in Bizantium, if at the rate of his own blood he had not defended the walls of it. His deſtiny is in your hands, or rather in the hands of the gods, whoſe power is ſuperior to that of Kings, and who may ſtill put you into a condition of having need of an Ariamenes. If I could contribute to his ſafty, doubtleſs I would do it at any rate but what you demand: But as for that, 'tis poſſible that Ariamenes himſelf would not accept of his life upon theſe conditions, but would be generous enough not to deſire that I ſhould ſave it by ſo horrible an action. If he does not love me, I ſhould be too blame to do that for the preſervation of his life, which I have alwayes avoided at the peril of mine own; and if he does love me, as you accuſe him, he will receive his death more cruelly, by my beſtowing Olympia upon you, than by thoſe means which you have to deſtroy him. In brief, if the gods will have him live, they can free him out of your hands; and if he muſt dye, I had rather that he ſhould dye by your ingratitude, than by mine.

Though theſe words, if you take them in a contrary ſenſe to mine, expreſſed ſome indifference as to Ariobarzanes's life, and though it was my intention too to perſwade the King that I loved him leſs than I did; yet the gods know, that his life was dearer to me than mine own, and I would willingly have given mine (if Adallas would have been ſo contented) for the preſervation of his. But though by a prodigious change, I could have wrought my inclinations to Adallas's will, yet I had too good an opinion of the Affection and Courage of Ariobarzanes, to believe that he would receive his life in exchange of his hopes, or conſent, upon any conſideration, that to purchaſe his liberty, I ſhould throw my ſelf into that misfortune which I had ſo much avoided, and againſt which I had ſo much horror and repugnance. Beſides, I could not abſolutely believe, that the King, whatſoever he threatned, was reſolved to put him to death, after ſuch preſſing and known obligations; and it was probable, that unleſs he had the heart of a Tyger, and his eyes cloſed againſt all conſiderations of honour, Adallas would never proceed to thoſe extremities. In the interim, I found a way to prevail with Euſthenes, who of himſelf was not diſaffected to Ariobarzanes, not to permit me to ſee him, but to give way that I might have a Note conveyed to him by Erieia's Brother, who was in my Service, and in whom I had a great deal of confidence; the Note was in theſe terms.

The Princeſs Olympia, to Ariamenes.

IF you were in another Condition, doubtleſs I ſhould complain of the injury you have done me in coming, as you have done, to caſt away a life which you know is not indifferent to me; but it would ill become me to reproach you, whil'ſt you are a Priſoner for my ſake; and I ought rather to uſe my endeavours to ſet you free at any rate, but what is demanded of me, in expectation of a better opportunity to accuſe you of the little care you have had of your own ſafety and my repoſe. You may judge how far I participate in your diſgrace, by the intereſt I have in it, and the thoughts I have for you; they are, and alwayes ſhall be ſuch as are due to the merit of your perſon and affection, and I ſhould render my ſelf unworthy of the teſtimonies you have given me of it, if I did not look upon your misfortunes as mine own.

Ariobarzanes received a great deal of conſolation by the reading of my Letter, and as nothing was capable of making any ſtrong impreſſion upon ſo great a Courage as his, but what had relation to his love; ſo he was more contented in his impriſonment after this teſtiomony of my Affection, than he could have been in the abſolute injoyment of his liberty, if he had been uncertain what thoughts I had for him. By the liberty which Euſthenes gave him to do it (yet with all poſſible ſecreſie) he had the means to diſcourſe with Euricia's [Page] Brother, whom I ſent to him, and who, according to the charge I had given him to that purpoſe gave him a full Account in what manner I ſupported his Captivity, how I delt with the King upon that Account, and how I was reſolved not to ſuffer him to periſh upon my occaſion, without bearing of him Company. Ariobarzanes received theſe marks of my friendſhip, with all the teſtimonies of a perfect acknowledgment; and after he had expreſſed as much to Ericia's Brother in the moſt extatical words that the moſt violent Affection could furniſh him withal, he gave him a Letter with the ſame ſecreſie and precaution, whereof theſe were the words.

Ariamenes, to the Princeſs Olympia.

I Do not think my ſelf unfortunate, ſince that my fair Princeſs takes a ſhare in my misfortune, and my Fetters are now more worthy of Envy, than Commiſeration. I beg your pardon for what I have undertaken, to gain a ſight of you; I cannot juſtifie my ſelf in it, ſince you have received ſome diſpleaſure upon that Account. But in truth, it was a very difficult thing to have ſeen, to have adored the Princeſs Olympia, and to live without a ſecond ſight of her. 'Tis true, that happineſs which hath been ſought with ſome danger, and is of too high a value to be obtained any other way, is cruelly denied me. And this, my fair Princeſs, is all the misfortune of my life, and all that can be worthy of pity in my condition. I am too much obliged to your goodneſs, for having refuſed thoſe conditions which the King hath offered you for my ſafty, and, as you know very well, that no conſideration could have rendred you excuſeable of a crime before the gods or men, if you had accepted of them; ſo you are not ignorant, that by beſtowing the Princeſs Olympia upon Adallas, you would put Ariamenes to a far more cruel death, than Adallas could do either by Sword or Poyſon. I will not go about to confirm you in that reſolution, being ſufficiently acquainted with your vertue, to believe, that it will be as immoveable, as the fidelity of Ariamenes.

His Letter was of no larger extent, though he had matter enough, becauſe he left it to Ericia's Brother to acquaint me with all their Diſcourſe. He did ſo divers times, becauſe I took a pleaſure to make him repeat all the words which he had heard from Ariobarzanes's mouth; and by the Relation which he made me of his paſſionate Diſcourſe, and his reſolution to ſuffer a thouſand deaths for my ſake, if he was capable of ſuffering ſo many, with joy and patience; he did ſo confirm me in the affection I had for him, that he would have been unjuſt, if he had deſired any more of me, But alas! after I had done diſcourſing with Ericia's Brother, I had ſcarcely read over this Letter once more, but I received another from the King, which turned me into Ice with fear; and theſe were the very expreſſions of it.

The King of Thrace, to the Princeſs Olympia.

YOU have ſigned the death of Ariamenes by the Letters which you wrote to me; and ſince you conſent to his death, all humane conſiderations ſhall not be able to ſecure him from it. I ſhould have given you your ſhare of the ſpectacle which I intend, before this, but that I was minded to participate of it my ſelf, and am detained here by ſome occaſions which are ſtrong enough to retard my vengeance a few dayes. I am marching to give Merodates Battel, and to morrow, without any farther delay, the deciſion of our Fortune will appear. After my Victory, I will turn all my Arms againſt Ariamenes; and when I ſhall have no other Enemies to fight with, I ſhall the better execute my vengeance againſt the laſt, and the moſt dangerous of my Enemies.

I know not how very well to repreſent to you what my reſentments were upon the reading of this Letter, and I had much ado to contain my ſelf within the limits of that reſpect and conſideration which was due to Adallas; I returned him no Anſwer in writing, but contented my ſelf only to ſay to him who brought me his Letter, Tell the King, that the ſucceſs of Battels is in the hands of the gods, and that he ought not to diſpoſe ſo confidently of that which he will do after the Victory; and yet his threatings ſhall not hinder me from praying to the gods for the proſperity of his Arms, and the intereſt of my Countrey; but let him conſider more than twice, what will be the event of the deſign which he hath againſt Ariamenes's life, and let him expect, if he treats him ill, to draw upon himſelf a greater and more puiſſant Enemy, than Merodates is.

I will not trouble you with the Relation of my fears and inquietudes; but, to abridge this Narration, I will paſs to Adallas's Camp, and will tell you, that the King my Brother [Page] ſeeing his Forces augmented, and thoſe of his Enemy weakned, thought himſelf ſtrong enough to give him Battel; and his paſſion depriving him in part of his ordinary rationality, and hindring him from foreſeeing all the conſequences that might happen thereupon, he dared Merodates to an Encounter, and marched out of his Camp to advance towards him. Merodates being a very valiant and well experienced Captain, and who might with leſs hazzard give Battel in his Enemies Countrey, than if he had been in his own, joyfully accepted of it, and marched to meet Adallas in the beſt order that can be imagined. I will not entertain you either with the preparations, or the particulars of that dayes Action, having too little skill in War to be able to give you a pertinent Account; I will only tell you, that after both Princes had provided on either ſide whatſoever they thought neceſſary for their advantage, they gave Battel: The Engagement was cruel and doubtful, the Commanders and Souldiers did wonders, and diſputed the advantage with the effuſion of a great deal of blood, and the death of divers thouſands of men. But at laſt the ſame Fortune which had accompanied Merodates in the two former Battels, attended him likewiſe in the third, and about the end of the day, our Troops turning their backs, abandoned the Victory to him, and the liberty of their King. Who ſcorning to owe his ſafety to a baſe flight, and fighting with a great deal of Valor, was thrown to the ground, and taken Priſoner with divers of his Souldiers, who were reſolved to be Companions of his deſtiny. Behold the ſucceſs of the proud and inſolent Propoſitions of men, and behold this ingrateful and audacious Prince, who a few hours before, haſting, as he thought, to a Victory, only to go and ſheath his Sword in the boſome of his Benefactor, ſaw himſelf the ſame day a Priſoner to his Enemy, and to ſuch an Enemy, who, to confirm his Conqueſt, which was but ill-aſſured, ſo long as the lawful King of Thrace was living, was very likely to make uſe of the ſame deſigns againſt him, which he had againſt Ariamenes, and might do it with ſo much the more Juſtice, becauſe that in putting him to death, he ſhould only deſtroy an Enemy, whom a Conqueror could not in policy permit to live, and not the Deliverer and Defender of his State and life.

I do not doubt but that the unfortunate Adallas made theſe reflections in his impriſonment, and was cruelly tormented with Sorrow, Fear, and Repentance. Yet Merodates treated him very civilly; and though the greateſt Polititians about him, counſelled him to ſend him out of the World as ſoon as might be, and repreſented to him, that after his death he need not feare any oppoſition in Thrace, where otherwiſe he could never hope to be quiet, as long as Adallas was living; yet he was not forward to frame any ſuch reſolution, but believed that the death of a great King was not of ſo ſmall a conſequence, to be ſo ſuddenly and ſo eaſily reſolved upon. Beſides, in gaining the Victory, he had loſt almoſt as many men as we, and his Forces not being in a condition to make a hot purſuit, gave time to ours to retire under the conduct of ſome of their Commanders, who led them back towards Bizantium in good order. This conſideration making Merodates judge, that as yet he was not abſolute Maſter of Thrace, eſpecially as long as Ariamenes, whoſe Valor he was too well acquainted with, and whoſe confinement he had heard of, was in the ſervice of his Enemy, hindred him from determining what to do with him, and contented himſelf at preſent to keep him in ſecure Cuſtody, cauſing him to be ſerved like a Prince in his condition. He had the curioſity to ſee him the ſame day that he was taken, and though in other things he carried himſelf very modeſtly towards him, yet he could not forbear to tell him, That the gods had puniſhed him for two Crimes, wherewith his Reputation was very much blemiſhed in the eye of the world, which were, his unjuſt and irrational love to his Siſter, and his ingratitude towards his Benefactor; and to theſe words, added he, ‘You, were much to blame, to deprive your ſelf, in a time of neceſſity, of ſuch an aſſiſtance as you had received from the Valor of Ariamenes: had it not been for him; I had been long ſince Maſter of Thrace; and if he had commanded your Troops this day, I durſt not have promiſed my ſelf that I ſhould have been, Victorious.’ The King being full of grief and confuſion, gave no Anſwer to Merodates's words, wherein, he knew there was a great deal of Juſtice and Truth; and Merodates not deſiring to make any inſolent uſe of his Fortune, did not importune him any farther.

In the mean time, my fair Princeſſes, you may partly conjecture what my thoughts were, when this News was brought to Bizantium, and how my Soul was divided between the paſſions which aſſaulted it. 'Tis certain, that I was ſorry to hear of the defeat of our men, the loſs of a Kingdom, which in all probability was upon the brink of ruine; and the Captivity of a Prince; who, though he had not thoſe intentions for me which he ought, was nevertheleſs my Brother, and my King. The gods are my witneſſes, that I was very much afflicted at his misfortune and ours; but they will pardon me, and you too, my princeſſes, if I confeſs to you, That the repugnance which I had againſt Adallas's love, the reſentment [Page] wherein I did very much intereſ [...] my ſelf, of his ingratitude to Ariamenes: and the [...] ſear I was in for Ariobarzanes's life, did ſo ſuſpend the judgment I ſhould have made of my Fortune, that certainly I did not beſtow all the tears I ſhould have done, upon the calamity of our Family, and which, at another time, without doubt, I ſhould have ſhed. I could not think with my ſelf that the King my Brother was a Priſoner to his Enemies, and in great danger of his life; that the Affairs of the Kingdome were in an undone condition, and that we were in all probability, upon the point of ſeeing our ſelves expoſed to the miſeries of Tyranny and Captivity, without being ſenſible of a great deal of diſpleaſure: But upon the other ſide, I could not conceive that I was freed from the cruel importunity of Adallas, that Ariamenes had eſcaped the cruel deſign which he had taken againſt his life, and that I might poſſibly have the opportunity to reſtore him abſolutely to his liberty, and to put him again into a condition of giving me new marks of his Affection, without receiving a great deal of comfort upon that ſcore; and the gods were pleaſed immediately to make it as compleat as I could deſire. For the Inhabitants of Bizantium had no ſooner heard of the loſs of the Battel, and the Captivity of the King, but, after they had beſtowed a few hours upon the firſt All-arms, and the firſt Affright which ordinarily renders the people incapable of all reſolution, after they had repleniſhed the City with their cries and groans, rather out of fear, and the conſideration of their own intereſt, than out of the love they bare to their Prince. They aſſembled at laſt in great Troops, and putting the moſt conſiderable men formoſt, they marched towards the Palace where I was, crying out aloud in the ſtreets, That I was their only lawful Princeſs, and that in the Abſence and Captivity of their King, they could addreſs themſelves to no body but me, nor receive Orders from any one but my ſelf. No body contradicted this Diſcourſe of the people; or, if it was diſapproved by ſome, their Party was the weaker, and they durſt not rely upon it. You need not doubt, but that I received a great deal of ſatisfaction, when I ſaw all the people at my feet, to give me the abſolute Command over them, and to pray me to adviſe with my Council to find ſome means to ſave the remainders of Thrace, if it was poſſible.

I could not have wiſhed for an handſomer occaſion of ſetting Ariamenes at liberty, and ſeeing the people ſo well diſpoſed to follow my will; My Friends, ſaid I to the cheif of them, the King hath great cauſe to be ſatisfied in your Fidelity, and I will acquaint him with it, when the gods ſhall be pleaſed to reſtore him to us; but I am too weak to undertake your defence, and the recovery of his liberty; you have need of ſome valiant man to repulſe the fury of your Enemies, which threatens your gates and lives, and to command the remainder of your Forces. The people having ſignified to me by their loud out-cries, That they approved of my opinion, and having prayed me divers times to appoint them a Commander, Where can you find one, added I, than in the perſon of Ariamenes? Was it not he, that with a handful of men defended your Walls againſt the ſame Enemies that threaten you? Was it not he, that repulſed them with loſs and confuſion, though they were much ſtronger than now they are? VVas it not he, that defeated them by Sea, and by Land, in all manner of Encounters? And briefly, VVas it not he alone, that ſaved you either from death or Captivity? VVhat hinders you from knocking off his Fetters, which he wears for nothing elſe but for having defended you too well? and from making him once more your General? Go, my friends, and reſtore liberty to your generous Defender, to a great Prince, who of his own good will, hath been prodigal of his blood and life for your intereſts; to the Son of a great King, whom your King being reduable to him for his life, and the preſervation of his Dominions, hath impriſoned only upon a motive which honeſt Men, and his faithful Subjects cannot approve of. Do not fear that your Prince will complain of you, if you reſtore him to liberty, he will only make uſe of it to endeavour his; and beſides the aſſurance I give you, that the King will look upon this Action, as the greateſt Service he could receive from you, if there be any fault, lay it all upon me ſeeing I adviſe and order you to do it, and I will go along with you my ſelf to put that in execution which I have propounded to you.

Theſe words being pronounced with a great deal of Action, were ſo far from finding any contradiction, that they were ſeconded by a general ſhout of all the people, who publickly deſired Ariamenes, and began to proclaim his praiſes, and the greatneſs of his Actions with ſo much affection, that it eaſily made me underſtand, that by the Propoſition I had made to them, I had only prevented the Deſign which they had to deſire him of me. Euſthenes himſelf who had him in Cuſtody, ſignified to me, That he deſired nothing but an abſolute Command from me for his diſcharge to the King. And in fine, having found all the facility I could deſire, I was willing to render the Prince ſome part of what I owed him, to go break his Chains my ſelf, and draw him out of a danger whereinto he was fallen only for the love of me. This Action had ſomething of very handſome in it, and being attended by all the people who loudly ecchoed out the Name of Ariamenes, I went to the place where he was impriſoned, I cauſed the Gates to be opened to me with Authority; and being [Page] accompanied by the principal Citizens of Bizantium, I went to his very chamber. He had already heard of the Succeſs of the Battel, and the King's being taken, and that was it which hindred him from being ſurprized, as he would have been without doubt at another time. He ſeemed for all that to be very much aſtoniſhed at the ſight of me, and running to me, after he had employed ſome moments in recollecting himſelf, he fell upon his knees before me without ſpeaking a word. My confuſion was no leſs than his, out of the fear I had to expreſs my Affection too largely in this Encounter: And yet ſummoning up all my Courage to aſſiſt me in the Action which I was to do, after I had reached him my hand to raiſe him up: We come, ſaid I, to free you from a place, where the Thracians cannot without too much ſhame behold their valiant Defender; and we are ſorry, that we cannot acknowledge the greatneſs of your Services, by a recompence more worthy of you. Receive Ariamenes, receive your liberty from the hand of Olympia, but, for her ſake, endeavour the recovery of the King her Brothers freedom with your accuſtomed Valor; and in regard of the Service you receive from the Siſter, forget the offence you have received from the Brother. I hope thus much from your Generoſity, and upon that confidence, I deſire you, together with all the people who implore your aſſiſtance, to reaſſume the Command which heretofore you accepted over them, and over the Force which are left us, and to employ that Valor whereof you have given them ſuch admirable proofs for their protection, and the ſafty of their Prince.

Ariobarzanes hearkned to all this Diſcourſe upon his knees, and beginning to ſpeak in the ſame poſture after I had done ſpeaking: Madam, ſaid he, I receive the liberty you reſtore me, and the Command you lay upon me, with that reſpect I ought to do; and looking upon your benefits as favours which I have not merited, I will likewiſe look upon the uſage which I have received from the King your Brother, rather as a juſt Chaſtiſement, than as an injury. That which my memory may retain of it, ſhall not hinder me from employing my life ſtill in his Service; and though I may expect to be requited for it, as I was for the reſt of my former Actions, yet I find a very glorious recompence in the honor of obeying you, and I will neglect nothing, that I may worthily acquit my ſelf of the employment which you beſtow upon me, having ſuch a Number of perſons about you amongſt whom you might make a more juſt Election. This was the Anſwer which he returned me in the preſence of all the Company: and riſing up at my Requeſt, he went out of the Priſon, and being followed by a numerous multitude of people, he reconducted me to the Palace.

Though Love at that time was poſſibly the moſt powerfully predominant in him, yet his firſt cares were employed in the functions of the charge which he had reaſſumed, and with an admirable Generoſity trampling under foot the injury which he had freſhly received from Adallas, he had nothing ſo ſtrongly imprinted in his ſpirit, as the deſire of reſtoring his liberty, and, with the hazard of his own life, to endeavour the defence of his Enemies Subjects and Dominions. He ſpent the reſt of that day in viſiting the Magazines of Arms and Proviſions, in reviewing the Forces which we had left, and the Number of the Inhabitants capable to bear Arms in that important neceſſity of State; in giving orders for the curing of the wounded, for furniſhing thoſe with Arms who had loſt them, for recruiting the Companies, and chooſing new Officers in the places of thoſe who had been killed or taken; and briefly, in all ſuch things as a perſon well verſed, as he was, in the Art of War, might practice upon ſuch an occaſion. He found good ſtore of Arms and Proviſions, and by the ſupputation which he made of the Souldiers, and the Inhabitants, he found that upon our urgent neceſſity, he could raiſe of the one and the other, above Fifteen thouſand men. This diſcovery having filled them with joy and confidence of the ſucceſs of his Deſigns, he reſolved not to permit the ardour of the Inhabitants to languiſh, which might in time grow cold, but to lead them out to fight, whil'ſt Merodates was weakned by the loſs he had received in the laſt Battel. He communicated his reſolution to the chief of them that were about him, by whom it was approved; and after he had given them inſtructions, and neceſſary orders to diſpoſe all things, he came in the Evening to give me a Viſit.

You may judge, my Princeſſes, how joyful I was, that I could diſcourſe freely with him in my Chamber, and in the Palace of the Kings of Thrace, who could not do it before, but only in a little deſart Iſland, where the fear of death which was alwayes before our eyes, was capable to diſturb our Converſations. His contentments likewiſe ſeemed to me more abſolute, than thoſe he taſted in his firſt acquaintance with me, and when he ſaw himſelf near me, where no ſuſpitious perſon could over-hear him, expreſſed his thoughts in ſuch paſſionate terms, that I was perſwaded that few perſons till that time, had loved more ſtrongly and more really than he. When his paſſion had given vent to its firſt emotions, and I had aſſured him, that my acknowledgment and affection towards him, was as great as he could rationally deſire, I began to blame him for the little care he had had of his life, and the intereſt which I had in it; in coming to expoſe himſelf, as he had done, to the mercy [Page] of a jealous and implacable Enemy, having uſed no precaution to conceal himſelf in the Dominions of a man, who by his Oath, was in a manner engaged to deſtroy him; and from whom, according to former probabilities, and the remembrance of the former effects of his ingratitude, he could expect nothing but all mannrr of ill uſage. By this Reproach, and the Requeſt I made to him beſides, Ariobarzanes being engaged to give me an Account of what he had done, ſince our parting in the Iſle of Cyprus, and how he came into Thrace, and into the Army which Eurimedes commanded, informed me in a few words, That after the King had diſmiſſed him at Carpaſia, retiring from us, he ſpent ſome dayes in a private place of the City, to find out ſome means to ſee me; but afterwards ſeeing that his endeavours were but in vain, and that I was ſo ſtrictly Guarded, his Deſign was to go and ſtay for us in Thrace, not doubting, but that immediately after the King was cured, we would take our way thither, hoping he ſhould find ſome favourable occaſion there to ſee me again, poſſibly to do ſome other Service for Adallas, which might mollifie his heart, and make him expreſs more acknowledgment for it, than he had done for the former. He told me, that he was confirmed in this intention, by the Diſcourſe which he heard a few dayes after amongſt ſome Merchants of the Iſle of Leſbos, from whom he underſtood, that there was a War begun in Thrace, that the Prince of Taurica Cherſoneſus, was entred with an Army into thoſe Countries, which Adallas had taken from him, and that there was a great deal of likelihood, that, by reaſon of the Kings Abſence, the Countrey would be expoſed to great Deſolations. He told me likewiſe, that he made his advantage of this Diſcourſe, without diſcovering any thing to the Leſbians, or to any other perſons that he kept company with, what he knew concerning the King of Thrace, ſuppoſing that it was his Deſign to conceal himſelf, and being unwilling to do him a bad Office. A few dayes after, ſeeing thoſe Leſbians ready to return into their own Countrey, he prayed them to receive him into their Veſſel, and to let him bear them company into their Iſland, which he had a Deſign to ſee, which they did very willingly, and being arrived at Leſbos, by the aſſiſtance of thoſe Merchants, he ſold part of thoſe Diamonds which he had in his Picture-Caſe, and by that means had wherewithal to put himſelf in a good Equipage, and to furniſh himſelf with all things neceſſary. From Leſbos, he eaſily got into Thrace, where he found all the Frontiers towards Cherſoneſus in Arms, there he took Servants, bought himſelf Horſes, and fair Arms, and entred himſelf in our Troops, where he continued a while unknown, and without any intention to diſcover himſelf; but afterwards having the happineſs to do ſome ſignal Actions, he declared himſelf under the Name of Ariamenes; and Fortune having been ſo favourable to him under the conduct of Eurimedes, as to let him render ſome important Services to the King and Countrey of Thrace, he hoped, before his Arrival, he ſhould do ſomething for him ſo great and conſiderable, that he might preſent himſelf to him with confidence, and expect from him ſome effects of acknowledgment, rather than be afraid of his Menaces. Things ſucceeded as he had expected, and upon that confidence he believed, That without diſhonour, he could not diſguize himſelf from a King, who was beholding to him for his Crown and life.

Finiſhing this Relation with the greateſt Grace in the World: The pardon which I am ſtill to beg of you, added he, is, not for concealing from the King your Brother, the thoughts of Adoration I have for you, and for not having been ſo far Maſter of my Courage, as to yield to any other power but yours: But in fine, in the condition whereunto my Affairs were reduced, it was hard for him to be any longer ignorant of my thoughts, or rather, that the cruel ſuſpitions which he had already conceived, ſhould not be turned into certainties: And if in this rancounter I imprudently gave too much ſcope to my paſſion, I have received a puniſhment for it, which, as ſlight as it is, may partly mitigate the reſentments of a Princeſs who is all goodneſs. If I be diſpleaſed, ſaid I, interrupting, that the King had knowledg of the affection which you have for me, and very ſtrong preſumptions of that which I have for you, 'tis only in reſpect of the danger which you might incur upon that ſcore, and not upon any other conſideration; for I ſuppoſe my ſelf to have a ſufficient Diſpenſation from that Duty which would be due to a Brother of another humor, whoſe approbation without doubt I ſhould have waited for, before I had engaged my ſelf in the friendſhip which I have expreſſed to you. But now Ariobarzanes, that Affairs are in this condition, how are you reſolved to deal with Adallas if it pleaſe the gods that you free him out of the power of Merodates? what precautions will you take for your ſecurity, ſince you cannot expect it from your Services? And how will you put your ſelf into a condition that you need not fear the effects of Adallas's Jealouſie, which ſtifles all the good thoughts which the greatneſs of his Birth might inſpire him with? If my life were not devoted to your Service, replied the Prince, it would not poſſibly be worth the while to take ſo much care for the preſervation of it; and beſides, whatſoever knowledge I have of the humor of a Prince, whom I dare not accuſe of ingratitude, becauſe he is your Brother; I hope that my latter Services will do that [Page] which the former could not; and that when he calls to mind the highneſs of his extraction, all the Roots of Vertue will not be ſo extirpated out of his Soul, but that he will find ſome reluctancy in himſelf, and be aſhamed of what is paſt; but if this be not ſufficient to ſecure me from danger, and if you deſire that I ſhould uſe more circumſpection to aſſure my ſelf, I will do it in obedience to you, and I will not put my ſelf into Adallas's power; till I may probably hope for more favourable uſage, than formerly I have received at his hands. With this intention, as alſo to render you the obedience which I owe you, I ſhall march out of Bizantium to morrow at the break of day, not thinking it convenient to let the ardor of your Souldiers grow cold, nor to permit Merodates to recruit himſelf, or poſſibly to give him time to put any thing in execution which may be fatal to the King. I hope by the aſſiſtance of the gods, and the Juſtice of our Cauſe, I ſhall free him out of his Enemies hands, and reſtore him to his Crown and liberty. But if this good hap betide me, my Divine Princeſs, and if I can vanquiſh both the Fortune of Merodates, and the ſpirit of the King your Brother, Will you not be pleaſed to permit me to deſire of him my ſupreme Felicity? And will you take it ill, that I endeavour to obtain the Princeſs Olympia, by the good will of the King her Brother? You may believe, anſwered I without ſtudy, That I ſhall be very much ſatisfied with it; but I ſee ſo little probability of it, that I will make no further reflection upon that Deſign of yours, and I ſhall beſeech the gods to give you your hearts deſire by ſome other way, though it be unknown unto me. In the mean while, Go, generous Prince, whither your Vertue, rather than any other conſideration, calls you; and make the World admire at a Generoſity without example, in hazarding your life for an ingrateful and cruel Enemy. But if you have any affection for Olympia, do not ſo far expoſe your ſelf to thoſe dangers which you are going to encounter, but that you may remember what ſhare you have given me in your life, and what intereſt I have in the preſervation of it. As I uttered theſe words, my face was covered with a bluſh, and ſome tears fell from my eyes, at which Ariobarzanes was ſo moved, that throwing himſelf at my feet, maugre my reſiſtance, he embraced my knees a great while, breaking out into expreſſions ſo full of Tranſport, that the violence of his paſſion might eaſily be obſerved in them. In fine, after he had made me a thouſand ardent Proteſtations, and had received all the marks of friendſhip that in reaſon he could require of me, he went from me, when he believed he could not handſomly ſtay any longer, and left me full of hope for the ſucceſs of his Arms; but much more repleniſhed with fear in relation to his life, which he was about to expoſe to manifeſt danger. This apprehenſion, and ſo many thoughts as accompanied it, did ſo turmoil me all that Night, that before I could cloſe my eyes, the Sun had ſaluted my Chamber with his earlieſt beams.

That day Ariobarzanes, as he had reſolved, marched out of Bizantium leaving in the City, beſides the old and wounded men, but a very ſmall Number of Inhabitants for the defence of the Walls, and leading out with him, to ſtrengthen his Forces, almoſt all the men that he judged capable of bearing Arms; thoſe which were to ſtay behind of either Sex, followed him as far as the Gates with loud acclamations; and they had all ſo much confidence in his Valor, That they looked upon him rather as one marching to a Triumph, than to a Battel, upon the deciſion whereof their deſtiny depended. Curioſity, or rather the force of my inclination, made me go that day to ſee him at the Head of his Troops; and though I was not quite ready, when they came to tell me that they were paſſing by the Palace-gate, I could not for bear running into a Gallery which was over the ſtreet, and there I ſtaid at a window till Ariobarzanes was marched by. Truly, I was not diſſatisfied with the deſire I had to ſee him in that condition, and his whole perſon was of ſuch a compoſure, that if I had not been prepoſſeſſed with Affection, that fight only would have been capable to give it birth in my Soul. His Arms were very magnificent and glorious, his Helmet being ſhaded with a Plume of Feathers, covered his Head, which he advanced with a redoubtable fierceneſe; his Horſe was proud and ſtately in his Pace, and all things did ſo accompany the comelineſs of his perſon, that no body could conceive any thing of him, but what was very great and extraordinary. He paſſed by, without ſeeing me, not knowing that I ſaw him; for, becauſe of the condition I was in, I had thrown a Veil over me, and ſtood behind ſome of my women. After I had loſt the ſight of him, I accompanied him with a gale of ſighs, and taking little notice of the reſt, I retired into my Chamber, where my Soul was troubled all the reſt of that day, and thoſe that followed it, with all the inquietudes which in that condition of my Fortune might probably keep me Company.

'Tis not worth the while, my Princeſſes, and it would be too tedious and troubleſome to you, for me to repeat to you all the Diſcourſes which my Affection made me make in the abſence of Ariobarzanes, to deſcribe to you the different effects of my fears, and my hopes; and in brief, to acquaint you with thoſe things which you your ſelves may imagine, inſtead of relating thoſe things which as yet you know not, and which better deſerve your attention.

[Page] Ariobarzanes intended to march towards Merodates with all convenient ſpeed, but yet in ſuch a manner, that his Troops might not be weary when they ſhould come to fight; and he ordered their march ſo, that ſpending but a few dayes upon the way, he preſented himſelf to his Enemy, with his men freſh enough to give Battel the firſt day.

Merodates becauſe of the inconveniency of his wounded men, and for other important Reaſons, was removed but a few Furlongs from the place where he had gained the Victory, and he had cauſed the King to be carried Priſoner into a little Town which lay behind him. He expected the coming of more Forces, with which he prepared to march directly to Bizantium, abſolutely to eſtabliſh a Dominion, which he thought could no longer be diſputed with him; and he ordered all things like a gallant Warrior as he was, when contrary to his expectation, and contrary to all probabilities, he ſaw Ariobarzanes incamped within ſight of him, in a likely capacity to bid him Battel. Never was aſtoniſhment like to that of Merodates, and though he was not capable of a Fright, yet this ſudden Return of an Enemies Army, whom he thought unable to make Head againſt him, and this new Obſtacle which he had not foreſeen in a Countrey whereof the King was his Priſoner, gave him cauſe enough to look to himſelf, and to take new reſolutions. He quickly gueſſed at the Truth, and believed that Ariamenes was at liberty, and that none but Ariamenes could put the Bizantines in Arms with ſo much ſuddenne's, and lead them with ſo much confidence againſt ſuch a redoubtable Enemy. The day following, he was confirmed in his opinion, and he received certain intelligence, that it was againſt that Ariamenes, whom he knew but too well to his coſt, that he muſt diſpute the eſtabliſhment of his Monarchy; and as great and couragious as he was, it is certain that he was troubled at Ariamenes's coming, and foreſaw that there could not have come a greater Obſtacle againſt him, to croſs, and poſſibly to ruine, his Deſigns.

In the mean time, Ariamenes was incamped but Thirty or forty Furlongs off from Merodates, and the two Camps could eaſily ſee each others Fires. Ariamenes knowing very well that he had to deal with one of the moſt valiant men, and one of the beſt Captains in the World, neglected nothing that might contribute to his advantages; and had ſo much deſire to accompliſh his Enterprize with that ſucceſs and honour which he had propoſed to himſelf, that he left nothing unthought of, which could be practiſed by the moſt experienced Captain upon the like occaſion. In fine, he reſolved, with the Advice of the Officers of his Army, whoſe Counſel he willingly hearkned to, not to loſe time in ſlight skirmiſhes, nor to manage the buſineſs as he had done, whil'ſt he only commanded a ſmall flying Camp againſt a mighty Army, but to give Battel (which at another time he would not have ſo eaſily ventured) before that Merodates proceeded to the utmoſt extremities againſt Adallas, as they feared he would, and as he was adviſed to do; but becauſe he very well foreſaw that he could not attach the Enemies in their Camp, without giving them a great deal of advantage, he reſolved to march in Battalia towards the little town wher the King was kept Priſoner, as if he would ſtorm that, and take it by Aſſault, not doubting but by that means he ſhould oblige them to quit their Lines and fight with the more Equality. He had fully taken this reſolution, and gave Orders to put it in execution the next day, when they preſented to him a Trumpeter from Merodates, with a Letter from that Prince. Ariamenes received him according to the ordinary Forms, and having taken the Letter, he opened it, and therein read theſe words.

Merodates King of Thrace, and Taurica Cherſoneſus, to the General Ariamenes.

THough by thee alone, the progreſs of my Arms hath been ſtopped, and though I have found a greater Obſtacle in thy ſingle ſelf, than in all the Forces of the Thracians: Thou art too valiant to be hated by thy Enemies & I really proteſt to thee, that I deteſted the ingratitude of Adallas, I regretted thy misfortune, and was joyful to hear of thy being at liberty. They that have freed thee from thy impriſonment, declaring themſelves to be Friends to injured Vertue, have done that which I my ſelf had a deſire to do; and if they had not prevented me, I had made thee my Friend, inſtead of having thee for my Enemy. 'Tis very certain, that the eſteem which I have of thy Valor, makes me ſorry to ſee that thou imployeſt it ſtill in the ſervice of an ungrateful Prince, and that thou goeſt to fight with a Prince who deſires thy Amity, in the quarrel of a man which hath nothing but priſons and puniſhments for thy recompence. Where is thy Reſentment? Where is thy Courage, Ariamenes? And not being a Subject to Adallas, What honeſt motive canſt thou have to engage thy ſelf in his Service after the unworthy uſage he hath ſhewn thee? Join thy ſelf rather with his Enemies, to revenge the injury which thou haſt received. Thou haſt wayes enough to do it, without prejudice to thy honour; and if the love of Olympia, as the common opinion is, retains thee in her Brother's Service, conſider, that [Page] by the aſſiſtance of my Arms, thou may'ſt obtain Olympia, whom thou wilt never obtain by her Brothers good will. I give thee my inviolable promiſe to put that Princeſs into thy power, with Dignities beſides, which may ſatisfie thy Ambition. Let me know thy intention, before we put it to the hazard of a Battel, which may probably prove as fatal to Ariamenes, as to Merodates, and conſider once more, that it will be in thine own power, without injuring thy Reputation to be the Friend of Merodates, revenger upon Adallas, and poſſeſſor of Olympia.

This was Merodates's Letter, which Ariobarzanes readd with ſome aſtoniſhment, and found it very different from what he expected. It was written with a great deal of Artifice, and likelihood of Truth, and Merodates had forgotten nothing which probably might move a man very much injured, and very amorous. All the reaſon in the World ſeemed to be upon his ſide, and certainly there were but few men whom this hope of becoming poſſeſſor of a perſon beloved by ſuch wayes as his juſt reſentment might in ſome ſort ſave his honour, would not have cauſed to waver, and, it may be, have abſolutely convinced; but the vertue of Ariobarzanes was very remote from this Propoſition, and neither all his reſentment againſt the Brother, nor all his love to the Siſter, kept him one moment unreſolved what in point of Duty to do. He gave the Letter ſmiling to ſome of his Officers which were near him, See, ſaid he, what opinion they have of us, and with what Arms they would encounter with us. In the mean time, he returned an Anſwer to Merodates, which, as I take it, was in theſe Terms.

Prince Ariamenes, to Merodates Prince of Cherſoneſus.

IF thou hadſt really valued my Courage, thou would'ſt not have ventured upon the Propoſion which thou haſt made me, and 'tis but a bad Teſtimony of thy Amity and Eſteem, to counſel me to baſeneſs. When thou didſt deteſt Ingratitude, and bemoan my Diſgrace, thou didſt follow the motions of thy Vertue; but without doubt thou wert not guided by that, when thou didſt propoſe to me to betray a People who have abſolutely committed themſelves and their deſtiny to my Conduct. If I would be revenged upon Adallas, it ſhould not be whil'ſt he is a Priſoner; and if I would pretend to the poſſeſſion of Olympia, it ſhould not be by unworthy meaus; if it pleaſe the gods that I ſhall obtain her, ſhe will be much more gloriouſly acquired by me, when I ſhall have reſtored to her Family the Crown of her Anceſtors, when I ſhall have chaſed her Enemies out of her Countrey, and when I ſhall have brought back her Brother with Freedom and Victory, than, when by a baſe Treaſon, I ſhall have diſhonoured all the Actions of my life, and rendred my ſelf unworthy of her Eſteem. I thank thee for the Dignities which thou offereſt me; but if thou kneweſt me, thou wouldſt poſſibly underſtand, that the Prince of Cherſoneſus hath no Dignities in his power that are worth Ariamenes's acceptance. Yet I will not diſdain thy Amity, when I may receive it without Reproach; and poſſibly thou wilt judge me more worthy of it than thou didſt before, when thou ſhalt have ſeen me in the Field, near enough to take an exact knowledge of me.

This was the uſe that Ariobarzanes made of Merodates's offers, and the next day, according to the deliberation which he had formerly taken, he diſlodged his Troops to march towards the Town where the King was kept Priſoner. As he had no deſign to conceal his march ſo it was preſently taken notice of by Merodates; and being it was not Merodates's intention to ſuffer that place to be taken, which he knew was not ſtrong enough to endure the firſt Aſſault, he diſcamped his Army, and marched to meet Ariamenes. His Troops were ſtronger ſtill than ours, and compoſed of men better verſed in War, than thoſe which we had drawn out from amongſt the Citizens of Bizantium; and this was that which eaſily dipoſed him to a Battel, not believing that Ariamenes, as valiant as he was, could ſtop the courſe of his Victories and Fortune. The Armies having not far to march before they met, were quickly one in ſight of another, and then it was that their valiant Generals employed their utmoſt cares to facilitate the Victory. Neither of them forgot any thing that might conduce thereunto; and I underſtood afterwards, that Ariamenes having ranged his men in ſuch an order as my incapacity doth not permit me to deſcribe, made a ſpeech to them with ſo much Eloquence and Gallantry, that he inſpired them with a more than natural ardor, and animated them by his Diſcourſe and Example, to attempts beyond his expectation. I cannot inform you of the particulars of that Battel, which poſſibly was the moſt bloody, and the beſt diſputed, that was ever fought between two Armies, of their ſtrength. Above eight long hours the Succeſs continued doubtful and uncertain, and in that time the Troops on either ſide were almoſt abſolutely defeated. The Generals were extreamly valiant, and their Souldiers ſeconded them with all their power. Merodates's [Page] men had an advantage over ours, by reaſon of the Number of thoſe who were drawn out of Bizantium, who being a great deal leſs uſed to War than the reſt, much weakned our Party. But the brave Ariamenes did ſo well ſupply their default, and did ſo encourage them both by his words, and his great Actions, that he made them do that which could hardly have been expected from Veteran Souldiers; and in fine, confirmed them in the reſolution to ſuffer themſelves to be cut in pieces, or to purchaſe that day the peace and repoſe of their Countrey. Alas! how much blood did theſe gallant reſolutions of both Parties cauſe to be ſhed on either ſide, and how many deaths made that day famous in the memory of the Thracians! A great part of the day was ſpent, when at laſt that Fortune, which had ſo inſeparably accompanied Merodates againſt Adallas and Eurimedes, began to give ground before Ariamenes, and by the prodigious efforts of that young Prince, the remainder of the Troops of Cherſoneſus began by little and little to give way to ours, and looked as if they were about to quit the Victory. Merodates perceiving [...]t, and being filled with deſpair, at the knowledge of it, did things above beleife, to recover the advantage we had gotten, and to preſerve that which the precedent Battels had acquired him. He rode from rank to rank with a Martial countenance, and by his ardent endeavours turned his Forces more than once upon ours with ſuch an impetuoſity, as made the event of Battel a long time doubtful. Ariamenes, who had fought for him all that day, as much as the Functions of his charge could permit him, having percieved him, and taken notice of him by ſeveral marks, charged up to him with an exclamation and an action which diſcovered him to his Enemy, and when he was near enough to be underſtood by him, ‘Merodates, cryed he, there is blood enough ſhed, ſpare that which remains of thy Party, if thou can ſt poſſibly, and let us finiſh the deſtiny of this day in our own perſons. Thou ſhalt ſee by that proof, whether I be worthy of thy Amity or not, and thou wilt not diſhonour thy Arms, in employing them againſt a Prince whoſe Birth is not inferior to thine.’ Ariamenes had leaſure to make this Diſcourſe to Merodates; and the two Chieftains were no ſooner met, but as if they had made an agreement together, it ſeemed that the Troops which they commanded, had ſuſpended all their intereſt to ſee their Fortune decided by the hands of their Generals, they both expreſſed a great deal' of joy to ſee them ſo diſpoſed; and having confirmed them in it on either ſide, by a publick Order which they gave that none ſhould ſtir out of their places whil'ſt they were a fighting, they advanced one towards the other like two Lyons, or like ſomething more terribly, and with the firſt blows they ſhivered in pieces the Javelins which they had taken into their hands; and afterwards lifting up their redoubtable Swords, all dyed with the blood which they had ſhed, they gave each other ſuch blows, as ſtruck a Terror into the Spectators of either ſide.

I am no better skill'd in the Relation of a particular Combate, than of a Battel; and though this be worthy of eternal memory, yet I will report no more particularities to you, but will only tell you what I have heard ſince from Ariobarzanes, That Merodates gave Teſtimonies of an admirable Valor in that Combate, and reduced him oftent mes to ſuch terms, as not to hope for the Victory; but at laſt [...]t declared it ſelf for Ariamenes, and the valiant Merodates, whoſe puiſſance, as they ſay, never yielded to any but the great King Alcamenes, after he had given his Enemy divers wounds, received one from him at laſt in the body, which made him fall from his Saddle, cold and pale, and deprived him of life in a few moments. Ariobarzanes, who was deſirous of the Victory, but not of the death of that great man, was very ſenſibly afflicted at his deſtiny; but not being in condition to give any long Teſtimonies of it, he contented himſelf to give Command that they ſhould take up the Prince, to give him all the aſſiſtance he was capable to receive; and beſtowing his thoughts upon his preſent neceſſity, he with his men ſuſtained the utmoſt fury of Merodates's Troops; who being reſolved to revenge their Prince, or to periſh with him, fell up, on ours with ſuch an impetuoſity, as deprived Ariamenes of the opportunity to put in execution the deſire which he had to compleat his Victory, without ſhedding any more blood, if it were poſſible. This fury of his Enemies was no great Remora to his Victory, and the Thracians having Routed them with a great deal of Valor, beſprea'd all the Field with their bodies, and leſt none of them alive, but what their, Generals pity made them ſpare.

In the mean time Ariamenes, who in the greateſt heat of the Combat preſerved his judgment ſound and entire, having a Deſign in his Head which he deſired to bring to paſs, when he ſaw that the Victory could be no longer diſputed againſt him, commanded Euſthenes to haſten away at all full ſpeed with Three hundred Horſe to the Gates of that little Town, where the King was detained Priſoner, and to take Order that no body ſhould enter there to give the King intelligence of that dayes Succeſs. The buſineſs was done as he deſired, and Euſthenes did ſo cloſely block up all the Avenues to the Town, that not a man could carry in the News of what had paſſed.

[Page] A little after, the Conqueror Ariamenes having put his Camp in neceſſary order, as well in relation to the wounded men, the Priſoners, and the Booty, as to render to Merodates's body the honors which were due to him, advanced in the Evening towards that little Town with part of his Troops, and preſented himſelf at the Gates, in a condition that cauſed Terror in thoſe that guarded them. He preſently gave order to parly with thoſe that commanded in the place, and ſome Officers coming out to him, upon faith given, he informed them what had paſſed, and ſhewed them ſuch evident marks of his Victory, that they could no longer doubt of it. In brief, he ſhewed them the means he had to force them in an hours time, and told them, that he would be very glad to ſpare their blood, and to give them free liberty to march away, provided they opened the Gates immediately, and engaged themſelves upon their lives, to take order that the King that was Priſoner there, ſhould have no intelligence of what had paſſed, before he had ſeen him. Theſe men being intimidated, were joyful to find ſafety and liberty in Ariamenes's Propoſition; they promiſed him all that he deſired, and punctually executed it: So that Ariamenes, in leſs than half an hour, entred into the Town with a Party of thoſe that followed him, and went to wait upon the King before he could learn any News of what had paſſed. Adallas ſupported his impriſonment with a great deal of impatience, and reflecting upon the great intereſt that Merodates had to put him to death, to confirm his dominion over the Thracians, he was in continual fears, and expected, every-day, with a great deal of Terror, what ſhould be reſolved in relation to his deſtiny. His unjuſt paſſion for me was not extinguiſhed by his impriſonment; but he was the leſs fixed upon that, becauſe he was conſtrained to beſtow part of his thoughts upon the preſſing conſiderations of his Fortune; and though he was ſtill jealous of Ariamenes, yet he had often repented that he had Treated him ſo, knowing what miſchief he had done himſelf, by depriving himſelf of the ſervice of that great man.

Ever ſince that moment when I ſet Ariamenes at liberty, he had employed the time with ſo much diligence, and made ſo little ſtay at Bizantium, and upon his march, that the King, (to whom thoſe that guarded him, had no Commiſſion to relate all the Truth) had no time to be advertiſed of it: So that when he ſaw Ariamenes come into his Chamber, he was as much ſurprized at his ſight, as at the moſt unexpected thing in the World; and not knowing how to take it, well or ill, he remained quite aſtoniſhed and confounded. Immediately at the ſight of this formidable Rival, his jealouſie revived, and ſo ſtrongly moved him, that he could hardly contain himſelf, looking upon him as his moſt cruel Enemy, though he had rendred him all the Offices of the firmeſt Amity. He was very much troubled to ſee him at liberty, and looking upon himſelf at the ſame time as a Priſoner, his Captivity ſeemed a great deal the more inſupportable; but reflecting likewiſe upon the generous humour of Ariamenes, and conſidering that this man, notwithſtaning the diſpleaſures he had done him, ſeemed to have been born on purpoſe for his conſervation, a little intereſt forcing its way through his paſſions, made him hope that this third view of Ariamenes, would be as advantagious to him as the two former. Theſe various cogitations agitating his ſpirit at the ſame time, and keeping him uncertain and unreſolved, did likewiſe keep him a great while unmoveable and ſilent; and by his action, and the changes of his countenance, made Ariamenes take notice of his diſtraction.

The Prince ſaluted the King with all the Civility and Reſpect that could be due to him in his better Fortune; and the King having received him with that trouble which I have endeavoured to repreſent to you, after he had ſtrove a little to diſſipate it: ‘What, Ariamenes, ſaid he, Have my Subjects betrayed me then? And hath their infidelity not only ſet you at liberty, but do you come likewiſe to affront me, whil'ſt I am my Enemies Priſoner?’ ‘Sir, replied Ariamenes, your Subjects have not betrayed you, in reſtoring liberty to a man from whom you have been accuſtomed to receive the moſt Important-Services; and poſſibly you know me well enough, to believe that I do not come to brave you in your misfortune, ſeeing I never preſented my ſelf to you, but for the preſervation of your life, or your Dominions. I know it to my ſorrow, anſwered Adallas; but I am no leſs ſenſible, that the loſs of my Crown and life too, would have been more ſweet, and more ſupportable to me, than the injury you do me. You know it as well as I; but in ſhort, What is your Deſign now? And do you come to me as a Friend, or as an Enemy? I come, replied the Prince, to give you your choice, and to ask your counſel what I am to do. 'Tis true, your people have freed me out of the Priſon to which you had committed me, your Subjects have made me their General, to defend them againſt your Enemies and theirs. I have not poſſibly been very unwilling to reſume my former reſolution, and I am come againſt Merodates with ſtrength and courage enough to recover all that he hath gained from you. In brief, I dare undertake within three dayes to reſtore you, [Page] your liberty and your Crown, and not to leave one of your Enemies in Thrace, but either dead or Priſoner. I will engage my life and honour for the perfomance of this Propoſition. But Sir, this is only your intereſt: and if I may be permitted to diſpute mine own with a Prince to whom I am ſo little obliged, I will tell you, That if I do not fight for your advantage, I can compaſs my own without fighting, and Merodates hath offered me that, which without doubt I ſhould never receive from you, though I ſhould readvance you from a Priſon to a Throne. I can chooſe whether I will hazard a Combat againſt a valiant man who eſteems me, and never did me wrong, for a Prince who hath ingratefully and injuriouſly uſed me; I can revenge my ſelf of a cruel Enemy, and (which is more conſiderable) I can do it without danger. I can acquire Olympia, who is all the aim of my life, whom I can never expect from the Services I can render you. Behold Sir, continued he, preſenting Merodates's Letter to him, behold the offers of your Enemy, and be pleaſed to take the pains, after you have looked upon them, to give me your Advice what reſolution I ſhould take.’

The King hearkned to this Diſcourſe of Ariobarzanes with ſo much aſtoniſhment, that at preſent he knew not what Reply to make him, and only taking Merodates's Letter, he read it over three or four times, making particular reflections upon thoſe places of it, where he promiſed him the poſſeſſion of Olympia, with ſuch a Tranſport, as might eaſily be perceived by his exterior Action. At laſt having readd over thoſe words often enough which ſeemed ſo cruel to him, or rather having beſtowing ſome time in moderating his reſentment, and meditating what to ſay to Ariamenes upon this Subject; I ſee very well, ſaid he, reſtoing him the Letter, what Propoſitions my Enemy hath made you, and I acknowledge beſides, That in the condition whereunto my miſerable Fortune hath reduced me, if you join with Merodates, you may be revenged of me, you may acquire Olympia, and you may do all things without any difficulty. But Ariamenes Where is that Generoſity, where is that Courage; which after the firſt effects of my ingratitude made you ſo Nobly expoſe your life for the defence of my Dominions? And with what honour can you take that Revenge which is propoſed to you, againſt a King in Priſon, and againſt a Prince, whoſe abſolute ruine doth depend upon you? Ariamenes being touched home with this Diſcourſe, had much ado to perſevere in his Diſſimulation; and yet conſidering how neceſſary it was for him, There is no conſideration of Honour and Generoſity, replied he, which obliges me to hazard my life any more for a Prince, who after ſuch Services as I have rendred him, confined me to a cruel Priſon, and had already condemned me to dye as a Malefactor. There are but few men in the World, who after ſuch uſage, would neglect the opportunity of being revenged: and though I ſhould have ſo much vertue as not to deſire the utter ruine of a helpleſs captive-King; yet I ſhould not be blamed, if I did not bear Arms any longer for his Service. But to this conſideration of Revenge, is added the poſſeſſion of Olympia, and to the hope of that it is, that I have devoted my whole life. I ſhall infallibly obtain my deſire, if I lend an ear to the Propoſition of Merodates; and if I fight with Merodates, if I drive out your Enemies, if I reſtore your liberty, and if I reſettle you upon your Throne, I ſhall not only render this Service to a cruel Enemy, who hath nothing but impriſonment and death for my recompence but I ſhall put him into a condition to hinder me forever from the poſſeſſion of Olympia, or rather I ſhall deprive my ſelf for ever of all hope of poſſeſſing Olympia. Nevertheleſs I have not accepted the offers of Merodates, though I have obtained permiſſion of him to ſee you, & I am ſtill in a condition, as I told you before, to expel every one of your Enemies, and to reſtore you to the peaceable poſſeſſion of the Crown of your Anceſtors; but you muſt redeem your Scepter, your liberty, and poſſibly your life at a rate which you are unwilling to give. If I do not perform what I promiſe you, I demand nothing of you; but if in three dayes I put you into the condition which I have propounded to you, I demand the Princeſs Olympia of you as my recompence; if you can overcome that paſſion which diſhonors you, and draws the indignation of the gods, and the averſion of men upon you. Do not fear to diſparage your blood by an unworthy alliance; 'Tis Ariobarzanes, the Son of the late, and the Brother of the now King of Armenia, who hath ſerved you under the Name of Ariamenes, with as much reſpect as the meaneſt of your Subjects could have done; and this is a Truth wherein you ſhall be clearly ſatisfied, before I demand the performance of your promiſe; conſider now what reſolution you will take, and do not think it ſtrange, that reflecting upon your former Actions, I deſire to engage you, and aſſure my ſelf upon your word.

Having ſpoken theſe words, Ariobarzanes held his peace, expecting Adallas's Anſwer, who upon that Diſcourſe was fallen into a great perplexity; and, as he imagined, ſeeing miſfortune on every ſide, knew not which way to turn himſelf to be leaſt unfortunate. The love he had for me, could not, without a great deal of violence, permit him to beſtow me upon another, and it ſeemed to him, that by this demand, he was robbed of a piece of his heart; but coming to conſider that he was without a Kingdom, without liberty, and poſſibly [Page] upon the point to loſe life, as he ſaw there was a great deal of likelilihood: he could not reſolve to loſe all, and periſh miſerably by perſevering in a deteſtable paſſion, whereof he could never expect any good ſucceſs; poſſibly for a more hopeful love, he would have quitted both Crown and life without conſideration; but at laſt he reſolved, or at leaſt ſeemed to do ſo; and after he had held his eyes a long time fixed upon the ground, raiſing them up to Ariobarzanes's face: ‘Ariamenes, ſaid he, or Ariobarzanes, Prince, or whoſoever you are, you reduce me to a cruel extremity; and if the Service which you promiſe me, and whereof I plainly perceive the neceſſity and the importance, could be recompenſed by one half of that Kingdom which you offer to reſtore me, it would be much more eaſie for me to part with it to you without regret, than to yield up Olympia to you, and not dye. But if you be reſolved upon it; and if nothing be capable to ſatisfie you, but to give you Olympia, well, added he, with a ſigh, ſince my ill Fortune and my Reaſon, which my paſſion hath ſo much ſtrugled with, will have it ſo; well then, I promiſe you Olympia, and engage my Royal word to you, which amongſt my other failings hath been alwayes inviolably obſerved, that if you perform what you promiſe, and if you be a Kings Son, as you aſſure me you are, I will render you poſſeſſor of Olympia.’ It was not without expreſſing ſufficient Teſtimonies of his grief, that the King uttered theſe words; and Ariobarzanes had no ſooner heard them, but turning himſelf towards thoſe which came into the Chamber with him, ‘You are Witneſſes,’ my Friends, ſaid he, That the King hath engaged his word to me, and it highly concerns me to aſſure my ſelf further of it by your Teſtimony. There is no need of that aſſurance, replied Adallas, and what ſoever may befall me, I will never fail in the performance of my word. ‘Since it is ſo, added the Prince, aſſuming a more pleaſant countenance than before, and that nothing is able to diſingage you from your promiſe, Know, King of Thrace, that I did not ſtay till I had your word, before I rendred you the Service which you expect from me; I am more generous in Effect, than I ſeemed to be in our Converſation; Merodates is dead by my hand, and all your Enemies hear him Company; you are the King of the Thracians now in peace, and you may at this moment being free, a Conquerour, and abſolute, reſtore your preſence and perfect peace to your Subjects.’

Having made an end of theſe words, Ariobarzanes obliged Euriſtheus, who was with him, to give the King a full Relation of all that had paſſed, which he did at length; and filling the Kings mind with admiration at the gallant Actions of Ariamenes, he gave him a particular Account of the preſent condition of his Affairs, by the death of Merodates, and the defeat of all his Troops; after which, there was little probability that thoſe that were left in the Towns which he hadnot taken, would ſtay ſo much as a Summons: the King upon this Diſcourſe was aſſaulted with ſo many paſſions, and ſo many different perturbations, that it was hard to judge which of them would gain the Victory in his ſpirit. At laſt, after he had made long reflections upon the revolutions of his Fortune, and had turned his thoughts from the loſs of his Dominions, his Impriſonment, and the danger which had threatned his life, to the advantagious change which he had received in his condition by the Valor of Ariobarzanes; O immortal gods, ſaid he, lifting up his eyes to Heaven, for what reaſon have you thus ſubjected my Genius to Ariamenes, that in all the misfortunes of my life, I can receive no aſſiſtance from you, but by his means? After that, turning himſelf towards him, with an Action compoſed of a great deal of ſweetneſs: ‘Be not offended, ſaid he, if it be ſome Affliction to me, to be ſo deeply indebted to you, being ſo unable to requite Services of ſo high a value. I acknowledge you, though it be a little of the lateſt, for my Benefactor, for my Defender, and for my perpetual Deliverer; and whatſoever I ſuffer, I will keep my word.’ ‘I doubt it not Sir, ſaid Ariobarzanes, and I would not have taken ſo much care to have obtained your promiſe, if I had not had an abſolute confidence in it. By this Action you will too happily recompence my Services, and you will acquire the eſteem of the whole Eeath, by knowing how to ſubdue an Enemy more hard to overcome than Merodates was.’ ‘Let us ſpeak no more of it, added the King with a ſigh, let us ſpeak no more of it, I will keep my word.’

After theſe words, he continued a long time without ſpeaking; and in Concluſion, endeavouring to expreſs the ſatisfaction which was due to the change of his Fortune, and to ſhew himſelf to his people in a condition which might recover their affection, after ſome Diſcourſe had with Ariobarzanes, and thoſe that were with him, concerning the neceſſity of his Affairs, and thoſe things which were ſtill left to do, he went out of the Houſe, and the Town which had ſerved for his Priſon, and went to ſhew himſelf to his Victorious Army, which ſaluted him with loud Acclamations, and gave him to underſtand, That Misfortunes are ſometimes advantagious, to move and to recall thoſe ſpirits which might be alienated by the miſcarriages of Proſperity. He viewed the Field where the Battel [Page] was ſought, where the marks of Ariamenes's victory were ſtill freſh; and though he beheld them with ſome confuſion, yet he could not chooſe but give that Prince part of the praiſes which were due to him, and approve, at leaſt in ſhew, the Ardor which his Subjects expreſſed in obeying him, and fighting according to his Orders.

At the Requeſt of Ariobarzanes, the body of Merodates was uſed with a great deal of honour, and permiſſion was given to his Friends to carry it whither they pleaſed, to rend [...]r it the honour of Burial. Ariamenes likewiſe ſent back all the Priſoners, upon condition that they ſhould paſs to their Garriſons which were held ſtill by their Companions, and exhort them to retire within Fifteen dayes, which was the time allotted by the King, for their ſecure departure out of Thrace, according to the Paſs-ports which were delivered to them.

Thus was peace reſtored to Thrace, with ſuch a ſuddenneſs as was not imaginable; and by the Valor of one ſingle man, that Kingdom, upon the Eve of its total ruine, ſaw it ſelf reinſtated in a more peaceable and flouriſhing condition, than poſſibly it had ever been. The King returned to Bizantium as it were in Triumph; having the Victorious Ariamenes by his ſide, whom he honoured both according to the greatneſs of his Service, and the knowledge he had then of his Royal Birth. The people made them magnificent Receptions, with the Deſcription whereof I will not trouble my ſelf, nor with other things which paſſed at the Kings return, and do uſually paſs upon occaſions of the like Nature. You may very well judge, my Princeſſes, that the report of all that had hapned, which had already reached my ears, was not unwelcome to me. 'Tis certain, that, eſteeming and loving Ariobarzanes as I did, I could not but be very joyful to hear of the greatneſs of his Actions, and the promiſe which the King had made him; and having never had any other Deſign but to make him my Husband, when decency ſhould permit, a ſucceſs ſo conformable to my intentions, could not but give me a great deal of ſatisfaction. Yet I endeavoured to moderate the Teſtimonies I might give of it, ſo that I might not too much diſcover the inclination of my Soul; and when the King came to viſit me, with Ariobarzanes, whom he was pleaſed to bring along with him, I received them both in ſuch a manner, that it was hard for indifferent perſons to judge of the inſide of my heart by outward appearances. The King could not diſſemble ſo (for grief is not ſo eaſily maſtered as joy) and whatſoever endeavour he uſed, he had much ado to conceal his reſentment. He ſpake but little, and made no mention at all of what was paſt, being unwilling either to reproach me with the offence which I had done him in freeing Ariobarzanes out of Priſon without his Orders, or to thank me for the means I had given that Prince to reſtore him to his liberty and Kingdom. His Diſcourſe was cold, and full of conſtraint, and after ſome words, far different from thoſe which he had formerly uſed to me: ‘Siſter, ſaid he, I will do all that poſſibly I can, to repair thoſe faults which I may have committed, and in the mean time, I preſent the Prince Ariobarzanes unto you, whoſe Services can receive no other recompence, but the Princeſs Olympia. Speaking as your Brother, I ſhall ſay, that the greatneſs of his Services are far above ſuch a recompence; but indeed he deſires no other, and I am engaged to procure him the poſſeſſion of you, by all the credit I have with you.’ I caſt'd down my eyes at theſe words with ſome ſhew of confuſion, and judging that I ought to make a Reply unto the Kings Diſcourſe: ‘Sir, ſaid I, I know the obedience which I ought to render you at all times, when together with the quality of my King, you reſume that of my Brother, and I will endeavour ſo to regulate my will by yours, that you ſhall have no cauſe to condemn me.’ ‘My will, anſwered the King with his former coldneſs, ſhall be ſuch for the future, that you may eaſily conform to it; and I ſhould be very ſorry, if I ſhould deſire any thing of you that might be diſadvantagious, or diſagreeable to you.’ All the reſt of our Converſation was as cold as this, except it were the Teſtimonies which I gave the King of the joy I reſented for his liberty, and the good ſucceſs of his Affairs; and Ariobarzanes intermingled his Diſcourſe with ours, when he thought himſelf obliged to it by an handſom opportunity, behaving himſelf like a modeſt perſon, who did reſpectfully conſider the violence which the King offered to himſelf for his ſake. He went back with him, as he came in his Company: and at this firſt Viſit we could have no particular converſe together; but the next day having had the opportunity to entertain him with more liberty, I expreſſed to him the contentment I had in this glorious ſucceſs of his Arms, and the ingenious policy he uſed to gain Adallas his promiſe, by ſuch Diſcourſes as ſufficiently ſignified to him that I really loved him, and would willingly obey the King my Brother, when he ſhould order me to marry him.

Ariobarzanes ſpake nothing to me but in the language of Tranſports, which ſufficiently diſcovering his paſſion, he made me a thouſand Diſcourſes, which I cannot repeat to you, becauſe the ſame paſſion, made them to be without coherence and connexion; and before [Page] we parted, he deſired me to give him permiſſion to preſs the King as much as he could, to the performance of his promiſe. I ſaw him divers times beſides with a great deal of liberty, and I had the more facility to do it, becauſe the King did but rarely viſit me; and when he did, did it very privately, and did ſo reſtrain himſelf, that in his Converſation there was not a word intermingled concerning that love which I had ſo much deteſted. I underſtood by all manner of Tokens, that it was not extinguiſhed in his Soul; but I hoped, that when I ſhould be farther off from him, abſence might diſſipate it; or rather, that when I ſhould be far diſtant from him, I ſhould no longer be afraid of the effects which it might produce, being fully reſolved, as ſoon as he had beſtowed me upon Ariorbarzanes, to retire into Armenia with him, and not to ſtay any longer in the King my Brother's Court, for fear of being importuned by him at a time, when it would be more difficult for me to bear with him.

Divers dayes paſſed away, during which, the King rendred a great deal of honour and civility to Ariobarzanes, Treating him not only as a King's Son, but as a King to whom he had thoſe obligations which he had to him, and by all manner of careſſes and magnificent Preſents, he endeavoured to make him believe, that he would not be ungrateful to him for his good Offices; but he did not ſpeak a word of me: and Ariobarzanes, who out of reſpect, delayed as much as he could to require the performance of his promiſe, was very much diſpleaſed to ſee that he made no mention of me, and took this ſilence for a very bad Omen. He was oftentimes about to ſpeak to him of it firſt; but the King alwayes deprived him of all opportunities, by putting him upon Diſcourſes of a quite different Subject; and if he had found Ariobarzanes to have been of a timorous and unconfident ſpirit, he would certainly have hindred him for whole years together, from being ſo bold as to open his mouth to that purpoſe. In the mean time he expreſſed a mortal ſadneſs in all his Actions; and whil'ſt his Subjects had made, and did every day make, Bonfires for the News that came of the abſolute Retreat of all the Garriſons which Merodates had left in thoſe Towns which he had taken, that fire unluckily kindled in his Soul, hindred him from aſſiſting at the other, and did ſo far deprive him of all ſenſibility of his own happineſs, that inſtead of appearing like a Conqueror, and as one Triumphant in the judgment of his people, he could not have looked with a more ſorrowful countenance when he was Priſoner to Merodates. Ariobarzanes himſelf could not but look upon his misfortune with ſome pity; but as the cauſe of it was odious, ſo he could imagine no remedy for it; or at leaſt, the beſt he could find, was to haſten the execution of his Deſign, and to take me ſpeedily out of the ſight of that Prince, to remove me from his memory.

In fine, not being able to continue any longer in that ſilence which the King did but too ſtrictly obſerve, and diſpoſing himſelf to ſpeak to him of it one day in my Gallery, where they were a walking together, after he had prepared his mind for it by his precedent Diſcourſe, when the King ſaw that he could no longer avoid the hearing of that unwelcome propoſal, he was minded to prevent him, and looking upon the Prince with Paſſion lively painted in his eyes: Well, Ariobarzanes, ſaid he, Muſt I then needs part with Olympia to you? Ariobarzanes ſeemed aſtoniſhed at this Diſcourſe, and after that he had continued ſome moments without a Reply: You ſhall not part with Olympia as a Lover, ſaid he, but you ſhall beſtow her upon me as her Brother. Whether as a Lover, or as a Brother, anſwered Adallas, I muſt keep my word; but you cannot exact it of me, and reduce me to the cruel neceſſity of a performance, without throwing death into my Boſome. Sir, replied Ariobarzanes, if your diſtemper were of ſuch a nature, as that it might be remedied by an Action of Generoſity and Franchiſe, you ſhould poſſibly find more of it in me, than you have reaſon to expect; and it may be I ſhould have enough to force my inclinations in your favour, if inſtead of a Siſter from whom you can never expect any thing, you loved a Princeſs which might entertain your affections: But believe it Sir, I do no way contribute to your misfortune; and though I ſhould quit Olympia you would have never the more ſatisfaction in the love you have for her: And in brief, though Ariobarzanes were out of the world, the Princeſs Olympia would never marry the King her Brother. Well replied Adallas, with an Action full of Deſpair, That which the gods have Decreed, will come: And having ſpoken theſe words, he went and ſhut himſelf up in his Cloſet, and would ſee no body all that day.

Ariobarzanes being troubled at this Converſation, and highly diſpleaſed to ſee himſelf a great deal farther off than he thought, from the effect of his hopes, came to render me a Viſit, with a countenance which partly diſcovered the diſpleaſure he reſented; and as ſoon as he had accoſted me, not being able to diſſemble that which he had upon his heart; ‘I ſee Madam, ſaid he, That I am not ſo near the Haven as I imagined; my Fortune is no more changed than Adallas's mind; and I ſhall never ceaſe to be unhappy, becauſe he will never ceaſe to be ungrateful. Being inforced by the neceſſity of his Affairs, and the fear [Page] of death which threatned him, he gave me his word which he had no intention to keep; but either let him put me to death whil'ſt I am in his power, or let him not think to uſe me thus without anſwering it; and after that he hath gotten all the Services out of me which he could deſire, let him conſider more than once, that 'tis to no contemptible perſon that he hath engaged his word.’ He uttered theſe words with ſuch an Action as I never ſaw him uſe before; but he had no ſooner acquainted me with the cauſe of his anger, but I found it to be very juſt, and conjectured, as well as he, that indeed the King had no deſign to perform his promiſe. I uſed all the Arguments that poſſibly I could to recompoſe his mind, and to mitigate his reſentments; but he was very uncapable of reliſhing my conſolations, neither was I in any good condition to give him any, really participating with him in his affliction; and when I would have preached patience to him, There is no patience in the world, ſaid he, that can brook this uſage: If I do receive it, and you be not minded to attempt á ſecond flight for my ſake, and to truſt your ſelf to the conduct of a Prince to whom you have given hopes of poſſeſſing you, will you pleaſe to conſent, That I ſhould Arm all the Friends which the world can furniſh me with, & come in the Head of Fifty thouſand men to demand of Adallas the execution of his promiſe? All your intentions are very juſt, replied I, but the effects of them are not ſo eaſie; and beſides that, my Duty would oppoſe my retreat with you, which you ſeem to propoſe; the execution of it would be now impoſſible; and ſince my firſt flight, Adallas hath deprived me of all means to attempt a ſecond, therefore there is no thinking upon that; and as for the War you ſpeak of, I ſhould think my ſelf very unfortunate to cauſe ſo much blood to be ſhed upon my occaſion, and beſides, the diſtance is ſo great between your Countrey and ours, the paſſage by Sea ſo long, & ſo difficult for the conduct of an Army, and the events of War ſo doubtful, that I ſhall never adviſe you to follow that way. What would you have me to do then, cryed the afflicted Ariobarzanes? And what means can I have to acquire you, if you diſapprove of all that I have left? I know not, anſwered I, and all that I can really proteſt to you, is, That I am ſenſible of our common misfortune as you can deſire, and I have ſtill ſome hope to ſee Adallas in a better mind, if we manage his ſpirit gently, not knowing that ever he received any reproach for having failed of his word. By theſe Diſcourſes, and ſome others, I diſpoſed the ſpirit of Ariobarzanes, which was naturally very courteous, to moderate his reſentments, ſo long as things were not grown deſperate; and yet not to loſe the opportunity of ſolliciting the King in a mild way, and of moving him to a conſideration of his honour engaged in his promiſe.

The next day the King who would not ſee any body after the laſt Converſation he had had with Ariobarzanes, came out of his Chamber, and came almoſt all alone to viſit me in mine. Ariobarzanes, whether out of Deſign, or by Accident, I know not, came in immediately after, and I ſaw very well, that the King and he could not look one upon the other without changing of colour; but the King being reſolved what he would ſay to me, the Princes preſence could not hinder him; and beginning to ſpeak, though with a very ill aſſured Action: Madam, ſaid he, If you could have Conquered thoſe ſcruples which hindred you from loving me, or rather, that ſtrong averſion which hath been the only cauſe of all the misfortunes of my life, by beſtowing your ſelf upon me, you would have married a King, and have worn a very conſiderable Crown upon your Head; but if you marry Ariobarzanes, how illuſtrious ſoever his Birth is, you can never hope to be a Queen; and the Scepter of the Armenians which is in his Brothers hands, ſo as it is never likely to come into his, will not exempt you from paſſing your dayes amongſt the Armenians as a private perſon. This Diſcourſe of the Kings being made in Ariobarzanes preſence, did very ſenſibly afflict me, and fearing leſt the Prince being intereſſed and obliged to make a Reply, ſhould have done it too ſharply, I gave him a hint with my eye, that he ſhould leave the care of that to me, & preventing him juſt as he was about to open his mouth: Sir, ſaid I to the King, Though the Prince Ariobarzanes could never hope for Crowns, his Birth is ſublime enough to ſatisfie the Ambition of the greateſt Princeſs upon Earth; and the merit of his Perſon great enough, to make it preferrible before the greateſt Kings: And beſides, if Fortune ſecond his Vertue, he may yet expect a Crown; and it is probable, that he that did ſo valiantly defend yours, or rather, that ſo generouſly ſnatched it from your Enemies, to reſtore it to you, may make uſe of his Sword with the ſame ſucceſs, and Conquer one for himſelf. You may Madam, added the impatient Prince, who could no longer contain himſelf, You may add to that which your Goodneſs cauſes you to ſay on my behalf, That when the King your Brother was a Priſoner to Merodates, and ſaw his Throne turned Topſie-turvey, ſtanding in fear of the Enemies Sword which hanged over his Head, he made no ſuch reflection; but after he had repreſented very civilly to me, what nothing but Generoſity could oblige me to do in his Favour, without demurring upon the want of a Crown with which he reproaches me, he promiſed me the Princeſs Olympia for my recompence, Yes, cryed the King, quite tranſported with fury, Yes, I did promiſe thee Olympia; and ſince thou [Page] doſt demand the performance of that promiſe with ſo much rigor, I will inviolably keep it; it ſhall never be objected to me that I break it, and I acquit my ſelf of it from this moment, by putting Olympia into thy power, and giving thee leave to marry her. Did I promiſe thee any more? No Sir, immediately replied the Prince. I diſengage myſelf then of my word, anſwered Adallas, in giving thee Olympia; Thou may'ſt marry her to day if thou wilt, but thou muſt reſolve to dye to morrow; I have promiſed thee Olympia, but I did not promiſe thee to let thee live in the poſſeſſion of her, nor to let him triumph over my life, who hath proved my Murderer, in ſeeming the Defender of my people Reſolve thy ſelf upon this choſe when thou pleaſeſt; if there be any cruelty in it, thou haſt taught it me by thy example; and if thou canſt reproach me with any thing, 'tis not with falſifing my word. I was ſo troubled and ſo terrified at theſe cruel words of Adallas, that I had hardly any ſenſibility or underſtanding left; and I was ſo extreamly amazed, that I had ſcarcely ſo much power as to caſt my eyes one while upon the cruel Adallas, and another while upon the unfortunate Ariobarzanes. But the Prince did hardly ſeem to be moved at all, and looking upon Adallas with an Action full of ſcorn. The poſſeſſion of Olympia which thou offereſt me, ſaid he, is of ſo high a value, that thou ſhalt not ſee me waver in the choice which thou preſenteſt to me; and ſince I cannot expect ſo glorious a recompence from ſuch an ungrateful and cruel perſon as thou art, without purchaſing it with my life, thou ſhalt ſee me yield it up to thy rage without regret, when thou haſt beſtowed that upon my love which thou oweſt unto it. Give me the Princeſs then to day, and ſince the gods do judge that I deſerve that happineſs for no longer a continuance, diſpoſe of my deſtiny to morrow as thou wilt. Thou ſhalt be ſatisfied, replied Adallas, more furious and more tranſported than before; and thou may ſt, when thou pleaſeſt, enjoy a felicity which thou ſhalt ſurvive but for one dayes ſpace. I have lived long enough for thy ends, anſwered Ariobarzanes, ſeeing that from the miſerable eſtate wherein I ſaw thee implore my Valor to ſave thy life, I have brought thee into condition to threaten and attack mine. If I offer any violence to thy life, interrupted Adallas, and if I ſacrifice it to my misfortune, 'tis according to thy own will; but if thou loveſt it ſo well, as to free me of my promiſe, and to content thy ſelf with any other recompences but Olympia, thou ſhalt know that nothing but my misfortune makes me ungrateful, and that 'tis my deſpair, rather than my inclination, that tranſports me to cruelty. Keep thy ſelf, replied the Prince, keep thy ſelf to thy Propoſition, as I continue firm to mine; except Olympia, thou haſt nothing in thy power but what is far below me, and the leaſt of my Services; and with Olympia, whom thou oweſt me, I prefer the death which thou preſenteſt me with, before thy Friendſhip to thy Crown.

During this Diſcourſe, having had time to recover out of my former aſtoniſhment, and to conſider the intereſt which it did concern me to take in that conteſtation, I did not permit it to go any farther without interruption, and not judging it convenient to diſſemble any part of my thoughts in that extremity of Affairs: ‘Do not think, ſaid I, Prince of Armenia, That thy life and perſon are ſo inconſiderable to me, that I can conſent to the cruel agreement which thou makeſt with this ungratefull man; I ſhall be thine if the gods have ſo decreed it, whatſoever Adallas can do to hinder it; but I will not be thine only for a day, neither oughteſt thou to accept of any condition not common to us both; though the Propoſition of this Barbarian ſhould be put in execution, his Fortune would not be one jot the better; and though he were not my Brother, he hath rendred himſelf too unworthy of any hopes that he might have for the widow of Ariobarzanes. Reſerve thy life then for that which the gods have ordained it for; and if Heaven will not permit me to be thine, be aſſured that I will never be any mans elſe.’ Ariobarzanes being extreamly moved at my words, threw himſelf at my feet, notwithſtanding the preſence of Adallas, and all his conſtancy could not hinder him from bedewing them with ſome tears. The King not being able to endure this Action, and the words that I had ſpoken, which filled him with diſpite, flung out of the Chamber in a furious Tranſport, after that he had again proteſted that he would keep his reſolution; and Ariobarzanes ſtaying there after him, made me ſuch tender, and ſuch paſſionate Diſcourſes, that I could not forbear ſhedding an abundance of tears, and comforting him by the promiſe which I often made him. That I would beſtow my ſelf upon him, as ſoon as I could do it without putting his life in danger.

We parted for that day without taking any reſolution, and we met again for ſome dayes after to ſeek out the moſt probable expedients to remedy our misfortune; but in the mean while, the noiſe of what had paſt being ſpread over all the Court, filled it with aſtoniſhment and confuſion; and the vertue of Ariobarzanes being dear to the Thracians, his Birth being known, and the memory of the great Actions which he had done in their favour being freſh, and the Kings promiſe divulged and received with joy, there was not a perſon in the Court to whom this laſt effect of the Kings ingratitude was not odious, and who did not [Page] take the liberty openly to murmur at it. At laſt the chief of the Council, being aſſembled, went to the Palace, and ventured to repreſent to the King the conſequences that might enſue upon this proceeding of his, as well by the averſion which he would cauſe in his peoples minds by the continuance of his failings, as by the danger of a War which he might draw upon him, cauſing Armenia, and the greateſt part of Aſia to take up Arms againſt him. And in brief, they remonſtrated ſo many things to him, that though he heard them with impatience, and at firſt flew out with a great deal of violence, yet at laſt he told them, that he would think once more what he had to do, and the next day he would acquaint them with his reſolution.

In the mean time, if on one ſide I afflicted my ſelf, Ariobarzanes being full of fiery indignation, dreamed of nothing but revenge; and beſides the intereſt of his love, conſidering the injurious uſage he received, as an outrage which a Prince ought not to endure, he already thought of Arming all his Friends and Allies! Ah! 'Tis too much, ſaid he, 'tis too much, to endure the ingratitude of a Barbarian patiently, and I ought not to have ſuffered ſo much, without making of him feel the effects of my juſt reſentment; I ſhall not be ſo for ſaken yet by the King my Brother, and the Princes our Allies, but that I can intereſs them in my quarrel. I will cover the Sea with Ships, and face Bizantium with other Sails than thoſe of Merodates: which I burnt; & other Troops than thoſe of Cherſoneſus, which I defeated for that ungrateful man: I may poſſibly put him again into the condition out of which I freed him, and it may be I may ſee him again in ſuch an extremity, that he ſhall be glad to receive peace, & to offer me Olympia.

He had paſſed a whole Night in theſe imaginations, and the day following he was already fully reſolved, when, contrary to his expectation, he was informed that the King was coming to viſit him. He did ſo little look for this Viſit, conſidering upon what terms the King and he parted, that he was ſurprized at it; and the King was come into his Chamber, before he had determined how to Treat with him. The King accoſted him with a ſerene countenance, (though with a little care, one might have obſerved a great deal of conſtraint in it) and without deſerring to acquaint him with the occaſion of his Viſit: I come, ſaid he, to beg your pardon for the faults which my paſſion made me commit, and to intreat you to impute all the effects of my ingratitude, to the ſame love whereof you are ſenſible, and which is the only cauſe of all our quarrels. I am reſolved to keep my word with you inviolably, and to put Olympia into your power, as a recompenſe moſt juſtly due to the greatneſs of your Services, and the merit of your Perſon. But becauſe it is only by your own word that we know that you are Prince of Armenia, though I will make no queſtion of the Truth of it, yet to avoid the blame which otherwiſe I might incur, you may be pleaſed to give me leave to follow the Advice of my Council, who have deſired, that the keowledge whith you have given us of your Birth, ſhould be confirmed to us before that you eſpouſe the Princeſs. Yet I do not deſire to detain her here till we have received that confirmation; that time perhaps would ſeem too long to the impatience of your love, and I ſhall be willing my ſelf to ſend her out of my ſight as ſoon as may be, that in her abſence I may find a remedy for that cruel paſſion which hath been the cauſe of all my misfortunes. To morrow, without any longer delay, I will ſend her on Shipboard with you to go towards Armenia under your Conduct; but you muſt allow her to be accompanied by ſome perſon of Quality amongſt my Subjects, and a Convoy agreeable to her condition; and you muſt promiſe me that you will not marry her, till you arrive at the King your Brothers Court, and have made your ſelf known to the princeſs, and thoſe that bear her Company to be the Prince Ariobarzanes. I owe this care at leaſt to Olympia's Quality, though I give abſolute credit to that which you have told me concerning your Birth, and you muſt not take it ill, that out of decency I obſerve this formality in an Action of this importance.

Ariobarzanes was almoſt raviſhed with joy to hear theſe words from the King, and being well aſſured that he could make the Truth of what he had told us concerning his Birth appear in Armenia, both to me and to thoſe that accompanied me; he found nothing diſadvantagious to himſelf in the Kings Propoſition, and therefore very readily embraced it. ‘Sir (ſaid he) it was alwayes hoped, that your Vertue would render it ſelf Miſtris of your paſſion; and that it could not abſolutely forget t ſelf, though it was obſcured with ſome Clouds which love might produce in the ſublimeſt Souls. I receive the honour you do me with a great deal of joy and reſpect; and I ſhall not be diſſatisfied, my ſelf to certifie the Princeſs, and the perſons of her Retinue of the Truth of my Birth, before I attain to the favour of enjoying her. I aſſure my ſelf, that the King my Brother will teſtifie to your Subjects how joyful he is of our Alliance; and that by this Action you will reſtore Tranquillity to your mind, and all its luſtre to your former Reputation.’ After theſe words, and ſome others full of Civility, the King conducted him into my Chamber, where, to free me quickly out of the ſurprize I was in to ſee them come in together, conſidering what had paſſed between them at the laſt Viſit, he made me the ſame Diſcourſe [Page] that he had made to the Prince; he deſired me to pardon him for the diſpleaſures he had done me, and pray'd me to diſpoſe my ſelf to go the next day along with Ariobarzanes, being unwilling any longer to be expoſed to a ſight of that which would alwayes hinder his Cure, and might poſſibly caſt him again into thoſe misfortunes which he had lately eſcaped.

I do not deny, my fair Princeſſes, but that the Kings Diſcourſe filled me with as much joy as I was capable to receive; and though I endeavoured partly to diſſemble it, the jealous King perceived enough to renew his grief. I proteſted to him that I had no other Deſign but to obey him, and that whatſoever eſteem I had for Ariobarzanes, I had alwayes declared to him, that I would never give him any greater proofs of it, without the conſent of thoſe perſons to whom I owed that deference; I told him that I ſhould never have deſired to part from him, if I had not been too well acquainted with the bad effects which my preſence produced in relation to his repoſe and mine; and that ſince he deſired that I ſhould go, I would be ready when he pleaſed, promiſing him, according to Ariobarzanes's Example, not to marry him, till I knew him very well to be Prince of Armenia. The King ſeemed to be very much ſatisfied when things were thus agreed, he made very magnificent Preſents to the Prince and me, and deſired us oftentimes to pardon him, if he could not yet reſolve upon this ſeparation without ſome Teſtimonies of grief. We did not think it ſtrange, but did rather wonder very much that he was ſo ſuddenly inclined to a thing which a little before he ſeemed ſo averſe from.

I will not detain you any longer with an unprofitable relation of thoſe things which ordinarily paſs in Actions of that Nature, I took my leave, and received the farewells of the whole Court of Thrace, where without vanity I may ſpeak it, I left ſome regret to thoſe perſons who were acquainted with me, amongſt whom I had the good Fortune not to be hated, and employed the reſt of that day in neceſſary preparations for my departure. The next day all things were ready, and the joyful Ariobarzanes received me from the Kings hands to conduct me into a great and magnificent Veſſel, which Euribiades (a man of the greateſt Quality in Thrace, and one of the Kings chiefeſt Confidents) commanded for my Conduct, with Two hundred men for our Convoy. We took our leaves of the King and the whole Court which accompanied us to the Sea-ſide, and there were ſome tears ſhed upon both ſides, though in the Kings face and actions I found more moderation than I had expected. At laſt we went aboard the Veſſel, and ſet Sail from the Port of Bizantium, taking the way towards Armenia by the Egean Sea, with a Deſign to go by Sea to the fartheſt part of Cilicia, and finiſh our Voyage from thence by Land. I know not how to repreſent to you the joy which appeared in the Diſcourſe, and all the Actions of Ariobarzanes, now he ſuppoſed himſelf to be upon the point of attaining to that which he accounted his ſupreme felicity; what Tranſports he expreſſed to me in all his words, what Careſſes and Preſents he made of thoſe which he had received from the King, to thoſe that were of our Convoy, and what greater recompence he promiſed them when he arrived in Armenia. For my part, I confeſs, I was very much ſatisfied to ſee my ſelf freed from Adalla's perſecutions, and to ſee my ſelf upon the point of acknowledging freely the affections of a Prince very worthy of mine, and for whom I had conceived ſo much.

We paſſed the hours in a very pleaſing Converſation, and I did more and more diſcover ſuch charms in the Princes diſpoſition, as redoubled my Amity. The memory of our paſt misfortunes began to grow out of date, and was left as far as Thrace behind us; and in ſhort, we thought our ſelves ſecure from all calamities, when Fortune made us know that ſhe was not reconciled to us, and that we had no reaſon to put any confidence in her continual volubility. We found our ſelves in greater miſeries, and more formidable dangers than thoſe which we had eſcaped, the Relation whereof you ſhall now receive, though I aſſure my ſelf it will not be without aſtoniſhment and horror.

We had ſailed four dayes with a favourable wind, and we had reaſon to hope for the ſame tranquility in the reſt of our Voyage, when I ſaw one of the chief of thoſe who had Commiſſion to conduct us, named Antenor, a man full of Valor, and upon whom ſince the beginning of our Voyage the Prince had beſtowed particular marks of his eſteem, come into the Cabin where Ariobarzanes was with me. He accoſted us with an Action which ſignified the importance of thoſe things which he had to acquaint us with, and addreſſing himſelf to the Prince, without ſtanding upon thoſe Civilities which he was wont to render us: ‘Sir, ſaid he, Prepare your ſelf to defend your life with a ſmall number of men who deſire to dye at your feet. Euribiades hath lately acquainted us with the Kings intention, and ſhewed us an Order written with his own hand, by which we are commanded to throw you into the Sea, and to carry back the Princeſs to Bizantium, Euribiades is reſolved to put it in execution, though I have endeavoured as much as I could to divert him from it; [Page] and he hath now overpowred the reſiſtance which he ſound amongſt ſome of our Companions, who were immediately ſtricken with horror at the News. There are above Thirty beſides my ſelf, who are reſolved to defend you to the laſt drop of their blood; you have almoſt ſuch a Number of Domeſticks who may Arm themſelves for the defence of their Prince, and for their own ſafety; and though our Enemies be thrice as many as we, your Valor will partly ſupply our weakneſs; and if we muſt periſh, as the danger is very great, we will firſt revenge our deaths by the deſtruction of ſome part of theſe Barbarians.’ Antenor had leaſure to finiſh this Diſcourſe to us, by reaſon of the aſtoniſhment which had ſeized upon us at the beginning of it; and he had hardly done ſpeaking, not I ſcarcely begun to cry out with Tranſport, when we ſaw that Number of generous men come into the Cabin, who were minded to dye in the defence of Ariobarzanes. The Prince being quickly reſolved, advanced towards them with a very aſſured countenance; and whil'ſt his Domeſticks drew up about us, and armed themſelves with all ſpeed, ‘My Friends, ſaid he to them, There was little probability, that Adallas ſhould become vertuous, after thoſe Actions which he had committed; I am ſorry that your Generoſity caſts you into ſo great a danger for the love of me; but if I cannot diſſwade you from the Deſign which you have to expoſe your ſelves to death with me, let us dye at leaſt in ſuch a manner, that a good part of our Enemies may not rejoyce in our Deſtruction.’

He had hardly done ſpeaking theſe words, but Euribiades plainly perceiving that his Deſign being diſcovered, he could not execute it but by open ſorce, appeared in the Head of his men at the Cabin-door. I thruſt my ſelf before him with a great cry, and being deſirous to try if I could divert him from his reſolution by my preſence; and my Diſcourſe, ‘Euribiades, ſaid I, Do you ſo little conſider what you owe to your Princeſs, and will you murther him before her face, who ought to be her Husband, a Prince from whom you have received ſuch good Offices?’ ‘Madam, briskly replied Euribiades, I am very ſorry that I have received this Commiſſion; but my life lies at ſtake, if I do not obey my King.’ ‘Begin with me then, cryed I, and make thy paſſage through my heart to hurt Ariobarzanes: Thou haſt no other way open to come at him, and thou muſt ſhed all my blood, before thou ſpilleſt the firſt drop of his.’ As I ſpake theſe words, I kept cloſe to the door, being reſolved to be killed there, rather than give them paſſage; and I plainly ſaw that my words immediately raiſed a murmur amongſt thoſe men, and in concluſion drew Ten or twelve more of them to our Party, who with the ſame Courage as the firſt, came to join with them, and entred into my Cabin by the other door, which belonged to Ariobarzanes's Cabin. 'Twas the ſame way that Euribiades would have ruſhed in at with ſome of his Party, making ſome difficulty to paſs over me, and fearing to put me in danger of my life, betwixt the Swords ofboth Parties; but he found the Prince at the entry, who being compleatly Armed, and holding his Shield in his left hand, did ſo defend the paſſage againſt him, that the two firſt that came, fell dead at his ſeet. Antenor, and his Companions, with the Princes Domeſticks, amounting in all to the Number of Seventy men, or threabout, ranked themſelves about him, and did ſo encourage themſelves by his Valor, that they quickly made Euribiades know, that without loſing a good part of his men, he could not execute his Deſign: And tis certain, that if he had reſolved to ſorce his entrance into the Cabin, and to ſight in a narrow place, where he could not make uſe of all his advantages, though he had been a great deal ſtronger, he would have gotten nothing but ſhame and loſs; but judging that if they fought at large, the Prince, though endued with never ſo admirable Valor, would not be able with Threeſcore men to ſuſtain the brunt of a Hundred and ſixty, he commanded them to pull down the Boards of both Cabins, and to lay all the top of the Veſſel open. That which he commanded, was put in execution with ſo much ſpeed, that within a few moments there was no ſeparation between the Cabins, and the reſt of the Veſſel; and the Prince was neceſſitated, to reſolve to defend himſelf by open force againſt his Enemies, who had liberty to aſſail him on every ſide; and ſo he did with ſuch prodigious effects of Valor, that his Enemies trembled at it, and were more afraid of his fury, than of as many men more as made up their Number. Few that came near him, retired without receiving mortal wounds at his hands; and ſometimes advancing before his Company, and flying amongſt the Barbarians like a Lyon, he killed the boldeſt of them, and made the reſt retreat to the ſide of the Veſſel.

Whil'ſt theſe things paſſed, I ſent up cryes and prayers towards Heaven, and deteſting Adallas's black infidelity, I begged aſſiſtance of the gods with a face quite drowned in tears. Above twenty men of the Princes party were already ſlain, and above forty of our Enemies; when Ariobarzanes ſeeing Euribiades eagerly purſuing his Deſtruction, and encouraging his men with his voice as much as was poſſible, he reſolved either to haſten his own death, or to be the death of that cruel man. Though he had alwayes had this intention, he was ſo [Page] cloſe beſet, that he had not the opportunity to put it in execution; but then deſpiſing all Dangers and Obſtacles, he flew immediately to him through all thoſe that defended him, and in ſpite of all their reſiſtance, he thruſt his Sword into his body up to the Hilts. This revenge (which for all that he could not execute without receiving ſome ſlight wounds) redoubled his fierceneſs, and ſeeing him fall dead amongſt his men. ‘Thou ſhalt not rejoyce, ſaid he, in the Succeſs of thy Enterprize, and thou ſhalt not carry Adallas the News of Ariobarzanes death, now Euribiades is dead.’ His men were not diſcouraged for all that; for he had a Nephew amongſt them, who being afflicted at the loſs of his Uncle, animated them to revenge it, and fell on amongſt the formoſt with a great deal of eagerneſs. What ſhall I ſay more unto you? The Combat was very hot, and was maintained in ſuch a manner, that all the Veſſel ſwam with blood, and the Deck was covered with dead bodies; the cryes of the wounded and dying men reached Heaven with a terrible noiſe; and I did ſo accompany them with mine, and my Maids, who melted into tears round about me, that poſſibly there was never ſeen ſuch a ſpectacle of Deſolation and Terror.

At laſt the valiant Ariobarzanes after he had done things above all credibility, and had covered himſelf from head to foot with the blood of his Enemies, with the aſſiſtance of his faithful Defenders, had ſacrificed above a Hundred of them to his vengeance; but againſt Threeſcore and above that ſtill oppoſed him, he had not above Twelve or Fifteen left, and thoſe almoſt all covered over with wounds; and though by great good luck, and the aſſiſtance of his Arms he had received but very ſlight wounds, yet he was ſo wearied and tyred, that he could hardly heave up his Arm, or hold his Sword; and there was great probability that ere long he would fall amongſt the reſt, conſidering that he was neither immortal, nor invulnerable; when contrary to our expectation, the gods ſent in to our aſſiſtance three men which the trouble we were in had hindred us from diſcovering, and which invironed our Ship before that we had ſcarcely perceived them. This ſight having tranſported me with joy, I ran to the firſt men that I ſaw appear, and ſtretching out my hands to them in a ſupplicating poſture, I conjured them to aſſiſt againſt the cruelty of our Enemies. Without returning any Anſwer to my words, they did what I deſired of them; and after they had ſtayed a little while to look upon the inequality of the Combat, they grapled our Veſſel, and entred in it three places at once. They preſently aſſiſted the weakeſt ſide, and having eaſily, by reaſon of their Number, cut in pieces the greated part of our Enemies, the reſt of them threw down their Arms, and cryed out for Quarter.

At the ſame time the Prince not being able to ſtand any longer for weakneſs and wearineſs, ſate down amongſt the dead bodies, leaning his back againſt the Maſt, and letting his Head and Arms fall into a careleſs poſture, not having ſtrength either to thank his Defenders, or to ſtir out of his place. I preſently ran to him ſeeing him in that condition, and with the help of my Maids, diſcharging him of his Armor, I began to viſit his wounds, and endeavoured to ſtop his blood. They which had ſuccoured us, looked earneſtly upon me whil'ſt I was thus employed, and having ſeen the laſt effects of the Princes Valor with admiration, they gave order that the Chyrurgions which they had in their Company, ſhould viſit his wounds, and give him that aſſiſtance which was neceſſary. The Prince, through thoſe perſons that were buſied about his aſſiſtance, looking upon me with eyes that ſignified his acknowledgment and affection: Madam, ſaid he, The remainders of this life of mine are not worth the pains you take for their preſervation; and I ſhould conjure you to take leſs care of them, if they were not in a manner neceſſary for your Service ſtill. Your life, replied I, is too dear to me to be neglected, and there is no reaſon why you ſhould defend it with ſo admirable a Valor to no purpoſe. I ſpake theſe words to him, being full of a mortal apprehenſion; but it was immediately diſſipated by the ſearch and report of the Chyrurgions, who aſſured us, and made it evidently appear to us, that his wounds were of no importance, and that he would not be obliged, except he were ſo minded to keep his Bed the next day. When this aſſurance had expelled my fears, and had reſtored me to a condition of thinking upon our Fortune. I charged Ericia privately to forbid thoſe men of ours that were left, and thoſe of Euribiades's Party which were ſaved, to diſcover the Trutil of our condition without my leave, fearing that I might be fallen into the hands of ſome perſons, who upon conſideration of ſome intereſt, might put me again into the power of the King my Brother. My will was exactly performed by Ericia, and they that enquired, were only told that we were Thracians, and were going upon important occaſions into Armenia.

But obſerve, my fair Princeſſes, what our Fortune was, and how that pitileſs goddeſs did perſevere in perſecuting of us. I ſaw my dear Ariobarzanes miraculouſly eſcaped from a great danger, and it is certain that I reſented this happineſs with all the joy that my [Page] Soul was able to receive, but it was the will of Heaven to check it with too ſevere a moderation; and the ſame deſtiny which brought in men to our aſſiſtance, cauſed us to fall into the hands of Pirates; they were Pirates indeed who had reſcued us, and the moſt cruel of thoſe who had eſcaped from great Pompeys Victories. At firſt, the ſtrangeneſs of the Spectacle which was preſented to their eyes, and ſome ſmall ſenſe of humanity in relation to the pitiful condition wherein they found us, made them for a few moments ſuſpend their ordinary barbarouſneſs; but when their firſt aſtoniſhment was diſſipated, and they had time to bethink themſelves, they diſcovered their ordinary condition, and quickly made us know into what hands we were fallen. They began to ſhare as their own Goods all that was in our Veſſel, they clap't all our Souldiers into the Chain; and as for our parts whom they judged to have ſome Authority over the reſt, they told us that we muſt reſolve to ſupport the change of our Fortune; that of free perſons we were to become ſlaves, and muſt diſpoſe our ſelves to live in that condition, or find out ſome means to redeem our liberty at a high rate. This Diſcourſe did ſo amaze me at the firſt, that I knew not what Reply to make; but I was much more ſurprized, when I ſaw the Commanders of the three Veſſels conſult together about their ſhares, and knew by the concluſion of their Diſcourſe that I was to be ſeparated from my dear Prince, and he to whoſe lot I fell, urged me to go into his Ship, Ariobarzanes, as ſeeble and tyred as he was, having heard this Diſcourſe, cryed out as well as I, and raiſing himſelf upon the Mattreſs whereon he lay, ‘You ſhall not part us, ſaid he to the Pirates, you ſhall not part us, except you part my ſoul from my body; and my weakneſs ſhall not hinder me from diſpatching the firſt that ſhall go about to execute this cruelty againſt us.’ As he ſpake theſe words, he got quite up, whil'ſt I laying hold upon his Arm, ‘No, Ariamenes, ſaid I, I will not leave you, unleſs I leave my life too; and theſe cruel men may more eaſily deprive me of that, than force me to go from you.’ The Barbarians were not moved at all at this ſad Spectacle, and after that they had publickly declared that they would meet within a Month hard by Alexandria; he to whom I was appointed, taking me by the Arm, pulled me by force from Ariobarzanes, and with the aid of his Companions, carried me towards his Veſſel.

The Prince being furious and deſperate at this ſight, ran to his Sword, either to ſeek his death in my defence, or to be the death of thoſe cruel men, but they ſell upon him being weak and diſarmed, and having gotten him down, they bound him faſt, and put him into a condition that he could not give me any aſſiſtance. I had time to ſee that Action before I went out of the Veſſel, and I was ſo much moved at it, that not being able to reſiſt this laſt attack of my misfortune, I fell into a ſwoond between the Arms of theſe men that carried me, and did not come again to my ſelf, till after I had been a good while [...]n the other Veſſel, when that which carried away my dear Ariobarzanes, was poſſibly above a Thouſand Furlongs diſtant from me. I know not how to tell you, my fair Princeſſes, what I did or ſaid upon this terrible effect of my misfortune; all the conſtancy which I had made uſe of in all the other accidents of my life, abandoned me in this laſt, and exclamations ſeemed too weak to eaſe my grief; doubtleſs I had thrown my ſelf into the Sea, if I had not been carefully looked to and prevented. In fine, I did ſo torment my ſelf, that I was ſeized upon by a violent Fever, which within a few dayes reduced me to ſuch a condition; that they deſpaired of my life. The only favour that I received from Fortune on this occaſion, and which indeed was of no ſmall concernment to me, was, that my faithful Ericia was the Companion of my Captivity, and none of my Maids but ſhe were permitted to follow me. The reſt of them ſell to the other Commanders ſhares; and I ſhould have ſadly deplored their misfortune, if my own had not been great enough to take up all my thoughts. 'Twas great deal of comfort to me to ſee Ericia near me, & to hear and endure from her, that which her affection made her to ſpeak to defend me from Deſpair. But in a ſhort time my malady brought me to that paſs, that nothing was expected but my death; yet the gods were not pleaſed that that ſhould put a period to my misfortune; and being eſcaped by Ericia's continual perſecutions, who in ceſſantly begged of me to preſerve my life for Ariobarzanes, and promiſed me that by the goodneſs of the gods, I might be permitted to ſee him once again, I continued in ſuch a condition for all that, that no body could know me. I always thought that this ſickneſs was my greateſt happineſs, and I have thanked the gods a Thouſand times for ſending it me as a defence of my honour; for it did ſo efface that little beauty which the Commander of the Pirates had obſerved in my face, and upon which he had ſome Deſign, that finding ſome remainders of it, and ſeeing that in a Months time I did not mend at all, he judged me more proper for the Grave, than for his Love, and ſo left me at quiet.

At the Months end we did not fail to go to Alexandria, where the Pirate valuing me no more than another, in the condition wherein he ſaw me, ſold me to ſome Merchants of Alexandria [Page] with whom he had Commerce; and ſome dayes after thoſe Mercants ſold us to Cornelius, in whoſe Service we have continued with the reſt of his Slaves above Two Months, juſt as you ſee us. I would not diſcover my ſelf, nor uſe any endeavour to recover my liberty, becauſe I remembred that Ariobarzanes had heard as well as I, when the Pirate who carried me away promiſed to be at Alexandria, and I did not doubt but if he could recover his liberty by any means, he would have affection enough for me to look after me, and to come to Alexandria in hope of hearing ſome News of me. The gods have been pleaſed that the effect ſhould be conformable to my expectation: for this day have I ſeen Ariobarzanes, and I know that he is in Alexandria. If they permit that he be unfaithful to me, I ſhall only have prolonged my life for my greater misfortune, and to finiſh with a more violent grief than I ſhould have been ſenſible of amongſt the waves; but if he hath preſerved his Fidelity, as I am willing to expect from his Vertue, and very great probabilities, I hope for a change in my Fortune as advantagious as I can deſire, and ſuch a one, my fair Princeſſes, as I would wiſh to ſee in yours.

The End of the Second Book.

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA; OR, Loves Maſter-piece. PART. VII.
LIB. III.

[Page]

ARGUMENT.

Olympia having finiſhed her Story, Candace and Eliza return to their Lodging, where they are viſited the next Morning by Agrippa and Cornelius, who preſent the two famous Poets Virgil and Ovid to the Princeſſes. Divers hanſom Diſcourſes paſs amongſt them, which being ended, Eliſa and Candace deſire Cornelius to give them liberty to take a ſolitary walk along the Sea-ſhoar; He grants their Requeſt, though ſomewhat unwillingly, but appoints a Convoy to attend them at a diſtance to ſecure them from all ill accidents. As they are preparing to go, Olympia comes into the Chamber, and immediately after Philadelph, Ariobarzanes and Arſinoe come to viſit the Princeſſes. Their mutual Complements being ended, Olympia takes an occaſion to diſcover her ſelf to Ariobarzanes, who is infinitely ſurprized with joy at the ſight of her. She goes with Ariobarzanes and Arſinoe to their Lodgings, and leaves Eliſa and Candace to their intended Jorney. When they are all gone, Agrippa takes Ovid with him to his Chamber, and there engages him to give him a Relation of what had paſſed between the Princeſs Julia and himſelf; which having promiſed his love to Cipaſſis he does at large; and at the end of the Story, Agrippa is invited by Cornelius to ride out and meet the Princeſſes at their return from their walk.

THE Princeſs of Thrace concluded the Relation of her Adventures in this manner, and the two fair Princeſſes who had hearkned to it with attention and aſtoniſhment, no ſooner heard the end of it, but they were very deſirous to expreſs what intereſt they took in her Fortune whatſoever it might be. The Queen being not ſo ſad as Eliſa was, and conſequently more capable to participate of anothers misfortunes, or at leaſt to expreſs her ſelf upon that occaſion, began the Diſcourſe; and preſſing Olympia's hand with an Action full of the marks of her Amity. My fair Princeſs, ſaid the, I ſee very well that Fortune hath ſpared you no more than us; and that you may make the third with us, amongſt perſons of our Rank who have be en the moſt expoſed to her cruel perſecutions; but the gods be thanked that your miſhaps are arrived at their period, and by the coming of your well-beloved Prince, your condition is likely to be happily changed. I ſhall look upon that change with a great deal of joy, added the ſad Eliſa, or at leaſt, ſaid ſhe, recalling her ſelf, with all the joy that can be reſented by a mind quite ſwallowed up of affliction. I do not deſpair, replied Candace, but that we ſhall ſhortly receive the ſame conſolation upon your Account; and if I may give credit to the preſage; which I have of your Fortune, you may very well expect it. May it pleaſe the gods, anſwered the diſſolate Princeſs, that your hopes may be well grounded; but I have ſo little hope left that no good will ever happen to me, which will not infinitely ſurprize me. I ſaid as much to you, replied the Queen, when I believed by all the probabilities in the World that Ceſario was ſlain in the Battel which he fought againſt Tribarzus: and I had not much greater grounds to hope, added the Princeſs of Thrace, when Ariobarzanes and I in the little Iſland, were reduced to extremities, from which we could not eſcape but by miracle.

Eliſa being unwilling to oppoſe their opinion, or at leaſt their Diſcourſe, made them no Reply, but with ſom tears which ſhe let fall from her fair eyes, and leaning her Head againſt Candace's ſhoulder, with a pitiful and languiſhing Action, ſhe obliged her to bear her [Page] Company in her ſad employment. When they had taken a little Truce with ſorrow, they renewed to Olympia the offers they had made her; and after that they ſtayed a few moments longer with her, they bid her good Night, and retired themſelves into Eliſa's Chamber, where they intended to lie together that Night. They were no ſooner come thither, but Candace, who had the deſire of going to ſeek out Ceſario, whom ſhe certainly believed ſhe had ſeen the day before alwayes preſent in her mind, began the Diſcourſe of him again to the Princeſs of the Parthians, and repreſenting to her the comfort ſhe her ſelf would receive by the ſight of Prince Tiridates her Uncle, found her abſolutely diſpoſed to accompany her, in her walk that way.

Candace believed ſhe might oblige Cornelius to give them that liberty, without bearing of them company, when ſhe ſhould intreat him with the power ſhe had over him to comply ſo far with Eliſa's ſadneſs, who deſired ſome hours of ſolitude. They were troubled how they ſhould do to find out Tiridates's houſe by the name, not knowing the name of that Inhabitant of Alexandria to whom it belonged, nor deſiring to acquaint thoſe that accompanied them, that they had a premeditated Deſign to go and ſeek out that houſe; but Clitie, from whom they did not conceal themſelves in their converſation, partly ſatisfied them in that reſpect, telling them that ſhe had exactly obſerved the ſciattuion of that houſe in that little time they had continued there; and that they needed only to paſs along by the Sea-ſhoar, and when they were near it, ſhe knew the place very well. Candace might with as much eaſe at leaſt have cauſed her ſelf to be conducted to the houſe where ſhe had ſeen her well-beloved Prince, and in all probability that was the ſhorteſt way to find him again, but ſhe was afraid to expoſe him the to ſight of thoſe perſons who were to accompany her, and knowing with what dangers his life was threatned, if he wer known in thoſe Countries which were under Auguſtus's Dominion, ſhe choſe rather to deprive her ſelf of the ſight of him for ſome few dayes, that he might the better remain concealed, and to confide abſolutely in the diſcretion and goodneſs of Prince Tiridates, to whom ſhe was already beholding for her life, and by his means ſhe hoped to convey News to Ceſario, and to receive News from him with facility.

In this Deſign, and ſome hours of interrupted ſleep, the two Princeſſes paſſed away the Night, and the next day they roſe more early than they had been wont to do, and dreſſed themſelves with a negligence, which, as exceſſive as it was, could diminiſh nothing of their admirable beauty. When they were in a condition to be ſeen, Agrippa and Cornelius having ſent to deſire permiſſion, came to give them Good-morrow, and brought along with them two men whom they deſired to preſent and make known to them for the excellency of their wit, and the reputation which they had acquired throughout the extent of the Roman Empire. Theſe were Uirgil and Ovid, two rare and famous men, who had been ſufficiently known to poſterity by the excellency of their writings.

Uirgil had contracted a very near Amity with Cornelius, as part of thoſe works which he hath left behind him do make mention; and Cornelius, who was a paſſionate Lover of Poetry, and very happy in his own compoſition, as his works yet extant teſtifie, had obliged him to leave Rome, to come and ſpend ſome time with him at Alexandria, and there to exerciſe his ſublime and ſtately Muſe with greater liberty than amongſt the troubles of the Court. Virgil was eaſily perſwaded to give his Friend that ſatisfaction, and being a man abſolutely addicted to knowledge and ſtudy, he employed at that time the greateſt part of his hours in the compoſition of thoſe famous works which have acquired him ſo much glory.

Ovid was a man much different from Uirgil, and though he had as much inclination to Poetry, and more facility in it than he, or all the men that ever applied themſelves that way, and did often publiſh very excellent and admirable productions of his wit, yet he made uſe of Poetry as a divertiſement, and not as his principal employment; or rather he recreated himſelf with it as the beſt Interpreter he could employ in his amorous paſſions, wherein he had ſpent the better part of his dayes. As no perſon ever better knew, or better treated of Love than he; ſo poſſibly there was never any perſon that had better reſented it, and it was well known that he had had very good Fortunes and that the moſt Noble of the Roman Ladies had not been inſenſible of his affections. He had likewiſe, beſides the addreſs and charms of diſpoſition, againſt which it was difficult to defend ones ſelf, all the qualities which might make a man beloved, or render him worthy of eſteem. He was a Knight of Rome, of an illuſtrious Birth, which intituled him to the moſt eminent Rank. He had paſſed his dayes at Court, and upon divers occaſions he had given proofs of his Courage, which had acquired him the eſteem of Ceſar, of Agrippa, and of all the Warriors; no leſs than the excellency of his wit had gained him the general approbation, and particularly that of the Ladies, amongſt whom he was much careſſed & favoured. He was come to Alexandria [Page] along with Agrippa whom he waited upon, more for the qualities he was Maſter of, and the eſteem he had for perſons of merit, than for the great power he had in the Empire, and in Caeſar's affection, which daily drew both Kings and Princes to attend upon him.

Agrippa and Cornelius preſented theſe two men to the Princeſſes, who had divers times heard them ſpoken of before, and received them with all manner of courteous entertainment and Civility. Ovid being the greater Gallant, and the Politer of the two, fell preſently into Diſcourſe, and being, beſides the advantages which his mind had received from Nature, admirably well verſed in Courtſhip, and not ignorant of any thing that might render his Converſation agreeable, did eaſily perſwade the Princeſſes by his firſt diſcourſe, that he had very juſtly acquired the reputation which he poſſeſſed. Agrippa and Cornelius who had nothing ſo much upon their ſpirits as their paſſion, would willingly have beſtowed every moment of their converſe with the Princeſſes upon that, but beſides that the reſpect which they had for them, did partly deprive them of the liberty and boldneſs to declare their thoughts, the Company obſtructed the Deſign which poſſibly they had to do it, and they would have been very glad if they could have ſeverally diſcourſed their love to their Miſtreſſes; but they had taken an Order to pevent that, and Candace who had already ſuffered Cornelius's firſt Diſcourſes with a great deal of diſpleaſure, and deſired to avoid them for the future, though ſhe could not do it more civilly, and with leſs danger of rendring a man her Enemy of whom ſhe had great need at that time, and to whom ſhe acknowledged her ſelf reduable, than by keeping her ſelf inſeparably cloſe to Eliſa: And in this manner ſhe did her Friend no leſs a good turn, to whom Agrippa's growing paſſion had already given ſufficient ſuſpitions to make her very much afraid of it.

This man being full of Vertue and Diſcretion, and naturally very reſpectful to perſons of Eliſa's Sex and Quality, not having the confidence openly to declare in her preſence that which he had upon his heart, endeavoured to expreſs himſelf a little more covertly, and taking an occaſion upon a Diſcourſe they had made before concerning ſome of Ovids and Virgils Works, and ſome gallant pieces of Cornelius's, who was very happy that way: ‘Of all the Number of us that are here, ſaid he, I am the only ignorant perſon, and if Ovid, for that friendſhips ſake which is between us could make me participate of his admirable Genius I would ſerve my ſelf with it, as I aſſure my ſelf he hath often done, to declare under pretty Fictions the true reſentments of my Soul.’ The gods, replied Ovid, would have given you this advantage, if it had been neceſſary for you; but in the condition wherein you are, and the great confidence which your excellent qualities may cauſe in you, you have no need of thoſe Fictions which Poetry might furniſh you withall, to expreſs thoſe thoughts which with more boldneſs than any other perſon you may openly diſcover. I cannot agree with you, modeſtly anſwered Agrippa, in the flattering Diſcourſe you make me, and I find in my ſelf but little reaſon for that confidence to which you would perſwade me; but though I were ſuch as you repreſent me, or as poſſibly our friendſhip would make you deſire me to be, I could not find any thing in the knowledge of it, that might diſpenſe with that which we owe to perſons worthy of our reſpects; and when our Soul is once made a Subject to the Empire of a Beauty, and of a Beauty accompanied with all other advantages, which may confirm its Domination; that boldneſs which carries us through in Combats, and dangerous Enterprizes, doth not accompany us before thoſe Soveraign Miſtreſſes, at whoſe feet our heart is diſarmed of all its Forces: The boldeſt man that is (if his boldneſs be not vitious, and do not paſs the limits which reaſon ought to preſcribe) loſes without doubt a good part of his Audacity, when being upon the point to venture himſelf, the Beauty which is predominant over his ſpirit, darts him an imperious look, wherein he may read the condemnation of his raſhneſs; or paſſes into ſuch a coldneſs, as freezes up all his hopes, and ſtifles his expreſſions in his mouth. Upon ſuch an Account as this, my dear Ovid, 'tis advantagious to have a particular Addreſs to explain ones ſelf, and by this means a man doth not ſo raſhly commit himſelf to Fortune, which oftentimes is doubtful, and makes us fall into diſpleaſures, which by a reſpectful ſilence we might have avoided. Tis certain, ſaid Ovid, That by a reſpectful or timorous ſilence, which tyes up the tongue upon theſe occaſions, one may ſecure himſelf from bad ſucceſs, but then he continues in a condition which poſſibly is not to be preferred before that which may be feared from a venturous Declaration; yet it is not that I approve of an indiſcreet preſumption, or think it convenient to manifeſt preſently to the perſon beloved the paſſionate thoughts a man hath for her; but in a little time, and with a little Diſcretion, one may eaſily find an opportunity, and do that handſomly and ſeaſonably, which at another time would be inconvenient. To this end, I have alwayes thought it neceſſary to prevent the Declarations of our love by ſome Actions that may make it known to the Party beloved, and to prepoſſeſs her mind by thoſe ſervices and effects of compliance which ordinarily are produced by that paſſion, before we venture to expreſs it by Diſcourſe; this way you are almoſt ſure of the event, before you put it to the hazard; and if the perſon [Page] beloved be averſe from your love, and is afraid of a fuller Declaration of it, than you have made by your Actions, ſhe will never give you way to put it to the venture, but will ſo deprive you of all confidence and opportunities, that if you have never ſo little prudence left, you will never expoſe your ſelf to it. I do not doubt, ſaid the Queen Candace to Ovid, interrupting him, but you have often practiſed the Leſſons which you give to others, and have been ſenſible ſometimes of that paſſion which you have ſo handſomly deſcribed in your writings. 'Tis certain, Madam, replied Ovid, that I have not lived thus long without loving ſomething, and that I have not received ſo much dulneſs and ſtupidity from Nature, as to have ſeen a great Number of conſiderable Beauties without any ſenſibility. But if you have loved, added the ſad Eliſa, being of the humor that you are, you did not ſuffer long before you diſcovered your love. 'Tis true, Madam, anſwered he, That I have loved, and have alwayes made my paſſion known to thoſe perſons, who took notice of it, and in this I have carried my ſelf differently according to occaſions, according to the humour, and ſometimes according to the quality of the perſons that I loved. Tot hoſe in whom I obſerved moſt facility, or moſt diſpoſition to receive my love, I diſcovered in almoſt before it was formed; but when I was to deal with thoſe that were more ſevere, I waited till time and my ſerviees had wrought ſome effect upon them; and if neither time nor my Actions rendred me that good Office which I expected, I ſerved my ſelf, as the great Agrippa lately told you, with ſuch inventions as my wit could furniſh me withall. Sometimes under other names, I let them ſee whatſoever my paſſion for them inſpired my Pen withall, and when by little and little I had reduced them to approve of my thoughts, and to grant me that the perſon for whom I had conceived and expreſſed them, could not be offended at them; I did inſenſibly acquaint them with the Truth, and obliged them too to thank me for the reſpect I expreſſed to them by this Addreſs. Sometimes in Heroical Epiſtles, upon which Argument I have compoſed ſome Elegies, which I perſwaded them to read; in the paſſions of Theſeus, Achilles, and Paris, I let them ſee my own; and when I knew that I had moved them to pitty Paris, I deſired them to beſtow the ſame compaſſion upon Ovid. I made uſe of divers other inventions which do not deſerve to be related to you; but I may truly ſay without vanity, that which way ſoever I went to work, and though I never addreſſed my ſelf to mean perſons, yet 'tis certain for all that, that of all the perſons to whom I diſcovered my paſſion, (which poſſibly have been a great Number) there was never any that was offended with it, or at leaſt that ever expreſſed any anger upon that Account that laſted above a day.

The Company could not chooſe but ſmile at this Diſcourſe which Ovid made them with a great deal of grace and ingenuity, and Cornelius taking a hint: ‘You were very happy, ſaid he, and all perſons that have loved, and ventured to declare themſelves as you did, have not had the ſame ſucceſs:’ He ſpake theſe words looking upon the Queen of Ethiopia, who not being able to be ſo far Miſtreſs of her reſentment, as to forbear a Reply; 'Twas, ſaid ſhe, becauſe they did not follow his Maxims, and wait as he did, till their Services had gained the heart of the Party beloved, before they ventureed to diſcover themſelves. Prudence, added Virgil, who as yet had not interpoſed in their Diſcourſe, is none of the vertues which ordinarily accompany love? and if Ovid had it either for the Companion or Guide of hie amorous Adventures, his paſſions have not been very violent. I have had, replied Ovid, thoſe that were violent, and thoſe that were moderate; and though poſſibly I have reſented thoſe which were ſtrong enough to diſcompoſe that little prudence I might have received from Nature, yet in my loves I have made little uſe of the aſſiſtance of that vertue which is not over-familiar to perſons of my humour, and have gone by another path, which the long uſage of that Paſſion, and the inclination I have naturally to it, might have tanght me above a great many other perſons; and thence it is, that poſſibly I have had better ſucceſs in my petit amorous projects, than our Cato's and Philoſophers would have had with all their prudence. And to anſwer Cornelius's Diſcourſe who accounts me very happy in compariſon of a great many others, I will confeſs my ſelf to be really happy, if I make my happineſs to conſiſt in a thing of nothing; and not being able to give my ſelf any other vanity, but only to cauſe the perſons whom I have loved, to endure the Diſcourſe of my love, I ſatisfied my ſelf with it, leaving to the more happy, and the more meritorious, the glory of having camſed love in others, which is far to be preferred before the ſpeaking of it only. You are very modeſt, ſaid Agrippa, looking upon Ovid with a ſmile, but we are better acquainted with your Affairs than you are aware of, and your feigned-Corinna, whom you have ſo handſomly diſguized to all the world, is not poſſibly ſo unknown to me as you imagine. Ovid bluſhed at Agrippa's Diſcourſe, and expreſſed ſufficient trouble to oblige Agrippa, who was of no diſobliging humor, to repent himſelf of what he had ſaid. Fear not, added he to recompoſe him, I will ſay no more of it; and that which you keep ſecret is ſo ſtill, ſeeing 'tis only the ſuſpition of your beſt Friend. Sir, replied Ovid, I have no ſecret worthy of you, which I would have concealed from you, if you had had a deſire to know it. I ſhall try that, anſwered Agrippa, perhaps before this day be [Page] paſt; and if you have any confidence in me, I promiſe you I will not abuſe it. Ovid made a Reply to this Diſcourſe with that reſpect which was due to ſuch a perſonage as Agrippa was; and Agrippa; whom his Dignities and the greatneſs of his Actions had not made proud, received his Diſcourſe very civily, and with a very good grace.

Immediately after, Candace having winked upon Eliſa. according to the Deſign they had, that fair Princeſs, turning her ſelf towards Cornelius, prayed him to give them the opportunity to walk a few hours that day along the ſhoar, and in the Neighbouring wood to take the Aire, and to entertain their ſad thoughts at liberty. ‘You may abſolutely command what you pleaſe, ſaid Cornelius, and you ſhall have Chariots ready at what hour you pleaſe, both for your ſelves, and for thoſe perſons whom you will receive into your Company.’ ‘We two would be alone, if you pleaſe, replied the Princeſs, with our Maids, and the men that ſhall be neceſſary for our Conduct.’ ‘There is no likelihood, ſaid Agrippa, that you ſhould go out of the City ſo; and beſides that, it will be unconformable to your Quality, ſince the Accidents that lately hapned to the Princeſs Cleopatra, and to you Madam (ſaid he pointing to the Queen of Ethiopia) we ſhould be blamed, if we did permit you to expoſe your ſelves to the ſame danger.’ ‘We have no more Enemies in this Countrey, added Candace and if you do not grant us this liberty as we deſire it, we will not receive it any otherwiſe.’ Both Cornelius and Agrippa conteſted a long time with the Princeſſes to have permiſſion to bear them Company; but when they ſaw them fixed in thir reſolution, they were conſtrained to comply, only prevailing with them to conſent that Twenty men ſhould follow them on Horſeback at a little diſtance, to ſecure them in caſe of neceſſity, from ſuch Accidents as might arrive. The buſineſs was thus reſolved, and the two Lovers did ſo much the more willingly ſubmit to the will of the Princeſſes, becauſe they aſſurd them that they deſired to be alone only for that day, and afterwards they would not refuſe their Company.

A little after they went forth to give the Princeſſes liberty to prepare for their going abroad, and to go to Dinner, the hour being near at hand; but they would not think upon either, before they had ſeen the Princeſs Olympia, to know the condition of her body, mind and fortune ſince the laſt Night; but as they were going out of their own Chamber to go to hers, they ſaw her come in with a more aſſured countenance than ſhe had at their laſt interview. ‘I am reſolved, ſaid ſhe to them, to make a full diſcovery of my Deſtiny to day, and whatſoever it pleaſes the gods to ſend me, I hope to know it before Night.’ The two Princeſſes expreſſed a great deal of joy to ſee her ſo healthful in body, and ſo quiet in mind as ſhe ſeemed to be, and confirmed her by all manner of reaſons in thoſe hopes which ſhe ought to conceive. They had not ſpent half an hour in this Converſation, but they ſaw Cornelius come back into their Chamber, who came to them, and told them, that Philadelph Prince of Cilicia, Ariobarzanes Brother to the King of Armenia, and the Princeſs Arſinoe his Siſter, having underſtood that the Princeſs of the Parthians was in the Palace, were come to viſit her, and deſired permiſſion to ſee her.

If the Habit of a Slave wherewith Olympia was diſguized, had permitted Cornelius to obſerve the emotion which his words had wrought in her, he would have perceived that they operated otherwiſe upon her, than they did upon the Princeſs to whom he addreſſed them; and the illuſtrious Slave had no ſooner heard them, but in ſpite of all her aſſurance, a trembling ſeized her from head to foot. Yet how ſweetly was ſhe ſurprized, when ſhe heard the Pretor ſay, that the Princeſs Arſinoe was with her Brother; and when by that Diſcourſe ſhe had reaſon to judge, that ſhe doubtleſs was the fair unknown with whom he was found, and to whom he addreſſed his innocent Careſſes, which had cauſed her ſo much trouble; and yet the Relation ſhe had heard of the death of that dear Siſter, did oppoſe her hopes, and not knowing what ſhe might expect, with a great deal more tranquility than before, ſhe left what might befall her to the conduct of the gods. She had neither time nor liberty to expreſs theſe different thoughts wherewith ſhe felt her ſelf aſſaulted; and at that very moment the Queen Candace having caſt her eyes upon her, to let her know what ſhare ſhe would take in the intereſt ſhe would have in this Viſit, eaſily obſerved the agitation of her Soul.

In the mean time the Princeſs Eliſa having anſwered Gallus, that theſe perſons which intended to honour her with a Viſit, ſhould be very welcome, that the houſe of Armenia had been long allied to that of Parthia, and for that reaſon, and for their particular merit, ſhe ſhould be very glad to ſee a Prince and a Princeſs, whoſe death was ſpread by ſame throughout all Aſia; and as for the Prince of Cilicia, though he had made War againſt the King her Father, and was a near Kinſman and a Friend to Tigranes King of the Medes yet the Relation ſhe had heard of his Vertue, ſhould cauſe her to give him ſuch a reception as was due to him. She had hardly finiſhed this Diſcourſe, when Agrippa entred into the [Page] Chamber, leading the Princeſs Arſinoe by the hand, and with them Ariobarzanes and Philadelph, whoſe gallant Garb, as well as the admirable Beauty of the Princeſs, at the firſt dazled the eyes of thoſe they came to viſit; but their admiration was mutual, and the relation that Philadelph and Ariobarzanes had heard of Eliſa's Beauty, was ſo far below what they found them ſelves, and what they obſerved at the very firſt ſight in the fair Queen of Ethiopia, that they could not expreſs their firſt aſtoniſhment but by ſilence. Their firſt expreſſions were in ſuch terms as are ordinary upon ſuch an encounter amongſt perſons of that quality; and all the Diſcourſes, which a rationally conceived eſteem in ſo few moments could put into their mouths, were uttered with a great deal of grace and civility, by theſe admirable perſons. Arſinoe found in the entertainment of Eliſa, and of the fair Queen, that which her rare and excellent qualities acquired her every where, and particularly, amongſt perſons capable to render without envy and injuſtice, that which is due to an extraordinary merit; and the vertuous Delia, ſeeing in the faces of the two Princeſſes, ſome things beyond her imagination, expreſſed her aſtoniſhment to them, in ſuch a charming manner, that they could not chooſe but give her a great ſhare in their affection at this firſt meeting. They were likswiſe very well ſatisfied in the gallant mind of Philadelph, but the Relation they had heard the day before of the brave Actions of Ariobarzanes, having cauſed them to caſt their eyes upon him with haſte and attention, they found him far more Comely, and farr more Handſome, than Olympia had repreſented him to them.

In the mean while that Princeſs, who to ſee what paſſed without being ſeen, kept her ſelf cloſe in the obſcureſt part of the Chamber, was extaſied with an unconceivable joy, and not doubting by the things ſhe ſaw, but that this fair Princeſs, who had cauſed her ſo much jealouſie in ſo little a time, was the Siſter of her well-beloved Prince, and the ſame Siſter upon whoſe death ſhe her ſelf had beſtowed ſo many compaſſionate tears, ſhe undeceived her ſelf of her ſuſpitions ſo agreeably, that ſhe could hardly comprehend the ſatisfaction of her Soul; but her contentment was little leſs, to ſee ſadneſs painted in the countenance of Ariobarzanes; and obſerving how that prince, who was of a pleaſant and charming humor in Company, carried himſelf in this with a dejected countenance, and all the marks of a profound Affliction. She ſweetly flattered her ſelf with the aſſurance that the was the cauſe of it, and ſhe could hardly forbear at that time from running to him with open Arms, and crying out to him, Behold your Olympia; but the preſence of ſo many perſons, before whom ſhe durſt not uſe that liberty, kept her in an uncertainty what to do, and made her obſerve attentively what paſſed, in expectation of an opportunity to diſcover her ſelf handſomly to the Prince.

Candace, in the mean time being not ſo ſad as Eliſa, and more capable to interiſs her ſelf in another's Affairs, looking upon her from time to time to view her countenance, and to diſcover part of her thoughts, was reſolved to leave her no longer in that condition; and ſuppoſing that ſhe ſhould do her no diſpleaſure in freeing herfrom it, ſhe put the Company, who had now ended their Diſcourſes of civility upon the ſhipwrack of Ariobarzanes, and the Princeſs his Siſter, which had perſwaded all Aſia to believe their death; and after ſhe had expreſſed to the Princeſs the joy ſhe received upon her Account, at the falſeneſs of the Reports, ſhe obliged her to acquaint them in a few wordshow ſhe was preſerved from that ſhipwrack, and to make them a brief Relation, of the obligations ſhe had to Prince Philadelph, and of her moſt important Adventures. They equally admire in her Diſcourſe the grace of her utterance, and the Adventures which ſhe related; but when ſhe had partly ſatisfied the curioſity of thoſe that heard her, they turned their eyes all at once vpon Ariobarzanes, who knowing what they deſired of him: I would make you, ſaid he, a Diſcourſe of my Adventures, which poſſibly you would find to be very ſtrange, and as ſurprizing at leaſt as my Siſters, if my mind were in the ſame condition with hers, and if, as ſhe is, Iwere re-united to the thing I love, or if I could only hope to ſee that perſon agaio for whom the remainders of this unfortunate life are preſerved. O how agreeably did theſe words ſound in Olympia's ears, and how much was ſhe troubled to defer the diſcovery of her ſelf a few moments longer: Yet ſhe had the patience to hearken to the reſt of Ariobarzanes's Diſcourſe, who ſtifling ſome ſighs and ſobs which had interrupted him; Nevertheleſs I will not refuſe, purſued he, to give you that ſatisfaction, if you deſire it of me; and when this illuſtrious Company ſhall give me order, I will acquaint you at large with the ſtory of my misfortunes. You would very much admire, ſaid Candace, interrupting him, If ſome of this Company ſhould know almoſt as much as your ſelf; and ſhould not be ignorant of any particular almoſt of your love to the Princeſs Olympia, of your Conteſts with the King her Brother, of your ſignal Victories againſt Merodates, and divers Accidents of your life, which you ſuppoſe to be unknown to all the World. ‘Truly Madam, replied the Prince changing colour, I am very much amazed [Page] already at what I hear you ſay, and I did not believe that the report of thoſe things which have befallen me, had reached ſo far as you.’ I know, added the Queen, a great deal more than common fame could acquaint me with, and ſo particularly too, that Olympia her ſelf ſcarcely knows more. Ah Madad, ſaid the Prince quite tranſported, In the Name of the gods inform me, who it was that gave you ſuch good intelligence, and give ſome beginning to the effect of thoſe hopes which I have conceived to find ſome conſolation in Alexandria. I have been conducted hither by an uncertain ſhadow of hope, conceived upon ſome words that were ſpoken by the Barbarians, when they forced my Princeſs from me; and if it pleaſe the gods that I may hear ſome News of her through your goodneſs, I ſhall not deſpair of their aſſiſtance. We learned what we know, replied Candace, from a ſlave which ſerves the Princeſs Eliſa; but ſhe ſpeaks of your Affairs in ſuch a manner, that it ſeems ſhe hath been very much intereſſed in them. Ah Madam, cryed the Prince more tranſported than before, do not deny me the favour to let me ſee that Slave, it may be ſhe is one of the Maids of that unfortunate Princeſs, and only to have the conſolation of ſeeing a perſon who belonged to her, I would willingly go to the end of the world. You ſhall not go far to ſee her, ſaid the Princeſs Olympia, quitting the place where ſhe was, and coming near to the Company, and if you can but know her, ſtill you will ſuppoſe that ſhe can tell you News of Olympia.

At this tone of voice, and at this ſight, the Prince; who was already riſen up from his ſeat to go and look for that Slave, was ſo ſtricken with amazement, that he had hardly any ſenſe or knowledge left, and whil'ſt that Philadelph, Arſinoe, Agrippa and Cornelius did likewiſe expreſs their aſtoniſhment at ſo unexpected an Adventure, Ariobarzanes being immoveable and ſilent; and having in the tone of the Slave obſerved Olympia's voice, began to ſeek the features of his Princeſs in the Slaves face; but her ſickneſs and ſorrows had made ſuch a change in Three or four Months which had paſſed ſince their ſeparation, that at firſt he could hardly diſcern the remainders of that admirable Beauty which he had adored.

Olympia, who obſerved his aſtoniſhment, and penetrated into his thoughts: ‘I perceive very well, my dear Ariobarzanes, ſaid ſhe, that you wonder you do not find in my face that little Beauty which you loved in Olympia's; but you ought not to be miſtaken, ſeeing her heart and her ſoul have ſuffered no change; and recovering all her joy and felicity with you, ſhe will likewiſe recover that little Beauty which ſhe openly loſt for love of you.’ She had not gnite finiſhed theſe words, when the Prince, whoſe miſtake was ſufficiently cleared, not being able to Maſter his Tranſports before a Company that ſeemed to oblige him to ſome reſpect, had caſt himſelf at her feet, and embracing her knees with tears of joy, had his heart ſo oppreſſed, that expreſſing himſelf only by his Action, he continued a good while longer without being able to ſpeak a word. At laſt lifting up his eyes to ſee in that countenance which was ſo much changed, if it were his well-beloved Princeſs; ‘Yea, my Princeſs, ſaid he, yea, my adorable Olympia, 'tis your ſelf; and neither the unworthy Habit which you wear, nor the change of your countenance, can any longer conceal you from your faithful Ariamenes.’ Speaking theſe few words, and raiſing himſelf up again at the Princeſſes command, he once more fixed his eyes upon her Viſage with attention, and obſerving the leanneſs and the paleneſs of it, which rendred it quite different from what it had been a little while before, he could not hinder his affection from forcing ſome tears into his eyes, and drying them up with one of her fair hands, upon which he imprinted a great many ardent kiſſes. Ah! my adorable Princeſs, ſaid he, you have ſuffered very much and poſſibly I am the cauſe of a part of your ſufferings. You are the cauſe of them without doubt, replied the Princeſs, but 'tis that which makes them dear to me, and will make me love them as long as I live! Alas! anſwered the paſſionate Prince, it had been much better that all the troubles ſhould have fallen upon Ariobarzanes, and that his adorable Princeſs ſhould have been exempted from all the misfortunes which he occaſions her. I ſhould think my ſelf very unfortunate indeed, replied Olympia, if I by thoſe miſhaps which you repreſent to me, had not purchaſed the happineſs which hereafter I hope to enjoy with you; and all that have ſuffered through the cruelty of Adallas, the inhumanity of the Pirats, and the miſertes of Servitude, cannot but be very pleaſing to me in the recovery of Ariobarzanes.

The Prince returned an anſwer to this Diſcourſe, throwing himſelf once more at her feet, and doubtleſs their mutual ſatisfaction would have enlarged it ſelf into a long Converſation, if the perſons of the Company who were moſt intereſſed in it, had not deſired to take their ſhare in their Careſſes, as they had done in their Contentment. Arſinoe, as being Ariobarzanes's Siſter, and almoſt as ſenſible of his Fortune as he could be, ran firſt to the two Lovers, and caſting her ſelf upon Olympia's Neck, ‘What, ſaid ſhe, hugging her betwixt her Arms, Are you then that fair Princeſs to whom I am obliged for my Brothers life? That Princeſs ſo worthy of Ariobarzanes's violent paſſions, and the ſame for whom [Page] we ſail over the Seas, and for whoſe ſake we have viſited the ſhoar of Alexandria?’ ‘But you, Madam, anſwered Olympia, embracing her with an equal affection to her own, Are you that illuſtrious Princeſs, upon whom I beſtowed ſo many tears, without knowing her; and for whom, upon the Relation of your dear Brother, I had conceived ſo much eſteem?’ Philadelph being ſtrongly intereſſed in the happineſs of Ariobarzanes, whom at that time, next to his Delia, he loved above all the perſons in the world, ſeconded her with a good grace in the expreſſions of her joy; and when Olympia ſaw her ſelf at ſome liberty from the Careſſes of thoſe illuſtrious perſons, Cornelius, who underſtood the Truth of her condition, approaching to her with a great deal of Reſpect, and a great many marks of confuſion: Madam, ſaid he, What puniſhment will you inflict upon him who hath Treated you as a Slave, and hath carried himſelf towards you otherwiſe than he ought to have done towards a Princeſs of your Birth? I will look upon you, replied Olympia, as a perſon to whom I am indebted for all my happineſs; and if you had not bought and kept this Slave, Olympia poſſibly had never ſeen Ariobarzanes. You your ſelf only, anſwered Cornelius, ought to be blamed for the unworthy uſage you have received; for I could not ſo much as gueſs at what I now underſtand, not without a great deal of confuſion. I will never complain, replied the Princeſs, of the employment you beſtowed upon me, in putting me into the ſervice of the fair Princeſs of the Parthians; and I would willingly have rendred her that out of mine own inclination, which I was obliged to do by the change of my Fortune. You have already had the goodneſs, ſaid Eliſa, to pardon the faults which my ignorance cauſed me to commit in relation to you, and I hope, continued ſhe, embracing her, that this day of joy and happineſs will make you forget all that is paſt. She ought to pardon you and I, added the Queen of Ethiopia, becauſe we take ſo great a ſhare in the change of her condition; and I will aſſure her for us both, that we are as ſenſible of it, as a moſt affectionate Siſter could be.

This good Company entertained one another in this manner, and beſtowed a great deal of time upon this Adventure; and they could have found matter enough to ſpend the whole day upon, if they had not believed it to be neceſſary to give the two Lovers liberty to repair by their Converſation, that which a cruel Abſence had made them loſe. Arſinoe, as being the Siſter of Ariobarzanes, believed that ſhe ought to take the greateſt care of Olympia, and to that end ſhe deſired to conduct her to the lodging which Cornelius had appointed them, to deveſt her of her ſlaviſh Habit, and to render her the Offices which ſhe might expect from a Siſter. Eliſa and Candace were forced to yield to the preſſing intreaty which ſhe made them to that purpoſe, and Olympia, who ſuppoſed that by the changing of her lodgings, ſhe ſhould not be much farther off from the Princeſſes, for whom ſhe had a very great affection, nor ſee them leſs often than ſhe did before; and was glad beſides to entertain her dear Prince with liberty, conſented to Arſinoe's deſire, and went out of the Palace, telling Cornelius with a ſmile, that ſhe would not make him loſe what he gave for his Slave.

Theſe four contented perſons went to abandon themſelves to all the pleaſures that their vertuous love could permit, and the ſad Eliſa, with the troubled Candace, though they took a real ſhare in their joy, could not for all that ſee them go out of the Chamber in that happy condition, without expreſſing by ſome ſighs the grief they had in not being ſatisfied likewiſe in their own Fortune. The Deſign of their walk was not interrupted by Olympia's Fortune; and Candace was ſo far intereſſed in it, that ſhe did not doubt but that without incivility to Arſinoe and Olympia, they might leave them that day free, and ſo execute their intention; ſhe likewiſe thought it not convenient to interrupt them ſo ſoon, and having eaſily cauſed Eliſa to approve of their thoughts, they prepared for their going forth.

Immediatly after they had Dined, the Chariot which was to carry them, and the perſons which were to conduct them at a diſtance, as it was determined, were ready at the Stairs foot; and Candace being urged by her impatience, no ſooner ſaw them appear, but ſhe ſollicited Eliſa that they might be gone; yet they could not make ſuch haſte, but that Agrippa and Gornelius, whoſe love took up the place of all their other cares, were at their Chamber-door when they were going out, and gave them their hands to conduct them into the Chariot.

Cornelius importuned Candace in that little time, with the continuation of his former Diſcourſes; and Agrippa, who went about it with more reſervedneſs, as not having yet diſcovered himſelf, and ſaw that Eliſa carefully deprived him of all means to do it, was willing to make the beſt uſe of thoſe moments, to let her know a part of that which he had upon his heart. And to that purpoſe taking her by the hand, ‘Madam, ſaid he, I render you here a ſmall piece of Service, but I ſhall not be ſatisfied with my Fortune, if ſhe doth not give me opportunities of rendring you more important Services.’ ‘I know [Page] very well, replied the Princeſs, that you are ſo generous, as not to avoid the occaſion of aſſiſting the miſerable.’ ‘And I am at preſent ſo miſerable my ſelf, anſwered Agrippa readily, that I ſhall find no occaſion in your Fortune to exerciſe my Generoſity, or at leaſt thoſe Services muſt not be imputed to my Generoſity, which I ſhall render you upon the Account of a very ſtrong inclinat on.’ The Princeſs bluſhed, and made no Reply to Agrippa's words, who being emboldned by this beginning: ‘I know not, continued he, whether you will approve of the intention which I have to ſerve you to my Grave; but I will really proteſt to you, that this paſſion againſt which I did in vain deſend my ſelf, and which, by reaſon of its violence, I am forced to declare to you, is not eſtabliſhed in my heart, but with all the reſpects and adorations which are due to your Divine qualities and illuſtrious Birth:’ As he made an end of theſe words, he drew near the Chariot, and that was well for the Princeſs, who being full of reſentment and grief, knew not what anſwer ſhe might return to a man whoſe love was troubleſom to her, and his merit and authority conſiderable. There was no Reply made to his Diſcourſe, but he judged by the countenance and action of the Princeſs, that ſhe was not well pleaſed with it, and he repented that he had not better remembred Ovids precepts, who told him a few moments before, that the Declarations of love ought to be prevented by Services.

When the Princeſſe's Chariot was gone, he ſaid to Cornelius, that ſeeing they would not give them the liberty to bear them company, they might at leaſt be permitted to take Horſe in the Evening, and meet them at their return from their walk. Cornelius was of his mind, and approved of his Propoſition, by which he was confirmed in the ſuſpition which he had already conceived, that Agrippa was taken with the Princeſs of the Parthians. He was glad that he had ſuch an illuſtrious Companion in his Deſtiny, and heartily praiſed the gods that his inclinations addreſſed not to Candace, and had not raiſed him up a Rival, which would have been very formidable to him.

Agrippa was ſo blank and dumpiſh at the ſucceſs of his firſt Attempt which he had newly made, that he thought he could not for ſome hours appear in Company with his ordinary countenance, and for that reaſon he entreated Cornelius to eaſe him of ſome ſmall buſineſſes which he had to do for the Emperors Service, and to permit him to retire a while into his Chamber, with an intentiod to ſee no body, till they mounted on Horſe-back as they had determined.

Cornelius, being willing to comply with him in all things, accompanied him to his Chamber, where, by chance meeting Ovid, Agrippa would have him excepted from the Deſign which he had to ſee no body; and detaining him whil'ſt all the reſt retired, he took him with him into his Cloſet; and knowing very well that in a Love-matter he could not have a confident more capable to counſel and ſerve him, nor more diſcreet and affectionate to his intereſts, he ingenuoſly diſcovered to him all that was upon his heart, and made a naked confeſſion to him of his paſſion, and of all the thoughts which it had produced in his mind. Ovid, who was never an Enemy to amorous perſons, did not oppoſe Agrippa's love by any Diſcourſe, but contented himſelf to tell him that he had made an excellent choice; and that this Princeſs, though a ſtranger, and born amongſt the Enemies of the Roman Name, was certainly very worthy of his affections, and that he had great probability to hope that ſhe would not be inſenſible of them. He offered him likewiſe in requital of the confidence he had in him, all the Services he was capable to render him; and did ſo flatter his paſſion, that he put him into a good humor, and filled him with hope.

When Agrippa had a little diſpatched the melancholy that had ſeized on him, of a ſudden looking upon Ovid with a pleaſant countenance, and throwing his Arm about his Neck: ‘Seeing you are my Confident, ſaid he, 'tis reaſon that I ſhould be yours too; and I ſhould have great occaſion to complain, if you ſhould have leſs confidence in me, than I would have in you.’ Ovid having returned an Anſwer to theſe words with a great deal of reſpect, and having told Agrippa that he would make no difficulty to confeſs all things to him that were worthy of his knowledge. ‘You muſt then, ſaid Agrippa, not only confeſs to me that that Corinna ſo much celebrated in your Elegies, is no other but the Princeſs Julia; but beſides, you muſt freely and truly tell me all that is paſſed between that Princeſs and you, and do not diſſemble with a Friend, from whom you need not fear any bad Office for having made this confeſſion to him.’ ‘Ah Sir, replied Ovid, ſeeming quite amazed, What opinion have you of me, and ſince when do you believe that I have forgot the reſpect which is due to ſo great a Princeſs, to Ceſar, and to Prince Marcellus?’ ‘Now you fail in your freedom towards me, anſwered Agrippa, and I will never receive the diſtruſt you have of me for an effect of diſcretion. I am a Servant of Ceſar's as you know, and a very faithful Friend to Marcellus; but the intereſt which they have in Julia's affections, ſhall never oblige me to do you a bad Office; and beſides you know, very well, [Page] that you poſſibly are not the only man whom Julia hath looked kindly upon, nor is it for the love of you that ſhe is reported not to have left her heart alwayes entire for Marcellus.’ To theſe words, Agrippa added others more preſſing, which Ovid not being any longer able to reſiſt; ‘Seeing you injoin me, ſaid he, I will acquaint you with the truth of ſome things of very ſmall importance, proteſting to you for all that, that as ſlight as they are, no other command but yours, nor any other conſideration but that of obeying you, ſhould ever have drawn them out of my mouth.’ Agrippa having again confirmed the promiſe he had made him, not to make any ill uſe of the confeſſion which he was about to make him, he began his Diſcourſe in this manner.

The Hiſtory of Ovid, Cipaſſis and Julia.

THey which have reported that in ſome Elegies which I compoſed not long ſince under the Name of Corinna, I meant the Princeſs Julia, either they intended to do me an ill Office, or elſe they were unacquainted with my thoughts; I do not ſpeak this Sir, ſince you have laid your commands upon me, that I deſire to diſguize any thing in the relation you deſire of me; but you will perceive by the real Diſcourſe that I ſhall make you, that I am not at thoſe terms with that Princeſs, as to take the boldneſs to deſcribe ſuch particular privacies, as neither Ovid, nor the greateſt Prince in the world durſt ever to have hoped for from the Princeſs Julia. 'Twas only to divert my ſelf that I have publiſhed ſome amorous follies, which either I was never ſenſible of, or if I did experiment any part of them, 'twas with perſons far diſtant from the eminent degree of Ceſar's Daughter, whom I never looked upon but with that veneration which I ought to have for her; and from which her humor, though never ſo gallant, and free from ſeverity, never ought to give me a diſpenſation. I will ingenuouſly relate to you all that paſſed in all my trivial Affairs, wherein ſhe could have any intereſt, without any mention of the loves I have had for a great many other Ladies, part of which may poſſibly have made ſome noiſe; and as for the reſt, I will make it your divertiſement another time, as far as modeſty and decency will permit; but what Deſign ſoever I have, not to ſpeak of the reſt, I am forced to ſpeak of one, without mentioning of whom I cannot come to the Relation you deſire of me, ſince of neceſſity ſhe muſt have a good ſhare in it.

I had long ſince broken Flavia's and Emilia's Chains, and had ſo ſtrugled with Sulpicia's, that at laſt I regained my liberty, when Fortune conducted to Rome the fair ſtranger Cipaſſis, whoſe beauty is known to you, and hath been eminent enough to make it ſelf remarkable in Auguſtus's Court, and in that City which is Miſtriſs of the Univerſe. You know that ſhe was born in Germany, from whence ſhe was brought by Tiberius, when he reduced that Countrey to the obedience of the Empire, and led to Rome with divers other Captives, which followed the Chariot of the Conqueror, and changed their free condition for ſervitude. As for Cipaſſis, you know that for her excellent beauty, and livers other quallities that rendred her conſiderable, Tiberius preſented her to Caeſar; and the Emperor, after he had expeſſed how highly he eſteemed of her, he gave her to the Princeſs his daughter. She continued ſome dayes amongſt the reſt of Julia's Slaves, among whom ſhe ſupported the change of her condition within an admirable patience; but a little after the Princeſs having obſerved in that Captive an uncommon beauty and extraordinary graces, raiſed her above the pitch of other Slaves, placed her near to her perſon, made her one of her confidents, and treated her with ſo much ſweetneſs, that the fair German applied her ſelf to her Service more diligently, out of inclination, than ſhe did upon the Account of Slavery.

You know that Julia hath admirable Charms, and ſuch obliging wayes of acting when ſhe pleaſes, and ſo attractive, that it is impoſſible to defend ones ſelf from them. In fine, ſhe uſed them toward Cipaſſis with ſo much goodneſs, that the illuſtrious Captive being obliged to her for her good uſage, and receiving every day greater proofs of her bounty, diſcovered to her concerning her Birth and Affairs, ſome things which till then were not known to any perſon at Rome, and are not yet known but to a few. Howſoever it was, (for this is not it which I am obliged to acquaint you withal in my Relation) the Princeſs had ſo much regard to them, that after ſhe had expreſſed to that ſtranger how much ſhe was diſpleaſed with her ſelf for having left her ſo long in a ſervile condition, and having employed her in Offices far below her, ſhe gave her liberty from that day forward, and offered her all the aſſiſtances that ſhe could deſire of her friendſhip.

Cipaſſis received her liberty of Julia's liberality, and was very joyful that ſhe was no longer treated as a ſlave, but for all that ſhe would not retire from the Princeſſes Services, nor return to her Friends, from whom Fortune and the War had ſeparated her; but partly [Page] out of the affection which ſhe had conceived for the Princeſs, and partly it may be for other Reaſons which made her not deſire to return into her Countrey, ſhe made it her requeſt that ſhe might ſtay with her, and did ſo ſtrongly conjure her to retain her in her Family, that the Princeſs loving her very well, and having regard to the particular Reaſons which Cipaſſis might alledge to her, retained her near her, as ſhe deſired, treating her, as ſhe did divers young Ladies of illuſtrious Birth, and of the moſt Noble Roman Families, whom Julia's high Rank engaged in her Service.

From this day forward Cipaſſis, whom her former condition about the Princeſs had kept in obſcurity, began to be looked upon, and at the ſame time to diſcover divers excellent parts which acquired her the eſteem and inclination of divers perſons of quality. Becauſe I have been more particularly acquainted with her than you, tis not inconvenient for me to tell you, that beſides thoſe conporal advantages which you have ſeen in that fair ſtranger, ſhe hath beauties of the mind which are not ordinary; an admirable vivacity, a facility to expreſs her ſelf with a great deal of grace and eloquence, and a ſolidity of judgment, which ſeems to be above her Age and Sex. Her humor is the moſt pleaſant and frolick of all that ever I was acquainted with, and if ſhe were not ſenſible of ſome diſpleaſures in her Fortune, which ſometimes clowd her natural jollity, ſhe might create joy and divertiſement in all places where ſhe comes; and beſides, ſhe hath ſtrength of ſpirit enough to diſſemble her diſcontents in ſuch a manner, that few perſons could take notice of them; and I have oftentimes heard her ſay, that it is a great piece of imprudence, to trouble other perſons with our melancholy, who have no intereſt in it; but deſire our Company either for divertiſement, or the eſteem they have of us.

Though ſhe was born in Germany, you know ſhe ſpeaks Latine as well as if ſhe had been born at Rome; and together with the Empire of the Romans, their language is ſo ſpread through all the Provinces which are under its obedience, that they are now but few of them where it is not underſtood by all ſorts of perſons and taught to all the perſons of quality. Cipaſſis being ſuch as I have deſcribed her to you, and as you partly know her to be, it was not eaſie for her to continue long in Rome, without making of her ſelf beloved and reſpected by a great many perſons of quality; and to give every day occaſions of it, ſhe could not be better placed, than near the Princeſs Julia, who was the Center of all Gallantry, or to expreſs it better, where all the magnificence and bravery amongſt the Noble Romans, and the Princes Tributary to the Empire who continued with Ceſar, diſplayed it ſelf every day with emulation, to comply with that gallant Princeſs. Her Court was alwayes compoſed of the beauty and flower of Rome, and twas for that reaſon that Ceſar, who did not alwayes approve of her free manner of behavior, ſeeing her enter one day into the Amphitheater, attended by all the young Nobility, at the ſame time that the Empreſs came in, ſollowed by the Senators, and the moſt venerable perſons, ſent to ask her, with a ſmart kind of raillery, If the Train of grave men that attended Livia, was not more conformable to her Dignity, than the young men which accompanied her? But the Princeſs was not vexed at this demand, but looking upon thoſe that were about her with a ſmile, Theſe perſons, ſaid ſhe, will be old, when I am ſo.

By the indulgence of the greateſt perſons in the world, I had free acceſs to the Empreſs, to the Princeſs Julia, to the vertuous Octavia, and the Princeſs Cleopatra; and there was no illuſtrious Family, nor eminent Company at Rome, where they did not do me the favour to let me come; and if I may ſpeak it without vanity, where they did not expreſs a deſire of my Company; but as my inclination alwayes carried me to pleaſure and divertiſements which we may enjoy with honour, rather than to places where others ſeek occaſions of advancing their Affairs; 'Twas without repugnance that I ſuffered my ſelf eaſily to be conducted into the Company of the Ladies, and amongſt the Ladies, into the Company of the faireſt, the moſt gallant, and the moſt eminent. I went then almoſt every day to Ceſars Daughter, and that fair Princeſs gratified me above my merit, and engaged me more particularly to her Court, than I was to Livia's, Octavia's, Scribonia's, or Ceſar's own. Beſides, the advantage which I had to be received into her Converſations with other perſons of quality which moſt ordinarily were ſo; my humor againſt which by great good luck, no perſon ever expreſſed any averſion, and ſome ſmall advantages which ſtudy, and my inclination might afford me above a great many ignorant perſons, gave me a more free acceſs than to divers others, into the Chambers of thoſe Maids who were brought up with Julia, and cauſed them to permit me ſuch liberties ſometimes, which they would not have pardoned in other perſons.

'Twas by theſe particular Viſits that I diſcovered the Treaſures locked up in the perſon of Cipaſsis, and that which I had not looked upon before, but with that approbation which all the world gave it, having appeared to me upon a more perfect knowledge in all its luſtre, [Page] engaged me to a more particular attention, and a little after to a greater intereſt; for in fine, though the beauty of Cipaſſis be one of the moſt rare and moſt accompliſhed, it did not for all that immediately dazle thoſe eyes that were accuſtomed to ſee the Princeſs Cleopatra every day; but after I had begun to look upon her▪ with a little more exactneſs, by little and little, her excellent qualities diſcovered themſelves, & produced that effect which they ought infallibly to do. The ſympathy which I thought I found in her humors, added no ſmall weight to turn the ſcale of my inclination; and tis certain, that at laſt I found her ſuch, that, if by the neceſſity of her condition, I had not been conſtrained to ſeek a remedy in my reaſon, Cipaſſis had ſtopped the courſe of thoſe wandring affections, in which I have not affected over much conſtancy, becauſe I had found nothing yet that could ſolidly ſtay them. She loved all the Sciences, ſhe was very knowing in all the productions of wit, and judged ſo acutely of them, that ſhe made it evident, that beſides an excellent wit, ſhe had had education far above the common ſort of her Sex. I diſcourſed with her ſeveral times in the Princeſſes Court concerning things indifferent, and in the preſence of a great many witneſſes, and in all things that I heard her ſay, I obſerved ſome part of that which I have lately told you concerning her wit, which inſenſibly raiſed a deſire in me to ſeek her Converſation, rather than her Companions. 'Tis certain, that at very firſt I found ſome ſweetneſs in it, which made me quickly foreſee, that this fair ſtranger would not be long indifferent to me; and I yielded ſo eaſily, and with ſo much complaiſance to the natural inclination which drew me to her, that upon any other ſcore I ſhould not have rendred up my ſelf with ſo little reſiſtance.

The firſt particular Converſation that I had with her, was in the fair Garden of Scribonia, whither ſhe had accompanied the Princeſs to walk. Beſides the Maids of her ordinary Train, divers Roman Ladies waited upon her, and though Sulpicia whom I had loved long time, and had hardly left off loving, was there amongſt the reſt, left her to the firſt that took care to lead her, and whil'ſt divers other men of quality tendred the ſame Service to the reſt, I ran to Cipaſſis, and proteſted to her, That do what ſhe could, I would not leave her all the reſt of that day, nor yield up to any man a Fortune which I infinitely eſteemed. Cipaſſis received the Service which I deſired to render, her with a great deal of Civility, and reaching me her hand in a very obliging manner. Is it poſſible, ſaid ſhe to me, ſmiling, That in the faireſt Company of the World, Ovid ſhould addreſs himſelf to the ſtranger Cipaſſis? But is it poſſible, anſwered I, that the fair Cipaſſis ſhould believe till now, that Ovid had not wit enough to know how to diſcern that which is moſt beautiful and rare in thoſe Companies where he comes? 'Tis the knowledge I have of your wit (replied Cipaſſis, walking in an Alley after the Princeſs, who was led by Marcellus) which cauſes my aſtoniſhment, and I cannot comprehend how Ovid, whoſe ſublime wit canot be ſatisfied with an ordinary Converſation, and whoſe Company is deſired and ſought after by the chiefeſt Ladies in the Empire, ſhould be willing to day to leave ſo many perſons of high importance, to amuſe himſelf in the Company of a dull German Maid, born and bred in remote Provinces, in the midſt of barbarous people; and one who being freed from Slavery but three dayes ago, can have contracted nothing in ſo ſhort a time from the illuſtrious Company with whom ſhe converſes, which may make her Society tolerable.

Upon theſe words of Cipaſsis, which ſhe ſpake ſmiling, I put on a more ſerious look, and beholding her with an Air which might make her judge, that the modeſty of her Diſcourſe could not make me diſpenſe with the reſpect which I believed was due to her: Madam, ſaid I, for your being born in Germany, and being fallen by the misfortune of the War into a Captivity, from which your vertue quickly freed you, you are never the leſs conſiderable, nor leſs worthy of our reſpects, than the moſt illuſtrious Roman Ladies, and thoſe to whom Fortune hath been alwayes favourable; and whatſoever complaiſance I ought to have for my own Countrey, I ſhall not think I Injure it, if I ſpeak for that in the ſingle perſon of Cipaſſis, which I could have hardly found amongſt a great Number of Roman Ladies. Ah! Ovid, ſaid the fair Maid, interrupting me, you are not Maſter of all that Noble Freedom and Sincerity for which I have heard you highly eſteemed; and you offend againſt Generoſity, in expoſing a poor ſtranger, whom you ſhould protect, to the raillery of ſuch a wit as yours. You are ſo well fortified againſt raillery, replyed I, and I am very well aſſured, that it is but in a jeſting way that you have accued me of it: And how, anſwered Cipaſſis, can you juſtifie your ſelf upon that Account? By making of you know, added I, and making you confeſs, if you will ſubmit to Reaſon and Truth, that amongſt all the Ladies whom you ſee here attending upon the Princeſs, I could not find ſo much beauty either of mind or body, as in your ſingle ſelf; and that the great Number of excellent parts which might render all the perſons of this Company conſiderable, if they were well divided amongſt them, are met together in Cipaſſis only, with ſuch advantages as the moſt intereſted Romans cannot but acknowledge an confeſs. You [Page] would oblige me, replied Cipaſsis, with a little bluſh, which made her ſeem more handſome than ordinary; to give you a ſerious Anſwer to a Diſcourſe which deſerves it not without doubt, ſince it is not conformable to your thoughts; but howſoever it be, I cannot chooſe but tell you, that, if it were true, that you found any thing but reaſonable in me, the Authority of ſuch a Judge would raiſe ſo much preſumption in me, that poſsibly no modeſty would be proof againſt the vanity which I might conceive upon that ſcore. You may laugh at it if you pleaſe, ſaid I, with an Action no more ſerious than hers, but poſsibly 'tis true, that I am not ſo ill acquainted with the lineaments which compoſe a beauty, nor with the graces which form an excellent wit, but that the judgment which I ſhould make of it, would find Approvers; and 'tis truer yet, that in this which I have made for you, to the diſadvantage of this fair Company of Ladies, I have followed nothing but my thoughts and real inclinations. Ah! Ovid, replied Cipaſſis, in a more pleaſing manner than before, If you think what you ſay, you have forgotten that Sulpicia is in this fair Company. Theſe words, by which I might judg that the love which I had born to Sulcipia was come to the knowledg of Cipaſsis, made me bluſh a little, and kept me for a few moments a little ſurprized; but as naturally I do not want confidence in ſuch Encounters, ſo I would not remain without a Reply. I am not ignorant, ſaid I, that Sulpicia is in the Number of thoſe fair Ladies over whom I have given you the ſuperiority; Neither are we ignorant, peradventure, ſaid ſhe interrupting me, that you have often given her the ſame ſuperiority with which you would flatter a poor ſtranger. That may be, replied I, very coldly, and 'tis certain too, that when I made her a Diſcourſe, coming ſomewhat near to that which you have heard from my mouth, I made it according to my heart and real thoughts. And how can it be poſsible, anſwered the merry Cipaſsis, that your heart and thoughts ſhould be ſo eaſily and ſo quickly changed, and that (if one may ſo ſay) you ſhould ſo eaſily tranſport from one ſubject to another the qualities which you have obſerved and eſteemed in them? It may be, ſaid I, that when I found in Sulpicia that which now I obſerve more advantagiouſly in you, I had never ſeen the charming Cipaſſis; or that poſsibly my mind being prepoſſeſſed with ſome paſsion for Sulpicia, thought to find that in her, which in a more free condition I ſhould not have taken notice of. But how is it poſsible, added Cipaſsis, that that paſsion which hath made you judge favourably of Sulpicia, ſhould quit your heart in ſuch a manner, as that no ſign of it ſhould remain? And what remedy do you make uſe of, to cure your ſelf ſo eaſily of a diſeaſe which troubles a great many others as long as they live?

I was little confounded at this reproach, but I diſſembled it very well, and replied without being moved: Love may make it ſelf Maſter of our ſpirits with ſuch an abſolute Command, that it would be but vain to make uſe of any remedies to chaſe it thence: but likewiſe it may continue in ſuch terms, that reaſon may have ſtrength enough left to ſtruggle with it; and I may ſay without injuring Sulpicia's merit, that if my paſsion had attained to that extremity, when all the endeavours which are uſed for the cure of it oftentimes prove ſenſleſs, and to which I might have come, if with a little goodneſs ſhe would have ſweetned the weightineſs of my Chains, I might without doubt have rendred up my laſt breath in Sulpicia's Service; but the rigors and ſcorns of that fair Lady, having ſtopped my paſsion in the midſt of its courſe, 'tis no great wonder if I have oppoſed it with more ſucceſs than I could have done, if by a little indulgence Sulpicia had permitted it to come to its full ſtrength. You ſpeak, anſwered Cipaſsis, with more modeſty than truth, and by this Diſcourſe you rather, ſhew your Diſcretion, than excuſe your Inconſtancy; for indeed 'tis not reported in Court, that the ill uſage of Sulpicia hath made you quit her Service. But if it pleaſe you to let me ask you a queſtion, it may be with too much liberty, I pray you tell me ſincerely, what aſſurance you will give to thoſe perſons whom you ſhall love for the future, to perſwade them that you will be more faithful to them, than you have been to Sulpicia, and the reſt that went before her? They, ſaid I, who are of an inferiour merit, can hardly aſſure themſelves upon that Account, what proteſtations ſoever are made them, but they which are ſo accompliſhed as Cipaſſis is, have no need of any other aſſurance to engage a Soul to an eternal Fidelity, than what they carry in themſelves, in regard of their beauty and other qualities which fix a Soul till death.

Cipaſsis was a little troubled at theſe words, and kept ſilence a few moments, as if ſhe had been at a loſs how to receive this Diſcourſe; but a little after ſhe recompoſed her ſelf, and reſuming the Diſcourſe in a little more ſerious manner than before: ‘I did not think to be brought in my ſelf upon this Diſcourſe, ſaid ſhe, but I have drawn that which is hapned upon my ſelf, and I have preſſed you with indiſcretion enough to deſerve this Attack.’ I thought by this Anſwer, that I had diſpleaſed her, and I was preparing to make an Apology, when the Princeſs Julia, who turned at the end of the Alley, came cloſe to us, and called us both to her, to participate in the Converſation which ſhe had with Marcellus, Druſus, young Ptolomy, and ſome Roman Ladies. The reſt of that day I could not ſpeak to Cipaſſis in particular; but by all her Actions, ſhe expreſſed that ſhe was not angry with me, [Page] and that ſhe had too ſolid, and too rational a ſpirit to amuſe her ſelf with thoſe things, with which thoſe which are weaker ſuffer themſelves to be diſturbed.

I confeſs, that ſince that day, I did not look upon her, as upon another perſon; or rather that I began to love her, and I continued afterward entangling my ſelf ſo, in the Charms of that fair ſtranger, that almoſt before I perceived it, I was become really amorous, and amorous with ſo much violence, as to be ſenſible of all the inquietudes that love makes us ſuffer, when it hath gotten the abſolute Soveraignty over our Soul. 'Tis certain, that I intertained this love with a great deal of complacency, and of all the reaſons which I had to oppoſe it (which were not a few, conſidering the condition that Cipaſſis was in) I did not call in one to my aſſiſtance. I ſaw her every day with a great deal of liberty, and Julia's houſe not being a houſe of conſtraint and ſeverity, I did not fear diſpleaſing of the Princeſs. By the frequent Viſits which I might render to the perſons that were about her, in all the Converſations I had with that Maid, I diſcovered new graces in her ſpirit; and though ſhe was naturally full of jollity and freedom, yet ſhe had ſo much reſervedneſs and modeſty, and made it evident by ſo many Teſtimonies, that her vertue was moſt ſublime, that I conceived no leſs reſpect than love for her. This was that which made me endure a little, and hindred me for ſome dayes from diſcovering my love unto her, out of the fear I had to diſpleaſe her. 'Twas not my cuſtom long to conceal what I had upon my heart, but I wont to diſcover my diſeaſe as ſoon as I was ſenſible of it, ſo that this conſtraint which I laid upon my ſelf for a ſmall time, made it ſelf obſerved in my perſon, altered my humor, and made a little change in my countenance. I became more dumpiſh and melancholy than ordinary, and my Friends oftentimes asked me the cauſe of it, and Cipaſsis her ſelf queſtioned me divers times about the change of my humor. 'Twas thereupon that I took the occaſion to declare my diſeaſe, but it was in a very pleaſant and extraordinary manner. I was one day in her Chamber with none but her ſelf and the Maids that ſerved her; and after we had had ſome Diſcourſe together, by which ſhe was confirmed in the knowledge ſhe had of my melancholy, which was ſo much the more remarkable, becauſe that naturally I had a ſpirit very much diſtant from it: ‘But is it poſſible, ſaid ſhe, that Ovid's good humor, in the loſs whereof the whole Court doth intereſs it ſelf, ſhould be alwayes buried in griefs and cares, which render him hardly to be known; and if his good Friends cannot remedy them will there be never a one at all in whom he will have ſo much confidence as to declare the cauſe of them?’ I anſwered theſe words with a ſigh which I could not retain, and a look which might partly have acquainted her with that which ſhe demanded of me, if ſhe would have taken notice; but ſeeing that ſhe did not, and that ſhe ſtill expreſſed a deſire to underſtand the real cauſe of thoſe cares that tormented me, and ſo much altered me, I roſe upon a ſudden from the place where I ſat near her, and went to her Table, where I ſaw Pen, Ink and Paper, whereupon I began to write what came into my fancy.

She loving Poetry very well, and knowing the facility I had that way, had oftentimes obliged me to make Verſes ex tempore, upon ſuch Subjects as preſented themſelves; and this time ſeeing me take the pen in hand, ſhe believed it was with an intention to compoſe ſomewhat, and riſing from her Seat, ſhe came, and ſtanding behind me, ſhe read over my ſhoulder that which I wrote. She preſently ſaw that ſhe was not deceived in her conjecture, and that I was really writing theſe Verſes which ſhe read at the ſame time.

If the ſad Effects of Care

In my Face Impreſsion make,

Which my Sufferings doth declare,

I made a ſtop at the Third Verſe, as if I were to ſeek for a Fourth, and I ſtayed ſo long about it, that Cipaſsis, who knew very well, that naturally I was not ſo ſlow in compoſing, deſiring to ſee the concluſion of that which a little whetted her Curioſity: Finiſh, ſaid ſhe, what you have ſo well begun. I will finiſh it then, ſaid I, ſeeing it is your pleaſure; and taking the Pen, I added,

'Tis for fair Cipaſſis ſake.

Theſe laſt words compleated the Stanza, and having nothing elſe to write, I roſe from the place where I ſate, and turning my ſelf towards Cipaſsis, though with a little fear and confuſion, I perceived that ſhe was a little troubled at this adventure, but yet in ſuch a manner, that her aſtoniſhment did not ſeem to be accompanied with any mark of anger; and not being willing to give her time to be angry, upon the occaſion which I might have given her: ‘Divine Cipaſsis, ſaid I, in the Name of the gods do not receive with rigor the teſtimony [Page] which I give you of a moſt pure and innocent paſſion; and do not impute to any want of reſpect the Declaration which I have made you, only out of the obedience I owe to you: The gods are my witneſſes, that the paſſion I have for you, produces no effect that you can condemn; and the moſt violent deſires it can give Birth to in my Soul, are only to ſacrifice my life and intereſts in the opportunities of doing you Service, as I have already ſacrificed my repoſe, my liberty, and all the thoughts of my Soul to the Beauty and Vertue of Cipaſſis. If you be offended with the preſent I make you of my ſelf, what can henceforward be accounted for an obligation amongſt men, and by what cruel error will the reward of hatred be beſtowed upon love, and thoſe puniſhments inflicted upon that which ſhould be worthy of more precious recompences?’

I ſhould have ſpoken more to this purpoſe, if inſtead of the diſpleaſure which I feared, I had not ſeen laughter, ſweetneſs and abſolute tranquility in the countenance of Cipaſſis. She had hearkned to me with a great deal of patience, and when ſhe ſaw that I left ſpeaking: I underſtand your intentions, ſaid ſhe, ſmiling, but how do you think I muſt treat with you? As the Sovereign Miſtriſs of my life, replied I, but as a Sovereign full of goodneſs, and one that ought to incline rather to pity, than to reſentment. But ought not I, anſwered Cipaſſis, according to the example of our own Sex, ſeem offended at the Declaration you have made me, receive your affection as an injury, and forbid you at leaſt to ſpeak to me as long as you live?

I have deſerved a great deal more, replied I, and I will never, murmur at the ſentence which you ſhall pronounce againſt me, You ſhall have no reaſon, added this charming perſon, and inſtead of making as if I were angry at the teſtimonies of your affection, I will tell you, Ovid, that it is very dear to me, that I am very much obliged to you for it, and do not count it a ſmall advantage to my ſelf, that he, amongſt all the Romans, who poſſibly is, moſt able to diſcern the merit of perſons, hath adjudged me worthy, amongſt ſo many others, of his particular eſteem: I ſhall be beholding to you for it as long as I live; but this is not enough yet to acknowledge it as I ought, I will proteſt to you beſides, with all truth and freedom, that I do very particularly eſteem your perſon; and upon all the occaſions which Fortune may offer me, I will give you all the teſtimonies of it that you can deſire. Is not this a large progreſs for the firſt day? Too much, cryed I, quite tranſported, and infinitely above my merit and my hopes. But withall, replied Cipaſſis, know, that this firſt day ſhall be as the laſt, you ſhall always continue in the ſame condition in my affection as you are now in, and whatſoever you may do for my Service, ſhall never put you any forwarder. If you be rational, you will content your ſelf with that which poſſibly you expected not yet a while, and which I did not value ſo highly, as to make you wait longer for; and if you have not reaſon enough to ſatisfie your ſelf with what I may do in a way of acknowledging your affection, you may ſeek elſewhere for that ſatisfection which you ſhall never find in Cipaſſis.

Theſe laſt words did ſtrongly moderate the joy which the former had cauſed me, and ſeeing my ſelf cut off from the hopes which I might have conceived by her words, to which I was obliged to give abſolute Credit, by the proofs which I received of her ſincerity and freedom, I knew not how I might receive my Fortune; but at laſt yielding to Neceſſity, or rather preſerving ſtill ſome hopes, that by my Services, and the proof of an ardent and faithful paſſion, I might alter the reſolution of Cipaſſis, and incline her ſpirit to more advantagious terms in relation to my love, I ſeemed to be contented, and to receive the courteſie ſhe offered me, as infinitely elevated above my pretenſions.

Agippa interrupting Ovid in this part of his Narration: ‘You have related to me, ſaid he, as free, and as gallant a way of proceeding, as could be expected from the moſt rational ſpirit in the world; and though I alwayes did very much eſteem the fair Cipaſſis, I confeſs to you, that for her manner of dealing ſo far from the artifice and affectation of many women, I conceive an opinion of her, which will make me look upon her for the future, with more conſideration than formerly I did.’ Sir, replied Ovid, Cipaſſis is far more worthy of your eſteem than you think for; and without doubt ſhe would have a very great ſhare in it, if ſhe were perfectly known to you; but it will ſuffice me to confirm you in the opinion which you have conceived of her, to acquaint you in the continuation of my Diſcourſe, that this fair German proved very ſincere in the promiſe ſhe had made me, to gratifie me with her particular eſteem, and that in all meeting, I received all the teſtimonies of it that I could in reaſon deſire; but withall, ſhe kept her ſelf very ſtrictly within the bounds which ſhe had preſcribed to my hopes, and did not ſuffer me to conceive the leaſt probability of altering her reſolution. She alwayes kept her ſelf ſo equal in her Propoſition, that I never perceived any change; and I endeavoured in vain to move her to pity, or to a conſideration of the ills ſhe made me ſuffer, ſhe was alwayes inſenſible of them; or if at any time out of her natural goodneſs, ſhe felt any motion of compaſſion, that thought [Page] could not change its Nature, and turn from pitty, which was the original of it, into ſomething that reſembled love. She ſuffered me to converſe with her with a great deal of ſweetneſs, provided that the violences of my love did not intermix themſelves in our Diſcourſe; and when I ſuffered my ſelf to flie out, ſhe knew very well how to reduce me to that moderation which ſhe deſired of me, and to make me ſubmit to the Empire of reaſon, with an Authority accompanied with ſo much ſweetneſs and modeſty, that I never ſound any occaſion, nor had ſo much as an intention to murmur at it. My great conſolation in the misfortune which I had to be deep in love, without any hope of being recompenſed, but only with good-will, was, that amongſt divers of the moſt illuſtrious Romans, whom her beauty had reduced into the ſame condition with my ſelf, and who ſighed deeply for her, there was none a greater Favourite than my ſelf, and ſhe made no difficulty to declare publickly how much ſhe preferred me before all the reſt; or rather, though ſhe treated them with all civility and handſomneſs, I was the only man by whom ſhe ſeemed not to be importuned. You know there have been ſome diſcontents about the advantage I had over them, and the young Albinus and I, had like to have had a great buſtling upon that quarrel, if our difference had not been decided by the Authority of the Princeſs Julia, and of Cipaſſis her ſelf, whom, only at that time, I ſaw ſo angry with me, that I had much ado to appeaſe her.

In fine, ſeeing that my paſſion ſtopped not at thoſe bounds where ſhe would have it ſtay, and fearing that in time it might grow ſo ſtrong as to be troubleſom to her, and to render me miſerable, ſhe deſired to apply the remedy ſhe believed ſhe had, either to cure me, or to hinder the augmentation of my diſeaſe; and upon this Deſign, ſeeing me by her one day more ſad and languiſhing than ordinary, Ovid, ſaid ſhe, The obligation I have to you for your good will, and the eſteem I make of your merit, ought not to permit me any longer to leave you in the opinion which without doubt you have that you may complain of me, and that with reaſon: And 'tis juſt that I ſhould acquaint you, that if I be not ſo ſenſible of the proofs of your affection as you might deſire, 'tis not for default of any of thoſe parts which compoſe a man worthy of eſteem, but for ſuch reaſons as certainly you your ſelf will not oppoſe, when they are known to you. Upon this Deſign I will acquaint you with my Fortune, which hitherto you have been ignorant of, I having declared it to none, but to the Princeſs Julia, and deſiring that no body in Rome may know it but your ſelf. I have confidence enough now in your vertue and friendſhip to believe that you will make a right uſe of the ſecret which I truſt you with, and that when you ſhall find in my Diſcourſe ſome things contrary to the intereſt which you have taken in my perſon, you will conquer it by your Generoſity; and inſtead of taking occaſions thence to do me a diſpleaſure, you will ſeek for opportunities to comfort me in my misfortunes. I was extraordinarily moved at this Diſcourſe of Cipaſſis, and deſiring to confirm her in the confidence ſhe had in me: You may be very well aſſured, ſaid I, that I will not abuſe the favour you are pleaſed to do me; and though poſſibly I might find my death in your Diſcourſe, I ſhall certainly ſuffer the moſt cruel one that can preſent it ſelf, rather than betray the ſecret you would truſt me with, or neglect any occaſion of ſerving you in a condition that 'tis poſſible for me to meet you in. I hoped no leſs, replied Cipaſſis, and you ſhall know further by the Diſcourſe I have to make you, that I have no ſmall confidence in you. Upon theſe words, after ſhe had given order that ſhe might not be interrupted, ſhe acquainted me with her Birth, with the Story of her whole life, and with things of ſuch importance, that the Relation of them would be far more handſom, and more agreeable to you, than that I have to make you, if I were permitted to repeat them to you. But Sir, I am forbidden to do it, and I beſeech you pardon me, if I do not ſpeak one word more to you of it in the Sequel of my Diſcourſe. You ſtrongly move my Curioſity, ſaid Agrippa to Ovid, and you have ſufficiently intereſſed me in the Fortune of Cipaſsis, to make me deſire a more particular knowledge of it; but I am not ignorant to what you are obliged by your word, and I would not exact any thing of my Friends, which they cannot grant me without injuring themſelves. I will make no difficulty, Sir, replied Ovid, to truſt you with any ſecret of my own, whenſoever you ſhall deſire to know it; but as for that which concerns another perſon, and a perſon whom I infinitely eſteem, you know I have not the ſame liberty. In fine purſued Ovid, Cipaſsis acquainted me with ſuch things as cauſed my aſtoniſhment, and if they were not capable to give an immediate cure to my love, at leaſt they made me know, that there was no more ground of hope upon that Account, and that I never ought to importune her who was the original of it, to that purpoſe. I was aſſaulted with a violent grief, but with a little ſtrength of ſpirit I found very conſiderable grounds of comfort in my misfortune, and I underſtood very well, that inſtead of having any reaſon to complain of Cipaſsis, I was obliged as long as I lived, to commend the goodneſs which ſhe had expreſſed to me in a condition of Fortune, [Page] when I ought not to have deſired thoſe proofs I received of it. I fell upon my knees before her, when ſhe had made an end of her Relation, and with a great many marks of ſorrow, I begged her pardon for the trouble I had put her to, and proteſted to her, That if it were not poſſible, to cure my mind of that paſſion, againſt which it could not defend it ſelf, I would regulate it, or manage it ſo at leaſt, that ſhe ſhould receive no proof of it that might diſpleaſe her. Cipaſsis ſignified to me with her ordinary ſweetneſs, that the teſtimonies of my good will could never be diſagreeable to her; that ſhe deſired me only, if it were poſſible, to diſcard that part of of my paſſion which was moſt violent, and moſt contrary to my repoſe, and to reduce it to a more rational Amity; and that now ſhe had acquained me with her condition, I would content my ſelf with that ſatisfaction which ſhe could give me; as for the reſt, ſhe would be willing that I ſhould converſe with her before Company, as I was uſed to do; and that neither by my Actions, nor my Diſcourſe, I ſhould make any diſcovery of what ſhe had declared to me.

I promiſed her all that ſhe required, and executed it as punctually as it was poſſible for me to do, endeavouring to forbear ſpeaking to her of my love, which had likely to have cauſed me a great deal of miſchief, and often made her pity me; but if it chanced through want of circumſpection, that ſome word ſlipped from me contrary to my intention, Cipaſſis did not want indulgence to compaſſionate my weakneſs, and to ſignifie to me, that the greateſt diſpleaſure ſhe could receive by the continuation of my love, was, for the harm I ſuffered by it, and not for the trouble it was to her. Mean time by her counſel, and for the intereſt of my own repoſe, I ſought for all the remedies that could be imagined to cure me of my paſſion: I endeavoured by the ſight of other objects, to free my memory from this perſecuting thought, which was continually fixed there; and I did not only frequent thoſe Companies where I formerly found divertiſements, but I Courted all occaſions to give birth to a new affection which might extude that which tormented me, and laid ſuch cruel conſtraints upon my happineſs.

'Twas no eaſie matter to expel the Idea of Cipaſſis out of my Soul, and it had made ſuch an impreſſion upon me, that certainly whatſoever inclination I might have had to change, I ſhould have loved that ſair ſtranger as long as I had lived, if I had not met with obſtacles in that Deſign which could not be removed, and againſt which I could preſerve no hope. But yet 'tis very true, that by the continual endeavours I uſed, and the firm reſolution I had taken, I conquered the greateſt violences of my diſeaſe, and hoped in time for an abſolute cure of it. It fell out ſooner than I believed, and proceeded from a place whence I expected it not, and this is that which you deſire of me, and whereof I am going to make you an ingennous Relation.

The deſire I had abſolutely to rid my Soul of this importunate paſſion, made me more aſſiduous than before at the appartment of the Princeſs Julia; and the multitude of different perſons which I ſaw there every day, was no ſmall help to the cure which I ſought for. I was there one Night with a great many other perſons, and Cipaſſis was there too, the Princeſs entertained her a while in private, and a little after walking through the Chamber, ſhe came near to the place where I was, and having obliged by her Action, thoſe with whom I diſcourſed to leave me alone with her: Ovid ſaid the, I am jealous of the Amity that Cipaſſis hath for you, and ſhe hath acquainted you with things which I thought ſhe would not have truſted any with but my ſelf. Madam, anſwered I, I will make no ill uſe of the ſecret which Cipaſſis hath committed to me; and if I were able to ſerve her in her Affairs, I am aſſured that ſhe would never repent her of the conſidence ſhe hath repoſed in me. We are ſufficiently acquainted with you, replied the Princeſs, to have that opinion of you, but I would have you know too, continued ſhe ſmiling, that you are obliged to me, and ought to thank me for the intereſt I took in the bad ſucceſs of your laſt affections. I was not ſo happy in my former, ſaid I, as to hope that Fortune would be more favourable to me in the reſt; but howſoever it be, I am not abſolutely miſerable in my misfortunes, if I have been ſo happy as to deſerve the pitty of our great Princeſs. I did really pity you, replied Julia, though in ſome ſort you merited your diſtiny, by beſtowing that to no purpoſe upon a ſtranger, which with more ſucceſs and ſatisfaction to your ſelf, you might offer to the faireſt, and the moſt ſublime amongſt the Roman Ladies.

I received the Princeſſes Diſcourſe with a proſound reſpect, and humbling my ſelf, as my Duty was: ‘I am not ſo blind, ſaid I, as to be jeſted out of the knowledge I ought to have of my ſelf; and that which is moſt fair, and moſt ſublime in Rome, cannot condeſcend ſo low as Ovid:’ ‘Remember, added Julia with precipitation, the Heroical Epiſtle of Cephalus to Aurora, which you ſhewed me a few dayes ſince, and judge by that, that extraordinary men may elevate their thoughts as high as the goddeſſes themſelvs.’ Finiſhing theſe words with that Air and admirable grace which ſhe hath in all her Actions, ſhe [Page] left me at liberty to examine the words ſhe had ſpoken to me, and went to the other ſide of the Chamber to entertain the young Druſus, who began at that time to give her ſecret Teſtimonies of that paſſion, which a while after publickly declared it ſelf.

When I was retired to my own private lodging, I made a long reflection upon Julia's words; and the inclinations we naturally have to flatter our ſelves, made them ſeem very obliging to me, and perſwaded me that they were not ſpoken without ſome Deſign. ‘Could it be poſſible, ſaid I in my ſelf, that Julia the greateſt Princeſs in the World, deſigned for the Empire of the Univerſe, and as highly elevated by her beauty, and the Charms of her perſon, as by the advantages of her birth, ſhould deſire, amongſt the great Number of her daily Conqueſts, to reckon the Conqueſt of poor Ovid? Or rather, that amongſt ſo many Kings and Princes of the moſt eminent rank in the World, which are upon their knees in continual Adoration of her, ſhe ſhould turn her eyes from the luſtre of their Diadems, to let them fall ſo low as Ovid?’ ‘Remember, ſaid he, that extraordinary men may raiſe their thoughts as high as the goddeſſes themſelves. I have not ſo much preſumption as to believe that I am a man extraordinary, neither have I ſo bad an opinion of my ſelf, as to think my ſelf a vulgar perſon; but in fine, whatever I am, I am certain that the words were addreſſed to me, and that the Princeſs ſpake them to me in the concluſion of a Diſcourſe, which doth not a little confirm me in the opinion which I might conceive thereupon.’ I added to this conſideration, the memory of divers other Actions, by which Julia had alwayes expreſſed a particular eſteem to me; and at laſt I reflected upon the knowledge I had of her humor, which was an Enemy to cruelty and to conſtraint. I was not ignorant, that though ſhe was engaged to Marcellus by an ancient inclination, grounded upon the merits of that Prince who was very worthy of her affections, and upon the Emperors will, who deſigned Julia, and the Empire for him, yet ſhe had not obſerved an exact fidelity to that Prince, but had often given him cauſe to fall into Jealouſie; and I obſerved at laſt, that if ſhe did not really engage her ſelf to divers amiable perſons who made love to her, yet ſhe was well pleaſed tobe beloved by them, and did not puniſh the Declarations of their love with any rigorous uſage which might drive a lover to Deſpair. 'Twas in the Number of theſe that I thought I might liſt my ſelf, after I had muſtred up all that might perſwade me to my advantage to confirm my ſelf in that opinion. I believed then after I had ſufficiently flattered my ſelf, not that Julia loved me, but that ſhe would not be offended to ſee me amongſt the great Number of her Adorers; and knowing that I was well acquainted with love, and had a particular Talent to manage it better than vulgar perſons, ſhe was willing that all that I could think or conceive of that paſſion, which ordinarily produces the moſt refined and delicate thoughts, ſhould have the divine beauties of Julia, for the moſt eminent aim that I could chooſe. The thought of being looked upon by that fair and great Princeſs for any reaſon whatſoever, did at firſt agreeably tickle my conceit, and gave me no ſlight blow to the perſecuting remembrance of Cipaſſis's beauties; I was puffed up with a kind of pride, which made me judge, that the leaſt expreſſions of Julias goodwill, were able to comfort me for the repulſe I received in the paſſion I had conceived for that fair ſtranger; and having not only a good opinion of my ſelf, but ſome courage too, I reſolved to purſue my Fortune, and to try if it could be poſſible that I ſhould find any place in the Princeſſes eſteem.

'Twas not without a very great violence, that I reſolved to attempt the breaking of Cipaſſis Chains; but beſides that, that paſſion was not grounded upon any hope which might authorize the continuance of it, I knew that inſtead of offending Cipaſſis, I ſhould do her a pleaſure, in freeing her from my importunities; and that ſhe would not take it ill at my hands, that I had expedited my cure by all poſſible means, nor that I had ſought it in the ſublimeſt place that I could propoſe to my ſelf. I had no ſooner determined what to do, but I felt my ſelf half cured of my former paſſion; ſo true is it, that in love, as in diſtempers of another nature, Afirm reſolution is a good part of the remedy. Then I began to meditate in what manner I ſhould proceed with Julia, to let her underſtand, that her obliging expreſſions had elevated my Ambition; and thought I was no Puny in all the procedures of love, having by long practice gained a great experience in them, yet my love had never aſpired ſo high; and there was a neceſſity that I ſhould carry my ſelf after another manner towards ſuch a perſon as Julia was, than I had done towards the other Roman Ladies, upon whom I had formerly beſtowed my inclinations.

I ſee Sir, you cannot but ſmile at the little ſolidity there was in my pertenſions, and you will ask of me, what aim my intentions could have in loving (and that with Deſign rather than out of a violent inclination, wherewith I might have been prepoſſeſſed) the Daughter of Ceſar deſigned for Marcellus, who was one day to enjoy the Empire and her too, and from whom I could never hope any ſolid Affection: But to this I will anſwer you; Firſt, [Page] That in Affairs of this Nature, I ſcarcely ever made reaſon Umpire in my deliberations; but without ſounding the depth of Conſequences, I ſought my preſent ſatisfaction, when I could compaſs it without the hazard of my honour. And then let me tell you, that never having had any Deſign of marriage for thoſe perſons who were of mine own Rank, and by a far ſtronger reaſon not having folly enough to look upon Julia with that thought, 'twas indifferent to me, in relation to the end I aimed at, whether ſhe were deſigned for Mercellus, or abſolutely married to him: And in fine, never having loved, but to make my ſelf beloved if it were poſſible, I might endeavour to make my ſelf beloved by Julia; and in what condition ſoever ſhe ſhould be, the ſmalleſt Teſtimonies of her Affection could not be very advantagions to me.

He that will, may laugh at this manner of loving, but I will maintain, that 'tis the only way that can be conformable to a real love, and that thoſe perſons who ſeek for ſecurities and precautions in love, and do embark int that paſſion, till they have foreſeen the Conſeſequences, and the advantagious ſucceſſes of it, may be termed prudent, but not amorous; and engaged in a Deſign, but not abandoned to love. This Noble Paſſion admits not Philoſophy into its Counſels; and 'tis to ſuch as Demetrius and Anthony, and not to ſuch as Phocion and Cato that it is ordinarily addreſſed. My Soul hath alwayes been more addicted to honeſt pleaſure, than too ſevere a prudence; and 'tis that which hath rendred me more inclinable to love, and much more expert in it, than a temperate Numa, or a ſullen Fabricius.

But to return to my Diſcourſe, I will tell you that my ſpirit being already filled with the Ideas of Julia, which did agreeably flatter it, laboured to find out ſome gallant and extraordinary way to diſcover my audacious thoughts, and to let her underſtand, that I wanted not Courage to raiſe them as high as any ſcope would be given to my Ambition; but I had no need to torment my ſelf much for a thing which ſhe her ſelf did facilitate, and three dayes were not yet paſt ſince our laſt Converſation, when ſeeing me one Evening in her Chamber (where, as you know, the greateſt part of the Court do ordinarily paſs the Evenings) and obſerving that I was retired alone into a Corner, with a penſive and melancholy Countenance, which was not ordinary with me, when my ſpirit was at liberty, ſhe came from her place, as ſhe had done the time before, and after ſhe had taken two or three turns about the Chamber, and ſpoken ſome words as ſhe paſſed by, to two or three perſons, to the end that it might not be obſerved by her Action, that ſhe had any particular Deſign, ſhe drew near to me, and accoſting me with her uſual Charms: ‘Well Ovid! ſaid ſhe, Will you not confeſs to me,’ that you are now a thinking up on Cipaſſis? ‘No, Madam, anſwered I, and if you command me to confeſs the Truth, I may ſay, that I do no longer dream of mortals, but elevate my thoughts as high as the goddeſſes themſelves.’ Julia ſmiled at this Diſcourſe, and looking upon me with an eye that had nothing of ſeverity in it: Then you have thought, ſaid ſhe, and reflected upon the Counſels which I gave you. I have ſo meditated upon them, replied I, that they have not been out of my memory for a moment; and I confeſs, that if it were as eaſie for me to render my ſelf one of thoſe extraordinary perſons whom you permit to look upon Divinities, as to have an inclination to raiſe my thoughts to them, I would never dream any more upon terreſtrial things. 'Tis no difficult matter, anſwered Julia, for you to believe your ſelf to be an extraordinary man; and you are indued with ſuch uncommon qualities, that they who ſhould take you for an ordinary perſon, would be thought to want common ſenſe themſelves. Upon this aſſurance, ſaid I, I will gloriouſly venture to preſent my offerings, and turn my eyes from all that is inferior amongſt men, to ſacrifice my Vows and Adorations to a great goddeſs. I know not what my Deſtiny will be, but though it ſhould be parallel to that of the audacious Ixion, a famous and illuſtrious Tomb is to be preferred before Crowns; and if a man muſt periſh by fall, 'tis better fall from Heaven, than from an ordinary Precipice. You have leſs reaſon, added the Princeſs in a merry faſhion, to doubt of your deſtiny, than another man who is leſs acquainted with the nature of goddeſſes than your ſelf, and by the ordinary communication you have with them, you know that ſome of them are terrible, and ſome of them are of a ſweeter diſpoſition. Minerva preſents her Gorgons Head to her lovers, Diana receives them with her Bow ready bent, and Juno armsher ſelf againſt them with her Husbands Thunder-bolts; but Aurora, Thetis, and the Ciprian goddeſs, as you have taught us, are not ſo cruel to them; and we do not read that Cephalus, Peleus or Adonis found their Graves in the rigor of thoſe goddeſſes they looked upon, as Ixion and Acteon did.

In brief, having made me perfectly bold by the encouragement ſhe gave me: ‘And the goddeſs Julia, ſaid I, for without an Error, we cannot hold her for any thing elſe but a goddeſs, ſeeing her original, her wit, and her Divine beauties are wholly Celeſtial; and ſhe beholds nothing amongſt men, but what is as much below her, as Earth is below Heaven: The goddeſs Julia, I ſay, to whom all humane perſons owe their humble and devout [Page] ſacrifices, which ſide will ſhe chooſe, either of the goddeſſes who are ſenſible of pity, or of the terrible goddeſſes?’ Julia brake out into a hearty laughter at this Diſcourſe, and not intending to leave it thus: ‘The goddeſs Julia, ſaid ſhe, ſince you are pleaſed to make her a goddeſs, is not a thundring goddeſs like to Juno, nor an armed goddeſs like to Minerva, nor a horned goddeſs like to Diana; neither doth ſhe approve of the pity of Uenus, becauſe it tranſcends the bounds which ſhe would preſcribe to hers: but ſhe doth not condemn the pity of Thetis and Aurora, neither doth ſhe believe that the Divinities whoſe juſtice ſhould be equal to their power, could juſtly puniſh reſpectful Adorations as things criminal.’ ‘Since it is ſo, added I, and that our viſible Divinity doth not account our Adorations for Crimes, I make a Vow at the foot of her Sacred Altars, to offer to my laſt breath my humble ſacrifices to the goddeſs Julia, acknowledging her as our real goddeſs; by all the marks, and by all the advantages which may exempt her from the rank of mortal perſons.’ Julia continued a while without making any Reply to this Diſcourſe, but a little after beginning to ſpeak with as pleaſant a countenance as before: You are not very wiſe, ſaid ſhe; but Follies of this Nature do not deſerve any great Chaſtiſements, and it may be I have Indulgence enough not to look upon them with Rigor. Having ſpoken theſe words ſhe left me, but not before ſhe had aſſured me by her looks, that I had not offended her, and that ſhe would not Treat me as a Criminal, though I ſhould continue what I had begun. For my part, I remained ſo well ſatisfied, that I could hardly contain my joy; and the perſons with whom I converſed afterwards, might very well perceive the change of my humor.

When the Princeſs had given good-night to the Company, I reconducted Cipaſſis to her Chamber, as I often did; and ſhe, who naturally is of the beſt humors in the world, having obſerved Julia's Action, and the change of my humor, and by divers conjectures having, ſome dayes ſince, taken notice of ſome part of what had paſt in my Soul, could not chooſe but laugh when ſhe looked earneſtly upon me, and by her Action ſhe almoſt put me out of countenance. When we were come to her Chamber, where ſhe permitted me to ſtay a few moments longer; ‘Well, ſaid ſhe, in a fooliſh manner, Is it not true, that great gods do expunge ſmall evils, and that a great Fortune may eaſily comfort one for a miſhap of ſmall importance?’ This Diſcourſe made me bluſh a little, but though I had an abſolute confidence in the goodneſs and diſcretion of Cipaſſis, yet not thinking it convenient to ſpeak of things which in reſpect of Julia's Dignity ought to be ſo precious to me as to be kept ſecret; and believing that Cipaſsis did not ſo much deſire it, I would not preſently open my heart to her upon that Subject, but anſwering her with Diſſimulation: ‘I know not, ſaid I, what you mean, when you talk of great good, and great Fortune; but Heaven is my witneſs, that I never knew any more high, or more real, in relation to my ſelf, than to ſpend the remainder of my dayes in your Service; and ſetting aſide thoſe impoſſibilities which you have oppoſed me with, wherein I can only complain of my own Deſtiny, there is no Fortune nor Dignity in the world which I would not have deſpiſed for that glorious Servitude.’ In this I ſpake to Cipaſsis according to my heart, and though Julia (beſides the other advantages which ſhe hath above all other Princeſſes upon Earth) amongſt all the perſons that ever I ſaw in my life, did only fall ſhort in beauty of the Princeſs Cleopatra; yet 'twas certain for all that, that as fair, as charming, and as high in Dignity as ſhe was, ſhe ſhould never have made me forget Cipaſsis, if the real paſſion, and the real eſteem which I had for that vertuous perſon could have found that acknowledgment at her hands which I deſired. She ſmiled again at my diſſembled Diſcourſe, and reſuming her own; ‘I do not ſpeak to you in this matter, ſaid ſhe, to draw a ſecret out of your mouth which you ought to preſerve with reſpect; and poſſibly I ſhould not be very proper for a confidence of that nature; but let me tell you, that by the intereſt which a real eſteem makes me take in all that concerns you, I have already perceived, that you are well thought of in a very good place; and, provided that the conſequences which you can perceive better than I, do not prove prejudicial to you, I ſhall alwayes take a great ſhare in your ſatiſfaction, without deſiring any more particular knowledge of it.’ ‘Madam, replied I, after I have confirmed the Diſcourſe I have made you, I will confeſs to you, that I have an intention to do what I can poſſibly, to find out ſome conſolation for the misfortune I have had in relation to you; upon this Deſign, I follow the Counſel which you have oftentimes given me, and certainly I do you ſervice in eaſing you of ſome part of the importunities which you ſuffer from this miſerable man; but whereſoever I may ſeek either for my comforts or my remedies, I promiſe you it ſhall be in a place ſo high, that I ſhall not bluſh at the diverſion of my thoughts, nor do any injury to thoſe I have had for Cipaſſis.’ After this Diſcourſe, and ſome other words to this purpoſe, time and decency obliged me to bid her good-night, and to go and employ my ſelf in my Bed, inſtead of ſleeping, [Page] with a Meditation upon this dayes Adventure, which kept me awake till the day following.

I will not repeat to you all the Diſcourſes I made within my ſelf upon theſe new agitations of my Soul, nor the projects I framed upon the opinion of my good Fortune; but will only acquaint you, that neither the diſproportion which is between the Daughter of Caeſar and my ſelf, nor the ſmall hope I could conceive in my imaginations, could hinder me from falling into a very ſtrong paſſion. It will not be difficult to perſwade you to believe it, becauſe you are acquainted with Julia, and you know that ſhe is really Miſtriſs of ſuch Charms, as the moſt Stoical Doctrine can hardly defend a Soul againſt. Beſides, it ſeemed to me, that ſhe had endeavoured to draw me on, and tis ſuch a pleaſure upon occaſions of this Nature, to ſee ones ſelf a little flattered, and to ſee the way open to be received to a happineſs and glory which could not be too dearly bought by the greateſt ſufferings, that there are but few ſpirits which would not be eaſily taken with that ſeducing bait. In fine (if Ovid may be permitted to ſpeak ſo of the Emperors Daughter) I was really amorous of the beauties of the Princeſs Julia, and I began to render her my ſubmiſſions and particular Vows with a great deal of aſſiduity.

It was not difficult for me to Court her, having for a long time had very free acceſs to her, and beſides, ſhe had the goodneſs to bear with me, and to invite me her ſelf into her Company, where I loſt no occaſion (yet without loſing the reſpect and acknowledgment that was due to her) to diſcover to her the condition of my Soul, and the paſſionate veneration I had for her, in the moſt handſom manner that poſſibly I could. She always received the Teſtimonies of it without any mark of diſpleaſure or repugnance, and her indulgence embolding me, made me ſometimes tranſcend the bounds of prudence and circumſpection, and do ſuch things to perſwade the Princeſs to believe the reality of my paſſion, as might have diſcovered it to other perſons, if they had taken the pains to obſerve them: This ordinarily falls out in the birth of an affection, and when there is no ſetled intelligence between the lover, and the perſon beloved, paſſion tranſgreſſing the bounds of diſcretion and good conduct, oftentimes declares it ſelf by too manifeſt Teſtimonies, and by ſuch proofs, as without doubt the lover condemns, and would willingly recall in a better condition of Fortune.

Julia, who perceived that I might commit ſome fault, was willing fairly to prevent it, and taking her time with her ordinary gallantry one day when ſhe paſſed through the Gallery, where I was with divers other perſons, ſhe called me, and when I came to her, ſhe ſaid to me in my ear: Ovid's Goodneſs doth not condemn his Adorations; but 'tis neceſſary they ſhould be ſecret, and 'tis not from Ovid that ſhe is permitted to receive them in publick. She paſſed by without any further ſtay after ſhe had ſpoken theſe words, and I remained in a very great confuſion, to think how I had given her occaſion to uſe thoſe expreſſions to me, by which I might well judge, that by ſome indiſcreet Action I had declared my thoughts more than I ſhould have done. I was really aſhamed, that I had obliged her to give me a kind of a Reproof; but on the other ſide, I conceived a better opinion of my Fortune, judging that the Princeſs took ſome intereſt, and laid ſome ground in my paſſion, ſince ſhe ordered me to keep it ſecret; and that ſhe would not have taken that care, which ſignified a good beginning of intelligence, if ſhe had not had ſome eſteem of it, and had not deſired that it might continue. I did not fail to aſſiſt my ſelf in this Encounter with all that might flatter me, and yet I was minded to ask pardon of Julia for the faults which my paſſion might have cauſed me to commit contrary to Diſcretion; and having a facility to expreſs my ſelf in verſe, as freely as in Proſe, and the Princeſs likewiſe having a great inclination to Poetry, and I being furniſhed with a conveniency to preſent to her every day any thing I wrote, without any oppoſition; and being permitted in this kind of writing to take greater liberty to diſcover my thoughts, than in our ordinary language, when I was retired into my Study, I inſtantly compoſed an Elegy, by which I excuſed my ſelf to the Princeſs for the faults I had imprudently committed, & imputed them to that violent paſſion which ſhe had given birth unto, which I exaggerated to her in the moſt tender and moſt paſſionate terms, that all my Poetry could furniſh me withall. I will not repeat it to you, becauſe it is too long, and you may have a ſight of it when you pleaſe. The ſame Night I gave it to Phebe, whom the Princeſs loved beſt of all her Maids, praying her to preſent it to her as ſhe was going to Bed, that ſhe might divert her ſelf a while in the reading of it, as ſhe had done oftentimes before.

I did not go that Night to Julia's lodging, but the next day I did not fail to meet her as [Page] ſhe was walking in the Allies of her Garden; ſhe received me within a very gracious countenance, and as ſoon as I had performed my Reverence to her, cauſing her Gentleman Uſher to retire, that ſhe might honour me with his employment during her walk, ſhe gave me her hand, and permitted mean abſolute liberty to entertain her without being over-heard by the perſons of her Retinue, who out of reſpect kept themſelves at a diſtance from us. She ſpake firſt, and looking upon me with an eye which might inflame the moſt frozen Scythian, I have received your excuſes, ſaid ſhe, and ſince you will needs have me to be a goddeſs, I thought it beſt to imitate the gods, in accepting Repentance for the reparation of Offences; beſides, you excuſe your ſelf ſo eloquently, that I muſt receive greater injuries than any you have done me yet, before I deny you pardon. Madam, replied I, if you look upon my intentions, I have done you no injury, ſeeing they never did, nor ever ſhall proceed any further, than to the moſt humble veneration that can be due to our great goddeſs from the moſt ſubmiſſive of men; but if from the lowneſs of the Adorer, men raiſe their eyes to the height of the Divinity adored, and if there be any proportion between the Offence and the Divinity which receives it, they may well judge it to be no ſmall one, & together with their greatneſs, the gods have need of goodneſs too, to pardon it. I know nothing that is inferior in you, replied Julia. Your birth is as Noble as any of thoſe perſons is who are every day advanced in Rome to the higheſt Dignities your Courage is no leſs than theirs, your Wit is incomparably above theirs; and if, becauſe you have been a greater lover of honeſt divertiſment, than of ſerious employment, by which men are promoted to the Government of the Commonwealth, you have not yet attained to it, I am not of ſo auſtere an inclination as toeſteem you the leſs for it, and you are young enough to acquire that hereafter, which as yet you have not renounced. Do not undervalue your ſelf then before me, who prize and eſteem you more than half the Senate; but believe, that with the advantages you poſſeſs, and the reſpect you obſerve, you may have the liberty to look upon any thing. Neither is it for the difference that is between a Roman Knight, and Ceſars Daughter, that I have obliged you to be ſecret, I ſhould have dealt in the ſame manner with the greateſt Princes of Europe, if I had eſteemed them ſo far as to have any ſecrecy with them; for 'tis from Marcellus only, that I am permitted to receive Services in Publick, and it may be I might expoſe them to Auguſtus's diſpleaſure, if I ſhould favour any with a particular affection. I expreſs my thoughts to you with a great deal of freedom, continued ſhe, looking upon me with a ſmile, and thereby I ſufficienly ſignifie to you the eſteem I have of you, and the confidence I repoſe in you.

The preſence of thoſe perſons which followed us, and beheld all our Actions, could very [...]ardly hinder me from throwing my ſelf at Julia's feet; and if I had been in a place [...]here I might have had my own liberty, I ſhould have continued whole hours at her knees, [...]ender her a ſmall part of what was due to the grace ſhe did me; but not having the [...]eniency of doing what I did deſire, I was content to make her this Reply with a pro [...]d Reverence. ‘The Favours which I receive from your Grandeur, are ſo unpropor [...]onable to the merit of my perſon, and the ſtrength of my underſtanding, that if your juſtice doth not moderate them, for ought I know, they may abſolutely deprive me of the knowledge I ſhould have of my ſelf. I am the moſt happy and the moſt glotious of men, and I conceive my Fortune to be better than Prince Marcellus's, to whom the gods and Ceſar have deſigned the moſt ſublime amongſt Mortals, ſince that notwithſtanding the Engagements you have to the excellent qualities of that Prince, who is as great in all things elſe, as in his Fortune, you can reſerve one of your precious moments to think upon poor Ovid, whoſe acknowledgment is ſo great for thoſe bleſſings which are above all value, that he will not conceive Marcellus to be more happy in the poſſeſſion of you, than he ſhall be in yielding up his laſt breath in the Service of the Divine Julia.’

I pronounced theſe words with an Action full of vehemence, which was obſerved by the Princeſs, and made her judge that I was touched with a real paſſion. She put on a more pleaſant countenance than before, and beſtowing a few moments in viewing of my face: You are in earneſt then, ſaid ſhe, and I need not any longer be in doubt, but that Ovid hath forgot Cipaſſis. ‘I will never forget, ſaid I, what is due to the Merits of Cipaſſis; but the may content her ſelf, if ſhe pleaſe, with my eſteem, and henceforth leave my Adorations for the goddeſſes.’

I ſhould have had the happineſs of a longer Converſation with the Princeſs, who hearkned very favourably to me, if we had not ſeen the Empreſs appear, whom Julia went to wait upon out of Civility; and if Marcellus had not come a little after, who proffered his hand to the Princeſs, and deprived me of the opportunity of entertaining her for the reſt of that day: But I retrived it often enough through Julia's goodneſs, who receiving [Page] my reſpectful Vows with as much indulgence as I could deſire, put me into the moſt happy condition according to my humor, that if ever I durſt aſpire to; yet ſhe always preſerved the Dignity of Auguſtus's Daughter, and her Favors never extended farther than favourable looks, and obliging expreſſions: But that which from another Lady would have been inconſiderable, was ſo great coming from Julia, that I could not look upon it, nor receive it otherwiſe than as a thing of the higheſt value, alwayes judging it to be the greateſt Glory I was capable of, to ſee my ſelf favoured with a particular good will, by the greateſt Princeſs of the Univerſe.

They that would make the world believe that I made ſuch advantages of it, as gave me occaſion to write thoſe Elegies, which ſome of the Romans have ſeen under Corinna's Name, do it malitiouſly, to bring me into diſgrace with Ceſar, and Prince Marcellus; and ſince I am come to mention it, one day or other for your diverſion, I will acquaint you with the adventures and paſſages which concern Corinna and my ſelf, though neither her name nor perſon be known at Rome, becauſe ſhe was never there; and 'twas in a very remote Province that I knew her, in the Expedition which Vincius made into Germany, where I bare Arms under him.

I will not repeat to you all the Converſations I had with Julia, whom I ſaw and entertained every day with all facility, as often as Marcellus left her liberty; or when ſhe was not engaged in the Company of ſo many great Princeſſes as ſilently ſighed at her feet, and whoſe ſighs (though her chiefeſt affectionr were for Marcellus) were not diſagreeable to her. As ſhe was indued with a very excellent wit, ſo our Converſations were pleaſant, and meerly ingenious; and for that reaſon having diſcourſed with her one day upon a very ſubtile Subject, ſhe told me, that Marcellus could have no cauſe to be jealous, if ſhe had ſome affection for a man whoſe Soul ſhe loved, and who did not pretend to any thing that concerned the body.

But it may be you will ask me, what I conceive of her thoughts for Marcellus? And as for that, I will tell you as far as I can judge, That certainly the Prince alwayes poſſeſſes the ſupream place in her heart above all others who have onely made attempts; and the real foundation of love, which, it may be, is in her Soul, is for him only, to the prejudice of all the reſt; and yet 'tis true, that ſhe is no lover of conſtraint, nor is ſhe willing to be bound up to him by ſuch an exact and rigous fidelity, but that ſhe may be permitted to let her mind a little range towards thoſe objects which might pleaſe her; yet ſhe alwayes reflects upon the former paſſion, which hath the deepeſt foundation, and I believe too that ſhe would never abſolutely flie from it, but would confine all her inclinations to the merits of that brave Prince, if love only without any other intereſt, had been the cauſe of their Engagement; and if the Emperor had not interpoſed his Authority and Endeavours to tye up their affection, with a Deſign to unite them by Marriage. So certain it is, that Love is an Enemy to every thing that wears but the Vizard of Tyranny, and it will act with liberty it ſelf though it deſtroy all liberty beſides its own. To this purpoſe one day when ſhe had had ſome Quarrel with Marcellus, who could not chooſe but give her ſome Teſtimonies of Jealouſie, which he had ground enough for; I remember that ſhe ſaid to me: Do you ſee, Ovid, I would not have you doubt but that I really eſteem & love Marcellus, whoſe Perſon, ſervices and Qualities, do well deſerve my affection; and I ſhall diſpoſe my ſelf without repugnance to receive him for my Husband, when the Emperor ſhall command me; but I would not engage my ſelf ſo before hand, but that I would reſerve a liberty to my ſelf to eſteem what is eſtimable; and yet I preſerve amity enough for him though I diſpenſe with my ſelf in beſtowing a little good-will upon Ovid.

You may believe that when I heard her diſcourſe to this purpoſe, I anſwered her rather according to mine own intereſt, than to reaſon; and though I thought that her proceedings towards Marcellus were not juſtifiable, yet I did not ſpeak my thoughts to divert her from them, but rather made uſe of all the Arguments I could, to perſwade her that ſhe might ſhew ſome goodneſs to me, without doing any injuſtice to a man who muſt one day be ſo happy.

It hapned in the mean time, that the Prince, who is of a piercing wit, being prepoſſeſſed with divers proofs of the Princeſſes humor, took notice that ſhe carried her ſelf more familiarly towards me than ſhe had been wont to do; that I was more frequently with her, and that her looks were more favourable to me, than probably they ſhould have been, meerly out of good-will. At firſt he made a kind of a Jeſt of it, and not judging me to be ſo redoubtable a Rival, as to cauſe him any trouble, he contented himſelf to queſtion me ſometimes upon the opinion he had of my good Fortune, and ſeeing me return one day from the Princeſs, and paſs cloſe by him: Ovid, ſaid he to me ſmiling, and in a pleaſant way, I ſhall begin to be jealous of you, and you do not dream that; if you are more happy than I, we ſhall [Page] have occaſion to quarrel with each other. He ſpake theſe words with ſuch an aire, as made me judge that they were not ſeriouſly ſpoken, and receiving them with all due reſpect: ‘ſuch Princes as Marcellus is, anſwered I withas pleaſant acountenance as his, are ſecure from ſuch rivals as Ovid is;’ 'tis for that reaſon, that they confidently make themſelves ſport with thoſe who cannot aſpire any higher than a mean Fortune. You may merit enough, replied Marcellus, to make me jealous, but you are too much my friend to wiſh me any harm. I anſwered this obliging diſcourſe with due civility and reſpect, as I did divers other Jeſts he put upon me afterwards to the ſame purpoſe, and once in the Princeſſes preſence, with whom having found me in private Diſcourſe; Madam, ſaid he, You cannot better expreſs the excellency of your own wit, than by the eſteem you have of Ovids ingenuity; but 'tis to be feared, continued he with a ſmile, that a man who treats ſo dextrouſly and ſubtilly concerning Love, may inſpire ſenſe of it into a heart which doth not ſtand upon its guard. ‘Perhaps, you mean to jear us, anſwered Julia, in a very pleaſant manner; Yes, Madam, ſaid I, interrupting her, and preventing what ſhe would have added further, the Prince doth mean to laugh at us, and doth really make himſelf merry with us; but we muſt ſubmit to his raillery, and I am not ſorry that I contribute to his divertiſment.’

Marcellus made a Reply to theſe words with a great deal of ſweetneſs and civility; but a few dayes after thinking that he obſerved more than he deſired upon divers Accounts, by little and little he left off his raillery, and began to look upon me with more coldneſs than before; and truly I could not blame him for it, knowing very well, that though he was of a ſpirit infinitely rational, yet Julia's humor might give him occaſion enough to exerciſe all his patience: His mind was exaſperated by the private Addreſſes of Caius Druſus, and the complacency the Princeſs expreſſed in relation to his paſſion; and poſſibly meditated upon that which afterwards he diſcovered, when, without having any Deſign to do it, I cauſed him to receive a very ſenſible diſpleaſure, and was like to have expoſed my ſelf to one, Though ſome perſons are acquainted with it, I ſuppoſe it is not as yet come to your knowledge.

Julia, as you know, was wont to be viſited every Evening by great ſtore of Company, loving ſociety and divertiſement the moſt of any perſon in the World. One Night, by reaſon of ſome indiſpoſition ſhe had, ſhe would not be ſeen by any body; but being gone to Bed, ſhe ſent word to all thoſe that came to her Chamber-door, that ſhe was retired. Marcellus had often ſeen her in that condition, having reaſon to have a priviledge above all other perſons; but that Evening coming to her Chamber-door, Julia cauſed him to be told, as ſhe did others, That ſhe was ill, and deſired to be left to her Repoſe that Night. Marcellus went his way more afflicted at the Princeſſes indiſpoſition, than troubled at the Repulſe, and went to paſs the Evening with the Emperor. In the meantime, as Fortune would have it, I came into Julia's Anti-chamber, where being informed by Phebe of her indiſpoſition, I prayed her to go into the Chamber, and to take the pains to bring me News of the preſent eſtate of her health. The Princeſs, whether it were that ſhe found her ſelf at that preſent in a better condition than ſhe had done ſome hours before, or that ſhe thought that ſhe ſhould be leſs incommodated with my preſence than with any bodies elſe, by whom ſhe might have been obliged to a greater conſtraint, underſtanding by Phebe that I was at her Chamber-door, ſhe commanded her to bring me in.

You may judge how joyful I was to ſee my ſelf ſo highly favoured above my expectation and merit; I entred into the Chamber, and approached the Princeſſes Beds-ſide with an Action accompanied with the reſpect which was due unto her, through which the ſatiſfaction of my Soul might be eaſily perceived, and there by the light of ſome Tapers which were burning by the Beds-ſide, I ſaw Julia not only in ſuch a condition as I never ſaw her in before, but in a condition wherein ſhe might have made both Cato and Fabricius, and all the moſt crabbed Philoſophers in Rome, even to dye for love.

You know how admirably her Night-attire becomes her; but beſides that, part of her Neck being careleſly uncovered, and her Arms more than half-naked, being negligently caſt upon the Sheets, whoſe whiteneſs they far exceeded, diſplayed ſuch beauties to my eyes, that I could hardly ſupport the ſparkling luſtre of them; and I did ſufficiently expreſs to Julia by my Action, the Tranſport into which this ſight had put me; and inſtead of rendring her the humble Salutations which were due to her, I ſtood a few paces off from her Bed, looking upon her with an intention which viſibly expreſſed the ſuſpenſion of my ſenſes, and the admiration of my Soul.

Julia, to whom theſe effects of her beauty were not diſagrceable, ſmiled at my Action, and having let me alone a little longer in this contemplation, which rendred me mute, and without motion, at laſt deſiring to make me to ſpeak; What ails you, Ovid, ſaid ſhe, what makes you ſo amazed? Is it thus that you dispoſe your ſelf, to thank me for the favour I have [Page] done you? ‘Madam, anſwered I, diſsipating ſome part of my aſtoniſhment, the Favour you have done me, is as far above all the thanks I can render you for it, as the Divine beauties which appeared to my dazeld eyes, are above all compariſon, expreſſion, and imagination.’ This exaggeration did not diſpleaſe Julia, and ſeeing that I was fallen upon my knees by her Bed-ſide, and kiſſed the ſheet with a very paſſionate Action, after ſhe had looked upon me with an eye which darted out a Thouſand reſplendent rayes: This beauty, ſaid ſhe, which you commend ſo much, is not really, nor poſsibly in your thoughts, ſuch as you repreſent it to be; but as for my gooodneſs to you, you cannot diſavow that, without being ungrateful. ‘Your goodneſs, replied I, is as unlimited as your beauty, and you ſhould not be my great goddeſs, if your goodneſs were not as incomprehenſible as your beauty.’ All the goddeſſes, anſwered Julia, are not ſo kind; but whatſoever I am, I was willing to expreſs to you the amity I have for you, by an Action which poſsibly may occaſion me a quarrel. ‘I confeſs, ſaid I, that thoſe to whom this Fortune is denied, have ſo much cauſe to envy at it, that if I did not know that it cannot be juſtly hoped for upon the Account of any Merit whatſoever I ſhould approve of all that envy and jealouſie could undertake or wiſh to my prejudice.’ No body, replied Julia, can attempt or wiſh any thing to your diſadvantage, without my incurring diſpleaſure; and the good-will I have for you, is great enough to make me participate in any thing that ſhall concern you.

Theſe obliging words being delivered in a more obliging manner, raiſed ſuch a reſentment in me, as tranſported me beyond the reſpect which was due to Ceſars Daughter, and creeping upon my knees to the place where I ſaw one of her fair hands lying a little over the ſide of her Bed, I was ſo bold as to lay my mouth upon it, and fix it there with an Action full of ardor and vehemence. I was afraid that the Princeſs would condemn my boldneſs, when, to free me of that fear, ſhe laid her other hand on my head, and preſſed it betwixt them both, in ſuch a careſſing manner, that I had almoſt dyed with the exceſs of my contentment. I would have continued longer in a poſture, which, as I thought, was worthy of the envy of the moſt fortunate perſons; but Julia, who had cauſed me to be called in only for a moments ſight, and to give me time to give her good night, fearing that if I ſhould make any longer ſtay in her Chamber, it might be known, and give occaſion of complaint to thoſe who took intereſt in it, put me out of this rapture to my great regret, and after ſome words, as obliging as the former, ſhe ordered me to retire. I obeyed her with all the ſigns of reſentment that ſuch a grace ought to work in me, and went out of her Chamber ſo ſatisfied with this Adventure, that I could not contain my Joy. But my foot was hardly out of the Chamber, but I ſaw my ſelf ſurprized with the light of divers Tapers which came into the Anti-chamber, and with them the Prince Marcellus, who returning from the Emperor, was minded to come back to Julia's apartment, to enquire of ſome of her Maids how ſhe did.

Though, as I think I told you, I was not a Rival ſo conſiderable, as to cauſe ſuſpition and fear in Marcellus, and his Jealouſies were grounded upon other manner of perſons than Ovid, yet he could not ſee me come at that hour out of Julia's Chamber, where he had been denied admittance but an hour before, without ſuffering himſelf to be tranſported with a violent deſpight, and ſuch ebullitions of Choler as he could hardly contain. Perceiving that I was diſcovered, I was minded to accoſt him with civility and Reſpect, and bid him good-night; but he prevented my Diſcourſe, and looking upon me with an eye that ſufficiently ſignified his Diſcontent: I find, ſaid he,, that you are highly eſteemed and favoured, that can have admittance into Julia's Chamber, when Marcellus is denied. ‘Sir, replied I, this grace may better be granted to Ovid, than to ſuch perſons as may ſtand in competition with Marcellus; and 'tis very probable the Princeſs would not grant me admittance into her Chamber before Prince Marcellus, but becauſe ſhe may make me retire thence with more liberty; and ſhe is not obliged for my ſake, as ſhe is for his, to lay thoſe conſtraints upon her ſelf that might incommodate her in her indiſpoſition.’ Marcellus had hardly ſo much patience as to hear me out, and ſpeaking with an Accent full of Choler: Julia is too much obliged unto you, ſaid he, for the care you take to juſtifie her Actions; but if, as deeply injured as I am by her proceedings, I did not ſtill preſerve the reſpect I owe her, I would teach you in this very place in what manner you ſhould approach her; and if henceforward you look upon her otherwiſe, than as Ovid ought to look upon Auguſtus's Daughter, I will quickly make ſuch uſe of it, that poſsibly you ſhould not quickly forget the injuries you have done me.

This threatning of Marcellus's, to whom for divers conſiderations I owed all manner of ſubmiſſive Reſpect, did extreamly ſurprize me; but not being born with a Courage capable to ſupport indignity, I could not chooſe but return him ſuch an anſwer as ſuddenly came into my Head: ‘Sir, ſaid I, I know what I owe to Ceſar, and to him that he hath deſigned [Page] for his Son-in-law and Succeſſor; but I know very well too, that as long as I am my ſelf, no body ſhall do me any outrage, except he takes away my life, or puts his own in danger.’ Marcellus made no Reply to theſe words, having already turned his back to be gone; and poſſibly he was not willing to hearken to them, thinking that he was not ſo much Maſter of his paſſions, but that he might flie out more violently than he deſired to do in that place. I retired likewiſe very much troubled, and ſo netled at Marcellus's threatning, which I was compelled to endure, though I found it inſupportable to a man of Courage, that all that Night I could not ſleep.

But if this Diſcourſe hath acquainted you with Marcellus's haſtineſs, you will perceive by what follows, what the excellency of his Nature is, and you will confirm your ſelf in the opinion which you, and all the world have hitherto had, that there was never any Prince more worthy of the Eſteem, and the Affections of the whole World, than he.

I went the next day to wait upon Meconus, who alwayes favoured me with a very particular Affection, and I had an intention to make a complaint to him of the uſage I had received from Marcellus; but I was hardly in the Court, but the Prince came, and he had no ſooner ſeen me, but coming to me, and leading me to one of the ends of the Court, that we might be at a diſtance from thoſe perſons which attended him, after he had taken me by the hand in a very paſſionate manner: Ovid ſaid he, I am very ſenſibly afflicted at the folly which my paſsion made me commit; I know your birth and vertue may merit the eſteem of all the World, and you have Courage enough to repel all injuries that may be offered you: I could wiſh you might ſee in my heart how penitent I am for my indiſcreet paſsion, and how deſirous I ſhall alwayes be to repair that fault by all the opportunities that ſhall be offered of expreſsing to you how much eſteem I have for you: I entreat you to forget it, and to believe that the motives which induced me to it, render me more worthy of your pity, than of your reſentment. To theſe words he added divers others with ſuch a real freedom and generoſity, that inſtead of leaving any anger in my heart, he made me very ſorry that I had diſpleaſed him, and fully reſolved never whil'ſt I lived, to fail in my due reſpect to him. His intereſt, it may be, was not capable of wiping that impreſſion out of my Soul, which the Divine beauties of Julia had made there; but it obliged me to live in ſuch a manner, that he could not find the leaſt matter of complaint in any of my Actions; and doubtleſs I had done more upon that Account, if I had not known very well, that his Repoſe could not be diſturbed by any Croſs that I could raiſe him.

Julia, who ſaw me carry my ſelf after a more reſerved manner than formerly I had done, and underſtood the cauſe of it from my ſelf, approved of it, and expreſſed the more goodwill to me for it, though at firſt ſhe was a little angry with Marcellus for what had paſt. The Prince took notice that I was a great deal more reſerved than I had formerly been, and imagining the cauſe of it, he entreated Re divers times to live as I had wont eo do, and not to lay any conſtraint upon my ſelf for his ſake, but to believe that he would never have a jealous thought of me as long as he lived: But his Civility did not hinder me from carrying my ſelf with that circumſpection which behoved me, and though I ſaw the Prinneſs almoſt as often as before, though in my writings I chanted out her beauties, and ſhe permitted me to make it known, that ſhe was, and always ſhould be the real object of my Adorations; and though ſhe always treated me with the ſame goodneſs that I have related to you, yet I carried my ſelf ſo, that I believe that nothing could be objected againſt me as a reproach. I continued my viſits in the mean while to the fair & ſage Cipaſsis, whom, in ſpite of my teeth, I was forced to acquaint with ſome part of that which I have related to you, and I did more and more obſerve ſuch eminent vertues in her, that in my opinion there could hardly be found a perſon in the World, more worthy than her ſelf of a real eſteem and affection; you ſee Sir, the pure truth of the condition wherein I am, and have been in relation to Julia, proteſting to you, that I think I have not forgotten any thing that I conceive worth the relating to you; and they that would make the world believe that I have been more favoured than ſo, have done it rather out of a Deſign to do me a miſchief, than any way to gratifie me.

Ovid finiſhed his Relation in this manner, and Agrippa, who had hearkned to him with more earneſt attention than in all probability his love could permit, was about to ask him ſome queſtions, when Cornelius, who was no leſs taken with Candace, than Agrippa was with Eliſa, came to give him notice, that 'twas time to take Horſe, to ride abroad that way which the Princeſſes had taken, as they had reſolved. Agrippa, who had no leſs impatience than he to ſee them again, immediately complied with Gallus his deſire, and underſtanding that their Horſes were ready in the next Court, went out of the Chamber and took Horſe, being accompanied with Gallus, and a gallant Train of other perſons, who attended them upon this occaſion.

The End of the Third Book.

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA; OR, Loves Maſter-piece. PART. VII.
LIB. IV.

[Page]

ARGUMENT.

The two Princeſſes, Eliſa and Candace, being conducted by Clitie towards Tiridates's houſe, by the way meet with one of his Servants, who acquaints them with his Maſters death, and conducts them to his Tomb. Walking thereabout, Candace eſpies Britomarus, and ſhews him to Eliſa, who ſinds him to be her Artaban, and at the ſight of him falls into an Extaſie. She being recovered, they both break out into a loud exclamation of joy; but as Artaban is going to give his beloved Princeſs the Story of his Adventures, he is interrupted by a body of Horſe commanded by Tigranes, King of the Medes, who eſpying Eliſa, endeavours to perſwade her to bear him Company; but not prevailing, he attempts to carry her away by force. Artaban's danger in hindring him. The Convoy, that waited upon the Princeſſes, aſſiſt Artaban, and yet Eliſa is like to be loſt for all that. Agrippa and Cornelius with their Train, come in and end the Combat, whereupon they all march together unto Alexandria.

IN the mean time the ſad Eliſa, and the couragious Candace, in the Equipage we ſpake of, went out of Alexandria, and under the Conduct of Clitie, who thought her ſelf moſt knowing in the direction of their walk, they followed all along the ſhore, that way which conducted them to the houſe of the unfortunate Tiridates. Having no deſire to acquaint thoſe perſons who accompanied them, that they had any other Deſign, but only to take the Aire, they permitted their Chariot to go a very gentle pace, and Candace moderated the impatience ſhe had to hear News of Ceſario, out of the care ſhe thought it behoved her to have to conceal her intentions! Oh! with what ſweet hopes did ſhe endeavour to ſweeten thoſe ſorrows which had ſo much afflicted her? And how agreeably was her imaginations flattered with the expectation of ſeeing her beloved Prince! This thought occaſioned ſome ebullitions of joy which ſhe could hardly contain, and if ſhe had not made ſome difficulty to ſummon up all her natural Alacrity in the Company of an afflicted perſon as Eliſa was, ſhe would have made a part, of that which ſhe was ſenſible of, appear by exterior marks. Yet 'tis certain, that in all the thoughts that poſſeſſed her mind, nothing but Ceſario preſented it ſelf to her remembrance; and ſhe did not make ſo much as one ſingle reflexion upon the loſs of a Kingdom, which ſhe could hardly conceive any hope to recover. 'Twas ſufficient for her more important ſatisfaction, to know that Ceſario was living, and that Ceſario was not far diſtant from her; not thinking any other intereſts worthy to enter into conſideration with the life and ſight of her Ceſario.

Yet ſhe had not continued long in her delightful Muſings, but ſhe felt her ſelf agitated with cruel inquietudes, and knowing very well in what manner Fortune had been wont to croſs her when there was any occaſion, ſhe was afraid that by ſome effect of her implacable enmity, ſhe might cauſe ſome new impediment in the obtaining of that happineſs which ſhe had hoped for upon ſo ſlight a ground. Alas, ſaid ſhe, upon a ſudden within her ſelf, the courſe of my life is too unfortunate for me to expect, without fear, the felicities I fancy to my ſelf; and though it were certain that I had ſeen Ceſario without illuſion, and that I had no cauſe to fear one of the ordinary effects of a prepoſſeſſed imagination, which would aſſure me that Fortune hath made a Truce with me, and that ſhe had not raiſed ſome new Adventure to deprive [Page] me once more of Ceſario; yet I have ſo much reaſon to diſtruſt her, that I ſhould be a very Fool, if henceforwards I ſhould build upon any thing that is ſubject to her Empire.

This fear operating upon her imagination, drew two ſighs from her breaſt with ſo much vehemence, that the afflicted Eliſa, though buried as it were in her ſad thoughts, having taken notice of them, turned her head gently towards her, and looking upon her with a languiſhing ſweetneſs: Ah my fair Queen, ſaid ſhe, Is it for you to ſigh ſo deeply, and to ſeem ſo ſad and troubled, whil'ſt Heaven is going about to ſhew you a favourable countenance, and it ſeems that all the occaſions of grief are reſerved for none but Eliſa. ‘My dear Princeſs, anſwered Candace, I were too blame, if I ſhould not confeſs that my Deſtiny affords me ſome grounds of hope; but as there are ſome moments when this thought doth mightily tranſport me with joy, ſo there are ſome others, when I cannot chooſe but fear whatſoever adverſe Fortune can put in execution againſt me.’ You have little cauſe to fear, replied Eliſa, conſidering 'tis ſo little a while ſince you ſaw Ceſario; and that probably, in ſo ſmall a ſpace, and that condition you ſaw him in, he could have few occaſions to remove himſelf farther from you. ‘I deſire to hope ſo, added Candace, and I conjure you to take ſome part in my ſatisfaction, becauſe I hope one day to participate of yours.’ ‘Mine, replied the Princeſs, cannot be found but in the Grave; but let us ſpeak no more of that: if Heaven ſends you any real cauſe of joy, I love you dearly enough to ſacrifice a part of my ſorrows to your contentment.’

Candace upon theſe obliging words, hugged the fair Eliſa betwixt her Arms, and that deſolate Princeſs, howſoever ſhe ſtrove with her ſelf for her ſake, could not lean her Cheek againſt hers without bedewing it with her tears.

After theſe Careſſes, and ſome Diſcourſes which followed them, Candace deſiring to change the Subject, having looked upon the Princeſs with a ſmile: Will you confeſs to me, ſaid ſhe, the truth of a thing which I have a deſire to ask you? ‘I promiſe you anſwered Eliſa, that I will never conceal any thing from you which you ſhall deſire to know of me.’ Is it not true, ſaid Candace, that the effect of my ſuſpitions is arrived, and that when Agrippa conducted you into the Chariot, he did not entertain you with indifferent things? ‘'Tis true, replied Eliſa, that he ſaid enough to me to make me know, that the ſcource of my misfortunes will never be dried up; and that if he doth not counterfeit only for his advertiſement, I ſee my ſelf expoſed to the ſame perſecution which you ſuffer from Cornelius.’ My fair Princeſs, ſaid Candace, they which expreſs paſſion for you, cannot be ſuſpected of Fiction; and I doubt not but that Agrippa is very deeply ſenſible of the inevitable effect of your beauty. ‘I am unfortunate enough, replied Eliſa, to believe, that what you ſpeak of, may befall me, and by this ſurcharge of diſpleaſures, I ſee my ſelf more reduced than before, to the neceſſity of your counſels and conſolations.’ You may deal with Agrippa, anſwered Candace, as you ſee me deal with Cornelius, though certainly there is a notable difference betwixt thoſe two men; and I conceive your deſtiny to be much better than mine, it having beſtowed a new lover upon you, not only worthy to be preferred before Cornelius, but as illuſtrious too in regard of his great Reputation, as could be picked out for you amongſt men, and of as conſiderable a Rank as any man about Auguſtina. ‘That would afford me ſome comfort, added the ſad Eliſa, if I had a Deſign ever to love any thing again; but being fully reſolved not to engage my ſelf in a new affection, I am moſt affraid of thoſe men who are moſt worthy of eſteem; and I ſhould be leſs troubled, if the moſt inferior of the Romans expreſſed love to me than I am to take notice of it in the perſon of a man who is great in Vertue and Credit, and by his power in the Empire, may occaſion me a great many Croſſes.’ 'Tis very certainly reported, anſwered Candace, That Agrippa is very powerful with Ceſar, and by the Emperors permiſſion, he is almoſt abſolute in all thoſe Provinces which acknowledge the Roman Empire; but I never heard ſay, that Agrippa ever abuſed his own, or employed Ceſars Authority, to obtain that which he could not acquire by his own Vertue, and by lawful wayes: So that you are ſecure from that power which you might be aſſured of, and I almoſt durſt undertake to aſſure you (upon the report I have heard of him) that if he does you no violence by his Services, and the merit of his perſon, you need not fear any thing upon his account. Therefore if you will take my counſel, receive his Diſcourſe with Civility, ſo long as he keeps himſelf within the bounds of that reſpect which is due to you; and though you would not make him a lover, yet endeavor not to make him an enemy. If you can by your good conduct reduce him to terms of Amity, his protection will not be unuſeful to you; and if the King your Father, whoſe ſevere and cruel humor you are acquainted with, ſhould purſue you, as being provoked by the reſiſtance you have made againſt his will, and ſhould endeavour to put you again by force into the hands of the King of the Medes, Agrippa, without doubt, by his credit with Ceſar, might ſecure you from that violence, and all others which you might receive from the cruelty of Phraate.

[Page] Eliſa gave great attention to Candace's Diſcourſe, finding a great deal of Reaſon and Truth in what ſhe ſaid, and in the mean time the Chariot after it had paſſed a little farther upon the Sand wherewith the ſhore was covered, began to enter into the Woods, where the ſhade and coolneſs was more agreeable than in the beginning of their walk. 'Twas in this place that the way turned a little from the Sea, and betwixt the Wood and the ſhore there were divers houſes built, and amongſt them there was that wherein the unfortunate Tiridates made his laſt abode.

Clitie, who had taken upon her the care of finding it out, did not fail to take notice of an Alley which fronted the Rode, and advertiſed the Princeſſes that this was the place which they ſought for; but the better to conceal their Deſign, they thought it fit to paſs on, and continue their walk an hour longer, with an intention to return the ſame way, and to execute their reſolution as they came back. Candace could hardly prevail ſo far upon her impatience, but ſhe knew of what importance it was to her to be careful in concealing whatſoever concerned Ceſario. The buſineſs was done as ſhe deſired, and after they had ſpent almoſt an hour upon the ſame Rode, ſhe cauſed the Chariot to turn about, and returned the ſame way. Clitie took exact notice of the path, and as the Princeſſes, after they had made the Chariot to ſtay, were deliberating whether they ſhould go to the houſe, or ſend Clitie to enquire News of Prince Tiridates, they ſaw one of the Officers of that poor Prince coming from the houſe, whom Clitie knew immediatly, having ſeen him with his Maſter during the ſhort abode ſhe had made at that houſe. When he was come near to the Chariot, and Clitie had called to him, he knew her, and the Queen her Miſtriſs too, and as according to the effect which merit ordinarily produces, he had taken as great a ſhare as he was capable of, in the diſpleaſure of his Maſter for the Queen being carried away, ſo he was joyful to ſee her in that place, and in a condition conformable to a perſon of Quality. The Queen having cauſed him to come cloſe to the Chariot, that the might ſpeak to him without being over-heard by the Cavaliers who guarded the Chariot, and who out of reſpect, and their Maſters order, kept themſelves at a diſtance: Friend, ſaid ſhe, Wilt thou tell us no News of the Prince thy Maſter, and whether we may be permitted to give him a Viſit, and to have a moments Diſcourſe with him? The afflicted Servant, inſtead of returning an Anſwer to theſe words, let fall abundance of tears, and a little after forcing himſelf to ſpeak: Ah! Madam, ſaid he, with a voyce interrupted with ſobs, Tiridates is dead, he expired two dayes ſince in that unfortunate houſe which you ſee before you; and that love wherein he hath been engaged for divers years hath brought him at last to his Grave.

Candace was ſtruck with this Diſcourſe, as with a Thunder-clap, and reſented the death of this poor Prince with a very violent grief. Eliſa, who had never ſeen him; not being able to reſiſt the force of blood; and having much eſteemed her Uncle upon the Relation ſhe had heard of his vertue, was very nearly touched with this News, and joyned her tears with thoſe which the fair Queen of Ethiopia ſhed in abundance for a Prince to whom ſhe was beholding for her life, and whoſe merit was very conſiderable to her. Ah! Madam, ſaid Candace to the fair Eliſa, turning ſadly towards her, If you know how worthy this Prince was of your amity, and how deplorable his loſs is to all thoſe perſons that were acquainted with him, I aſſure my ſelf that you would beſtow a great many tears upon him. ‘Doubtleſs I ought to do ſo, anſwered Eliſa, but they have been ſo uſual with me of late, that the poor Prince would be little obliged to me for thoſe I ſhould ſhed for his loſs.’

Upon theſe words they continued a great while without ſpeaking, whil'ſt the deſolate Servant repeated ſuccinctly to them, what Arſanes had reported concerning Mariamnes's death, and the ſudden and the ſad effect which it wrought upon the amorous ſpirit of Tiridates. Oh! Example, cryed the fair Queen at this lamentable Relation, of the moſt firm and real love that ever heart was inflamed with! Oh Fidelity, pure and entire to the very end! poor Prince!—And upon theſe words, pity made the two Princeſſes redouble their weeping with ſo much violence, that for a long time they were not able to ſpeak. When they had recovered the uſe of their ſpeech, they enquired of the Servant how his body was diſpoſed of, and in what place they intended to render him the honours of a Funeral. At this instant, ſaid the Servant, Arſanes, who was the Princes's Governor; and whom we obey ſince his death, is employed in one of the Chambers of the houſe, in cauſing his body to be imbalmed to be carried into Parthia, to be interred in the Tomb of the Arſacides; and thoſe parts which could not endure the Voyage for fear of corruption, are lately laid in a Tomb which we are a raiſing for him about Five hundred paces hence upon the ſhore, where Prince Marcellus, who was preſent at his death, would have us leave this Monument of the loſs of our Prince. ‘Madam, ſaid the afflicted Eliſa to the Queen,’ ‘I ſhould not have Courage enough to go and ſee the body of the Prince my Uncle, and I am very ſenſible that I could not ſee it without a great deal of emotion, and ſome fear. But if you think good, I [Page] ſhould be willing to viſit the Tomb which they are erecting for him upon the ſhore, and to render there to his Manes the laſt Devoirs they can expect from the Arſacides:’ You have reaſon, ſaid Candace, not to be willing to go into the houſe, where all objects would be very doleful, and where, conſidering our viſit would be uſeleſs too, there is no need that we ſhould ſhew our ſelves to the perſons that may be there: We may with more facility and handſomneſs go viſit the Tomb as you deſire, and I will willingly bear you Company thither.

Upon theſe words, they cauſed themſelves to be conducted that way which Tiridates's Servant guided them, and paſſing by the ſide of the Houſe, they had not gone Five hundred paces, but they ſaw the Tomb, and the perſons that were employed about it. Arſanes had ſent for Workmen from the City the day before; and becauſe the work was plain, and without curioſity, 'twas almoſt finiſhed. 'Twas a Tomb of fair ſtone, without any workmanſhip, and upon it a Pyramid of the height of a man, upon which they had newly fixed an Epitaph upon a Copper-plate. The Princeſſes alighted before they approached that doleful place, and, taking one another by the hand, they advanced towards the Tomb on foot.

They which were ſtill at work about it, being moved with reſpect at the ſight of thoſe Beauties, and being advertiſed by Tiridates's Servant, retired to their quarter, to leave the place free to the Princeſſes, who falling upon their knees, waſhed the cold ſtone with thoſe tears which this ſad object drew afreſh from their fair eyes. After they had employed themſelvs a good while in this mournful exerciſe, and had wiſhed to the Manes of Tiridates all the Repoſe which his Vertue and Fidelity might make him hope for in the Eliſian Fields, the Princeſs of the Parthians raiſing her voice a little, but with a tone conformable to their ſad employment, Arſacian Prince, ſaid ſhe, receive that which a Princeſs deſcended likewiſe of the blood of Arſaces can at preſent offer thee; and ſince her deſtiny and thine, hath not permitted her to cloſe thy eyes, and to render thee the laſt Offices which thou mighteſt expect from the perſons of thy Family in Countries far remote from the place of thy Nativity, content thy ſelf, faithful ſpirit, with the tears which ſhe beſtows upon thee, ſince her Fortune permits her to do no more; and by the glorious example which thou haſt give her not to ſurvive the perſon beloved, ſhe hopes ſhortly to enjoy in the next life a ſight which was denied her in the former. Eliſa uttered theſe words in ſo ſad a manner, that Candace was moved with a freſh compaſſion, and riſing up from the place where they had kneeled, they caſt their eyes upon the Epitaph which was lately fixed upon the Pyramid, and there they read theſe doleful words.

To the Eternal Memory of a Prince, who had a ſhare of all the Vertues, though Fortune, and a Brother's Cruelty, left him none in the Empire of his Anceſtors.

YOu that acknowledg Love's Empires,

Pay Homage to the Manes

Of Tiridates:

Who renders the puiſſance of that goddeſs

More redoubtable by his Example,

Than by all his precedent Triumphs!

Tiridates Great in Birth, Great in Valor,

Great in all the Vertues,

Was greater yet in his Love,

Seeing that without the Aid

Of Sword, or Poyſon, or Sickneſs,

Love alone brought him to

His Crave,

And cauſed him to exſpire his faithful Soul

Having loſt the perſon

Beloved:

As if the perſon beloved and

Tiridates had been animated

But with one Soul, and

That by one ſingle

Thread, Deſtiny had cut off the

Web of both their lives.

The mournful words found ſo much conformity with the humor of the ſad Eliſa, that ſhe deſired to read them over divers times; and whil'ſt ſhe amuſed her ſelf about this lamentable exerciſe, Candace, who, on the contrary, endeavoured to divert her ſelf from theſe mortal objects, removed her ſelf ſome paces from the Tomb, and calling to mind the remembrance of her intereſt, which Tiridates's death had cauſed her to ſuſpend for ſome moments, ſhe meditated, as ſhe walked ſoftly along, what means ſhe might uſe to obtain elſewhere the aſſiſtance which ſhe had expected from Tiridates.

She had meaſured a few ſteps, when caſting her eyes towards the houſe where that unfortunate Prince lay dead, ſhe ſaw two men come that way on foot: and when ſhe could diſcern them, ſhe perceived that one of the two leaned upon one ſide upon his Companions, and the other upon a ſtaff which he held in his hand, expreſſing by his feeble and languiſhing pace, that he was not in good health; and ſhe had more reaſon to think ſo, when at a nearer diſtance ſhe might perceive that his countenance was very pale. But though it was [Page] very much changed, yet ſhe thought that ſhe knew ſome of the features in it, and the nearer he came to her, the more ſhe confirmed her ſelf in that opinion, not that ſhe ſound ſo great a reſemblance, as to ground her judgment upon it, conſidering that between the Age of Seventeen or Eighteen, and Four or five and twenty years, there happen very conſiderable alterations in a face; and it may be, ſhe would not have abſolutely given credit to that ſimilitude, if the man, whoſe ſteps were addreſſed to Tiridates's Tomb, coming near to her, and having rendred to the Majeſty of her countenance, and the condition wherein he found her, the ſalutation which he thought was due to her, had not ſeemed to have been very much aſtoniſhed at the meeting of her. He caſt his eyes upon her two or three times with all the ſigns of a profound admiration, and Candace's Viſage having ſuffered leſs alteration than his, he the ſooner perceived the reſemblance of it, and not being able to maſter the firſt emotions of his tranſport: O gods, ſaid he, ſtarting back a ſtep or two, Can it be poſſible that I ſhould ſee the Princeſs Candace! The Tone of his voyce, and theſe words, cauſed the Queen (who till then could give no credit to his imagination) no longer to doubt but that this man was Britomarus, who was educated in her Fathers Court, though ſhe had not ſeen him ſince he went out of Ethiopia▪ after the Combat he had had with Ceſario. The Queen hearing her ſelf named, confirmed her ſelf preſently in her opinion, and believing that ſhe could not conceal her ſelf from him: Yes, ſaid ſhe, drawing neer to him, I am Candace, if you are Britomarus. I am Britomarus, without doubt, replied he; and though your diſdain did heretofore do me ſome displeaſure, which almoſt brought me to my Grave, yet I know very well that nothing can excuſe me from the reſpect and veneration which is due to you, nor hinder me from offering you all the Services that you can expect from me upon thoſe occaſions which have conducted you into theſe Countries.

With theſe words, he ſet one knee upon the ground, and kiſſed the hem of her garment, with the ſame difference which he had formerly rendred her, when he was brought up in her Service. Candace giving him her hand with a great deal of ſweetneſs and Majeſty cauſed him to riſe up, and began to queſtion him about the condition of his life, and what adventure had brought him into that Countrey; when ſhe ſaw Eliſa approach, and believing that the Princeſs would have the curioſity to ſee the bold Britomarus, of whom ſhe made mention to her in the Relation of her life, and had acquainted her with the generous quarrel he had with Ceſario; Madam, ſaid ſhe to her, be pleaſed to come and participate with me in the adventure I have had to meet with one of my moſt ancient acquaintants: come and ſee the bold Britomarus, for whoſe Courage I expreſſed ſo much eſteem in the Diſcourſe I made you of my fortunes.

At the name of Britomarus, who, as Eliſa remembred, had a great ſhare in Candace's ſtory; the Princeſs was really ſenſible of a deſire to ſee a man, whoſe former Actions promiſed ſomething worthy of Admiration, and came near to the Queen to look upon him; but ſhe no ſooner caſt her eyes upon his face, but with a loud exclamation ſhe let her ſelf fall between Cephiſa's Arms, who by good Fortune was cloſe by her to hold her up. Britomarus, whoſe aſtoniſhment was leſs, and whoſe Courage was more undaunted than Eliſa's was, did not loſe his ſenſes as ſhe did; but ſeeming tranſported with a vehement paſſion, he ran to throw himſelf at her feet, and kiſſing them a thouſand times with an Action full of extaſie, he made Candace judge that Eliſa had a greater intereſt than ſhe, in meeting with Britomarus.

In the mean time Eliſa being fallen into a Swoon upon Cephiſa's Lap, who was ſet down upon the ground, where ſhe had gently laid the Princeſs, whil'ſt Clitie ran for water to throw upon her ſelf: Candace was not a little aſtoniſhed at this Adventure, and not being able to judge for what reaſon the ſight of Britomarus had wrought ſuch a puiſſant effect upon Eliſa's ſpirit, nor being likely to have any ſatisfaction upon that Account from Britomarus, who was fixed with ſo much ardor and earneſtneſs at the Princeſſe's knees, ſhe asked Cephiſa the cauſe of it, who being almoſt as much troubled as her Miſtreſs, had not the power to return her an Anſwer when ſhe ſaw Eliſa open her eyes. The firſt thing they beheld was Britomarus, and at the ſecond view the ſame cauſe was like to have cloſed them up again; yet the Princeſs ſtrove with her ſelf that ſhe might not relapſe into the ſame condition again, and ſitting up whil'ſt Britomarus ſtepped a little back out of reſpect, after ſhe had looked upon him with an unaſſured reſpect, Artaban, ſaid ſhe, Is it you? Are you dead? or are you living? Do my eyes deceive me? or do I really ſee Artaban, who I ſaw periſh in the waves?

Candace imputing Eliſa's Diſcourſe to a crazed imagination, had pity upon her, and deſiring to draw her out of an Errour, whereinto ſhe thought ſhe was fallen through the ſtrength of her grief: My fair Princeſs, ſaid ſhe, Artaban is not here, and I wiſh it might pleaſe the gods that you might as really find him, as 'tis certain that this is Britomarus whom [Page] you ſee at your feet. Britomarus, who till then had not had the power to ſpeak, taking a hint at Candace's laſt words: Madam, ſaid he, though I am Britomarus, yet I am Artaban too; and if under the name of Britomarus, I paſſed my younger years in Candace's Service, under that of Artaban I have bestowed the beſt part of my life upon, and have dedicated the remainders of it to, the Princeſs Eliſa. 'Tis under the name of Artaban that I return to her feet, and that I bring her back (continued he, beginning again to imbrace her knees) not the Ghoſt of Artaban to affright her, but Artaban alive, and Artaban preſerved from the waves by the ſame deſtinies which guided me to the glorious opportunities of doing her Service. Be not then any longer affrighted, my adorable Princeſs, at the preſence of Artaban, he returns to you with the ſame Zeal which your Goodneſs was pleaſed to pardon, and the waters did in vain aſſault the life of a man, who could not dye but for Eliſa.

The fair Princeſs of the Parthians, being perſwaded by this Diſcourſe to believe a truth which was ſo dear to her, could not reſiſt the motions of joy which took poſſeſſion of her ſoul, and diſſipated in a moment that mortal ſadneſs wherein ſhe had languiſhed divers dayes. The firſt thing ſhe did, was to lift up her eyes to Heaven, and afterwards turning them towards the Sea: O Neptune! cryed ſhe, How real art thou in thy promiſes, ſince I ſee my Artaban again at the Tomb of a faithful Lover! And upon theſe words all her reſervedneſs and ordinary modeſty could not hinder her from laying her Arm over the Neck of the proſtrate Artaban, and preſſing it with a more paſſionate Action than was natural to her: Artaban, ſaid ſhe, my dear Artaban, How joyful am I to ſee you again? And how advantagiouſly do the gods pay me for the tears I have ſhed, and the ſorrows I have ſuffered for you? The contentment which at that time abſolutely poſſeſſed her Soul, hindred her a great while from making any coherent or rational Diſcourſe, and her countenance did far outſtrip her tongue in expreſſing the conceptions of her mind.

Artaban being full of extaſie and tranſport, did not explicate himſelf with more freedom; and that great Bourage which was proof againſt the rudeſt Attacks of Fortune, and the moſt ſenſible Afflictions, had not ſtrength enough to ſupport with moderation this effect of an unexpected happineſs, and to reſiſt the motions of joy: But Candace having left them a while to their exclamations, and the firſt effects which ſuch a meeting might produce, deſired at laſt to participate of their joy, and throwing her Arms about the Neck of the fair Princeſs of the Parthians: Ah! my dear Princeſs, ſaid ſhe, How ſatisfied am I to behold your happineſs? And with how much real joy do I reſent the effect of thoſe promiſes which I alwayes made you? Will you not give credit another time to my Diſcourſe? And will you not believe that the gods are too good, and too juſt, to abandon the protection of ſuch a Princeſs as you are? ‘My fair Queen, anſwered Eliſa, paying her back her Careſſes with intereſt; After I had the happineſs to meet with your perſon, and to obtain your dear friendſhip, I had reaſon to hope for all manner of felicity; and if Artaban be but as joyful to ſee me again, as I am ſatisfied in his return to life, as I owe the meeting of him to you alone, ſo he is obliged to return you Thanks, for having preſerved Eliſa by your ſweet conſolations.’

The Queen turning her ſelf then towards Artaban with more conſideration than ſhe had expreſſed to him at the firſt: What Britomarus, ſaid ſhe, Are you then that Artaban, whoſe ſublime Reputation fills the Univerſe, who gains ſo many Battels, who unthrones Kings, overthrows Monarchies, and makes Empires depend upon the point of his Sword? ‘I am, anſwered he modeſtly, that Artaban to whom Fortune hath given ſome advantages, which are much leſs conſiderable to him, than the glory of having ſerved the Princeſs Eliſa; and that Artaban is the ſame Britomarus, whom you, and the King your Father Treated with diſdain; who was puniſhed with Baniſhment for having ſo much boldneſs as to lift up his Sword againſt Cleomedon; and who, for all that, as you ſee, was deſigned for great things, and for a Fortune ſufficiently glorious.’ I aſſure you, replied Candace, I alwayes expected great and extraordinary things from you; but you muſt not think it ſtrange, that at a time when no body could foreſee the rank which you would advance your ſelf to by your Vertue, there was ſome difference made between you and Cleomedon: That Prince preſerves an eſteem for you, that speaks him no Enemy to you; and 'twas not without reaſon that you told him that you would render your ſelf ſo great by your Swords, that you might once more meaſure it with him. ‘I had that honour but a few dayes ſince, ſaid Artaban, and I believe that both of us do ſtill carry the marks of our [...]ncounter.’ Ah Britomarus, added Candace, Was it you then, that under thoſe Arms which the Lyons made remarkable, combated againſt him the other day in my preſence, and not far from this place where we now are? ‘'Twas I my ſelf Madam, replied Artaban, and 'twice in the ſame day we recommenced the Combat which was interrupted in Ethiopia.’ Artaban, ſaid Eliſa to him, intermingling with their Diſcourſe, If you value my friendſhip, and deſire that I ſhould eſteem you, you ſhall not only not be any longer an Enemy to a Prince who ſerves the Queen Candace; but you ſhall contract as great an Amity with him, as there is between this great Queen and I; and you ſhall [Page] ſeek for opportunities to ſerve him with as much ardor, as I have for the intereſts of the Princeſs whom he loves. Artaban continued ſome moments without making a Reply, and then upon a ſudden reſuming the Diſcourſe: Madam, ſaid he to Eliſa, the Prince of whom you speak, doth ſo worthly deſerve the eſteem and the affection which you would create in me for him, that 'twas by the means of my misfortune only, that the occaſions which I thought I had to complain of him, joining themſelves to a natural repignance without reaſon and foundation, made me reſiſt the inclination which his Vertue [...]ight have wrought for him in all the men of the World beſides. But though I had been a great deal more ſenſibly injured, the declaration of your Will is ſo powerful over my ſpirit; and the cauſe that gave birth to my firſt reſentments, hath ſo long ceaſed; that I ſhall render to you without any repugnance, the obedience which is due to you, and to that Prince, whatſoever he can expect from the moſt faithful of his Friends, and the man who is beſt acquainted with his Uertue of any in the World. Theſe words proceeding from the mouth of a man who could not be ſuſpected of any want of ſincerity and freedom, gave a great deal of ſatisfaction to the two Princeſſes; and Candace turning towards him with a countenance that expreſſed her contentment: I receive in Cleomedon's stead, ſaid ſhe, a conſiderable Amity, as that of the great Artaban ought to be; and I promiſe you in the behalf of that abſent Prince, that he ſhall anſwer it with a freedom equal to yours. ‘Though he be abſent, replied Artaban, I believe he is not very far off; and if he got off from our Combat, and from that we had afterwards againſt the Pyrats, in ſuch a condition as I did, I believe he could not make any long Voyage: But, added he, ſpeaking to the two Princeſſes, you know poſſibly where he is; and in the mean time I cannot ſufficiently wonder at the Fortune which hath brought you two together, and in ſo ſmall a time hath joined you in ſo firm a friendſhip.’ You ſhall underſtand that at leaſure, ſaid Eliſa; but in the mean while 'tis as juſt that we ſhould know from you, by what miracle you are eſcaped from the Waves wherein my eyes beheld you entombed, and where we had great reaſon to think that we had loſt you for ever.

Artaban was about to return her an Anſwer, when at firſt they heard a noiſe of Horſes, and afterwards turning about their Heads, they ſaw a Body of Thirty or Forty Cavaliers, who paſſed along the ſhore, and marched towards Alexandria. The Commander of this Troop had his Head unarmed, and only covered with a little Bonnet ſhaded with a black Plume of Feathers, the reſt of his body was clad in Armor, as were all the perſons of his Retinue. At the ſight of the Ladies he left his Troop, and turning a little out of the way where he left it, he galloped towards the place where they were; and he was no ſooner come to them, but having caſt his eyes upon Eliſa, and immediately knowing her, he remained ſo raviſhed at this incounter, that for ſome moments he could not either by Action or Diſcourſe expreſs the perturbations of his Soul. At laſt diſſipating his aſtoniſhment, O gods! cryed he, Behold, behold her, whom I ſeek for all the World over. Having finiſhed theſe words, he threw himſelf haſtily from his Horſe, and ran to the Princeſs of the Parthians.

Eliſa at the firſt was ſurprized with his Action, but ſhe was a great deal more ſurprized, and Artaban too, when caſting their eyes upon the mans face, they knew him to be Tigranes King of the Medes. Never was aſtoniſhment like to that of the fair Princeſs, when ſhe ſaw before her eyes a Prince, whoſe ſight, after ſhe had given him ſuch great cauſes of reſentment, could not but be very formidable to her; the man to whom the King her Father had given his conſent, the man that had eſpouſed her by his Ambaſſadors, and expected her in his own Dominions as his lawful Spouſe; and the ſame man, whoſe Ambaſſadors ſhe ſent diſgracefully back, after that ſhe was forcibly taken from their Conduct, and had declared her intentions to them. 'Tis certain, that at the ſight of a Prince ſo highly offended, and whom Eliſa could not look upon but as a cruel Enemy, the Princeſs was more like to one dead than alive, and had not ſo much power as to ſtir out of the place where ſhe was, nor to utter one word. 'Twas at that moment that ſhe took notice of the inſtability of Fortune, ſeeing that when ſhe thought her ſelf redevable to her for the life of her Artaban, upon whoſe death ſhe had beſtowed ſo many tears; and when ſhe was about to wipe away her ſorrows by an unexpected felicity, and to taſt of an agreeable change in her condition, ſhe ſaw her ſelf at the ſame time precipitated into the greateſt miſeries ſhe could apprehend, and fallen again into the hands of a man, whom ſhe was more afraid of, than all the dangers to which ſhe had been expoſed to avoid him, and under which, neither Artaban's, nor her own life, could be otherwiſe than hateful to her.

Tigranes plainly perceived her ſtrong ſurprize, and not being ignorant of the cauſe of it, he did not ſeem much troubled at it. The uſage he had received from the Princeſs, did certainly give him matter of reſentment enough; but having a great deal of reſpect and [Page] love for her, he believed that 'twas not fit to make any uncivil uſe of this incounter, nor intimidate Eliſa's ſpirit by a rough demeanor towards her, and ſo aggravate the grief which probably ſhe might be ſenſible of for this effect of her bad Fortune. He ſmoothed his countenance as much as poſſibly he could, and he had no great difficulty to mollifie himſelf before a Beauty which might have wrought the ſame effect upon Tygers; neither did he need to look far for humility, before thoſe eyes which might humble the proudeſt hearts.

In fine, reflecting a great deal more upon his preſent happineſs, than upon all his paſt miſfortunes, he ſeemed to expreſs in his countenance the change of his condition, and accoſting Eliſa with an Action full of the marks of reſpect: Be not aſtoniſhed Madam, ſaid he to her, at the meeting of a Prince, whoſe Duty towards you nothing can diſpenſe with: 'Tis not a Barbarian, 'tis not an Enemy that you have met; and though the cruel injuries, by which you have filled his Soul with deſpair, might give him juſt cauſe enough to complain, yet they have not expunged that profound Character of Love and Reſpect which your Beauties had ingraved in his heart. Though you turned away my Ambaſſadours, though you declared your cruel intention to them; and though, in ſcorn of my Services, and of the King your Father's will, and of that ſolemn Action which gave me lawful pretenſions to the poſſeſſion of you, you followed the fortune and the perſon of a man unknown, at the mercy of the Waves, of Pyrats, and of a Thouſand other Dangers; yet you have not ſo much injured me by rejecting my perſon and my love, as by the neglest you have had of your own life, in expoſing it to ſo many perils, only to avoid the ſight of a Prince who adored you. The juſt gods, in preſerving you from ſo many hazards that apparently threatned you; have been pleaſed out of their goodneſs to put you again into the hands of him for whom your Conduct was reſerved. Do not look upon him then with the eye of an Enemy, ſince he beholds you ſtill with the ſame eyes through which love made a paſſage to his heart; and be pleaſed that by freeing you from a condition, which doubtleſs is not conformable to your Dignity, he may deliver you from all the outrages that Fortune could do you, and ſettle you upon a Throne where you ſhall Reign not ſo much over the Subjects, as over their Prince. Doubtleſs heaven would have it ſo, that hath ſo luckily conducted my steps, to meet with you; thoſe whom your Birth might give ſome Command over you, have ſufficiently expreſſed that it was their intention, and I hope that you will not be repugnant to it your ſelf, if you permit any conſideration of Juſtice to ſucceed that cruel averſion, which I am bold to ſay I never deſerved, and which hitherto hath expoſed me to ſo many misfortunes.

During Tigranes's Diſcourſe, Eliſa having had time to recompoſe her ſelf a little, and taking Courage from the Command which ſhe knew ſhe had ſtill over his ſpirit, after ſhe had expreſſed by a look the thoughts of her Soul to Artaban, upon whom Tigranes had not as yet caſt his eyes, and made that valiant man judge, that the fear ſhe had for him was the thing that moſt troubled her: At laſt lifting up her eyes towards Tigranes with a more aſſured countenance than before; Tigranes, ſaid ſhe, I do not doubt, whatſoever cauſe of complaint you believe you have againſt me, but that I ſhall ſtill find you to be a vertuous Prince from whom I ought not to expect any thing but reſpect and ſervice; neither do I expect any other from you, if you give ear to reaſon in the complaints you make of me; and when you ſhall conſider that I have alwayes reſiſted the Teſtimonies of your Affection without giving you any hope; and on the contrary, have done all that poſſibly I could to extinguiſh all thoſe which you might have conceived, and that I did openly, and to the uttermoſt of my power, oppoſe the violence which the King my Father did me in your Favour, when he committed me into the hands of your Ambaſſadors, you will not receive as an injury the Declaration I made to them of my intentions, nor the retreat I pretended to make to the King of Lybia, my Uncle, with whom I might have made an honourable ſtay, till the violent humor of the King my Father was a little moderated. I did not commit my ſelf to Artaban's Conduct, neither did I follow Artaban's Fortune; and you your ſelf are not ignorant, that it was much againſt my will, that he was put into our Ship laden with Irons, to be conducted as a Priſoner to you; and that he was not freed from his Irons, till your men and mine had need of his Valor for the defence of their lives. I have ſince by good Fortune, found Sanctuary under Ceſar's power; they which command here for him, have put me under his protection, and at his feet I will expect my Deſtiny, without undertaking any longer Voyages, till it ſhall pleaſe the gods, and the King my Father; to aſſure the condition of my life. ‘The King your Father, replied Tigranes, will never like it that you have choſen your retreat amongſt his Enemies;’ the Empire of the Romans, and that of the Parthians, are too oppoſite, and they have had too many bloody Conteſts for you ever to think to perſwade the King of the Parthians, to permit the Emperor of the Romans to diſpoſe of his Family: But though it ſhould fall out ſo, I will never truſt my Rights to any mans diſpoſing; and ſeeing that by the will of the gods, and the conſent of the King your Father, you are my lawful Wife, I ought not to endure that you ſhould beg for Refuge, who [Page] may offer it to others; nor ſeek for protection from any Forraign Power ſince you your ſelf have abſolute command over a great Kingdom, which acknowledges you for its Queen. I ſhould be, anſwered Eliſa, your lawful Wife indeed, as you pretend, if together with the will of the gods, and the conſent of the King my Father, which you alledg, you could have gotten mine too, that was more neceſſary for you than the other, to make you my Husband, and without my will there is no power can make you ſo. The Action, replied Tigranes, was too Authentick not to be known, and no man will wonder, if I take poſſeſſion of that which belongs to me whereſoever I can find it.

Upon theſe words drawing near to her, he took her by the Arm, and though ſhe made reſiſtance, he did what he could to lead her towards his Troop.

Artaban, who till then had hearkned to their Diſcourſe, expecting what concluſion they would make, grew altogether impatient at this Action; and though he knew very well that being alone unarmed, and feeble after his wounds, as he was, he could not ſhew himſelf to Tigranes, without expoſing himſelf to an apparent death; yet he cloſed his eyes againſt all the conſiderations of danger, and preſenting himſelf to Tigranes with that great Courage which nothing could ever daunt: Stay Tigranes, ſaid he, and do not think to do Eliſa any violence, as long as Artaban lives.

The King of the Medes had been till then ſo taken up with the unexpected meeting of Eliſa, that he had not ſo much as caſt his eyes upon thoſe that accompanied her; and Artaban being on foot without Arms, or any thing that might attract the ſight of a man which was ſtrongly fixed upon other Objects, Tigranes took no notice of him: but he had no ſooner ſpoken, nor appeared beſore the King, who for very great reaſons had alwayes his Idea preſent in his memory; but not withſtanding the condition wherein he ſaw him, and the change of his countenance, he immediately knew him. The fire doth not more ſuddenly ſeize upon the moſt combuſtible ſubſtance, than Tigranes's Choler was inkindled in his offended ſpirit, all the injuries that he had received from Artaban, by his deſerting of his Party, by taking of him Priſoner, by the loſs of his Kingdom, and of his Eliſa too; for which he accuſed none but him, came in a moment into his memory, and made him imagine that the gods had taken care of his love and vengeance both at once. He was reſolved to neglect neither of them, and being inflamed with all the indignation that his reſentment and jealouſie could inſpire him with, he quitted the Princeſs, and approaching his bold Rival with eyes ſparkling with fury, and a garb-compoſed of terror: What, inſolent man, ſaid he, when I believed that the Waves and Fortune had ſnatched thee from my too juſt vengeance, doſt thou come to preſent thy ſelf to it, and to ſeck a death which thou mighteſt avoid by ſhunning the ſight of a Prince whom thou haſt ſo unworthily wronged? ‘Tigranes, replied Artaban, Thou knoweſt very well that tis not my cuſtom to flie from inraged Kings, and that ſometimes I make Kings ſenſible of the deſtiny of other men, when we decide our quarrels by the Sword.’

Artaban had hardly made an end of theſe words, but Tigranes, who at another time would have been afraid of that formidable Arm, being ſo well acquainted with it, truſting at preſent to the number of his men, who ſeeing his Action a few paces off, could quickly come in to his aſſiſtance; and in Artaban's weakneſs, which appeared in his face, drew his Sword, and fell upon him full of fury; the Cavaliers of his Troop ſeeing his Action from the place where they were, ran at full ſpeed to ſecond him; but before they came to him, Artaban having put by a thruſt which Tigranes made at him, gave him ſuch an eſſectual blow upon the Head, that notwithſtanding the weakneſs of the Arm which at that time could not act with its ordinary force, Tigranes not being able to ſupport the weight of it, ſtaggered two or three ſteps, and fell upon the Sand. Artaban had not time to rejoyce at this lucky blow, and ſeeing at the ſame inſtant Thirty or Forty Cavaliers fall in upon him at full ſpeed, though he thought his life was near a period; yet being reſolved to make his Enemies buy it with ſome of their blood, he threw himſelf with the ſmall ſtrength he had behind Tiridates's Tomb, to avoid the ſhock of the Horſes.

The Cavaliers being vexed at the fall of their King, and having put on their Horſes at full ſpeed, ran a good way beyond the Tomb, and before they had ſtopped, and wheeled about to return to him, by the aid of his Squire he was gotten upon the Tomb, and leaning his back againſt the Pyramid where the Epitaph of Tiridates was faſtned; he put himſelf into a poſture to ſtop the firſt that ſhould come within the length of his Sword.

This was a very remarkable thing, that the manſion of death ſhould ſerve for a Sanctuary of life; and yet 'ts certain that it was at Tiridates's Tomb that Artaban found his ſafety; for had it not been for the aſſiſtance he received from that, he had doubtleſs been run through Thirty times, and trodden under the Horſes feet; yet he could not have avoided the death which he only deferred, and though the firſt that came up to him received a blow of his Sword, which cleſt him half way down the face, and the ſecond's Horſe being [Page] ſtruck upon the Head, gave a bound, and fell backwords upon his Maſter; the reſt being full of deſire to revenge their King, and aſhamed of the reſiſtance that a ſingle man could make againſt them, they incompaſſed the Tomb, and would have quickly found means to diſpatch Artaban with a Thouſand wounds; and at the ſame time Tigranes, who was only aſtonied, being got up again with the aſſiſtance of two or three of his men, and having remounted his Horſe, was going without doubt to execute his vengeance, when the Horſe-men, who by the order of Agrippa and Cornelius, guarded the Princeſſes, and out of reſpect, had kept at a diſtance, to leave them liberty to diſcourſe, being drawn thither by their outcryes, and incited by their tears and intreaties, made towards the Tomb at full ſpeed, with intention to ſuccour that valiant man, who being alone diſputed his life againſt ſo great a Number. Being immediately ingaged; they diſpatched the moſt eager of them; and the Medes ſeeing ſuch an unexpected-ſuccour come in to him that they aſſaulted, and being afraid that the Number of his aſſiſtants was greater than indeed it was, retired from about the Tomb, and rallied about their King, to receive the ſhock of theſe new Enemies.

When Tigranes had viewed them, and ſaw them weaker in Number than his men, he charged them with a great deal of Choler; and the others, who were reſolved to execute the orders which they had received from Agrippa and Cornelius, and knew very well, that without incurring their indignation, they could not deſert the deſence of the Princeſſes; they couragiouſly oppoſed the Medes, and with the firſt blows that were given, two men of each party fell.

But Artaban no ſooner ſaw them at a diſtance from the Tomb, but cauſing his faithful Squire who did not leave him, to give him one of thoſe Horſes, whoſe Maſters lay groveling in the duſt, and covering his left Arm with a ſhield which he preſented to him, he got on Horſe-back by his aſſiſtance, and caſting a terrible look upon the thickeſt of his Enemies, he charged amongſt them with ſuch a fury, as did not ſignifie any diminution of his ſtrength. There was a neceſſity that Love and Anger ſhould extraordinarily animate him; for without their Aid, he was hardly ſtrong enough to keep his Saddle; and in the mean time Tigranes ſaw him fall upon his men with that fierceneſs which was ordinary with Artaban; and that impetuoſity, which was rather comparable to Lighting, than any humane thing. My friends cryed he immediately to thoſe that had ſuccoured him, If I cannot be abſolutely beholding to you for my life, I will loſe the remainder of it in the Head of you; and if you employ all your Ualor, I hope our Enemies will have no cauſe to brag of their Uictory.

As he ſpake theſe words, he let fall his redoubtable Sword upon the Head of the foremoſt and ſent one half of it, with a part of the Head-piece to the ground; they that ſaw the blow, grew pale with fear, and Tigranes himſelf as couragious as he was, felt an Icy coldneſs trill along his veins, and he was not ſorry when a party of his men preſſed before him to defend him from ſo furious an Enemy. Artaban calling upon him with a loud voyce, endeavoured to find out a paſſage to come at him, and doubtleſs he would have opened himſelf a way with his Sword, if he had been aſſiſted with his ordinary ſtrength, and if his body had been defended with any Armor, that might have ſecured him from divers thruſts that were made at him at the ſame time; yet 'tis certain that as he was, his Friends admired him, and his Enemies feared him.

In the mean time, Eliſa more like to a dead, than a living Creature, and Candace very ſenſibly afflicted for her ſake, beheld the Combat with all the emotion that a deadly fear could create in them, and ſent up a Thouſand cryes and vows to Heaven for the preſervation of their Defenders, Eliſa might eaſily have ſecured her ſelf from Tigranes by flight, and Cephiſa being not ſo couragious as ſhe, counſelled her to do ſo; but ſhe could not endure to be told of leaving Artaban engaged in Combat upon her occaſion, and choſe rather to expoſe her ſelf to all the ills that threatned her, than to the reproach of having ungratefully abandoned him. She had reaſon a few moments after to repent her ſelf of her commendable reſolution, if Repentance for a good Deſign could have found any room in her Soul; and Tigranes plainly perceiving that the Victory was not ſo Cock-ſure as he imagined, and fearing that whil'ſt he obſtinately purſued his vengeance againſt Artaban, he might loſe Eliſa, who might make an eſcape, during the Combat, after he had given order to the chief of his men not to let his Enemy eſcape, and had told them the place where he ſhould find him, he rode towards the Princeſs with two of his men, and making one of them alight, he commanded him to take Eliſa, and lift her into his Arms.

The Mede obeyed his Prince, and the fair Eliſa, notwithſtanding her exclamations, and all the reſiſtance ſhe could make, was carried from the place where ſhe was, and put into Tigranes's Arms. The King of the Mede departed with his prey, being followed only [Page] by thoſe two men who ſeconded him upon that Deſign; and Eliſa, who was not of ſo ſtrong a complexion as to eſcape out of his hands by ſtrugling, filled the Aire with her outcries, and called both gods and men to her Aſſiſtance. Tigranes held her faſt betwixt his Arms, and though with ſweet expreſſions he endeavoured to qualifie the violence he did her, yet he held her ſo, that it was impoſſible for her to eſcape.

Artaban, who heard her cryes, and turned his Head that way from whence they came, perceived, with a mortal grief the loſs he had, or was likely to receive, if he did not uſe ſome ſudden remedy: Great gods, cryed he, lifting up his eyes to Heaven, Will you deny me your aſſiſtance in this extremity wherein I implore it? And ſpeaking theſe few words, he began to cut out that paſſage which was denied him, by a fatal blow which he gave to the forwardeſt of his oppoſers in the breaſt, which inſtantly deprived him of life, and ſeconding that blow with others no leſs furious than that, at laſt he made himſelf way enough to run to the aſſiſtance of his Princeſs, and never debating with himſelf whether he might with honour deſert thoſe men in a Combat wherein they were engaged for his defence, he purſued Tigranes with all the ſpeed that his Horſe could make; but the advantage which the King of the Medes had gotten before him was ſo great, that it had been impoſſible for him to overtake him, if he had met with no hindrance; and he was gotten to the skirt of the Wood, before that Artaban perceived that Eliſa was carried away.

The fair Princeſs made the Woods to eccho with her exclamations, and her outcyes were not in vain; for they cauſed a man to turn his Head that way, who was paſſing amongſt the Trees on Horſe-back, and by the paleneſs of his countenance; ſeemed to be in no better condition than Artaban. This man had no ſooner ſeen Eliſa between the Arms of her Raviſher, and lent ſome attention to her complaints, but he underſtood the violence that was offered her; and though he was called another way by very urgent Affairs, and was in no good condition to pick a quarrel, yet vertue prompted him to afford that aſſiſtance which was due to a diſtreſſed Lady; and riding up to the place where Tigranes muſt needs paſs to ſtop his paſſage: Stay, ſaid he to him, whoſoever thou art, and do not believe that I will endure the violence thou offereſt. Tigranes being enraged at this new obſtacle, and ſeeing that he could not clear his paſſage with his Sword, without letting the Princeſs go, he ſet her gently upon the ground, and approaching his new Enemy with his Sword in his hand: Thou haſt ſought thy death, ſaid he, by hindering my Deſign. And with theſe words he intended, as he paſſed by him, to run him into the body with his Sword; but the unknown who had not yet drawn his, cloſing up to him, and ſeizing upon his Bridle, gave him ſo ſtrong a thruſt, that the Horſe mounting before, and Tigranes being a little intangled in the Reins, the Horſe fell backwards upon him, and almoſt killed him with the fall.

The two Cavaliers that followed Tigranes, inſtead of going to relieve him, fell at once upon the unknown, who receiving them without fear, though he had no other Arms but his Sword, thruſt in into the throat of the formoſt with ſo much ſucceſs, that it came out at the other ſide of his Neck; and ſeeing the ſecond ruſh upon him with the ſame violence, after he had put by with his Sword a blow that the other made at his Head, he thruſt his through the Viſor of his Helmet, and tumbled him dead upon the Sand. Having made this ſudden execution, and approaching to Eliſa, who had had no time to remove her ſelf: Madam, ſaid he, What do you deſire that I ſhould do more for your Service? Eliſa was about to return an Anſwer, when they ſaw Artaban come poſting in with ſuch an impetuoſity, as ſufficiently ſignified the paſſion which animated him. The countenance of the Princeſs expreſſed her joy at the ſight, and the unknown who perceived him, having asked her if this was one of her Enemies: No, ſaid ſhe, This is my Defender, to whom you have rendred a conſiderable piece of Service, by putting me again into his hands. ‘I will leave you with him then, replied the unknown, if you have no farther uſe of me; for I have not ſo much liberty as to ſtay any longer with you, if new occaſions of doing you Service do not detain me.’ With theſe words he was preparing to depart, when Artaban came up cloſe to him. They had no ſooner viewed each other, but one knew the other; and though the unknown had had ſuch great quarrels with him, as not to look upon him as a Friend, yet he could not repent of the Service which he had rendred him, and the Nobleneſs of his heart made him find all the ſatisfaction that he could receive by doing a good Action. Artaban was going to accoſt him, though the other retired with a great deal of impatience, when he ſaw the two Troops coming up to him which he had left engaged in fight, Tigranes's men being abſolutely reſolved to purſue him, and Agrippa's and Cornelius's men to defend him ſtill as they had begun.

At the ſame time Tigranes being recovered from under his Horſe, and mounted again, the Combat began more furiouſly than before; and the King of the Medes being vexed at his bad Fortune which had laid him twice upon the ground, and at the reſiſtance that was [Page] made againſt his Deſign, when he thought that nothing could poſſibly retard it, encouraging his men with his voyce and example, quickly cauſed the earth to be covered with divers bodies of either party. 'Tis true, he could not chooſe but be afraid of Artaban's approaches, and as couragious as he was, he often grew pale at the mighty blows he ſaw him give. And 'twas not without reaſon that he feared him, for if this redoubtable Warrior had been but Maſter of his ordinary ſtrength, and provided with good Arms, all the obſtacles he met with, could not have hindred him from killing Tigranes in the midſt of all his men; and as he was, he diſpatched two of thoſe whom their Prince loved beſt, before his face, with two furious blows; he cut off a third mans Arm, and gave Tigranes himſelf a blow, which gliding down his Armor, upon which his Sword did not fall right, hit upon his Horſes Neck, and gave him a great wound wherewith he was quite covered with blood, but almoſt at the ſame time his own Horſe had received divers hurts under him, and began to ſtagger, being ready to fall. Beſides the Number of the Medes far ſurpaſſing thoſe that defended Artaban, and they being ſome of the braveſt men of their Nation, this valiant man was ſtill in danger of his life, when they ſaw a Body of above Fifty Horſe coming from Alexandria, and preſently thoſe that fought for Eliſa, cried out with a great deal of joy, that 'twas Agrippa and Cornelius.

And indeed they were the ſame perſons, whom the good Deſtiny of Eliſa and Artaban had conducted forth to meet the Princeſſes, and having met firſt with Queen Candace all in tears, ſhe gave them a ſhort Account of Eliſa's misfortune, and the danger of thoſe perſons that fought in her Defence. Agrippa having rendred what was due to the fair Queen, and leaving the care to Cornelius to cauſe her to remount into the Chariot, he flew in like an inraged Lion upon this occaſion to ſerve the Princeſs whom he adored, and immediately ſeeking for Tigranes, as for an Enemy that would deprive him of that he loved, he had no ſooner diſcovered him, but he charged him with a fury that was fatal to the firſt that came within the reach of his Sword.

Eliſa ſeeing him do it, did not forget to entreat his aſſiſtance; but her requeſts were unneceſſary at a time when he was ſufficiently animated by his own intereſt though otherwiſe he had vertue enough to do, only upon the motive of his Duty, whatſoever his love could exact of him. Tigranes ſeeing this ſtorm falling upon him, and finding himſelf incapable to reſiſt it, got preſently out of the Throng, and underſtanding that it was Agrippa that charged him, he cryed out to his men to yield, and deſired to ſpeak with Agrippa. Agrippa, whom no paſſion could tranſport beyound the bounds of his Duty, ſtayed at Tigranes's words, and commanding his men to do ſo too, he gave Audience to the King of the Medes as he deſired. The Combat ceaſed almoſt in a moment, and all the Combatants drawing up about their Maſters, Tigranes on the one ſide at the head of his Troop, and Artaban on the other ſide with Eliſa, whom he accoſted, preſented themſelves before Agrippa.

Tigranes beginning to ſpeak firſt, and knowing very well that he ſpake to a man whoſe Name was venerable to all that acknowlegded the Roman Empire; ‘My Lord Agrippa, ſaid he, I know not what offence we have done you, to be treated thus as your mortal Enemies, and to ſee you embrew your weapons in the blood of my men, who have not by any Action merited either Auguſtus's or Agrippa's Enmity. Though I appear here in a condition unconformable to my quality, I am King of the Medes, and I do not think you would deal with Princes of my Rank, as with common perſons.’ Perſons of your rank, ſaid Agrippa, if you be indeed what you speak your ſelf, do not diſcover themſelves by ſuch Actions as drew our Arms againſt you; and not knowing you otherwiſe than by the condition wherein I ſaw you, I could not treat you otherwiſe, than as a man whom I found ſhedding the blood of our men, and violently carrying away a Princeſs, who hath taken Refuge between Ceſar's Arms. ‘The Princeſs that I would carry away, replied Tigranes, is my lawful Spouſe, whom the King her Father in the face of the whole World delivered to my Ambaſſadors after that the Marriage was publickly Celebrated: So that I cannot believe that either Agrippa or Auguſtus himſelf ſhould think it ſtrange, that I ſhould take her, as being her Husband, to conduct her to the Throne where ſhe ought to command. And if I have killed ſome of your men not knowing them, 'twas becauſe they undertook the Defence of an inſolent Fellow, who having no other Advantages, but what he hath acquired by his Sword, and what he hath received by the Favours I have done him, hath taken the Queen my Wife out of the hands of my Ambaſſadors, hath brought her by Sea into this Countrey, where I have met with her, and hath oppoſed the Deſign which I had to take her again as my own.’

Tigranes had ſpoken more, if the impatient Artaban had not boldly interrupted him: That Fellow, ſaid he, who hath no other Advantages but thoſe of his Sword, is the ſame, that [Page] wearing that Sword in thy Service, without being obliged to it by any conſiderations, preſerved thy Crown when it was ready to fall into the hands of the King of the Parthians, and that by the breach of thy word being become thy Enemy, ſhamefully chaſed thee out of the Countries which that Sword had given thee, defeated thee in a pitched Field, took thee Priſoner gave thee thy liberty, which thou didſt not deſerve; and ſeeing thee return again in Arms, vanquiſhed thee in divers Battels, and ſnatched that Crown from off thy Head which he had formerly ſetled upon it; if ſuch a man be worthy of thy ſcorn, and cannot boaſt of any other Advantages than the Favours thou haſt done him, I appeal to the judgment of the great Agrippa, who is ſufficiently known to all the World to make me believe that Vertue is no leſs conſiderable to him than the luſtre of a Crown.

From the time that Artaban had begun to ſpeak, Agrippa had begun to look upon him with Admiration; and not only the mine of this valiant perſon might cauſe the aſtoniſhment, and attract the attention of all that beheld him; but the great things likewiſe which hapned in the Empires of the Medes and Parthians by the Valor of Artaban, being ſpread over all the Earth, had made the name of Artaban as famous as Caeſar, or Pompey the Great; ſo that Agrippa, upon the Relation of his great Actions, divers times felt a generous emulation in himſelf towards a man, that in the Parthian Empire did ſo highly merit that glory which he ſought for amongſt the Romans. He had a hundred times deſired to be acquainted with ſo great a man, and not doubting at that preſent but that it was he, after he had viewed him from head to foot, with an Action that expreſſed the thoughts he conceived for him: If you be the Great Artaban, ſaid he, as your Diſcourſe doth make me judge, you have reaſon to believe, that a Crown ſhall not be more conſiderable to me, than your Vertue; and though I would not deny what is due to the Royal Dignity, Trigranes muſt not be offended, if I ſay that thoſe men who diſpoſe of Crowns are to be no leſs eſteemed of, than thoſe that wear them; and that ſuch men as Artaban being not ſo common as Kings are, will find amongſt thoſe that know what Vertue is, that which Kings can never expect from their Diadems. I will not only therefore aſſure you of Caeſar's protection and amity, but likewiſe deſire your Friendſhip, as a benefit of ſo high a value, as cannot be purchaſed at any rate.

Upon theſe words taking notice that Artaban was alighted, becauſe his Horſe was wounded, and was no longer able to bear him; he alighted too to go and embrace him; and Artaban, the moſt fierce and daring man in the world towards thoſe that undervalued him, and the moſt humble and ſubmiſſive to them that honoured him, and thoſe whom he thought worthy of his eſteem, received Agrippa's Careſſes with all the reſpect he could have rendred to Auguſtus, and looking upon him as a man, whom his Vertue rendred far greater than his Fortune: Generous Agrippa, ſaid he, Fame hath but done you juſtice though ſhe proclaims you to be the greateſt of men: and the honour you render to that little vertue wherewith ſhe would flatter me, makes it apparent that you poſſeſs it in the higheſt degree.

Whil'ſt Agrippa made much of Artaban, Eliſa was tranſported with joy at it; and Candace, who coming again to her, embraced her a thouſand times, participated of her Friend's contentments, as if they had been her own. But Tigranes was ready to dye with grief and deſpight to ſee the advantages of his Rival, and not being able to endure them any longer with patience: Great Agrippa, ſaid he, the eſteem you expreſs to Artaban, ought not to make me fear that you will protect him againſt juſtice; but leaving you at liberty to render him all the honour you can think him worthy of, I only deſire my wife of you, and do believe you are too juſt to deſire to keep her from me.

Eliſa who heard this Diſcourſe, was minded to prevent Agrippa's Anſwer, though ſhe thought it would be for her diſadvantage, and drawing near to him: ‘I ſhould have been Tigranes's wiſe, ſaid ſhe, if I would have conſented to thoſe violences which they would have done me in his favour; but having alwayes reſiſted them as my Duty was, and as I might well do, being born in a free condition, he never was, or ever ſhall be my Huſband; and inſtead of acknowledging him for ſuch, I deſire Auguſtus's protection and yours, great Agrippa, againſt the violence he would do me. Tigranes would have made a Reply,’ when Agrippa taking up the Diſcourſe: ‘Tigranes, ſaid he, you need not fear any injuſtice in any place that yields obedience to Auguſtus's Authority: and if the Princeſs of the Parthians acknowledg you for her Husband, and be willing to go with you, we will be no hindrance to you; but if ſhe hath no ſuch intention, we will not ſuffer any violence to be offered her in thoſe places where ſhe cannot ſuffer it without prejudice to Caeſars Authority, whoſe protection ſhe deſires. It ſhall be before Caeſar, if you pleaſe, that you ſhall diſpute your pretenſions; and you need not doubt but that he will preſerve your intereſts, if Juſtice be on your ſide. In the mean time we will reconduct the fair Princeſs to Alexandria, whither you are permitted to retreat as well as ſhe, and where you may expect, if you pleaſe, the arrival and judgment of Caeſar.’ Cornelius advancing [Page] upon theſe words, confirmed Agrippa's Propoſition to Tigranes; and believing that ſo much Civility was due to the Royal Dignity, he offered him, as Pretor of Egypt, what retreat he could deſire in Alexandria.

Tigranes ſighed divers times for grief, and could not conſent to the injury they did him in keeping Eliſa from him; but at laſt conſidering that he had not power enough to change the condition of things according to his wiſh, and judging too that there was a great deal of equity in Agrippa's procedure, he told him, that ſeeing there was a neceſſity for it, he would go to Alexandria, and there expect the arrival of Caeſar, believing that he would reſtore him his Spouſe, and not deny him that Juſtice which he rendred to all the world.

All things being thus pacified, Tigranes with his men marched towards Alexandria, whither, before he met with Eliſa, he had a Deſign to go; and Cornelius, though he parted unwillingly from Candace, thought himſelf obliged in Civility to bear them Company, and to take care of providing lodgings for them; and Agrippa undertaking the conduct of Eliſa, cauſed her to mount again into the Chariot with Candace, and though upon a confuſed report of the loves of Artaban and Eliſa, he already looked upon that great man with thoughts of jealouſie, he made the motions of that paſſion give place to Vertue, ſo as to render him all the aſſiſtances that were due to him; and ſuppoſing by the condition wherein he ſaw him, that he could not be long on Horſeback without inconvenience, he deſired him to enter into the Chariot with the Princeſſes, leading him as it were in Triumph over the advantages he had gained over his Enemy.

O how much ſweetneſs did Eliſa and Artaban find in theſe delicious moments, after ſo many tears, and fears, and dangers; and if Artaban was proud to ſee himſelf at the feet of his adorable Princeſs, how much was Eliſa ſatisfied to ſee him ſo near her, upon whom a few hours before ſhe had beſtowed ſo many tears.

Their mutual contentment would have been far more abſolute, if they had had the liberty to diſcourſe together; but Agrippa deprived them of that, marching alwayes by the boot of the Chariot where the Princeſs ſate. At this time ſhe endured his Company and Diſcourſe more patiently than ſhe did the laſt, nor could ſhe indeed look ill upon a man, who beſides the great qualities he was Maſter of, had lately rendred her Services of ſuch grand importance. He could not ſpeak to her but only concerning thoſe things which had hapned that day, and Agrippa following his vertuous inclinations rather than the motions of his jealouſie, continued to Careſs Artaban, and promiſed him all manner of good Offices; Artaban retaliated his Civilities with that Grandeur of mind which appeared in all his Actions, and in this Converſation theſe illuſtrious perſons arrived at the gates of Alexandria, and entred into the City juſt as the Earth began to put on her Night-apparrel.

The End of the Seventh Part of Hymen's Praeludia.

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA; OR, Loves Maſter-piece. Being the Eigth Part of that ſo much admir'd ROMANCE, intituled, CLEOPATRA.

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BOOK. I.

IT is time to return to our illuſtrious Heroine, and the fair Artemiſa, whom the violence of their Raviſhers had forced from the Generous defence of the Valiant Son of Juba. In vain had that Prince (as brave as unfortunate) ſpilt ſo much blood, and covered the Earth with the bodies of ſo many Enemies; ſeeing that whil'ſt he diſputed the Victory in the duſt, (whereon by the ſhock of a Horſe he had been overturned) two of his Enemies approaching, the Princeſſes (half dead with fear) had through the aſſiſtance of the trouble and agitation of their Souls, carried them away with facility enough. Scarce had they ſo much as power to cry out for help; and though the Princeſs Cleopatra was of a make, and proportion of body able to have impeded her Raviſher, had ſhe been in a condition of imploying all her ſtrength; but the confuſion whereinto her grief and aſtoniſhment had caſt her, had taken away a great part thereof; and the perſon who held her in his Arms was ſo ſtrong, and ſo well mounted, that all her endeavors were found unprofitable, and unable to hinder their diſtancing (in a very little time) a great way from the place of the Combat. Their cryes redoubled, after that the firſt ſurprize had paſt into a knowledge of their condition, and recalling their whole Courage, unprofitably beſtowed it on whatſoever they thought conducible to their liberty; Cleopatra was already almoſt confident of the truth of this adventure, and unable to ſuſpect any other Raviſher than the King of Armenia, ſhe ſcarce any longer doubted but that ſhe was again fallen into his hand; but ſhe received a more perfect intelligence, when caſting her eyes upon the face of him that carried her, ſhe knew him immediately for one of thoſe men ſhe had ſeen with Artaxes. Artemiſa alſo knew her Raviſher, whoſe face through a longer Habit was more familiar to her; and though ſhe knew him for one of the moſt truſty Servants of the King her Brother, yet (her inclinations bending rather to ſweet, than violent courſes) inſtead of making reproaches and menaces againſt a man who did her ſo unjuſt a violence, ſhe had recourſe to intreaties, repreſenting to him with tears the ſad eſtate of her condition, and the evil treatment ſhe had reaſon to fear from the fury of the King her Brother; to her ſupplications ſhe joined promiſes, and the hope of recompence. But both the Barbarians were inflexible, and though the Princeſs Cleopatra (approving the procedure of Artemiſa, as judicious on this occaſion) indeavoured to move hers, after her example, promiſing him for hers and Artemiſa's liberty, a Fortune elevated above their own condition; but the two Armenians (faithful Miniſters of their Maſters will) reſiſted all theſe offers with an invincible conſtancy; only they obtained that they might not be ſeparated, mutually hoping that each others Company would adminiſter no ſmall comfort in their diſconſolate condition,

The Raviſhers making their flight with a mighty diligence, permitted them no communication, but by interrupted cryes, and preſently they found themſelves at the Sea-ſhoar. Having traverſed ſome Sands whereby they might loſe the foot-ſteps which could guide [Page] thoſe that followed them by the Tract for their Reſcue, they purſued a long time the Seaſide with the ſame ſwiftneſs, until they arrived at the place where they had left their Veſſel. It was ſo well concealed, that 'twas impoſſible for thoſe who travelled the ſhoar to diſcover it; for the Armenians by chance had found a Rock, whoſe top advancing far into the Sea, formed a ſpacious capacity, wherein not only one Veſſel, but many might have covertly ridden at Anchor. They where forced to make a large Circuit about the Rock, ere they could arrive thither; nor without much difficulty could the Horſes be boarded, having marched more than a thouſand paces in the water up to the Saddle-skirts. Had the Princeſſes been capable of any other fear, than that principal one, wherewith their Souls were agitated; they had doubtleſs with paleneſs reſented the terror of this object, and trembled at the fury of the waves which ſtormed the foot of the Rock with ſo much impetuoſity: but life was not their moſt important care, nor that whereon their ſpirits dwelt; for they leſs dreaded the cruelty of the waves, than the incounter of the King of Armenia.

In entring the Enemies ſhip, they received many conſolations, which in ſome ſort ſweetned the Grandure of their diſpleaſures; they found not the King, whom they equally feared to meet; but learn't that he was detained by his wounds in a houſe upon the ſhoar of Alexandria, and that they needed not to fear their departure from that Coaſt, till he was in a condition of enduring a Voyage; and moreover, the Princeſs Cleopatra found in the Veſſel her Maids whom ſhe had left there, and who, by the expreſs order of Artaxes, (whoſe deſign was to render all ſorts of reſpect to their Miſtriſs) had received no evil treatment from the Armenians.

Theſe Ladies threw themſelves at her feet, their eyes bathed in tears, which grief and joy parted equally between them, not knowing whether they ought to reioyce at the happineſs of ſeeing her again, or afflict themſelves that ſhe was again re-fallen into that Captivity from whence they thought her entirely delivered. Cleopatra imbraced them with an exceſs of tenderneſs, and endeavouring to teſtifie in this laſt out-rage of Fortune the ſame Conſtancy which ſhe had practiſed in all the Accidents of her life: My Girles, (ſaid ſhe drying her eyes, that they might do the like after her example) let us expect from the aſſiſtance of Heaven, and not from our Tears, the concluſion of our Misfortunes; and let us hope that the gods (juſt as they are) will not long abandon Innocence and Vertue, to the diſpoſition of violence and oppreſſion. 'Tis true, we are in the power of a man capable of all wickedneſs; but his power is ſubject to that of the Immortal gods, who will not long leave his Cruelties unpuniſhed; and we ought in all appearance to expect that from them, which they rarely refuſe to thoſe, whoſe Misfortunes only, or the injuſtice of their Enemies, have reduced into the condition wherein we now are.

Finiſhing theſe words, ſhe ſhewed them the Princeſs Artemiſa, commanding them to render her the Reſpects and Services which were due to her Birth and Vertue, and the love of her Brother Alexander; they beheld her with the difference they ought, and offered to ſerve her as their Princeſs, whil'ſt the Armenians in the Veſſel (being aſtoniſh't to ſee Artemiſa) informed themſelves by their Companions of the truth of this adventure; and though they could not deny to the misfortune of this Princeſs ſome marks of compaſſion, yet could they not refuſe the ſatisfaction which they received for a Prize, for which only they had left Armenia, and which in all appearance might make them hope for proportionable acknowledgement from the King their Maſter.

There remained ſtill Nine or ten of thoſe whom the King had brought from Artaxates, there being no greater Number of Servants beſide Mariners; theſe ſerved the Princeſſes with reſpect enough, being unable to refuſe to Artemiſa (in diſgrace as ſhe was) that which they thought due to the Siſter of their King; and knowing well the intention of Artaxes, that Cleopatra ſhould be honoured amongſt them as a goddeſs, they left her the Chamber wherein the King lay, during the time of his Navigation, and gave them the liberty of entertaining themſelves, without troubling their Converſation, whil'ſt ſome went out of the Veſſel to advertize the King (whoſe Retreat they learned by one of the Officers of Tiridates) of the double Prize which they had taken, and to receive the Orders which he pleaſed to ſend.

The two Princeſſes were no ſooner at liberty to entertain themſelves out of the preſence of thoſe odious faces, but they threw themſelves upon a Bed, caſting their Arms mutually about each others Neck, and mingling tears together, began by theſe Careſſes their ſorrowful Converſation. Artemiſa appeared the moſt deſolate, both becauſe her Courage was naturally leſs firm than Cleopatra's, and alſo that in appearance ſhe had great Subjects of ſadneſs, having proved the rigor of her Brother, even before ſhe had rendred him the ſenſible diſpleaſure of her flight with Prince Alexander. She had reaſon to fear all things, and her knowledge of the Kings inflexible humors ſo lively repreſented the misfortune that [Page] threatned her, that ſhe was full of mortal apprehenſions; but though this fear violently ſhook her, yet the remembrance of her Alexander, was nothing leſs ſenſible; and conſidering how her fair hopes were ſhipwrack't in the Port, and how even upon the point, when with apparent reaſon ſhe believed to ſpend her dayes with her dear Alexander in legitimate ſweetneſſes, and in ſweetneſſeſs ſweetned by ſo many difficulties, one reverſe of Fortune ſo little foreſeen, had taken away all her expectation, and in probability had deprived her of her Alexander for ever; here ſhe had no Conſtancy, which bowed not under the conſideration of ſo prodigious a Misfortune; through the aſſiſtance of theſe reaſons, Artemiſa believed her unhappineſs greater, and more extraordinary than Cleopatra's who in appearance ought leſs to redoubt the preſence of a King, a Lover and Idolater of her Beauties, than that of a King irritated and furious; and leſs to regret the diſtancing of Coriolanus, whom ſhe fled, and whoſe infidelity ſhe deteſted, than the the loſs of her Alexander, whom ſhe loved more than her ſelf, and whoſe fidelity ſhe had never ſo much as ſuſpected. This opinion of Artemiſa was not without foundation, but ſhe ſaw not clearly into the ſentiments of Cleopatra, part whereof were kept in by the greatneſs of her ſpirit; and as ſhe was ignorant that the ſight of Artaxes a Lover, was more terrible to that Princeſs than the preſence of Artaxes an Enemy; and that ſhe was reſolved with more joy to ſee him again, his Sword in his hand, with thoſe funeſt deſigns againſt her life, as he appeared the firſt time, than to behold him in a ſuppliant poſture, repreſenting to her the violence of his love: Neither knew ſhe that in the Soul of this great Princeſs, the reſentments how great ſoever they were, and how juſt ſoever they appeared, were uncapable to eradicate an affection which (through the many tokens of her love to Coriolanus) declared the depth of its root; or at leaſt if they had ſtrength enough to take away all thoughts of recognizance, and all advantagious deſigns which ſhe had entertained for this Prince, whil'ſt his fidelity appeared to her without ſpot; yet were they too weak to reduce her ſpirit into terms of receiving a new impreſſion, or to make her ſuffer without horror the thought of a ſecond affection.

Moreover, how much ſoever prepoſſeſſed as ſhe was by that enemy, Opinion, which had deſtroyed all her joy, yet could ſhe not forget that which appeared to her eyes, both in the Encounter at Syracuſa, and in the Adventure of this laſt day, ſignifying the contihuation, or at leaſt the return of Coriolanus's love. She remembred thoſe paſſionate words by which he endeavoured to clear his innocence, and placed before her eyes that admirable Valor wherewith he fought in her defence, and (which appeared moſt mournful to her remembrance) ſhe could not forget how ſhe had left him fallen under his Enemies, and in a condition that with great appearance ſhe might imagine he had ſacrificed the Reliques of his life for her intereſts.

Though Jealouſie had been ſtrong enough in her ſpirit to place hatred in the ſeat of love, yet this thought of the death of Coriolanus, could not but become Funeſt to any Soul that bare the Image of Cleopatra; and though the infidelity of that Prince had been much more clear than it appeared by thoſe proofs ſhe had, yet was ſhe of too excellent a Nature to think him ſlain in her defence, without contributing to that thought, all that the moſt lively grief could produce in a Noble and acknowledging Soul: Ah! Son of Juba (ſaid ſhe within her ſelf, whil'ſt the grief of Artemiſa rendred her more uncapable than ſhe of all converſe) ſince thou art unfaithful (whereof I am not permitted to doubt) wherefore return'ſt thou to perſecute me both at Syracuſe, and alſo upon the Banks of Alexandria? wherefore endeavoureſt thou by new obligations to kindle thoſe flames which thy Infidelity would have extinguiſhed? wherefore indangereſt thou thy life in my defence? or wherefore (concluded ſhe with a ſigh) haſt thou poſſibly loſt it for my ſake, having firſt ſoyled it by the Crime wherewith I reproach thee, having firſt deprived it of that which formerly rendred it more dear than mine own?

Doſt thou envy mine Innocence, and would'ſt thou that I live a Criminal like thee, in receiving without acknowledgment ſo precious a Service, or that I live miſerable in ſuffering by this laſt of thine Actions the return of an affection which cannot but become the ſhame and misfortune of my life? Ah! Coriolanus, whom I have ſo much loved! Ah Coriolanus, whom I cannot yet hate, to what extremities would'ſt thou reduce me? what new Victory demandeſt thou over my heart? And for what reaſons (incomprehenſible to my ſpirit) comeſt thou by new Services to combate thoſe miſerable Reliques of repoſe, which thy Infidelity hath left me? after what manner muſt I live, if our misfortune hath deprived thee of life for my ſake? Shall I drown my ſelf in tears for a perjured man, who hath terminated the moſt beautiful affection, by the blackeſt of all Infidelities? And ſhall I only beſtow tears on a Prince, who having given me his whole life (excepting ſome unfortunate Months) came to imploy the reſt, and to pour forth the laſt drop of his blood for my ſake? The fair [Page] Princeſs ſenſible at this remembrance, could not overpaſs it in her ſpirit without ſighs and ſobs, as ſo many marks of her interior agitation; and, had Artemiſa been in a condition leſs deplorable, ſhe had eaſily obſerved by theſe exterior ſigns the cruel inquietudes of her Soul; Artemiſa was more grieved, but Cleopatra more diſturbed; and if the Soul of Artemiſa was leſs capable of comfort, that of Cleopatra had leſs repoſe and tranquillity. They continued together without expreſſing their thoughts by words, till at the defailance of day they brought lights into the Chamber. By the means of this light, they ſeemed to awake from their profound reveries, and recommenced their tender imbraces. Though Artemiſa appeared the more weak and unable to ſupport her affliction, yet ſhe ſpake firſt, and accompanying her words with a torrent of tears: My dear Siſter, ſaid ſhe to Cleopatra (for by this name of Siſter, Prince Alexander had intreated them to prevent the hopes of their future Alliance) ought not I to fear you will ceaſe to love me, when you conſider that I am Siſter to that cruel perſon who perſecutes you? Nay rather, anſwered Cleopatra, (interrupting her) do not you regard me as Daughter to thoſe perſons who have given to your houſe ſo juſt a Subject of reſentment againſt ours? Ah! replied Artemiſa, that remembrance which hath been able to do nothing againſt the affection which I have always born my beloved Alexander, is too weak to overthrow the reſpect I bear the Divine Cleopatra; and that amity which amidſt the moſt violent Subjects of hate, you have permitted to form it ſelf in you hath received ſo great an increaſe on my part, by the admirable qualities of your perſon, and by the intereſt of my Alexander, that all the reſentment you can have againſt me as Siſter to Artaxes, is uncapable of bringing any diminution thereto: Believe me, my dear Siſter (replied the fair Daughter of Antony) I know my ſelf more worthy of your reſentments than you can be of mine, and particularly in reſpect of my misfortune of having been the cauſe of your ſurprize; ſince you cannot be ignorant that they ſought me only, and that unhappily you are invelloped in my misfortune. I can accuſe my ſelf of the ſame thing more juſtly, replied Artemiſa, ſince I have been the only cauſe of my Brothers Voyage, and conſequently of all the diſpleaſures you reſent; But alas! without accuſing our ſelves further, ſince our intentions are moſt innocent, muſt I not receive a ſenſible diſpleaſure to ſee that the quality of Siſter which I poſſeſs with your Enemy, gives me no advantagious opportunity of ſerving you? And inſtead of being able to demand our liberty, and of all the Services which through my means you might hope from him, if he were more reaſonable, I am conſtrained to flie to the Empire which your Beauty hath over him to obtain ſome moderation of thoſe rigors which his cruelty prepares for me. Theſe words filled Cleopatra with pity, and locking Artemiſa in her Arms: My dear Siſter, ſaid ſhe, there is more appearance that I ſhall need your interceſſion, than that mine can be neceſſary to you; for, were the Soul of Artaxes yet more cruel, than it hath appeared by ſo many bloody teſtimonies, the Charms of Artemiſa are capable of ſweetning it; but if it ſucceed not thus, and that it prove true that I have any power over the ſpirit of the King your Brother, you may reſt aſſured that the whole adantage of my life ſhall be imployed in your Service, and that I will willingly overcome ſome part of thoſe juſt reſentments which I have againſt him, if you ſuppoſe that by this means I may ſweeten him towards you.

This is an effect, added the fair Artemiſa, which I have not merited from your bounty, and doubt not but I had been poſſeſt by fears far greater than theſe you ſee, were I not much confident of your protection, to which I hope Artaxes will have a reverend regard; but if through your means I may in ſome meaſure ſhade my ſelf from the cruelty of my Brother, and that our common misfortune deſigns our Journey into Armenia, doubt not but I will eſſay many things for your liberty, and poſſibly find the means to flie with you as fortunately, as I formerly fled with Alexander. This Name of Alexander ſo lively renewed her griefs, that it was impoſſible to divert the current of her tears; and Cleopatra, who could not condemn them, and who ſcarce could reſtrain her own, twiſting her mournful remembrances with thoſe of this ſad Princeſs, they ſank again into that ſilence from whence they had been drawn, and preſerved it until Supper was ſerved in.

Difficult it was to perſwade them to take this repaſt, and ſcarce (by the perſwaſion of Cleopatra's Servants, who threw themſelves upon their knees before their Miſtriſs, conjuring her with tears, and the moſt preſſing importunities) could they oblige them to receive any nouriſhment. They would not be undreſſed, but continued upon the Bed, where they were paſſing the Night in a moſt deplorable condition.

The remembrance of their misfortunes permitted not the acceſs of ſleep, and their Converſation interrupted by ſighs and ſobs, had nothing of reaſonable or compacted in it; when at the return of day (for it was the ſeaſon of the thorteſt Nights) their griefs began to abate ſomething of its former violence. Artemiſa, perceiving that the Princeſs Cleopatra, [Page] (who was turned to the other ſide of the Bed, what eſſayes ſoever ſhe made to retain ſome part of the teſtimonies of her grief, and to arreſt the courſe of ſighs and ſobs, which unceſſantly proceeded from her breaſt) gave her reaſon to believe that the interior miſeries of her heart were far greater than they outwardly appeared, preſſed one of her fair hands between hers, obliging her by this action to turn towards her: My dear Siſter, ſaid ſhe, you ſenſibly augment my diſpleaſures, by ſignifying ſo ſadly that yours are not inferior to them as I thought they muſt needs be. This liberty whoſe loſs you deplore, is a good ſufficient to merit ſome part of our tears; but this loſs which is common to us both, joined with my fear of Artaxes cruelty, which caſts me into mortal apprehenſions, and the diſtancing and poſſibly eternal ſeparation of my dear Alexander, is a misfortune incomparably above all thoſe whereof you are a partaker with me; had you the like addition to your affliction, I would believe you as unfortunate as Artemiſa; but your Soul being free, or at leaſt little touched on this ſide, you will pardon me if I profeſs that I have not believed your grief equal to mine.

The charming Cleopatra ſmoothed the way of her anſwer to Artemiſa by a ſigh, and beholding her with eyes (drowned as they were) whoſe ſplendor ſhe could ſcarce indure; How, my Siſter, ſaid ſhe, do you imagine that my Captivity alone compleats my Grief? And judge you that I beſtow not on Coriolanus, whom you have ſeen, it may be, dye in our defence, an equal portion of tears with yours for Alexander? If you conſult my thoughts, replied Artemiſa, you will be doubtleſs more affected than I thought you had been; for the marvels which I have obſerved in his perſon, during the little time that I have ſeen him, aſſiſted by thoſe you a few moments before related to me, of the great actions of his life, and Noble proofs of his love, makes me judge that you ought to deplore his loſs, at leaſt as much as I deplore my Alexanders; but after the Treatment you have given him in my preſence, and the complaints I have heard you utter againſt his Infidelity (whereof you have given me no light by your Diſcourſe) I imagined your Soul ſo over-charged, that there remained not the leaſt favourable inclination for him; and though you were touched with the danger whereunto we ſaw him expoſed, and whereof I my ſelf was very ſenſible, yet generoſity alone I ſuppoſed to be the cauſe, and not any reliques of affection. Generoſity alone (replied the afflicted Cleopatra) might certainly have produced this effect, and had my Soul never been touched with the leaſt affection for the ſon of Juba, or had all that which his great Services could have introduced been torn up by his Infidelity, to the laſt root; I could not have ſeen him in the condition wherein we left him for our intereſts, without ſuffering great inquietudes for his ſafety, and without expending many tears for his death, if my cruel deſtiny commands that he ſuffer it for the love of me. But, Artemiſa, believe that beſides what we owe to generoſity and compaſſion, the ancient and only affection which my Soul hath ever received, hath not left it tranquill enough, nor ſufficiently diſpolyed of all the tender reſentments wherewith it inſpired her; to ſee Coriolanus periſh upon my account, with the ſame ſenſibility I ſhould have for the reſt of mankind. By his Infidelity he may root out of my Soul the ſweet and acknowledging thoughts I bare him, and poſſeſs me with horror for his Perfidy, and caſt me into a reſolution of addicting my whole life to the conſideration of my misfortune, without ever turning to the remembrance of the tokens of his love, unleſs it were to render his Treaſon more odious to me; yet ſcarce could it intirely blot out of my Soul the Character of an innocent affection, which I thought I had with reaſon received, and which I cannot retain but to my misfortune,

But, my Siſter (added the fair Artemiſa) will you not tell me what Infidelity this is wherewith you reproach him, and whereof I have ſeen ſo little appearance in your Diſcourſe, and much leſs in this Incounter, and the laſt actions of that Prince. I intended, anſwered the Princeſs, to have given you a Relation yeſterday in the Wood, where we paſſed almoſt the whole day, and where we had this fatal meeting. I learnt in that place, replied Artemiſa, part of your Noble adventures, and you forgat nothing (as I believe) of the moſt memorable paſſages which hapned until the wounding of Tiberius, and the leave which Coriolanus took of you in the Garden of Octavia, and his departure from Rome for Mauritania, to conquer the Kingdom of his Anceſtors; it was juſt at this ſeparation that our Diſcourſe was interrupted ſo well as our walk, by meeting the ſleeping Prince, and to a leſs adventure, I believe I had never conſented to remit its continuation. Since my Diſcourſe (anſwered Cleopatra) finiſhed where you mention, it is certain you have heard nothing but what ſpeaks advantagiouſly of the love of Coriolanus, and would to Heaven that the gods had here terminated the courſe of my life; but in that part whereof you are ignorant (whoſe Relation I will no longer defer, if I have ſtrength enough to make it, and you patience enough to give this intermedium to your grief) you will but too clearly behold [Page] this Infidelity, which compoſeth all the misfortune of my life, and which I ſhould more bitterly deteſt, did I not fear that he who committed it, is dead for my ſake, and if this fear did not make ſome part of my legitimate reſentments give place to compaſſion.

At theſe words the fair Princeſs was ſilent; and Artemiſa, having not only teſtified that ſhe would hearken with attention, but that her diſpleaſures by this Diſcourſe would receive a ſenſible allevation, ſhe bethought her ſelf ſome momencs on the order of her recital, which a little after ſhe began on this manner.

The Continuation of the Hiſtory of the Princeſs Cleopatra.

IT is certain, that before the unfortunate Voyage, wherein the Fidelity of Coriolanus was ſhip wrack't, I had reaſon to be ſatisfied with all the Actions of his life, and even in thoſe whereunto glory ſeemed to pretend with the greateſt right. He alwayes reguarded me as his only mark; no! Glory it ſelf could not rival me in his heart; for he in ſuch a manner deſpiſed the powers which govern the Earth, and the offer which Emperor made him of the Crown of his Anceſtors, and threw himſelf for my ſake into perils ſo great and manifeſt, thatany one, leſs eaſie than me, would have been perſwaded of the grandure and verity of his affection. I can alſo ſay that I appeared not inſenſible at theſe proofs of his love, believing that the point to which it was come, and the vertue which I had always obſerved therein, might ſecure my acknowledging thereof without blame. So great it was and ſo true, that Coriolanus himſelf (reaſonable as he then was) durſt not demand more.

I had, ſo well as he, refuſed very conſiderable eſtabliſhments; and I had, ſo well as he, irritated the ſoveraign powers, without conſidering what I ought to fear or hope. It is true, his love made all the fortune, and all the deſigns of my life; and as I cauſed all my felicity to conſiſt in the knowledge which I had of his affection, ſo I made it the whole imployment of my thoughts to render him what I thought was his due, and to ſecond with all my care the ſtrong inclination which I had for him. Alas! how many tears did this true affection coſt me at that mournful departure? How many did it cauſe me to expend, during the time of his dolorous abſence? And what a Spring hath it for ever eſtabliſh't in theſe eyes, which ſeem not to have been conſerved but for this uſe only? What proofs gave I not to this ungrateful perſon of an inviolable affection and fidelity, when after the cure of Tiberius, I ſaw the perſecutions of Livia begin again, arming againſt me more than ever the whole Authority of Auguſtus? With what conſtancy did I reſiſt their flatteries, promiſes, and threatnings? And with what Reſolution armed I not my ſelf at laſt, when being reduced to the utmoſt extremities by the power of Ceſar, I feared not to declare openly, how much I deſpiſed it, and to tell him in terms which rather expreſſed the Deſpair, than Courage of a Maid, that he ought not to hope for more from the Empire his Fortune had given him over mine, which when he endeavoured to abuſe, I alwayes knew where to find, after the example of the Queen my Mother, and mine own Courage, a Remedy to free me from his Tyranny.

I was obliged to theſe bold words for an effect which I durſt not hope for, and the Emperor was ſo affected with them, that from that moment he proteſted, That he would never uſe violence againſt the blood of Antony and Cleopatra; and that if the love and ſervces of Tiberius could not overcome me, I was ſecure for the future from any thing that I could fear from him in favour of the Son of Livia. He punctually obſerved this promiſe, and on what manner ſoever Livia could ſollicite him for her Son, he would never permit them to employ any other Arms againſt me, than thoſe ordinarily made uſe of to gain love.

If this Juſtice of Auguſtus was pleaſant to me amidſt my diſpleaſures, it was nothing leſs unpleaſant to Tiberius; and whereas he but newly began to leave his Chamber, and would not in a long time be in a condition to receive an intire Cure, it had almoſt caſt his life into the ſame danger from whence it was ſcarce crept out.

He complained to the Empereſs, and accuſed Ceſar's change with more paſſion than reaſon, and did all the things that were poſſible to cauſe him to revoke the promiſe which he made me; but he attempted it in vain, and though the Emperor and Empereſs by intreatics, made many eſſayes to perſwade me, yet their only Arms were ſweetneſſes and promiſes, and I heard no more threatnings.

The Emperor was ſo much the more commendable for this obſervation of his word, having a few dayes after, according to his opinion, cauſes ſufficiently legitimate, to render ill Offices to Coriolanus, by the News which he received of the Arrival of that Prince in Mauritania, and of the Revolt of that Kingdom in favour of its legitimate Prince. At [Page] firſt Ceſar deſpiſed this News, not believing (what knowledge ſoever he had of the Valor and Prudence of the Son of Juba) that one man, without any other Forces than thoſe whom he could arm by his preſence, could do any great matters in a Countrey ſubject to the Roman Scepter; and peaceably ſubjected for more than Twenty years; but a little after he heard of ſuch beginnings, that made him ſomething doubt the ſucceſs, and that not only many Cities (having chaſed away, or devoured the Roman Garriſons) were fallen to his Party, and ſo given him the means of forming the Body of a formidable Army; but alſo that with thoſe Troops, he had defeated Fourteen or fifteen Thouſand men, conducted by Canidius, one of the Lieutenants of Volufius, Praetor of Mauritania.

Ceſar was moved in good earneſt at this News, and vowed more ſolemnly than before, the deſtruction of Coriolanus, yet did alwayes imagine that this Prince would be too weak to reſiſt the Forces of Voluſius.

But though the Emperor was vexed at this ſucceſs of Coriolanus's Arms, yet was it no diſſatisfaction to me. Albeit the luſtre of a Crown was incapable of adding any thing to the affection and eſteem I bare him, and I found that in his ſingle perſon, which I ſought not in the recovery of his Anceſtors Dignities. It is certain that having ſeen him depart to ſeek a Crown for me only, reſolving (as he would ſay) not to abaſe the Daughter of Antony to the condition of a diſpoyled and miſerable Prince. I could not without much joy receive the intelligence of theſe happy beginnings of his Enterprize, and too great were my concernments in his glory, to hear the recital of his brave actions, without taking therein that contentment which I ought. The generous Octavia (to whom I had deſcovered nothing of my knowledge of Coriolanus's deſign) believing ſhe owed ſo much to the blood of Ceſar, as to hinder her participating in the Counſel of his Enemies (having been alwayes very affectionate to the intereſts of that Prince) made me an excellent Diſcourſe upon this occaſion, and half-confident that I was not ignorant of Coriolanus's Deſigns, ſhe gave me thanks for not putting her diſcretion to ſo much hazard, between the reſpect ſhe owed to Ceſar, and the affection ſhe bare to the intereſts of Coriolanus, which ſhe believed to be mine alſo, aſſuring me continually▪ that what he had done againſt Ceſar, had not made her his Enemy; and that ſhe found ſo much Juſtice in his deſign of conſerving Cleopatra, and recovering the Kingdom of his Anceſtors, that it was impoſſible for her to condemn him.

The Princeſſes her Daughters; as well thoſe which were my Siſters by the Fathers ſide, as thoſe which ſhe had by Marcellus her firſt Husband, loving me equally with a ſincere amity, diſcovered their thoughts more openly, and freely, opening their hearts to me, they proteſted their hearty wiſhes were, That Coriolanus might aſcend the Throne of Juba.

But the Prince Marcellus their Brother intereſſed himſelf after another manner in the Affairs of his Friend, and although he made me a light complaint of the little confidence Coriolanus had put in him, yet he judged that his ſecreſie was an effect of his diſcretion, and the conſideration he had for the Nephew of Ceſar; he became ſo paſſionately ſollicitous for the ſucceſs of this Enterprize, that if the often teſtimonies thereof had not been amongſt perſons well-effected to him, he had run the hazard of drawing ſome diſgrace upon himſelf. Nor was he intirely exempted, for the Emperor who was not ignorant of their friendſhip, asking him one day what were his thoughts concerning the War of Mauritania? Marcellus (who could not intirely diſguize them, though reſpect laid a conſtraint upon his tongue) anſwered, he was more troubled that Coriolanus had incur'd the diſpleaſure of Ceſar, than he could be for the loſs of Mauritania. The Emperor found this Diſcourſe too obliging for his Enemy, and could not receive it from Marcellus, but with a ſrown; but a little after conſidering that Vertue had formed this friendſhip between theſe two Princes, and knowing Marcellus, too well to ſuſpect him of an intelligence, wherein there was any thing of baſe, he ſatisfied himſelf, with not calling him to the Council wherein they debated matters againſt his Friend, and went no further in any evil deſign againſt him, for his ſidelity to his Friend in both Fortunes; and here the Emperors great inclination for him, proved very advantagious to him.

Livia and Tiberius failed not to improve this occaſion with all their power, forgetting nothing that might perſwade Ceſar that Marcellus was not ignorant of his Friends deſigns.

During this, Tiberius viſited me with his ordinary perſecutions, but with leſs pride and confidence in his Fortune, ſince the hopes were loſt which he had placed in the Authority of Ceſar; but though his deſigns had loſt this advantage, they nevertheleſs received a conſiderable one in the abſence of Coriolanus, and hearing him daily declared by the mouth of [Page] Ceſar himſelf, an Enemy to the Roman Name and Empire, he hoped with great appearance that he would never return in a condition of obtaining Cleopatra to his prejudice, and that Ceſar ſtirr'd by the hate he bare him, would do him the greateſt of all diſpleaſures, by depriving him of Cleopatra.

Amidſt theſe hopes wherein he founded his conſolations, he rendred me very frequent Viſits, and as his ſpirit is marvellous quick, he forgot nothing that might advance his own pretenſions, or fruſtrate thoſe of his Rivals. What advantages ſoever Coriolanus had in Mauritania (though be bare them an implacable envy) were pleaſing to him, though diſpleaſing to Ceſar; and when the News came of his ſecond Victory, againſt the two Lieutenants of Voluſius, and of his taking many Towns, and the reduction of the greateſt part of Mauritania, it became a Subject of hope and joy to him, though of grief and revenge to the Emperor.

In effect, Augustus was ſo ſenſibly provoked by this News, that had he not found comfort in the aſſurances of Voluſius, who promiſed within few dayes to fall upon that young African with Forces whom he ſhould be uncapable to reſiſt, he would have given publick teſtimonies of his diſpleaſure. Nor could he ſo well diſſemble them, but that even to me he diſcovered ſome part, in terms ſufficiently ſharp, and I have heard ſince, that he was often upon the point of arreſting me for a Hoſtage, believing that he poſſeſt the better part of his Enemy, and ſhould have an infallible means, either to puniſh him ſeverely, or to oblige him to whatſoever he deſired, ſo long as he held me in his power.

In this mind he intended to have placed Guards upon me, and had done it, were it not for the intreaties of the Princeſs Octavia (for whom he alwayes preſerved a great reſpect) who was reſponſible for me, giving her word that I ſhould not ſtir from her. Ceſar, who had a marvellous confidence in the vertue of Octavia, was ſatisfied with this aſſurance for that time, and ſuffered me not to be at all worſe treated, though he was very much ſolicited thereto by Livia.

Marcellus indeavoured much for me on this occaſion; but the poor Prince was ſufficiently troubled for himſelf, and the inconſtancy of Julia gave him buſineſs enough. This volatile Princeſs had then caſt her eyes with too much concernment upon the young Druſus, Brother to Tiberius; and if the Emperor had not interpoſed his Authority in this quarrel, great diſorders had inſued in Rome, which was divided between them, according to their different affections, And as Marcellus comforted me in my troubles, he alſo communicated to me his own; but I will not inlarge upon his adventures, which you ſhall learn when we have more time, I'le ſpeak only of thoſe that concern me; and that I may not draw my Diſcourſe to a greater length on ſo diſtaſteful a Subject, I will paſs by things of leſs importance, to tell you, that at laſt the News came to Rome of the utter defeat of Voluſius, of his being taken Priſoner, and of the intire reduction of the two Mauritania's, with the Crowning of Coriolanus, to whom the Africans had re-given the Name of Juba his Father, which he alſo received when he was born.

I will not be large upon the Emperors reſentments, againſt which the Authority of Octavia could not ſo well defend me, but that I received order from the Emperor to keep my apartment, with a prohibition not to ſtir forth upon pain of a more ſevere impriſonment. Had it not been for the power of thoſe who protected me, I had not eſcaped ſo well, and I proteſt I with eaſe enough indured this reſtraint, for the ſweetneſs ſake of its cauſe: In effect, I could not behold Coriolanus upon the Throne of his Anceſtors, and upon a Throne obtained by ſo many brave Victories, and actions which placed his Glory incomparably more high than his Fortune, nor (if I may be permitted to ſpeak it) flatter my ſelf with the part which I therein pretended, through the aſſurances he had given me, and the teſtimonies I had received of his affection, without intereſſing my ſelf as I ought, in this change of his condition. Laſtly, I hoped with ſome joy to aſcend with him to the dignities of our Fathers, and being aſſured that Octavia, my Brothers, and Marcellus (who were the only perſons that either by Nature, or my own will, had any legitimate power over me) would not oppoſe my intentions towards him, I formed my deſigns with a firm reſolution to deſpiſe all obſtacles which the malice of our Enemies, or the Authority of Auguſtus could interpoſe.

Scarce had I received this important News by the common report, when Marcellus (who intereſſed himſelf no leſs than me) entred my Chamber. Preſently I obſerved in his face a joy which he neither could, nor would diſſemble in my preſence, and teſtifying for the good ſucceſs of the Affairs of his Friend, a Gaiery which he uſed not for his own: My Siſter (ſaid he) although I was not born in Africa, yet I come to render you the firſt homage, as Queen of Mauritania: But I fear (added he) that I too much abuſe this liberty which it hath pleaſed you to give me; and leſt the Name of Brother which you [Page] have grranted to the Son of Octavia, may derogate from the reſpect due to a great Queen. Brother (anſwered I with a ſmile) I am neither Queen of Mauritania, nor you in a condition to behold the greateſt Queens with other reſpect, than that which your Civility will allow to their Sex. But your deſign is (continued I, anſwering to his Raillery) to teach us our duty, and that we ought no longer to call by the Name of Brother, a Prince deſtined to the Empire of the Univerſe; and who muſt, one day, Soveraignly diſpoſe of our deſtinies.

I receive this Diſcourſe, replied Marcellus, as ſeriouſly as you make it, being unable to fear that you have an opinion bad enough of me, to believe that when this change ſhall happen in my condition, I ſhall diminiſh ought of the reſpect I ſhall bear whilſt I live, to the Princeſs Cleopatra. But you foreſee thoſe things afar off, which in themſelves are very doubtful, and which will not be perhaps in the diſpoſe of Ceſar, though he ſhould continue his good-will towards me; inſtead whereof, I ſpeak to you of things already come to paſs, finding no other diſtance between the Coronation of Juba, and yours, than the Tract of land which ſeparates you, neither any other difficulties than thoſe that you bring your ſelf. How knew you, ſaid I, (ſpeaking againſt my heart) but that this new dignity hath changed his inclinations; and the buſineſſes of recovering and governing a great Kingdom, hath made him forget things of leſs importance?

Ah Siſter (replied Marcellus) how much do you injure him, if you imagine, that the cares of a Crown can be more important than the remembrance of Cleopatra, ſince I dare aſſure you in his ſtead, that the Empire of the whole World would be inconſiderable to his ſpirit, in reſpect of your affection. I was very joyful to obſerve in this Prince ſo many teſtimonies of affection for Coriolanus, and being willing to hold him longer upon this point: But is it poſſible, ſaid I to him, that you perceive no diminution of your friendſhip towards that Prince, for that which he hath cauſed in an Empire deſtined for you? and when it ſhall come into your own hands, will you not behold him with an evil eye, that hath diſmembred it of two ſo great Kingdoms.

I have already told you, added Marcellus, that the poſſeſſion of the Empire, is a thing whereof I have very little aſſurance through the change which may happen in Ceſars humor, or Dominion; but the gods are my Witneſſes, that were it offered to me to day, I ſhould receive thereby no greater joy, than to part it with my Friend; and I ſhall ſay no more, when I tell you, that him to whom I would yield Cleopatra, I would eaſily give the whole Empire. Ah my Brother (replied I, bluſhing at this Diſcourſe) Cleopatra is not a price conſiderable in reſpect of the Empire; and though your bounty had made her ſo, ſhe would have been very ſorry to have made you loſe, with the dignities which you poſſeſs the happineſs you injoy in the perſon of Julia.

I ſpake thus, becauſe at that time he ſtood upon very good terms with Julia, and it was believed that the Emperor would ſhortly cauſe the Celebration of their Marriage. We were upon this point, when we were interrupted by the Princeſs Julia her ſelf, who did me the honour to viſit me, and as ſhe then deſired to teſtifie a great deal of affection to Marcellus of whoſe joy for the advantages of his Friend ſhe was not ignorant, ſhe would not loſe this occaſion to let me ſee that her ſentiments were conformable to thoſe of the Prince ſhe loved, though thoſe who deſired to ſtand well in Ceſars favour, durſt not viſit me at this time, which was to me a time of diſgrace; but Julia might do it more commodiouſly, becauſe I lodged in the houſe of her Aunt Octavia, whom ſhe ſaw almoſt daily, and for whom the Emperor made extraordinary deferences. She teſtified to me at that time a hundred marks of ſatisfaction, which would have rendered her very criminal before Ceſar, had they reached his ear; and as her ſpirit was very quick and ready, ſhe forgat nothing which might perſwade, that ſhe had very much intereſt in the fortune of Juba.

Marcellus teſtified much acknowledgment for this bounty, and it ſeemed that this meeting gave ſtronger bands to their love.

Tiberius came to ſee me on the morrow, but made no mention of Coriolanus, not daring ſufficiently to conſtrain his thoughts, to teſtifie any joy at this good ſucceſs; and having a ſpirit too ſubtile to ſpeak before me, againſt a Prince, for whom my eſteem and affection were publick; yet could he not ſome dayes after, but touch upon it, and finding me in my ordinary coldneſs towards him: I will not believe, ſaid he, that the ill-aſſured hope of a Crown, hath added any thing to the diſdain which you have always ſhewed towards me; and as your Courage is too great to raiſe your ſelf by things that are below you, ſo you have too much judgment to believe that Coriolanus can reſiſt the puiſſance of the Emperor, armed againſt him; or that his condition is better upon that tottering Throne, than it was here in Rome, when he was honoured by the Amity and Protection of Ceſar.

[Page] It is not Fortune, replied I, for which I eſteem men, and the change which Coriolanus hath and may receive, can add nothing to the ſentiments which I have for him.

Nevertheleſs you ſee, replied Tiberius, that the thoughts of his love poſſeſs not the upper place of his ſpirit, and he appears ſufficiently hot, and buſied about the Conqueſt of a Crown, to give you reaſon to believe that his ſtrongest endeavours are not for the Service of Cleopatra. I will believe it ſo well as you (replied I ſmiling;) and I ſhall have but little reaſon to blame him for preferring a Crown before the poſſeſſion of Cleopatra, who doubtleſs is not of value ſufficient to be put in the Balance againſt a Crown. Ah! Madam, added Tiberius, were the Empire of the whole World offered to me, without doubt I ſhould deſpiſe it for you; and you do me an infinite injury, in caſe you entertain any other thought of the affection of Tiberius. I will believe, ſaid I coldly, that you are very generous, and that you give a ſufficiently great proof thereof, in viſiting a diſgraced perſon, or rather a perſon, who, by the Command of Caeſar, is forbidden to go out of her Apartment.

It is juſt, replied Tiberius, (turning it into Gallantry) that ſhe who enchains ſo many perſons, ſhould once in her life make tryal of the condition of Priſoners; and you ought not to think it ſtrange, that Caeſar ſhould make ſure of an Enemy, by ſecuring his better part, in frecing himſelf by ſuch a Hoſtage, from the moſt dangerous of his practices.

I could not but laugh at this Diſcourſe, and beholding Tiberius a little more maliciouſly than I had done before: If, as you ſay (replied I) the higheſt endeavours of Coriolanus are not for the Service of Cleopatra; and if he preferreth the intereſt of a Crown before his affection to me, the Emperor troubles himſelf with an unneceſſary precaution in detaining me, and there is little appearance, that a man hot and buſied in the Conqueſt of a Kingdom, would loſe his advantages to promote an intereſt of far leſs importance. Tiberius was a little confounded to be ſo taken by his own words; but his nimble ſpirit would have ſoon aſſiſted him, if in that moment the Princeſs Octavia and her Daughters had not entred my Chamber, and with them Emilia, Sulpitia, and the fair and wiſe Cipaſſis, whom Julia a little before had drawn from the condition of a Slave into which ſhe was fallen through the misfortune of War, placing her amongſt the moſt beloved of her Maids. I give you this ſlight mention of that ſtranger, becauſe, beſide the advantages of her beauty which is excellent, ſhe is one of the moſt vertuous, and moſt reaſonable perſons, I ever knew in my life, and one of thoſe in whom (during the misfortune lately arrived to me) I have found my greateſt conſolation.

But laying aſide the Subject of this little digreſſion, that I may come to the expected iſſue of my diſcourſe; I muſt acquaint you that ſome time after the laſt Victory of Juba, and his eſtabliſhment, Voluſius, Praetor of Mauritania, whom he had overcome and taken Priſoner, and whoſe liberty he had granted ſince his Coronation, arrived at Rome.

Before he came, it was doubted after what manner he would be received, and many who knew that the Mauritania's were loſt, partly through his fault (as well by reaſon of his evil treating the Africans, as his negligence of ſo ill defending from the Prince the Countries under his Government) feared that the Emperor would ſhew him no good countenance, or rather ſeverely chaſtiſe him; but I know not by what good Fortune or interceſſion it was, but he was well enough received, and the Emperor ſeemed rather to compaſſionate, than accuſe him. This bounty of Caeſar was praiſed by all, and the Friends of Voluſius viſited him, and he again viſited the moſt conſiderable perſons of the Court. When became to kiſs the hands of Octavia, ſhe was in my Chamber, and there it was that ſhe received his Viſit.

I proteſt, that knowing this man to come from Coriolanus, that he had heen his Priſoner, and one of the moſt ſignal marks of his Victory, I could not behold him without greatemotion; neither, if I may with modeſty ſpeak it, without taking ſome part of the advantages which my Prince had over him. I expected with impatience to hear him ſpeak of him, nor was I long without this ſatisfaction; for after the firſt diſcourſes of Civility, of his own accord he fell upon that of his misfortunes; and though he ſpake of Juba, as of an Enemy who had deprived him of all, yet was it with ſo many Elogies, that I could not but believe this man more ſenſible of the favours he had done him in the ſweetneſs of his Priſon, and the gift of his liberty, than of the injury he had ſuffered by the loſs of ſo many men, divers Battels, and his Government; for in the months of vertuous perſons, even their Enemies find their deſerved praiſes. I was poſſeſt with a marvellous ſatisfaction, in hearing him relate the wonderful Exploits of my Prince, with what order and prudence he [Page] had managed his deſign, and with what prodigious Valor he executed it, the Victories having been almoſt obtained by him only.

Voluſius ſpake truly like a diſintereſſed perſon; and as he made no difficulty to tell us how he was overcome, and born to the Earth by the hand of Coriolanus, who thundred upon him, and aſſaulted him like lightning; ſo, nor did he forget to relate with what grandure of courage he received him, and what care he took of the conſervation of his life, what treatment full of ſweetneſs he had received whil'ſt he was in Priſon, and with how much generoſity he gave him his liberty; and laſtly, with what moderation he received the happy change of his Fortune.

The gods know whether theſe words of Voluſius did not inflame the heart of the innocent Cleopatra, and whether in finding ſo many great qualities in the perſon ſhe loved, ſhe ſtrongly confirmed not the gift ſhe had made over of all her affections; I was a little troubled to ſee that in all the Relation which Voluſius had made of Coriolanus, he mentioned nothing of me, neither ſignified that he had the leaſt word to ſay to me from him. I took it for a very ill ſign, but at laſt I found my conſolation in this belief, that either the Son of Juba would not confer his ſecret with Uoluſius, or that Voluſius himſelf, in caſe he had any thing to tell me, would chooſe a more convenient time to acquit him of his Commiſſion, than in the preſence of Octavia, and ſo many other Witneſſes, who might be ſuſpected of no great correſpondence with Coriolanus.

But if I retained the firſt opinion, yet I quickly loſt the laſt, ſeeing many dayes paſs without a Viſit either from Voluſius, or a perſon of quality amongſt the Moors named Themiſtales, who came to Rome with him.

This, I proteſt, began to diſquiet me, and reflecting upon the long time ſince I received any Letters from Coriolanus, though I believed it would be very difficult for him to find the means to do it with ſecurity; I here found my ſelf labouring under a king of fear, which my good opinion of that Prince never till then had ſuffered to aſſault me. I did my endeavours to chaſe it away, and poſſibly it had produced no great effects, had I not a few dayes after received an entire knowledge of what I am going to relate.

Voluſius had been at Rome five or ſix dayes, and I found my Soul a little agitated by thoſe diffidences which Coriolanus's ſilence had produced, when I obſerved in the generous Octavia (who daily viſited me in my apartment, and from whence I was not permitted to go forth) a melancholy which gave me ſome little inquietudes, and taking the liberty to demand the cauſe: My Child, ſaid ſhe, we cannot be alwayes ſatisfied, and often when Fortune appears moſt favourable, ſhe is then preparing for us ſomething moſt cruel. Is it poſſible, Madam, ſaid I, that Fortune can diſturb the Tranquillity of your life? I complain not of her, replied Octavia, but I counſel you not to truſt in her, though I can aſſure you that you ſhall not be much longer a Priſoner, and I believe nothing at all ſuſpected by Ceſar.

It is poſſible the would have ſaid more, but at the inſtant there came one from the Emperor to ſpeak with her; yet theſe few words caſt multitudes of diſquiet thoughts into my boſome, and were the Subject of a porfound revery for part of that day, being unable to imagine wherefore I ſhould ſoon be unſuſpected by Ceſar, unleſs he were perſwaded of my diſintereſt in the Affairs of Coriolanus.

Tiberius failed not to ſee me that day, but ſaid nothing that could any thing enlighten my doubts, and he was too ſubtile to let me underſtand from his mouth thoſe truths which would be leſs ſuſpected from another. At laſt, the gods would that I ſhould have it from him, from whom of all men I ſhould the leaſt have expected it, for that Evening (the Candles being lighted) Marcellus entred my Chamber. Though there was leſs light than at Noon-day, yet was it enough to let me behold in the face of that Prince all the marks of grief, or rather all the tokens of deſpair. He bluſh't, and waxed pale, almoſt at the ſame time; and from his eyes, lightning ſometime ſeemed to proceed, and ſometimes they were covered with darkneſs. He remained a good while (ſilent) upon the Chair where he ſate; beholding me by turns with eyes full of grief and fury; and in a poſture, which if it made me not fully devine my misfortune, at leaſt it ſufficiently ſignified that ſome great misfortune was come upon him, or that ſome diſaſtrous News he had to tell me.

Preſently a ſhivering ran through all my veins, and his ſadneſs communicating it ſelf to me, my face in all things reſembled his; I was about to have inſtructed my ſelf further in what I ought to fear, and had already opened my mouth to ſatisfie my timerous curioſity, when breaking ſilence with violence; Ah my Siſter, ſaid he, muſt Marcellus bring you the firſt News of the infidelity of Coriolanus? And muſt he, who at the peril of his Fortune, hath hitherto defended him againſt the accuſations of his Enemies, be the firſt to accuſe him of the baſeſt Treaſon, the heart of man is capable of conceiving? Ah perfidious [Page] man (purſued he, lifting bis eyes to Heaven) if thou wouldſt that Marcellus ſhould become neither thy Accuſer nor thine Enemy, thou ought'ſt to have preſerved thine innocence, and that vertue which was the band of our firſt affections, and not have intereſſed it as thou haſt, in the double perfidy which thou haſt committed both againſt thy Miſtreſs, and thy Friend; thou knoweſt that he ſufficiently abhors thy wickedneſs, not to conſerve the leaſt ſentiment of eſteem for thee, having committed ſuch horrid things againſt the innocent Cleopatra.

I was rather dead than alive, while he ſpake thus; nor had I the Courage to interrupt him, or ſo much as to ask the cauſe of ſo ſtrange and unthought of a change; but he perceiving my thoughts, My Siſter, continued he with the ſame impetuoſity, I ſhall ſay but little, when I tell you that the Son of Juba, formerly ſo dear to Marcellus, and ſo happy in the affection of Cleopatra, is the moſt ungrateful and unfaithful of all men, both towards Cleopatra, and towards Marcellus; and you will confeſs that his Treaſon exceeds in blackneſs the poſſibility of my expreſſion, when you know that Voluſius obtained not his liberty (being come to Rome with the principal men amongſt the Mauritanians) but to treat of peace with Ceſar, and to offer the ſubmiſſion and tribute which he receives from all the tributary Kings of the Empire, upon condition that he will grant him—My Siſter, upon condition that he will grant him the Princeſs Julia for his Wife.

Before Marcellus pronounced this cruel word, I thought he would have told me that Juba for ſome reaſon of State towards the maintaining his new Royalty, was married in Africa; and for that Act I could have only accuſed him of infidelity towards me; but ſeeing that inſtead of a perfidious man, the diſtance of whoſe perſon might have obſcured ſome part of the uglineſs of his fault, I found him impudent enough to publiſh it at Rome; even before the eyes, and in the boſome of his Miſtreſs and Friend, this ſo ſurprized and confounded me (the change being ſo ſtrange, and ſo unworthy of ſuch a Prince) that it is impoſſible for words to repreſent my aſtoniſhment.

Ah! Marcellus, cryed I (being unable to reſiſt this firſt ſhock) is it poſſible that what you tell me is true? What I ſay, is but too true, replied Marcellus, and would to the gods there remained any room for doubting a thing, which my belief reſiſted no leſs than yours; but you may be too eaſily reſolved, for the Negotiation of Voluſius and Theocles, in favour of this pretended Marriage, is at preſent a thing publickly known, and the Letters of Credence, with full power of concluding the peace, is in the hands of theſe two Agents; and had they found for the effect of their Negotiation, ſo much facility in the ſpirit of Ceſar, as they hoped, Marcellus had ere this loſt all his hopes of the poſſeſſion of Julia, as Cleopatra muſt loſe all which ſhe had in the love of Coriolanus.—

Theſe (Siſter) were the words of Marcellus, who alſo accompanied them with ſome tears, which produced ſuch an effect upon my ſpirit, that I hardly avoided in thoſe firſt moments, being carried to the utmoſt extremities. No certainly, all that conſtancy whereof I think I have given ſome teſtimonies, could not defend me againſt the moſt lively aſſaults of grief, and the greateſt ſuccours that it gave, were only ſufficient to hinder its appearing in actions contrary to prudence, locking up my reſentments with a violence which had like to have taken away my life. I caſt upon Marcellus a regard wherein there appeared ſomething Funeſt and deadly, and forcing through ſome ſobs which oppoſed the paſſage of my voyce; How, Brother, ſaid I, hath Coriolanus betrayed us! And ſeeing that he held his eyes fixed upon the ground without anſwering, Juſt gods, continued I, liftings my hands to Heaven, have you patiently ſuffered ſo black a perfidy! I held my peace here, and Marcellus being buried in mournful thoughts ſo well as I, we kept for ſome time a ſilence. All that could aſſault a Soul diſpoſed like mine, incompaſſed me on every ſide, and being engaged in the love of this ungrateful Prince, ſo far as vertue and innocence would permit me, it is certain that I could not underſtand his black Infidelity, and think upon that love which was almoſt born with me, and upon which I had beſtowed the moſt precious moments of my life, and to which I had dedicated the remainder, to ſee it I ſay terminated by ſo ſtrange a concluſion, without reſenting a violence ready even to tear in pieces my Entrails.

But if my affection excited paſſionate and tender motions, my glory intereſſed it ſelf no leſs in the injury which I received; and as I thought my ſelf able (to whatſoever height Fortune might raiſe him) to preſerve the affections of that Prince by the ſincerity of mine, I could not behold the gift which I had made over to him, without regarding his obl vion and diſdain as an outrage unſupportable to a good Courage. So that my reſentments againſt him (for my affections ſo cruelly betrayed, and for my glory ſo unworthily offended) made my ſpirit float in a Sea of ſad thoughts; and though it expreſt not it ſelf by cryes and imprecations againſt this ungrateful man, yet it began to open the ſource of [Page] this River of tears, which hath almoſt unceſſantly ſlid from mine eyes ever ſince that cruel day.

In that ſad moment, they took their courſe from my Cheek over my hand which ſuſtained it, along my Arm which was propped by that of the Chair, and were ſeconded by ſome ſighs which I would not reſtrain before Marcellus, to whom my thoughts were not unknown. At laſt that Prince came from his profound ſtudy, and feeling himſelf touched with pity for my ſake, ſo much as he was with anger for his own, he could not behold the ſadneſs of my ſoul by that which appeared upon my face, without feeling a redoubling of his own, and riſing from the place where he ſate: My Siſter (ſaid he,) Coriolanus whil'ſt faithful deſerved your friendſhip, but Coriolanus unfaithful is unworthy of your tears, and the grief which you teſtifie for his loſs. Seek your conſolations in your Courage, and your remedies in the knowledge of your ſelf; which will ſoon make you judge, that the ungrateful man hath done you a leſs ſenſible iniury, than he hath done himſelf; and that to expoſe himſelf to ſhame and diſdain, he hath himſelf overturned his moſt glorious Fortune. Moreover, he hath ſucceeded in his deſign according to his deſert, for the Emperor hath not only rejected his Propoſition with diſdain, but beheld them with a frown who made it, and whoſe lives poſſibly had run a great hazard, had they not found a powerful protection in Rome.

Hereupon ſeeing that I lent him a very peaceable Audience, and no other way interrupted him ſave by my ſighs, he more at large related how Voluſius and Theocles having demanded of the Emperor a particular Audience, and ſhew'd him their power ſealed with the Seal-Royal of Mauritania. declared their charge which they had from the King Juba, which was, That although he entred the Dominions of his Father by Arms, and was in a condition of defending his Kingdoms againſt whatſoever Forces he could ſend, yet if it pleaſed the Emperor to honour him with his Alliance, and to grant him the Princeſs Julia for his wife, he would hold of him the Crown which he had Conquered, with the ſame Homage which he received from other Vaſſal-Kings and Tributaries to the Empire; adding this on his part, That he had not taken the liberty of making this demand, had he not believed that the Princeſs would not take it ill, and poſſibly would have no repugnance thereto. Marcellus purſued, that Ceſar appeared much amazed at the Propoſition, and having checked thoſe that made it, in terms teaching them what fruit to expect from their Negotiation, he added: That he praiſed the gods that this man whoſe Arms he might have feared whil'ſt he was vertuous, was now become ſo wicked and perfidious; and that ſince he had changed his inclinations, he doubted not the ſucceſs of the War; that his Daughter was deſigned for him that ſhould poſſeſs the Empire, and not for a barbarous African; Nay, and had he been born in the Throne of Romulus, he could not but with diſdain have beheld a man unfaithful to his Miſtreſs and his Friend. After this, he commanded Voluſius never again to open his mouth upon this buſineſs, and Theocles to leave Rome within eight dayes; and that after they were gone, the Emperor related the buſineſs to Agrippa and Domitius, and all thoſe that were with him, and within an hour after to Octavia, and that he was laſt of all advertized thereof by Ceſars own mouth, who could no longer keep ſecret from him the perfidy of his Friend, and who deteſted it as much as any of thoſe that heard it, amongſt all whom there was not one found who would ſpeak a word to excuſe it.

Marcellus had time enough to make me this Diſcourſe, and, inſtead of interrupting him, ſpake not till he had done; at laſt, ſeeing that he expected from my mouth ſome knowledge of my reſentments, promiſing to employ his whole life in our common vengeance algainſt a man, for whom not long ſince he would willingly have layed it down. My dear Brother (ſaid I with pain enough) I demand no vengeance neither from the gods nor you, upon the infidelity of Coriolanus; it is poſſible the gods are juſt enough to give it me without my deſiring, or without your arming your ſelf againſt a man who even now was ſo dear to you. His intentions ('tis true) were equally evil both towards you and me, but the effects have been prejudicial to me only (if it be a misfortune for Cleopatra to have loſt the perfidious Coriolanus) and that which he hath attempted againſt you, hath turned to his own confuſion, ſince that in demanding Julia he hath not obtained her; and laſtly, you will not loſe Julia, though I have loſt Coriolanus. So will you be revenged of his evil deſign againſt you, in conſerving that which he would have unjuſtly taken from you, and in making him for ever loſe the hopes of a good for which he hath forſaken me. This is all the puniſhment which I wiſh him, and if my reſentments have endeavoured ſomething againſt this, yet is it againſt my heart from whence I ſhall endeavour to tear the image of this unfaithful man. Theſe words were accompanied by all the tokens of a true grief, and Marcellus who compaſſionated them, as well through the goodneſs of his Nature, [Page] as his intereſt in their cauſe, prepared to reply with vehemence, juſt as we ſaw Octavia enter the Chamber with the Princeſſes her Daughters, and the young Ptolomy my Brother.

She would not bring me the News of my misfortune, though ſhe heard it before Marcellus, and would ſpeak no more than what ſhe ſaid in the morning, which had fill'd me with diſtruſt; but then knowing that I had learn't all from the Prince her Son, ſhe ſpake freely, teſtifying how great a part ſhe took in my diſpleaſures with all the tenderneſſes of a true Mother, and forgot nothing which ſhe thought capable of bringing me any conſolation.

The Princeſſes her Daughters appeared no leſs officious, nor leſs afflicted than my ſelf; and to have beheld the countenance of this illuſtrious Company, one would have judged them all to have had an equal intereſt in the Treaſon of Coriolanus; Nay, they were ſo generous, that they expreſſed more reſentment againſt him for the injury he had done me, than for that which he would have done to Marcellus: And though they all poſſeſſed a great amity for Coriolanus, whil'ſt he retained his innocence; yet could they not refuſe to his Crime the deteſtation which it merited, endeavouring all together to perſwade me, that a man capable of ſo great a wickedneſs, was unworthy my remembrance, or the ſorrow which I teſtified at his loſs.

I anſwered nothing to their Diſcourſe, and better expreſſed my grief (to perſons who knew my humor) by my confuſion and ſilence, than others would have done by cryes and reproaches. When I was a little more at liberty, and that of all the Company, only the Prince Ptolomy my Brother remained in my Chamber, and the two Princeſſes Agrippina and Antonia, my Siſters, the Daughters of Antonia and Octavia, I no longer retained my tears, nor thoſe complaints which I was able to utter, being amongſt perſons whoſe age and degree of Proximity permitted me to act without conſtraint, and to whom my love had been known and approved. My Siſters wiped away my tears, and out of compaſſion abundantly ſhed their own, and Ptolomy (young and boyling, though he had alwayes a great amity for Coriolanus, and reſpect for his vertue) tranſported himſelf in Menaces againſt that Prince, and ſpake of nothing but vengeance, and a reparation of the injury which I had received.

At laſt, being left alone with my Maids, I layed me down upon the Bed, where I paſſed the reſt of the Night in the moſt ſad condition I was ever in in my life, and the cruel thoughts which tormented me, ſuffered not the acceſs of one wink of ſleep.

As in all the former Actions of Coriolanus I had obſerved a marvellous Vertue, and as nothing could ever make me ſuſpect, that he could be capable of the wickedneſs which he had committed, I could not be ſufficiently aſtoniſh't at ſo ſtrange an alteration, or hardly credit a truth which I had nothing to alledge againſt. All my indeavours were, that I might find ſome occaſion of doubting; and certainly had my misfortunes been known only by ſome reports, or by any other than infallible truths, I ſhould have ſuſpected the artifices of Tiberius; but in actions ſo ſolemn as are the Negotiations of Princes and publick Treaties, there was no reaſon to believ that a man of Voluſius's quality amongſt the Romans, and of Theocles his Rank amongſt the Moors, would act without Authority, or addreſs themſelves to Ceſar, with an impoſture of ſo great importance: No, ſaid I, it is not permitted thee to flatter thy ſelf, and this Prince ſo charming: the beloved of the unfortunate Cleopatra, is too truly convinced; nothing can juſtifie him, neither hath he the ſame care which thou haſt for his juſtification; and herein he is more criminal againſt thee, in that he would have his Crime known to thee, and hath not ſought either the obſtacles of the Seas which ſeparate us, or the deſarts of his Africa to hide it from thine eyes, but muſt needs cauſe it to enter Rome as it were in Triumph by one of the moſt injurious proceedings that was ever practiſed amongſt men, muſt thou needs expoſe me to the ſight, indignity, and diſdain, not only of the Romans but alſo of the whole world? Ah, Son of Juba, by which of mine actions have I merited this diſgrace? If I am not poſſeſt with qualities amiable enough to conſerve thy affections, yet what could'ſt thou find in me worthy of this injurious treatment, and unworthy of the conſideration and reſpect due to perſons of my birth? If amongſt the African-beauties thou hadſt choſen one, who hath blotted out of thy Soul the impreſſions it received amongſt the Romans; or if for the eſtabliſhment of thy Monarchy, thou hadſt been conſtrained to make the Maxims of thy State take place of thoſe of thy love, I would have excuſed thy change ſo much as I could, and then I might have ſaid, That either with reaſon thou hadſt laid down thine Arms at the feet of a greater beauty than Cleopatra's, or that Cleopatra was not of value ſufficient to be put in competition with the ſecurity of a Crown; but it is for neither of theſe reaſons that thou haſt forſaken [Page] me, and ſince 'tis for Julia that thou leaveſt me, it muſt follow that thy love took its birth in Rome, and not in Mauritania, and this love was Maſter of thy Soul: When thou appeared'ſt moſt paſſionate for me, even then when thou ran'ſt to kill Tiberius, even then when in appearance for me only, thou braved'ſt the Emperor, and all the powers of the Empire; and at that time, when for me alone, thou generouſly refuſed'ſt the Kingdom of thy Father.

Ah! No, Coriolanus (added I a little after) it is not the love of Julia that I ought to accuſe for thy infidelity, neither Julia nor Cleopatra found place in the Soul of a Conqueror, and thou for ſookeſt Cleopatra, not for Julia, but for the alliance and protection of Ceſar, which thou judgeſt more advantagions towards the maintenance of thy new Monarchy, than the love of an unfortunate Princeſs. Ah! Coriolanus, whom I to my misfortune have too much loved, and whom, to my misfortune, I fear I ſhall never ſufficietaly hate, ſince that Heaven, and thy cruel ingratitude, hath ordained that thou ſhalt never be mine, and that ſo many ſweet and dear hopes are for ever rowled from me, return me at leaſt, ungrateful man, thoſe teſtimonies of mine innocent affection which were ſometimes ſo precious to thee; return me thoſe favours which (all pure and innocent as they were) are become criminal through thy Crime; return me (cruel man) return me thoſe reliques of my heart which thou detaineſt in deſpite of me, and which notwithſtanding thy infidelity I cannot recover.

With ſuch thoughts was I miſerably tormented, and I ſhould not in a long time conclude, ſhould I recite them all. The day appeared ere I could find any conſolation, nor had I then left my Bed, had not Octavia ſent to advertize me that the Emperor would ſee me, to whom, and to all thoſe who knew not the ſecret of my heart, I was reſolved to conceal ſome part of my grief.

In order to this deſign, I did my ſelf no little violence, and all that I could do, was a little to compoſe my countenance againſt Night, which was the time of the Emperors Viſit. Agrippa and Marcellus were with him; and, to give me the greater confirmation, he brought along Voluſius and Theocles, the two Miniſters of my griefs.

I will not relate all the Diſcourſes of the Emperor, I'le only tell you, that after he had ſufficiently exaggerated the treaſon of Coriolanus, and ſhewed the power which he had given to Theocles and Voluſius to treat about the Peace and Marriage, and the Letter of Credence which he had written by himſelf, and all ſealed with the Seal of the Kings of Mauritania; Cleopatra (added he) what part ſoever I take in the diſpleaſure which you reſent, I am not a little glad that you have nothing to do with our common Enemy; and, as I have a great conſideration for your Vertue, and after the example of my Siſter do eſteem you, as though you were really my own Daughter; I proteſt unto you in ſincerity; that my reſentments againſt the Son of Juba, have received an increaſe by the Juſtice of yours, and that I will for the future purſue him, as well for the injury which he hath done you, as for that which I have received my ſelf; leave the care of our common vengeance to me, and in the mean while reſt aſſured that in me you ſhall alwayes find a Protector and a Father, and one that will proſecute your intereſts as affectionately, as though you were the Daughter of Octavia.

To theſe words he added many more full of love, and I received them with the acknowledgment and reſpect I ought, without ſaying any thing that might irritate him more againſt Coriolanus than he was already, which made him imagine that I drew ſome conſolation from the vengeance he promiſed me.

Voluſius made me an ill-favoured Complement for his proceedings, and told me, That what obligation ſoever he had upon him for the Courteſies which he received from Juba, he would not have taken the charge of his Commiſſion, had he known my intereſt therein. I anſwered coldly to his Diſcourſe, and the Emperor recalling in my preſence the Command which he had laid upon him, never to ſpeak more on this buſineſs whil'ſt he lived, cauſed Theocles to draw near, and beholding him with an aſſured countenance: You may tell your Prince (ſaid he) that had not his paſt actions rendred him unworthy of my Alliance, I would nevertheleſs have denied it to a man ſmutted with baſeneſs and perfidy; and it would be little prudence in me to truſt him, after he had betrayed his Miſtreſs and his Friend. Let him maintain, if he can, his new Dominions, and expect a more full knowledg of my intentions by an Army of a Hundred thouſand men, whom he ſhall ſee within a few dayes in his Countrey. Theocles took charge of this Commiſſion, and after that day I have not heard that he was ever ſeen in Rome.

In the mean time I was almoſt daily viſited by Tiberius, and he failed not of his utmoſt endeavours to make his advantage of his Rival's Treaſon, but it ſucceeded not; and inſtead of his becoming more amiable in mine eyes, he appeared more odious than before, being [Page] unable to imagine any other cauſe thereof, than the bad humor into which the infidelity of Coriolanus had caſt me, and by my belief, that ſince I was betrayed by a man whom I loved, and in whom till then I had found ſo much vertue and ſincerity, I ought not to put any great confidence in a man whom I had always hated, and who had alwayes appeared to me full of Malice and Artifice. At laſt, whatever was the cauſe, Tiberius could never get a good word from me; and though the Emperor took the pains to ſpeak often to me in his favour, I ſo excuſed my ſelf to him, that without angring him through my reſiſtance to his will, I might give him little reaſon to conceive any hopes for Tiberius.

Though the Emperor was diſpleaſed thereat, yet he teſtified no reſentment againſt me, but hitherto exactly performed his promiſe of Protector and Father, ſo that I might have truly ſaid, That on all occaſions he made an affection for me appear, little different from that he bare the Princeſs Julia.

During which, Marcellus (whoſe reſentments againſt Coriolanus were violent) believed that he had alſo juſt ones againſt Julia; and though ſhe had taken great pains to juſtifie her ſelf from the Accuſation which was made againſt her of having favoured the deſign of Coriolanus, and teſtified that ſhe had no repugnance thereto, Marcellus thought that he obſerved in her ſome conſtraint, through the care which ſhe took therein, and finding ſome coldneſſes in her, which he had not ſeen ſince their laſt reconciliation, he could not imagine any other cauſe, ſave the Propoſition of the King of Mauritania, which he thought very capable of renewing the former flames of that Princeſs. As he communicated to me the greateſt part of his thoughts, ſo he hid not this; and as I deſired his repoſe, I did what I could to chaſe it out of his ſpirit; and it may be I ſhould have obtained my end through the natural ſweetneſs of Marcellus's ſpirit; but by misfortune he met with ſome who told him, that Julia had ſeveral private Conferences with Voluſius, and that ſhe had ſent ſome Letters by Theocles when he left Rome. Julia always ſtifly denied theſe things, but the report whether true or falſe, made great impreſſions upon Marcellus's ſpirit, taking away all the remainders of his repoſe, and threw him nto thoſe violent reſolutions againſt Coriolanus, which the remainders of his friendſhip had hitherto kept him from. This made him demand of the Emperor the Command of the Army which he ſent againſt him; Tiberius endeavoured no leſs than he to obtain it, and employed all the Credit of Livia to be preferred before Marcellus: But neither of them obtained it, though all the World judged them very capable; and the Emperor having excluded them, either that neither might be jealous, or for ſome other conſiderations which he alledged to them, and gave it to Domitius Enobarbus an experienced Sea-Captain, and Illuſtrious by many brave Actions. It is true, that Agrippa might have obtained it rather than Domitius, or any other; but he expreſſed no deſire thereof, and the Emperor knowing how well that great man had alwayes loved Coriolanus, and finding that he had no great inclination to the charge, offered it not to him, but ſignified that he had buſineſs for him nearer his own perſon.

This Army departed from Brindes, and ſailed towards Africa with a full wind: and three dayes after, Marcellus and Tiberius, troubled for not having obtained the Command, departed from Rome. It was generally believed, that being unable to revenge the injuries they had received from Coriolanus, with the glory and advantage which they deſired, they were gone to take an Account of him in any other place,

I believed it ſo well as the reſt, having heard them teſtifie this deſign the one to the other; but be it what it will, they departed both of them without taking leave of me, neither of the Emperor, Livia, nor Octavia their Mothers, who were ſenſibly afflicted at their departure, but much more when they underſtood that they were gone without any Equipage which might make them known. They cauſed ſeveral to follow them for many dayes, but it was in vain, though the Emperor took great care therein, and teſtified much diſpleaſure at the abſence of Marcellus. I proteſt, I was not a little ſenſible thereof, being by his departure deprived of a very great conſolation, though I was a little angry with him for going away without bidding me farewell, not thinking as afterwards I did, that he went ſo for fear of being detained: But if the abſence of Marcellus afflicted me, that of Tiberius was a great comfort; and ſcarce could I receive a greater refreſhment in my misfortunes, than to ſee my ſelf delivered from a man whom I could not love, and by whom I was perpetually tormented.

In the mean time (my dear Siſter) I ſhall make no difficulty to tell you, that my reſentments againſt Coriolanus's Infidelity were not capable of effacing from my memory, leaving there ſtill remembrances ſo tender and ſo mournful, that I could eaſily ſee, that anger was not the ſtrongeſt paſſion of my Soul. Were I with the Princeſs Antonia my Siſter, whom I particularly loved for a Hundred Noble qualities which accompanied her beauty, and to [Page] whom I had hitherto diſcovered the moſt ſecret of my thoughts; or if Camillia were with me, which is ſhe of my Maids in whom I have the greateſt confidence; or were I alone (as I often ſought the opportunity ſo to be) I continually bewailed the loſs of a man whom I had infinitely loved in all his qualities; who had given me a Thouſand gallant teſtimonies of his love, and upon whom I had for ever faſtned my firſt and laſt affections; and although according to reaſon I ought to deteſt his remembrance, at leaſt not to think upon him, but to abhor him; yet could I never get this power over my ſpirit, and as my affection was produced in proceſs of time, and after a long knowledge, having contracted nothing of thoſe irregular and turbulent motions which do often accompany the paſſions, it produced nothing impetuous or violent, and ſatisfied it ſelf by undermining me with grief, and in conſuming me with a perpetual languiſhing, without introducing either hate, rage, or the deſires of vengeance. I made a ſtrong reſolution never to re-ſee that unfaithful man whil'ſt I lived, though the gods and Fortune ſhould permit (notwithſtanding the diſtance which ſeparated us) that he ſhould ever preſent himſelf before me; and I imployed all my ſtrength to chaſe out of my Soul, what therein remained of this unhappy affection.

But this was all that I endeavoured for my ſatisfaction, and the gods are my Witneſſes, that I never demanded from them any Vengeance upon that ungrateful Prince, nor harboured the leaſt wiſh againſt the proſperity of his Arms, and the eſtabliſhment of his Fortune. Nay more, I could not but rejoyce at the News of the gallant Victory obtained by Sea, againſt the Army of Enobarbus, whereby it was believed that his Dominions were for ever ſetled againſt all the powers of the Empire; and though I had no more reaſon to intereſt my ſelf in his good and glorious ſucceſs, yet could I not reſiſt this inclination of my ſpirit, which could not behold them without emotion, and a favourable opinion. Let him overcome (would I ſay) let him triumph, let him reign gloriouſly, and let the Infidel proſper in all the deſigns that a juſt Ambition can inſpire him with: I will behold his Victories, and the eſtabliſhment of his Throne with wiſhes which my heart cannot refufe him; and this heart which once was ſo ſenſible of his love, can never be inſenſible of his intereſts. I wiſh that his Crown, whereof I ought to have part, and for which he hath doubtleſs forſaken me, may be ſo ſetled upon his Head, that nothing may ever ſhake it; and if I wiſh any trouble to this ungrateful man, it is only remorſe of Conſcience, when his Eſtates are peaceable.

This was my reſignation, which nevertheleſs could not prevent a lively reſentment of all that grief could produce in a Soul ſo touched to the quick. I forced my ſelf to diſſemble in thoſe Companies wherein I was conſtrained to be, but when I was at liberty, I retained neither my ſighs, nor my tears, giving a free ſcope to all the effects of my afflictions. Alas! how many cruel Hours, how many Nights without ſleep hath my ſad thoughts made me ſpend? how many whole dayes have I given to my ſolitudes, to my complaints, and ſometimes to reproaches.

At laſt this ſad courſe of life made the body partake of the ſpirit's diſeaſe, and I loſt in a little time (with all my joy) a good part of my plumpneſs, and of that little beauty which I received from Heaven; I became pale and lean, and my eyes more ſunk and dull than uſual.

Thoſe who loved me, afflicted themſelves more at this change than I did; and ſometimes when I beheld it in a Glaſs, I could not but ſay with a ſigh; Ah! King of Mauritania, how thou haſt carried away the ſpoyles of the innocent Cleopatra? How well thou knoweſt to triumph at once over the Arms of thy Enemies, and the beauty of that unfortunate Princeſs! Would to the gods this face had never been owner of greater Charms than theſe thy Infidelity hath left, or that they had never been powerful enough to kindle thoſe unfortunate flames, which at this day are the cauſe of my deplorable deſtiny.

On this manner I lived, when Auguſtus (having received with impatience and diſpleaſure the News of the laſt Victory of Juba) reſolved to leave Rome, partly to ſend Forces into Africa, and partly upon other Affairs, which called him into Greece, and from thence into the Provinces of Aſia. His departure was much ſooner than was believed, and becauſe he deſired that Octavia ſhould take his Journey, and I living with her as her Daughter, had nothing that could diſpenſe with my not following the Court: Beſide, the Emperor treated me wonderful well ſince I was no longer ſuſpected by him, and the Empreſs, to comply with him, ſhewed much eſteem and friendſhip to me; and I went with no other repugnance, than that of a multitude to my ſolitary diſpoſition. We departed from Rome with all the great perſons of the Empire, and took ſhipping; and the firſt place we touched at (after a proſperous Navigation) was Sicilia, where we made ſome abode at Syracuſa, where the beauty of the walks that are about that City gave me ſome divertiſement. [Page] In my walks I was ordinarily accompanied by my Siſter Antonia, and ſome of my Maids, without greater attendance; and it was in one of theſe walks that an adventure hapned unto me, which cruelly opened all my wounds, and an adventure ſo ſtrange, that it will be difficult for you to imagine it.

It was (my dear Siſter,) that, whil'ſt I walked with Antonia and Camillia, and in a little Wood near the famour Fountain of Arethuſa, entertaining my ſelf with the Infidelity of Coriolanus (what care ſoever I took to baniſh him from my remembrance.) That ſame Coriolanus whom I thought to be employed in gathering the fruits of his Victories, and governing his new Monarchy! That ſame Coriolanus, from whom I thought my ſelf a great diſtance, preſented himſelf before me.

I know, Siſter, you are amazed how to underſtand this fickle effect of my Fortune: Yes certainly I am aſtoniſh't (replied Artemiſa) and I ſo little expected this Encounter, that I cannot apprehend it without a great ſurprize. You may believe, replied Cleopatra, that I was no leſs ſurprized at ſo unexpected a ſight, and that I often accuſed mine eyes of falſe information, when they repreſented my Soul a face, whoſe Character, in ſpight of my juſt reſentments, I carried graven in my heart; but that which amazed me yet more, was, that this Infidel accoſted me with as much aſſurance, as though he had been the moſt innocent man of the world, ſpeaking to me in terms as paſſionate, as thoſe he uſed at Rome: Treating me at laſt after the ſame manner, as though nothing had ever been heard, or as if he himſelf had never ſo much in all his life as thought on the Treaſon which he committed.

Here the Princeſs related the long Converſation which ſhe had with Coriolanus, in the ſame manner as Emilia had related it a few dayes before to Tiridates, repeating word by word all the Princes Diſcourſe, and forgat nothing of the cruel Anſwer which ſhe gave him, and the rigorous words whereby ſhe thought ſhe had baniſh't him her preſence for ever; and when ſhe was come ſo farr, ſhe proceeded on this manner.

What juſt reſentment ſover I had in my Soul, believe not (my Siſter) but it was with ſome violence that I conſtrained my ſelf to follow my juſt reſolutions; I was armed with a moſt legitimate anger, and my wrath increaſed with reaſon at the ſight of this perfidious man; but w thall I could not behold that face formerly ſo beloved, the ſuppliant face of Coriolanus, neither hear the ſound of that voice, which once ſo ſweetly charmed me, without reſenting extraordinary emotions, and ſuch as could not aſſault a Soul without making a great impreſſion therein.

I retired with my Siſter and Camillia into our Chariot, rather dead than alive; and having obſerved (as I thought) at our ſeparation ſomething deadly in the regards of Coriolanus, I was poſſeſſed with a fear accompanied with tenderneſs, that fill'd me with moſt cruel agitations. So long as the way laſted to Syracuſa, I was not able to utter one word, and my Siſter and Camillia who ſaw me in a condition ſo little capable of converſe, kept themſelves in the ſame poſture, and opened not their mouths to interrupt thoſe thoughts tormented my heart; but when we were in my Chamber, wherein I locked my ſelf with them, without ſeeing any one elſe the reſt of that day, and that time had a little reduced me out of my aſtoniſhment, beholding Antonia with eyes, from whence not withſtanding all my conſtancy, tears prevented the firſt word I would have ſaid: Well Siſter (ſaid I) what think you of this adventure? And what judge you of the Caprices of my miſerable Fortune? I ſay (replied Antonia) that I was never more ſurprized in my liſe, and my ſpirit is ſo intangled with what I have ſeen, that I know not what judgment to make thereon. But at laſt (added I with much pain) If the Encounter of the King of Mauritania be not an effect of Chance, what think you doth he come to ſeek with us? And what may be the deſign of ſo much pain and agitation, which we ſaw in his words and actions? Is it feigned? Is it Repentance? And laſtly; What conformity hath theſe things with the Treaſon he hath committed?

It will be difficult, replied Antonia, for me to comprehend any thing; but unleſs I am miſtaken, I obſerved in the face, actions and words of Coriolanus ſuch a confidence, which a criminal ſpirit is uncapable of; and ſo many Marks of a true paſſion, that I know not how to reconcile what I have ſeen, with what I have heard of his Infidelity; for, if we grant that he may diſſemble his countenance and words, yet wherefore hath he left his Kingdom, and taken ſo long a Voyage to ſeek you? And what appearance is there that he would leave an Eſtate as yet little ſetled, and to whoſe Converſation his preſence was abſolutely neceſſary, that he would commit himſelf to the Mercy of the Seas, and run into the hands of his implacable Enemies, if he had no paſſion for you?

What you ſay hath therein ſome veri-ſimility (ſaid I) but Siſter, we have not learn't his Crime by ſimple ſuſpitions or conjectures, and our knowledge thereof is of ſuch a nature, [Page] that nothing can diſprove it; and if we owe this meeting to deſign rather than hazard, and that Juba hath really left his Kingdom to ſee me, which he could not do without putting his life and his Eſtate in danger, that which I can believe as moſt likely and moſt advantagious for him, is, that having done violence to the love he bare me, that he might obtain the Alliance of Ceſar, which he thought more advantagious than that of the houſe of Anthony; and having learn't the bad ſucceſs of his deſign, and the injurious refuſal which the Emperor made of the Princeſs Julia, deſparring of Julia, he is returned to Cleopatra; and being unable to obtain Julia, he had rather have the perſon, and it may be the Alliance of Cleopatra, than of an African.

This is really my thought, and the only one I can have upon this Encounter; to which Antonia (convinced ſo well as I of Coriolanus's Infidelity, was conſtrained to ſubmit, finding none more likely; only ſhe blamed me for not giving him a longer Audience, believing that by a little further Diſcourſe we might have been reſolved in all our doubts.

Since that day my thoughts, to my misfortune were more ſtrongly faſtned to the remembrance of Coriolanus than before, and I proteſt I looked upon him with leſs reſentment and more tenderneſs than before, being unable to behold a prince, whom once I ſo dearly loved with all the marks of his former paſſion upon his face, and in his Diſcourſes, without feeling ſome motions in a heart which had too much weakneſs for him. O ſight! how fatal haſt thou been to that little repoſe which I forced, to ſettle it ſelf in my Soul! and how difficult hath it been ſince, for me to efface then the leaſt Characters of this interview? Were I waking, or were I ſleeping, the Idea preſented it ſelf alwayes before me; nor could I, without ſome conſolation, recollect the amorous and paſſionate words of that Prince; nor could I, without ſome grief, and perhaps, not without ſome Repentance, recollect my rigorous Reply, by which I ſuppoſed I had baniſh't him for ever! Alas would I ſometimes ſay, Is it poſſible that all the World is deceived? And that Coriolanus is as innocent in effect, as he would appear, and that the deſtiny of Cleopatra is changed. But alas, all my hopes are quite rooted up! and this ungrateful man hath been ſo unpitiful in his ungratitude, that he hath taken away even the leaſt doubt wherewith I was permitted to flatter my ſelf.

Such Diſcourſes, and others of the like Nature, took up my whole time during Ceſar's Voyage; with whom, in a few dayes after, we departed from Syracuſe, and viſited Grecia and part of Aſia. Upon Sea and Land, it was all one with me, and my pitileſs grief kept me perpetual Company, ſo well in Aſia as in Europe. And it is certain, that they have received a very ſenſible increaſe, through ill ſucceſs of Coriolanus's Affairs, and what reaſon ſoever I have to be little intereſſed therein, yet could I not hear that in his abſence he had loſt his Kingdom without a double affliction, his Subjects who under ſo valiant a Leader, would doubtleſs have braved the Forces of the whole Empire, and had formerly under his Conduct appeared more than men, made leſs reſiſtance now, than women, under the Roman Arms; and were moſt eaſily reduced under the Dominion of Auguſtus.

I imagined (to increaſe my affliction) my ſelf to have been the cauſe of this fatal abſence of Coriolanus's; and though I could not comprehend what ſhould hinder his return into Africa, having had time enough to go thither and defend his State, yet I believed my ſelf partly to have been the cauſe of his misfortune, and that belief moſt cruelly redoubled my misfortunes. Ah! Son of Juba (have I often ſaid) I have alwayes feared that the gods would puniſh thee for thy Crime, but I call them to witneſs, that I never wiſhed it, and that I cannot ſee thee diſpoyled of thy Kingdom, poſſibly a wandring Vagabond, without any aſſured retreat, without deploring thy misfortune, and intereſſing my ſelf more therein, than my ungratitude deſerveth. My juſt reſentments are ſatisfied to ſee the troubled with ſome remorſe, and puniſh't by a vain Repentance; and it is upon thy heart, not upon thy fortune that I would be revenged.

In theſe ſad imployments I travelled with Ceſar, whom I ſaw every day, and the Empreſs alſo, who knowing the Emperors intentions, appeared nothing ſharp towards me for my ill treating Tiberius, neither oppoſed ſhe the birth of her Sons (the young Druſus) paſſion for my Siſter Antonia, to wards whom he began to ſhew great teſtimonies of a vertuous affection, we received the knowledge thereof with ſatisfaction, as well for the preſent Fortune of the Sons of Livia, as for the Noble qualities of that young Prince who really poſſeſſed all that could render a man accompliſh't. He teſtified a ſenſible Repentance for the pretences he formerly had to Julia, and finding in Antonia a humor quite different from that of Ceſars Daughter, and with an excellent beauty a ſpirit full of prudence and ſweetneſs, and a marvellous vertue, he became wholly hers, and began to make his Addreſſes with the approbation of Octavia and Ceſar, and all thoſe that were intereſſed therein. I alſo daily ſaw the Princeſs Julia, who failed not of the former teſtimonies of her friendſhip, [Page] and aſſured me by a Thouſand Oaths that ſhe contributed nothing to the infidelity of Coriolanus, and if it were ſo that that Prince had a real paſſion-for her, my intereſt, and that of Marcellus's (which ſhe conſidered as ſhe ought) would never have permitted her to have turned her eyes or thoughts upon him. All this while nothing was heard of Tiberius nor Marcellus, only they learn't that they had not been in Mauritania.

I will hold you no longer upon the recital of our Voyage, and you ſhall only know that leaving Cyprus for Alexandria, our Veſſel ſailing towards Egypt with a proſperous wind, the Princeſs Octavia deſiring to viſit the Empreſs, paſſed out of our Veſſel into hers, accompanied by my Siſters; and I had waited upon her in this Viſit, had not a little indiſpoſition hindred me, obliging me to ſtay where I was with my Maids: You learn't yeſterday how we were attaqued by a furious Tempeſt, which diſperſt all the Veſſels of the Fleet; and ours having for two dayes reſiſted the waves with very little hopes, fell at laſt into the power of the King your Brother, from whom, inſtead of the ſuccours we demanded, we had like to have received our deaths amongſt many of the Paſſengers whom he ſlew; you know all that hapned to me with him, the perſecutions which I ſuffered by his love, the Captivity wherein he kept me, till by good Fortune I found the means of eſcaping, through the aſſiſtance of that valiant man whom I found with you, and whom I have learn't ſince to be the Prince of Silicia.

And laſtly (my dear Siſter) I had the good Fortune to find you, and to ſee the Prince Alexander my Brother, to know and be known of him; you ſaw our Careſſes at ſo unthought on a meeting, and I received yours with much affection, when you knew that I was the Siſter of Alexander; and when I learn't from Alexander that you were the Princeſs to whom he owed his life, to whom he had given it, and to whom he had ſo great obligations. Our friendſhip formed it ſelf without difficulty, we remembred each other of the young years we had paſſed together at Alexandria, with the Queen Cleopatra my Mother; I learn't your Fortunes by the mouth of my Brother, and you deſired to know mine by my own. I related to you in the Wood where we walked, the moſt part of the accidents of my life, when by an Encounter, as little expected as that at Syracuſa, that Coriolanus of whom I had ſpoken ſo much, who ſo poſſeſſeth my thoughts, and who had ſo great a concernment in our Diſcourſe, preſented himſelf again before me, and hath not only troubled my Soul, awaked the agitations of my ſpirit by this laſt Encounter, but alſo in the manifeſt danger wherein we have left him fighting for our ſakes (ungrateful and unfaithful as he is) he hath poſſeſt me with ſo ſtrong a grief, as that of having re-fallen into the hands of Artaxes.

The afflicted Cleopatra thus ended her Diſcourſe, and the mournful occaſion whereon ſhe ended, ſo touched her, that ſhe could not but with tears accompany the ſad concluſion. Artemiſa would have comforted her, had ſhe not been in ſo uncomfortable a condition her ſelf; and although her own Affairs were capable of wholly filling her ſpirit, yet could they not hinder her from ſaying, joining tears together; I hope, my dear Siſter, that the gods have delivered that Prince from the danger wherein we left him, having formerly done marvels in his favour, which may reaſonably hinder our deſpairing of his ſafety; and if I durſt (Siſter) I would ſay that poſſibly you have more reaſon to intereſs your ſelf therein than you think, being unable to imagine, after your Relation of his life, and the effects of his love, but much more of that meeting at Syracuſa, and this laſt, whereat I have been preſent my ſelf, that that Prince can be intirely culpable of thoſe Treaſons wherewith you reproach him, and which makes all his misfortunes yours. All his Actions have ſo little correſpondence with that infidelity, and he appeared with ſo much innocence both in his face and words, that I am the moſt deceived perſon in the World, if he be not rather betrayed than the Traytor, and if thoſe appearances which have deceived you, be not ſome effect of the artifice of Tiberius. For although you have proofs apparently convincing) if Corlolanus hath forſaken you, what can be his deſign of ſeeking you at Syracuſa, and at Alexandria with ſo much labour and danger? Wherefore hath he left a Kingdom, which with ſo much Travel he Conquered, to run to you alone? And wherefore, valiant and full of glory as he is, hath he abandoned the defence thereof, and ſuffered it to re-fall into the Enemies hands, without drawing his Sword, and it may be without making a ſtep towards its conſervation, if it be true that the Kingdom is more conſiderable to him than Cleopatra? I told you before, replied the deſolate Princeſs, that his laſt actions might proceed from his Repentance, and that Repentance cannot re-give him thoſe affections which he ought to have kept by an intire fidelity. The fair Princeſs ſtopped at theſe words, whether it were to conſider Artemiſa's Diſcourſe wherein ſhe found ſome reſemblance of truth and comfort, or that the violence of her griefs impeded her ſpeech; but ſhe was ſilent, and with ſobs ſtopped the paſſage.

The Eighth Part of CLEOPATRA.
BOOK, II.

[Page]

AS this was the ſeaſon of the ſhorteſt Nights of the year, the day began to appear before the Princeſs Cleopatra had finiſhed her ſtory, and many hours followed before grief would permit the acceſs of ſleep to the two Princeſſes: The ſad poſture of their Affairs was too apparent to the eyes of their remembrance, to permit an eaſie repoſe to their bodies; and if they ſlept at the laſt, it was rather a ſubmiſſion of Nature to their affrights and wearineſſes, than any refreſhment to their ſad misfortunes.

They were upon the point of ſleeping, when on ther other ſide of the partition which ſeparated their Chamber from the reſt of the Ship, they heard themſelves named with the King of Armenia, which cauſed them to hearken with a little attention, ſuppoſing that in the condition they were in, they ought to neglect nothing; and they diſtinctly heard the voice of him who commanded the Veſſel in the Kings abſence, queſtioning a man who was newly arrived: And well, Ariſtus (ſaid he) in what condition is the King? And how hath he received the News of the ſurprize we have made? My Lord Megacles, rereplied Ariſtus, the health of the King is in a better poſture than I could have hoped, and his wounds not onely are not dangerous, but I hope they will permit him to come hither before to morrow Night. I know not how to expreſs the joy he reſented at the good News which I brought, how he Careſſed me, and how many Recompences he hath promiſed me; the exceſs of his joy had like to have been prejudicial to him, but I now believe it will prove an excellent remedy to advance his Cure; he hath ſpoken words, and done things, that have made me judge, there was never a more violent paſſion that his, for Cleopatra. But (replied Megacles) what are his thoughts for the Princeſs his Siſter? And what ſaid he, when you related how you met her? He teſtified very much joy, replied Ariſtus, and, if I am not deceived, his ſpirit towards that Princeſs is ſomething ſweetned; and I believe that the love he bears the Sister, will deſpoſe him to pardon Artemiſa part of that Fault which ſhe committed for the Brother.

He uttered no Menaces againſt her, as I thought he would have done; and laſtly, he made me conjecture by his actions and his words, that beſides the ſatisfaction of recovering his Siſter, he ſhould receive thereby a notable advantage through his hopes of conſerving her as a powerful Hoſtage, to procure the protection, and even the aſſiſtance of Alexander. All his words were full of Tranſports, and all his Diſcourſes; commanding the ſafeguard of the Treaſure which we had in our hands, as of a thing more precious to him than his Kingdom and life; and particularly hath ordained that we keep our ſelves well concealed within this Rock, for the little time that we muſt ſtay, fearing with ſome appearance leſt we be diſcovered, and ſo the Noble prey be taken out of our hand.

This fear will make him haſten his departure, though it put his life in danger; and certainly, unleſs ſome accident happen to his wounds, that may prevent, he will be here to morrow, to provide for our Journey into our Countrey, ſo ſoon as he is in the Veſſel. Beſides his impatience of ſeeing the Princeſs Cleopatra, the fear of being ſurprized upon theſe Coaſts if he ſtay longer, will precipitate his departure from a houſe where all the objects are mournful, the Maſter whereof, or at leaſt him that poſſeſſeth it, and hath given a retreat to our King being dead after the moſt pitiful manner in the World, and hath poſſeſt his Domeſtiques with ſo much regret, that the place reſounds with nothing but cryes and groans. But have you not learn't (ſaid Megacles) who was that charitable Hoſt who beſtowed ſo favourable a retreat upon our King? You will be aſtoniſh't, replied Ariſtus, at what I am [Page] going to tell you. I was ſo my ſelf, when, after the death of this man, his Servants, who had carefully concealed his Name whil'ſt he lived, declared to us, that it was the Prince Tiridates, Brother to the King of Parthia, the ſame who ſought a Sanctuary from Court to Court againſt the cruelty of the King his Brother, and the ſame who in his young years we ſaw under the protection of our Court. He dyed ſuddenly at ſome News (as they ſaw) which one of his Domeſticks brought him, and I believe that grief did never produce ſo prompt and marvellous an effect. I was with the King, who was giving me theſe Commiſſions, when one came and told him after how ſtrange a faſhion his Hoſt was dying. The King to whom that Prince was diſcovered, and who alſo knew the King, was very much troubled; and notwithſtanding the incommodity of his wounds, would needs aſſiſt at the laſt ſighs of his life; and cauſing himſelf to be covered with ſome of his Cloaths, and leaning upon mine and my Companions Arm, he went into the Chamber of the poor Prince. He was juſt dead as we entred, and amongſt thoſe of the Domeſticks who drowned themſelves in tears at his Bed-ſide (through the aſſiſtance of many Torches which were lighted in the Chamber) we ſaw two men of the nobleſt Mine and preſence in the World; the one ſitting on the ſide of the Bed, holding one of the cold hands of that poor Prince; and the other who was but half-cloathed, and the paleneſs of whoſe face declared him to be ſick, ſate upon a Chair, which was juſt at his pillow; both of them teſtified a great grief for the death of Tiridates, and the King my Maſter having accompanied theirs with his, they a little after entred into Converſation. The life and death of that unfortunate Prince, (whoſe Name neither the one nor the other endeavoured to conceal now after he was gone) was the Subject of their Diſcourſe; and, I proteſt, I heard thoſe two men ſpeak the braveſt things, and after ſuch a noble manner, upon the inſtability of Fortune, and the miſeries of mans life, that ever I heard. They talked with the principal Officers of Tiridates, how his body might be tranſported into Parthia, that he might be buried in the Tomb of his Anceſtors; and he that ſate upon the Bed-ſide, would that they ſhould build him another Monument upon that ſhoar, and writ with his own hand an Epitaph to be inſcribed thereon. As for him of the two that ſate upon the Bed (whoſe Mine and Converſation was ſweet and charming) we knew him not. But the other who ſate upon the Chair, whoſe Mine was more fierce though pale, ſo ſoon as we had ſeen him by the Torch-light, we obſerved ſome features in his face, which neither his paleneſs, nor the change which ſome years might have made, could conceal; but ſo ſoon as he opened his mouth, the tone of his voyce was not leſs familiar to us: and my Maſter upon theſe ſuſpitions beholding him with attention, perceived that the man beheld him with an earneſtneſs no leſs than the Kings; perhaps the Torches would not have reſolved their doubts, but a little after the day appeared, and the King through the incommodity of his wounds, being deſirous to paſs into his Chamber, and betake him to Bed; this man either through deſign or chance, aroſe at the ſame time, and went the ſame way; they met together upon a little Gallery, where the King ſtayed to ſee him paſs by; he ſtood ſtill alſo when he came where the King was, and they fixedly beheld each other in a place, where objects were eaſily diſcovered, and the day-light was great enough upon the Gallery to draw them out of their doubts; they beheld each other for ſome time without ſpeaking, whether it were to confirm their opinions, or whether (being no longer doubtful of the Truth) they were uncertain how they ſhould man age their knowledge; but at laſt that man (the moſt hardy of mankind) taking the word, Doubt not, ſaid he to the King, if thou art Artaxes, but that I am Britomarus. Theſe words opened the King eyes, and as naturally his Soul was ſufficiently proud, he could not brook ſo fierce a dialect from a man of a quality ſo inferior to his: It is true, (ſaid he) that in beholding thy face, I call to mind a man whom I have ſometimes ſeen in my Service, neither have I forgotten, that after I had raiſed him by my favour to imployments and dignities, to which he had no right to aſpire, he quitted my party ſo ſoon as Fortune began to be mine Enemy.

The audacious Britomarus beholding the King with a diſdainful ſmile; As I followed thy party without any obligation (replied he) till by thy Cruelty, and unworthy Treating me, thou madeſt thy ſelf unworthy of my Service; thou may ſt eaſily judge what eſteem I made of thy dignities, by my great unwillingneſs to forſake them; and if Fortune for ſook thee when I did, thou needeſt not wonder that thoſe Victories which thou heldeſt by my Sword only, ſhould follow the ſame Sword that brought them. The King grew pale with anger at this Diſcourſe, and impatiently ſupporting theſe audacious words of Britomarus; Time, ſaid he, hath not abated thy pride; but were I in another condition, thou ſhould'ſt not ſpeak with ſo little reſpect to the King of Armenia. Artaxes (replied he diſdainfully) ſince our ſeparation, I have ſeen more than one King humbled beneath me, and poſſibly thou ſhould'ſt ſoon be ſo thy ſelf, had I not regard to the condition wherein I find thee, and [Page] to the remembrance of Arſinoe and Ariobarzanes. I know not what were the Kings thoughts (to whom Britomarus's Valor was too well known to be deſpiſed) but both were without Swords, and ours were in the Chamber; but I believe this, their ſtrange Converſation would at laſt have run to the utmoſt extremities, had not that man of the noble aſpect, whom we left in the Chamber with Tiridates appeared upon the Gallery, and interpoſed between them, conjuring them not to make a greater diſorder in a houſe wherein grief had already produced ſo mournful effects. Britomarus received this intreaty in good part, and teſtifying by his proud face leſs choler than diſdain, he retired with his Eſquire that accompan ed him into a Chamber which was at the end of the Gallery, and the King being in his, we did put him to Bed. He continued a good while moſt livelily touched at this Encounter, and I doubt not but he formed many Deſigns againſt the life of Britomarus, which his feebleneſs would not permit him to execute.

In the mean time the Unknown being called away, as I believe, by his Affairs, left order with the Officers of Tiridates, to prevent the meeting of the King and Britomarus, and they promiſed an exact care therein. The King meditating a long time both upon his anger and his love, at laſt conſidering his unability to expreſs his reſentments againſt Britomarus, and fearing that in caſe he called us to him to revenge him upon that valiant man, he ſhould loſe the occaſions of keeping and carrying away the Princeſſes; for once he made his anger give place to his love, and deferring his revenge until another time, he ſent me with Orders, that you carefully preſerve the illuſtrious Priſoners, and commanded me to return to morrow a little late, to aſſiſt at his bringing hither.

Thus finiſhed the Armenian: and Megacles made reflexion upon all that had been related, and particularly upon the Encounter of Britomarus; and the two Princeſſes, who had attentively hearkned, learn't by this Diſcourſe ſome part of their Deſtiny. Cleopatra underſtood with much grief, that on the morrow they muſt leave the ſhoar of Alexandria; and fall yet more into the power of that barbarous King; and Artemiſa (though part of her fears diminiſh't at the News of the Kings milder inclinations towards her) yet could thence draw no conſolation for her love, being unable to reſolve without a mortal grief, to be ſeparated (perhaps for ever) from her beloved Alexander; yet had not all hope forſaken them, that that day which Artaxes's wounds gave them, might be a day of ſuccours through Alexanders means, and the aſſiſtance of thoſe whom that Prince might draw to his ſuccours in a Countrey which obeyed Ceſar, and in a Countrey wherein the very Name of Cleopatra's Children was conſiderable; the two Princeſſes communicated this thought to each other, and (hearing neither of thoſe two men ſpeak whoſe Diſcourſe was ended, or elſe they were in ſome other part of the Ship) thus began their ſad entertainment on this adventure; and although in appearance they had enough to do with their own Fortunes without medling with others, yet Cleopatra could not hear of the death of Tiridates (whom ſhe had known at Rome, and whoſe vertue ſhe had in great eſteem) without a very ſenſible affliction, neither could Artemiſa apprehend the Encounter which the King her Brother had with Britomarus, whoſe name and perſon was very well known, being drawn thereto by his brave Actions whilſt he lived in Armenia, without intereſſing her ſelf in the adventure. Cleopatra demanded who that hardy man was, who ſpake to Kings with ſo much fierceneſs; and Artemiſa, who had the ſame opinion of his vertue, as the reſt of thoſe that knew him, replyed: It is a man, ſaid ſhe, who appeared like a bright Sun amongſt the men of our Nation, and who (if the other Actions of his life do correſpond with thoſe of his youth) may deſerve a condition as high and great as his ambition; we knew him but very young, our ſenſibility of his loſs might make us ſay that he paſſed from us ſo ſwift as lightning; of a mean birth, he is great above Princes; and if Fortune anſwer his Valor and Vertue, he will ſoon receive from his Sword the Crowns which Fortune hath denied to his houſe. He is ſierce and preſumptuous beyond the bounds which his condition ſeem to preſcribe; but that fierceneſs appears in him ſo naturally well placed that one cannot condemn it, nor imagine him any thing below the perſon he repreſents, Theſe words ſtirred up the curioſity of Cleopatra to underſtand more of the Fortune of Britomarus, and Artemiſa briefly related part of what he did in Armenia, and by her Diſcourſe raiſed in that Princeſs as much eſteem for him, as averſion for Artaxes at the recital of that cruel Action which cauſed Britomarus to leave his Service.

After that the fair Princeſſes had ſpent ſome moments in this entertainment, they found their eyes heavy, and their bodies wearied and diſtempered through their long watching, ſo that permitting ſleep to ſteal upon them, they gave ſome interval to their diſpleaſures.

Whilſt they ſlept, and that Cleopatra's Maids ſlept alſo, or, careful of her repoſe, kept themſelves in the Chamber with a profound ſilence; The Armenians who guarded the [Page] Veſſel, endeavoured to acquit themſelves exactly of their charge, and though they treated the two Princeſſes with all reſpect and deference, and took great care that they might be well ſerved; yet they guarded them ſo carefully, and ſo prevented their diſcovery under the Rock, which quite hid them from thoſe that on the ſhoar might ſeek them; ſo that theſe liluſtrious perſons had but little hopes from thence. Megacles, who commanded in the Kings abſence, walked upon the Deck, giving orders to thoſe that were about him, and on a ſudden he thought ſome ſtrange noiſe deſcended from the Top of the Rock (whoſe head ſhot it ſelf out into the Sea further than the Ship.) At firſt neither he, nor thoſe that were with him, could diſcern what it was; but a little after, advancing upon the upper part of the Veſſel, and lending an attentive ear, they heard the voyce of a man from the Top of that horrible Precipice, uttering theſe words: Implacable gods! (ſaid he) Malicious men! Irreconcilable Fortune! it were inſenſibility to hope for any good from you; and ſince (to defend me againſt ſo many Enemies) Death only ſtretcheth forth her Arms, and that the miſerable reliques of this life are unprofitable for that end to which they were conſerved: O Death, I willingly receive the aſſiſtance thou preſenteſt.

Scarce had Megacles, and thoſe that were with him, heard the laſt of theſe words, when they ſaw him that pronounced them (cleaving the Aire from the Top of the Rock) fall into the Sea, ſome four paces from the ſhip. The waves parted under his feet with a great noiſe, and rebounded higher than the Maſt of the Veſſel. The water was very deep, and that deſperate man who threw himſelf into its boſome, being armed at all points, had quickly found his death, had not Megacles (though a Servant to a cruel King) been poſſeſt with ſome pity and vertue, and commanded earneſtly that they ſhould do what they could to draw this man out of the pitileſs waves. The Mariners who were Maſters of their Trade, taking great Poles, headed with Crooks of Iron, ſought him amongſt the Sands with an admirable diligence. Had the ſucceſs of their labours been leſs ſpeedy, they had been utterly unprofitable; but; by great good Fortune, after ſome moments ſearch, they found the body (the weight of whoſe Armor had hindred its riſing) and faſtning their Irons in ſome default of the Arms, not without lightly wounding the bearer, they eaſily drew him up, and uniting their Forces, got him into the ſhip. Preſently the natural compaſſion of men how barbarous ſoever, and the curioſity which ſo unordinary a ſpectacle raiſed, cauſed them to flock about him. Megacles commanding them to take off his Caſque, the viſit whereof was half lifted up, yet could perceive by his pale and meagre face but few ſigns of life; but as he would not ſuccour him by halves, he neglected nothing that might ſave him and by his orders whilſt ſome diſarmed him, others holding him up by the feet, gave paſſage for the ſalt water out of his mouth,

He diſgorged a great quantity, and when they ſuppoſed him intirely diſcharged, they layed him upon a Bed, and attended the effect of their ſuccours.

Preſently Megacles knew they would not be unprofitable, and although the unknown came not quite to himſelf, he began to breath freely, and to ſtir his Head, though with much weakneſs. Megacles gave him ſome ſpirits to drink, and either through the means of that, or what was done before, or both, a little after he he opened his eyes, and found his ſtrength by little and little to return in ſome proportion.

Had not Megacles underſtood this mans deſpair by his own words, which he uttered falling, he would have left him to take ſome neceſſary reſt, but imagining that ſince he ſought death, he would run to it again, were he left to his own diſpoſe, he not only watched him, to prevent any ſecond effects of his Deſpair, but reſolved, if it were poſſible, to cure him by reaſon, and to perſwade him of all thoſe things that might give him ſome deſire of life. He was confirmed the more in this Deſign, when with attention he caſt his eyes upon the face of the unknown; for he believed that what he had done out of compaſſion, ought to be done to preſerve a man of the beſt Mine he had ever ſeen. His face, though pale and changed, as well through the laſt effect of his Deſpair, as through the preceding diſpleaſures, was formed with a proportion ſo accompliſh't; the ſweet and charming being raiſed by ſome things ſo great and high, that it was difficult to behold him without reſpect; the beauty of his body marvellouſly accorded with that of his face; and laſtly, all his parts made an admirable accompliſhment.

Whilſt Megacles ran over all thoſe marvels with his eyes, the unknown began alſo to turn his towards the place where he ſtood, and opening his mouth ſo ſoon as he was able to ſpeak: Ah miſerable man (ſaid he with a feeble voyce) art thou then returned to this odious life; he ſtopped at theſe firſt words, and a little after eaſily recollecting all that had paſſed: O Coward, added he, thou hadſt not re-entred thy miſeries, if of thy hand thou hadſt demanded what the pitileſs waves have refuſed thee; hadſt thou conſidered that with the gods, men and fortune, even the Elements are become thy Enemies, thou hadſt not unprofitably [Page] ſought that aſſiſtance from the water which thou mighteſt have commanded from thy Sword. Finiſhing theſe words, he attentively beheld thoſe that were about him, and not doubting but that it was they who drew him out of the water, he teſtified by ſome ſighs, the little thanks he gave them for their officiouſneſs. Megacles, who carefully intereſſed himſelf in his ſafety, ſitting down by him, and preſſing one of his hands between his with much affection: I know not, ſaid he, what misfortunes have cauſed your Deſpair, and I imagine by all advantagious appearances, that you have courage enough to ſupport all the ordinary aſſaults of Fortune; but whatſoever the cauſe be, that hath given you ſo much averſion to life, I cannot repent me of what I have done towards your preſervation, and I ſhall do what lies in my power, not only to oppoſe your Deſign of dying, but to find what may render life leſs odious to you.

The unknown beholding Megacles with an acknowledging Aire (ſo well as the ſad condition he was in would permit) and gently preſſing the hand that held his: Your good intention (ſaid he) hath obtained pardon for the injury you have done me, and I alſo beg your pardon, if I can give you no greater thanks for the care you take of my ſafety. Theſe few words pronounced with an extraordinary grace, touched the heart of Megacles, and becoming more affectionate towards what he had undertaken: Is it poſſible, added he, that ſuch a man as you appear to be, can find in Death only a remedy of his misfortunes, and have you not reſolution enough to reſiſt Fortune, having ſo much as to precipitate your ſelf into a terrible Death. The horrors of life, when the cauſes are legitimate (ſadly replied the unknown) proceed not always from want of courage; and thoſe that can voluntarily expoſe themſelves to Death, as you ſay, may eaſier reſiſt leſſer evils than Death is in the opinion of moſt men: but I believe there are cauſes that can render Deſpair honourable; and though it be weakneſs and a ſhame to flie to Death for the loſs of ſome goods, or advantages of fortune; yet it is honourable to imbrace it rather than ſurvive ones glory, or the loſs of a beloved perſon. We have familiar examples enough thereof in our age, and they are great perſons, ſuch as Antony, Cato, and Brutus, who have ſought this laſt remedy, either to avoid ſhame, or to yield to the anger of Heaven, and not to the aſſaults of Fortune, fitter for feeble ſouls and ordinary perſons.

The Examples which you alledge, replied Megacles, have found but few that have approved them, and many that have condemned them; and though it be confeſt that Anthony could no longer live with glory after the loſs of the Empire, neither Cato nor Brutus after the ruine of their party; yet it muſt be granted, that fear of their Enemis, and their euil Fortune, made them forſake that which they durſt no longer defend, and run to Death as an evil much leſs, than the terror thereof imprinted into their affrighted ſpirits, wheras had they marched with their heads erected againſt their deſtiny, and had indured until the end, all Fortune, or the anger of Heaven had prepared for them, they had left a more Noble reputation to poſterity, and had been taken for conſtant and undaunted, for unalterable in good and evil Fortune.

Well, replied the unknown witth a ſigh, if it be a weakneſs to ſeek Death, it muſt be pardoned to our Nature, which hath no more ſtrength than Heaven hath given it; for my part I will neither juſtifie nor condemn them that have preceded me herein; it ſufficeth to believe, that life being to me an unſupportable evil to the indifferent ſtrengths of my ſpirits, I have no more reaſon to preſerve it, than a Captive to carry his Chains which he may break. Nevertheleſs, replied Megacles, in caſe your Deſpair proceed not from ſome loſs which the gods themſelves cannot repair, you ought a little to wait their leiſure, and there is little reaſon to believe that the gods do conſent to your Death, or that they preſerve you not to a better Fortune; for were it ſo, they would have ſuffered you to periſh in that danger from whence you are miraculouſly eſcaped. Of ſo many kinds of death, that you might have choſen, they would have inſpired you with another, and rather to any of the Rocks that ſurround the ſhore would they have directed you, than to this you have choſen, becauſe perhaps beneath them, you would not have found the ſuccors we have given you. This is a viſible obſtacle that Heaven hath caſt in your way, teſtifying that it diſapproves it, and I certainly believe it intends ſome change in your Deſtiny ſince it hath hindred it. I exceedingly deſire through the intereſt I take in your life, and my advantagious opinion of you, that theſe conſiderations may arreſt your Deſpair; but if they are uncapable ſo to do, and if you think that the aſſiſtance I have given you, deſerveth any acknowledgment, and gives me right to demand any thing, I beſeech you earneſtly to receive our Services, and to attempt nothing againſt your life, whil'ſt you are with us; we will in time obtain more, if it may be done without importuning you; but in the mean time give me your word, if you think the Service I have done you, merits any ſatisfaction. The unknown remained for ſome time without reply to the obliging words of Megacles, but at length beholding him with an [Page] Actions which teſtified his acknowledgment, I ſhould be too ungrateful (ſaid he) for your good intentions for my ſafety, and the pains you take for a miſerable Unknown, the Butt of angry Heaven and Fortune, if I conſider not your deſire and intreaties; but I could wiſh you had asked ſomething elſe in recompence of your goodneſs, rather than the prolongation of this miſerable life; but ſince from ſuch an unhappy perſon as I am, you can receive no other mark of acknowledgment, nor any thing which it may be, would be more hard for me to grant; I promiſe you to enterprize nothing againſt that life which I owe you, ſo long as I am with you. I believe it will not be long, but be it ſo long as it will, I will exactly perform my promiſe.

After this aſſurance, which much rejoyced Megacles, the unknown nothing oppoſed the care they took of him, permitting them to take away his wet garment, and put him to Bed, that he might receive ſome refreſhment after the great quantity of ſalt water which he had ſwallowed down.

Megacles having ordered things towards the aſſiſtance of the unknown, went to paſs into the Princeſſes Chamber, whom he ſerved with much aſſiduity, and ſecure caution, In the diſpleaſure they received through his means, he indeavoured to render himſelf the leaſt odious he could poſſibly; and he the rather hoped it, for that he was not of the Number of thoſe who forced them from the ſhore the day before; for the King his Maſter knowing his little inclination to violent Actions, and that he had ordinarily a contradiction of ſpirit thereto, commanded that he ſhould ſtay and keep the Veſſel (which was no leſs important for his return) whilſt thoſe that he had appointed for the Rape of Cleopatra, prepared themſelves to execute his Orders. Megacles failed not to let the Princeſſes underſtand his juſtification, and Artemiſa, to whom his quality and manners were known, forgat not to give a favourable teſtimony thereof to Cleopatra, believing that in the condition wherein both of them at preſent were; they might need this mens aſſiſtance, and that they ought not to neglect complying with him.

Cleopatra, who with a grandure of courage, elevated above the reſt of her Sex, had an allay of ſweetneſs, gratitude and equity, eaſily diſcerned that he diſobliged her only out of fear; and if ſhe did not greatly careſs Megacles, it was through her Souls total occupation upon its own misfortunes, rather than any particular reſentment. Megacles entred not their Chamber till he heard they were up, and that it was neceſſary to ſollicite them to ſome repaſt.

The two Princeſſes ſate upon the Bed where they had paſſed the Night, and Megacles having bid them good morrow, with a profound reſpect, addreſſing himſelf to Artemiſa (to whom he had the moſt acceſs) he beſought her in the moſt preſſing manner he could poſſible, that ſhe would not deſtroy her ſelf with hunger, whilſt ſhe was in his guard, but receive the food he offered, not as from an Enemy, ſince ſhe knew he never had deſerved it; and that of all the miſeries the King had inflicted on her, there was not one proceeding from his Counſel. Artemiſa, who ſaw the truth of what was ſaid, receive him with much Civility, and as ſhe intereſſed her ſelf in Cleopatra's health more than in her own, ſhe conſented to oblige her thereto. So that both rifing from the Bed, refreſhed themſelves with a light repaſt; which done, though languiſhing and ſick as they were, they entred into ſome converſe with Megacles, who was a man of ſpirit and agreeable converſe, and knew of much the more though his extraordinary Travels, having viſited the Courts of many Kings both in Aſia and in Europe. It was by Diſcourſes of his Voyages that the Princeſs Artemiſa deſired him to divert part of Cleopatra s ſadneſs, and Megacles being willing to ſatisfie them, related manythings worth attention, and capable of charming ſome part of their grieſs; but when he had deſcribed what he had ſeen moſt memorable in the Courts of Capadocia, Cilicia, Meſopotamia, Thracia, and many other Kingdoms; and having told them that he paſſed the Boſphorus, entring and making a conſiderable ſtay in Scythia, Cleopatra interrupting him hattily, That Alcamenes King of Scythia of whom you ſpeak (ſaid ſhe) and whoſe Actions have given him the ſurname of, Great, is now with Auguſtus (unleſs the Tempeſt by which we had almoſt ſuffered Shipwrack hath divided them) and is to accompany him to Alexandria. It is very ſtrange, replied Megacles, that ſo great a Prince as the King of Scythia, who hath no dependance upon the Empire, and who knows no greater than himſelf in the world, except the Emperor of the Romans, and the King of Parthia, ſhould put himſelf into the power of another Prince, it being a thing never done but with great formalities and precautions, The Reputation of Ceſar (replied Cleopatra) and the free ſpirit of Alcamenes, hath made him infringe theſe conſiderations; and the King of Scythia, in whom the glory of Auguſtus hath raiſed a great emulation, and paſſion to ſee him, having learnt that he muſt go into Macedonia, ſent Ambaſſadors to demand his Alliance and Friendſhip, and to tell him, That if he would give him his word, he would paſs over the Cuſtome of the Kings his Predeceſſors who never paſſed their own bounds, unleſs to [Page] make War, and come into Macedonia, that he might ſee the greateſt man of the world, and the worthy Succeſſor of great Ceſar, who had filled the whole Earth with his glory. Auguſtus believing himſelf obliged by the Civility of that King, whoſe Anceſtors never feared the Roman Armies, and having heard marvels related of him (notwithſtanding the great diſtance between, and the little communication that the Romans have with the Scythians) he teſtified a great deſire of knowing him, and alſo believed that his Alliance could not but be profitable towards the eſtabliſhment of the Empire. Upon this account he honourably received the Ambaſſadors, and replied by Decimus Fabius, whom he ſent back with them, that he ſhould with joy receive the offers of his friendſhip, that he had a great deſire to ſee a Prince, whoſe fair Reputation had often reached his ear, and he not only gave him his word, which nothing was able to alter, but in caſe he deſired it: he would advance himſelf, and contract the way to ſee him. With this Anſwer, the Emperor ordered that Livia ſhould ſend a magnificent Preſent to the Queen his Wife, whoſe name and adventures are no leſs known, than that of the King her Husband. Alcamenes intirely confident in the Emperors word, having left the government of his Kingdoms to the Queen, who is no leſs capable thereof than the braveſt men, departed thence accompanied only by Five hundred Horſe, and came to find Ceſar in Pella, the capital City of Macedonia. The Emperor made him a moſt honourable Reception, and treated him with much more deference than he ever teſtified to any other King, and in my opinion his eſteem was very juſt; for beſide that the Mine of this Prince is as good as any I have ſeen, all things in him appear ſo great, that he hath much more of the Hero, and of the Demi-gods of Antiquity, than of ordinary men. Had you heard, replied Megacles the Relation of his admirable Adventures, you would have beheld him as a perſon much more extraordinary; for before he came to the Crown, there hapned to him in the courſe of his Loves, things ſo little common, that were not the memory thereof freſh, and the teſtimonies publick, they would be rather taken for Antique Fables, than real Truths. I believe that the diſtance and little Commerce between the Scythians, and other Nations, may have deprived you of part; yet I believe not ſo, but that you have heard mention thereof.

It is true, replied the Princeſs, I have heard of many valiant and amorous Deeds which have rendred this Prince famous in many parts of the World; but what I have heard, hath been confuſedly related, and I know not whether my Siſter (ſaid ſhe looking upon Artemiſa) hath had any clearer knowledge. I have heard many things, replied Artemiſa, but with as little order as you, and I doubt not, but if you have a deſire to know the particularities, Meglacles can give you a full information, knowing that he is too curious, and too intelligent, not to have learnt them whilſt he ſtayed in Scythia.

It is true (replied Megacles) that there are few perſons in the World who know thoſe paſſages better than my ſelf, having taken care to inform my ſelf even to the leaſt circumſtances; and if, Great Princeſſes, you will both promiſe me to receive the recital as ſome refreſhment to your griefs, or at leaſt, whilſt the Relation laſts to ſuſpend ſome part thereof, I will do my endeavour to relate things worthy your attention.

Cleopatra and Artemiſa being willing to be acquainted with thoſe Adventures which had made ſo great a noiſe in the World, promiſed Megacles what he demanded, and he being willing to comply with them ſo much as he could poſſible, having taken a Seat at their command, he thus began the expected Diſcourſe.

THE HISTORY OF ALCAMENES and MENALIPPA.
BOOK. I.

[Page]

THE adventures which I take upon me to relate, are not ſuch as arrive in the courſes of ordinary lives, and principally to great Princes, ſuch as Alcamenes; who, by his birth, and the rank he holds amongſt the moſt puiſſant Kings, ſeems that he ought not to be expoſed to particular Accidents, more proportionate to the fortunes of a private man, than to that of a Monarch; of whom likely the moſt remarkable actions ought to paſs, at the head of Armies, in a ſplendour conformable to their Dignity.

The Scythian Monarch, as you know, is not only the moſt ancient of the world, but alſo the greateſt and moſt puiſſant: and, after the Roman Emperour, and the King of Parthia, there is no Soveraign that poſſeſſeth a greater Countrey than the Scythian King, nor who commands a more War-like people. Never could the greateſt Conquerour amongſt either the Greeks or the Romans, extend their limits upon the Frontiers of Scythia; neither did ever the moſt powerful, or the moſt happy, carry a War thither, but to their own confuſion. I will not give you a deſcription of this Kingdom, nor of the manners of the Inhabitants, 'tis known to all the Earth, and few perſons are ignorant of the valour, policy, and ſimplicity of the ancient Scythians, or thoſe now living. I will only add, that what hath been reported of their former poverty, will appear otherwiſe at preſent; and although the Scythians affect leſs pomp, ceremonies and riches, than many other Nations, are nevertheleſs ſufficiently proud in their Armes, Equipages, beautiful Cities, and fair Houſes; and inhabit not Tents and Chariots, but when they march in the body of an Army. I will ſay no more of a people, who have but a ſmall part in this Hiſtory; and as it altogether for Alcamenes, I will not enlarge but upon the recital of his particular actions.

During the non-age of this Prince, the King Arontes his Father, (a great and redoubted Warriour, who dyed lately, and during whoſe raign, the moſt remarkable of his Sons adventures happened) had a long and bloody War with Decebalus King of Dacia, and the fields of either King had often bluſht with the blood of their miſerable ſubjects.

The Kingdom of Dacia was formerly obſcure, and of an indifferent conſideration. But this at preſent very potent, and its Princes may keep file, with the greateſt Soveraigns of either Aſia or Europe. To the ancient Dominions of the Dacians, are added (either by conqueſt or alliance) the Getes and the Gelones; and it was, as I ſuppoſe, about the Tribute that the Scythian King demanded of theſe Nations, which bred the quarrel. But be the original what it will, the proceſs was cruel, and for ſome time doubtful, but at length the King of Dacia ſunk under the Arms of the Scythians, and was killed by the King Arontes's own hand, in a battel fought on the Frontiers of his Countrey. Arontes, after this Victory, was in a capacity to have extended his Arms over the Dacian Territories; but he contented himſelf with the advantages he had, without ſeeking greater, conforming his Ambition to the cuſtom of his Predeceſſors, who have alwayes believed they could not, without a crime, invade their Neighbours Poſſeſſions; He therefore granted to the Widow of Decebalus, the truce ſhe demanded, keeping himſelf peaceably within his own limits, and governing his ſubjects with all juſtice and moderation.

[Page] But the Queen Amalthea (that was the name of Decebalus's Widow) retaining an inconſolable grief for the death of her Husband, and breathing nothing but revenge, was not appeaſed by the moderation of her enemy, forgetting none of her reſentments, though the evil ſtate of affairs forced her to diſſemble them; and alſo her impuiſſance to continue a war, the ſucceſs whereof had been already ſo mournful.

The only teſtimony of her marriage, was a daughter, then about five or ſix years old, fair amongſt the marvellous beauties of the univerſe, and born with an extraordinary ſpirit and grandure of courage; The afflicted Queen ſought in this little Princeſs all her conſolation, and in her founded all the hope of her premeditated revenge, ſuppoſing this growing beauty when it ripened to perfection, would enſlave all the Neighbour Princes, and arm them in her quarrel. The Princeſs, whoſe high ſpirit made her eaſily conſent to the reſentments of her Mother, refuſed not to make thoſe advantages, which ſhe had received from Nature, the incendiaries of that revenge they both equally breathed.

In this Hope was the young Menalippa educated, with all that care could do to advance the deſign of making her a moſt accompliſhed perſon, neglecting nothing that might acquire ſpiritual ornaments, to accompany thoſe of her beauty: Like a young Lioneſs, the Queen brought her up, inſpiring her alwaies with more of the Fierce than the Sweet, and during her infancy, ſhe never heard the name of Arontes pronounced, but with hatred and horrour; Her recreations were framed after a ſort, little common to her ſex, and ſeeing ſhe was of a vigorous ſtrong complexion, and an extraordinary ſtature, they made her practiſe the moſt violent exerciſes, to ride ſo ſoon as ſhe was able to ſit, and chaſe the ſavage Beaſts with bow and arrows; and if ſhe were not entirely an Amazon, at leaſt ſhe was capable of thoſe Martial women practices, who till Alexanders time inhabited Aſia with ſo much reputation.

Menalippa marvellouſly ſeconded the deſigns of the Queen her Mother, fair to the admiration of all thoſe that ſaw her, her ſpirit tempered with all the Graces that excellent education can add to excellent Naturals; her body accuſtomed to violent exerciſes, with as much force as thoſe of the ſtrongeſt men; her heart, naturally high and proud, eaſily received thoſe fierce impreſſions from her Mothers inſpiration, and withal, as much hatred to the perſon, name, and houſe of her fathers murtherer, as ſhe could deſire; when the Queen ſaw her ſuch a one as ſhe wiſhed, ſhe concealed her intentions no longer, but practizing for ſuccour with her Allies and Neighbours, to make a puiſſant expedition, ſhe propoſed the fair Menalippa, who (beſides the Marvels of her perſon, was heir to a potent Monarchy) the price of that vengeance ſhe continually breathed, not ſcrupling to promiſe her to that Prince, who with the greateſt power, and moſt fortunate ſucceſs, would aid her againſt her enemy.

Whilſt Menalippa was thus nurtured in Dacia, the King of Scythia, to whom the Gods had given but one Son, older than Menalippa by two years; this young Prince employed all his ſtudy, to render himſelf conformable by education to thoſe hopes were conceived of him; and certainly it was not without reaſon that they expected Marvels from him, ſince Heaven ſeemed to have inſpired this young Prince with whatſoever might entitle him admirable. I ſhall add nothing, Madam, to what you have ſaid concerning his good Mine, which certainly might diſpute precedence with all thoſe I have ever ſeen of great or majeſtick in the whole courſe of my Travels; his ſpirit is excellent, lively and active, his ſoul adorned with all the vertues; and form'd, with the moſt beautiful and grand inclinations; but you will know him better by my relation, than any deſcription I can make of him.

This young Prince ſo happily ſeconded the deſigns of the King his father, that at the age of fifteen years, he not only rendred himſelf more knowing in all ſorts of exerciſe than his teachers, but alſo appeared at theſe years the ſtrongeſt man of Scythia, in all exerciſes wherein addreſs and force of body could ſhew it, doing things which made all that ſaw him, judge, that at a more advanced age, he would ſurpaſs all thoſe whom antiquity had preſented for the moſt famous. But in a ſhort time he gave more authentique proofs; for ſcarce had he attained the ſeventeenth year, when the King his father was obliged to march againſt the Maſagetes (who were in Arms through the inſpiration of the Queen of Dacia and her Allies.) And being willing to teach his Son his trade, gave him the command of a part of his Army; he did, in this Imploy, things ſurpaſſing belief, defeated the enemy in three or four Combats, ſuch as might paſs for Battels, teſtifying a marvellous Conduct, and excellent intelligence, in an occupation which he had but begun to practiſe; he had alwaies the glory to have killed the Chiefs with his own hands, at the head of their Troops, and did things in his own perſon ſo aſtoniſhing, that the Scythians compared him to Achilles, Theſeus, and the fabulous Heroes of Antiquity; and, a little after, the King his father being retired, having left him the ſole command of the Army, he gain'd a memorable [Page] Victory, terminating that War by the moſt glorious ſucceſſes could be deſired.

Theſe marvellous beginnings fam'd the reputation of Alcamenes through all the neighbour Kingdoms; they talked every where of Alcamenes, as of a prodigie of valour, and the noiſe overtaking all places, arrived in Dacia, poſſeſſing the irritated Queen with a mortal diſpleaſure, fearing this young Prince as a potent obſtacle to her deſigns, of one day poſſeſſing his fathers Territories, and this rendred the name of Alcamenes both to the Mother, and to the Daughter, as odious as that of the King his father.

The Scythian Monarch, who had a great and generous ſoul, view'd with an incredible joy theſe tranſcendent actions of Alcamenes, and beholding in him nothing but grand and elevated above the reſt of man-kind, treated him as an extraordinary Son, a Son given by Heaven, for the glory and conſolation of his dayes; and as a Prince, who would bear the honour of Soythia to a higher degree than it ever yet arrived; and moreover, being acquainted with the Queen of Dacia's practices, and the preparations ſhe made againſt him (who with thoſe ſuccours ſhe hoped to draw by her Daughters beauty, was not to be deſpiſed) he believed himſelf furniſhed (in the perſon of Alcamenes) with a valiant deſender, and diſdained more than formerly, the evil deſigns of his adverſaries.

He had often ſpoken of it to the Prince, and perceived him burn with a generous reſentment againſt thoſe enemies of his Family, and a vehement deſire to meaſure his Sword with whomſoever the perſwaſions of Amalthea, or the beauty of Menalippa, had armed againſt his father, deſiring rather to carry the War into the enemies Countrey, than expect it in their own. The King, who was as moderate as valiant, and who now loved peace as well as formerly he had done the Wars, reprov'd without condemning the noble heat of his Son, alledging that he ought (after the examples of his Predeceſſors) contain himſelf within the juſtice of his cauſe, and expect the enemies on-ſet before he endeavoured their ruine; and beſides he had compaſſion on a Queen, whoſe reſentments could not be condemned, though they were not entirely reaſonable, and who tranſacted more through the love ſhe bare her husband, than out of any hope ſhe could conceive to conquer Scythia. Alcamenes, in whom generous reſentments found all manner of approbation, troubled not himſelf to combate theſe reaſons, and eaſily excuſing the revenge of Amalthea and Menalippa, both through the reſpect he bore to their ſex, and by the report he heard of the beauty of the Daugther, and vertue of the Mother; ſo that turning his anger againſt thoſe Princes who had embraced their intereſt, he no more ſolicited the King his father to begin this War.

Beſides this conſideration, which prevailed upon the ſpirits of theſe two Princes; they underſtood that the irritated Queen, inſtead of being in a condition to fight them, was imbarked in another War againſt the Prince of the Sarmates, and the Prince of the Nomades, upon ſome diſpute they had with Amalthea, about the extent of their Frontiers.

The King Arontes might have taken this advantage againſt his Enemy, and others (poſſibly) would have done it, but he judged it unworthy his courage; and the Prince his Son, boyling as he was for occaſions to get glory, had not the leaſt thought to lay hold on this advantage.

But although the King of Scythia taſted the greateſt ſatisfaction in the company of a Son ſo brave and ſo lovely, he was forced to part with him through the neceſſities of his affairs, and ordered him a journey into ſome Provinces, where the Father's or Son's preſence were abſolutely neceſſary.

Alcamenes departed from Palena (where the King then made his abode) and tranſported himſelf into thoſe places whither he was ſent; by his preſence he reduced all things into an entire tranquillity.

But having bravely acquitted himſelf of his Commiſſion, given by the King his Father, inſtead of returning where he was expected, he found himſelf preſt with an ardent deſire to travel, and viſit (unknown) ſome ſtranger Courts; few perſons 'tis poſſible have known his true deſigns, which came not to my knowledge; and I have thought with the reſt of the world, that curioſity only, and a youthful deſire, led him to that reſolution which many have condemned. But whatever was the cauſe, he writ a Letter to the King, wherein with many excuſes, he begg'd his pardon for this ſally of youth, profeſſing that he left him only to render himſelf more worthy to ſerve him, by the experience he hoped to reap by his Travels, promiſing not to abſent himſelf longer than a year, and during that, not ſo far from Scythia or Dacia, but eaſily to obſerve the motions of his enemies, in which caſe he would abandon all things, to render his King that ſervice, to which his duty obliged him; he accompanied theſe promiſes, with words full of humility and ſubmiſſion, to efface the reſentment which the King might conceive for his fault, and having given the Letter unto the principal of his ſervants, with whom he returned all his retinue, retaining only two Squires to accompany and ſerve him in his Voyage: and on this manner, maugre [Page] the reſiſtance of all his attendants, he leaves them, and takes his way by the ſide of the Boriſthenes, to go towards Bizantium.

I'le not entertain you with the return of his People to the King, nor the Kings grief at this unhappy news: you may believe it was exceſſive, and Orontes had need of all his courage to reſiſt this diſpleaſure, yet he had a firm confidence in the Princeſs promiſe, and knew his courage too well to believe any thing could recall him, ſave the War that threatned his Father: he only feared thoſe dangers to which he might be daily expoſed in an equipage, ſo little conformable to his dignity, and turning all his thoughts this way, he not only cauſed publick vows to be offered to the gods for his preſervation, but commanded ſome perſons, in whom he had moſt confidence, to march after him, with expreſs order not to leave him, what commands ſoever he gave to the contrary, whilſt this Prince Adventurer (carried with a youthful deſire to ſee the world) viſited a part of Thrace, under the name of Alcimedon (which he would take to diſguiſe his own) and ſeeking occaſions to ſignalize himſelf in ſome Wars, (wherewith this Kingdom was troubled) by divers actions of extraordinary valour, he rendred the name of Alcimedon famous through all Thrace, obliging the old King Adallas, Father of this which now reigns, to entreat him to come to his Court.

Alcimedon went, and by his good Mine, added greater credit to the fame of his actions, receiving all manner of Carreſſes from this good King; he would not here make any long abode, though they offered him charges, as much (as they thought) above him, as they were indeed below him: the fear of being known in a Court, to which he was too near a Neighbour, hindred him from ſtaying longer there.

From Thrace, he would have gone to the Taurick Cherſoneſe, which obeyed Merodatus, a Prince of great valour and reputation; but this Prince was then abſent, and, as Alcimedon underſtood, he was in the Court of the Queen Amalthea, whither he had been drawn by the beauty of her Daughter, the Princeſs Menalippa, and by the hope which they gave, to yield her to that perſon, who moſt puiſſantly ſerved the Queens reſentment, againſt the King of Scythia.

He ſaw that in the abſence of Merodatus, they made great Levies in his Coutrey, to paſs into Dacia, (the firſt intention of their Prince, having been to employ them in the Scythian expedition) but 'tis ſuppoſed they ſerv'd in the War which the Dacians had with the Sarmates and Nomades.

The brave Alcimedon beheld with indignation theſe preparations againſt his Father, and told his Squires that followed him, that he hoped to render this enterpriſe as fatal to it's Authors, as it had been light in it's cauſe. But that which he learned in the Taurick, made him take a ſtrange reſolution, which was to paſs into Dacia, and make ſome abode there, by which he might learn many things, capable to give him great advantages in that War for which they prepared; beſide this conſideration, he felt himſelf drawn by an unknown force to this deſign, and out of curioſity to ſee, whether the beauty of Menalippa, which raiſed ſo many enemies againſt his Houſe, was parallel to the fame ſpread abroad of it.

On this account he made no difficulty to hazard this voyage, believing with reaſon he could with greater facility remain unknown in Dacia, than in any other Kingdom, in reſpect of the little communication the Dacians have with the Scythians, their ancient enemies, and particularly in the Court where he had been educated.

He left the Taurick, and paſſed into Dacia, which he found all in Arms, eſpecially the Frontiers bordering upon Sarmatia, upon which already many bloody Battels had been fought, the events whereof were doubtful enough.

Alcimedon hating to remain peaceful in a Country of War, viſited the Armies rather than the Court of Dacia, believing this employment more ſuitable to his courage; and alſo that here he ſhould run the leaſt danger of being known, and chiefly to obſerve the enemies faſhion of War, before they brought it into his own Country; ſo that without further weighing, he put himſelf into the Dacian Army, commanded by the Prince Barzanes, Brother to the deceaſed King of Dacia, a great and experienced Captain. And for one of the firſt proofs of his generoſity, though he knew how much the Queen of Dacia was his enemy, knowing that on this occaſion, Juſtice was on her ſide, he choſe rather to ſerve on her ſide, than on that of her enemies; knowing alſo that neither the Prince of the Sarmates, nor Nomades were friends to his Family; and if the Queen would have given them the ſatisfaction they required, they offered to ſerve her againſt the King of Scythia.

At laſt, whether by theſe reaſons, or others, Alcimedon put himſelf into the Army of Barzanes, without any charge, and to abridge thoſe things which I muſt but ſuccinctly relate, in reſpect of the multitude of others, of a far greater importance, which I muſt decypher [Page] more at large; being carried on all occaſions with his accuſtomed valour, he did things marvellous, that in a little time the valour of Alcimedon was the diſcourſe of the Dacian Army; Barzanes, (to whom he was conſtrained to ſhew himſelf the firſt days) complemented him with a thouſand extraordinary Carreſſes, offered him the moſt important charge of the Army, writ of him to the Queen and Princeſs, with all the Elogies he was capable of, to repreſent his valour and other admirable qualities; but he did much more, when Alcimedon (having been over-born by the entreaties which he made, to take the command of one part of the Cavalry) executed things ſo much above the hopes of the Dacians, that they regarded him as a divine perſon; he ſaved the life of Barzanes in divers encounters, and n a great Combat, which might have paſt for a Battel, being joyned in perſon againſt the Prince of the Nomades, (who had gain'd the repute of valiant;) he ſlew him with his own hand, at the head of his Troops.

Theſe actions, and many others of the like nature, made the name of Alcimedon ſo glorious in the Court and Camp of Dacia, that they talked of nothing elſe; and the Queen Amalthea writ to Barzanes, expreſſing a marvellous eſteem, and an ardent deſire to ſee and know him, as a man whom ſhe believed heaven had ſent to ſerve her in her deſign againſt Scythia.

Alcimedon underſtanding her intentions, both by her Letters, and the diſcourſes of Barzanes, had divers debates amongſt his Eſquires concerning this adventure, which to relate, would draw this ſtory to a troubleſome length.

But if the Queen of Dacia teſtified a deſire to ſee him, the marvels which he daily heard (both by Barzanes, and the principal Officers of the Army) of the Princeſs Menalippa, gave him no leſs curioſity to apprehend whether the truth were conformable to the repute; he intended no ſtay in the Court, believing that in time he might run ſome hazard; but, he reſolved to paſs by, and ſee this perſon, of whom ſuch wonders were related. He communicated his deſign to Mandaris and Soſthenes, his two Squires, in whom he had a perfect confidence. And a few days after, the enemies being reduced by his valour to bad terms, demanded a years truce, which Barzanes granted; ſo that Alcimedon finding no more occaſions to employ his Sword, took leave of the General, promiſing him, that if it were poſſible, he would ſee him in the Court of Dacia, whither he intended to go to lalute the Queen, if his affairs permitted him. Barzanes did what he could to ſtay him, or at the leaſt to perſwade him to retire into the Court of Dacia; but although Alcimedon had a deſign to viſit the Court, yet he would give him no abſolute promiſe, fearing leſt Barzanes ſhould make it known; and he contented to give him the Hope, knowing well that Barzanes (notwithſtanding the Truce) was obliged to make a ſtay of two or three dayes upon the Frontiers; when they parted, Alcimedon would viſit a part of Dacia, and particularly thoſe places which bordered upon Scythia, before he went to Tenaſia, where the Queen kept her Court, which is in the heart of the Kingdom; yet e're he went, he complemented all thoſe Officers, which Barzanes had given to ſerue under him in the Army, retaining only one Eſquire, named Leander, whom he knew paſſionately devoted to his ſervices, and whom he admitted, at his inſtant intreaties, having firſt abſolutely forbidden his Scythian-Squires, to let him know any thing of their Maſters birth or true condition; ſo that this affectionate Dacian linckt himſelf to his ſervice with much fidelity, without knowing him by any other name, than that of Alcimedon, and without endeavouring to know more, ſeeing it was not his Maſters intention he ſhould.

The Prince after he had ſpent ſome moneths in viſiting this Kingdom, took the great Road, and after ſome days journeys, which paſſed without any memorable event; he approached the great City Tenaſia, where the Court was then very fair and flouriſhing: Barzanes (who was ſome days ſince arrived) had fill'd it with the reputation of Alcimedon: the valiant Merodatus, and divers other Princes, whom the charms of Menalippa kept there, ſwe [...]'d with emulation and envy, at the praiſes given to the unknown Alcimedon,

This diſguiſed Prince (whoſe ſpirit began to be agitated with ſome unuſual diſquiets which by a ſecret inſtinct, ſeemed to foreſee the traverſes which fortune prepared for him) had already diſcovered a Hill on one ſide of the Walls of that proud City, and on the other a Forreſt, which covered a great part of the Plain, and finding himſelf weary, what with the heat of the ſeaſon, and the weight of his Arms which he uſually wore; he caſt his eyes upon the Forreſt, whoſe ſtately Trees form'd a beautiful and delicate ſhade, and being invited to take there an hour of repoſe, he quitted the way, and mingled himſelf amongſt the Trees.

When he had conſidered the beauty of the place, and the great number of paths which traverſed on every ſide, he ſought the moſt unfrequented, as propereſt to the deſign he had to ſleep; and by fortune, having heard the murmuring of a little Rivulet, which ſlid over the pibbles with an agreeable ſound, he walked to it, in purſuance of the Fountain [Page] which was not far off. It was a moſt delightful Spring, whoſe natural beauty, a little Art had very much augmented; the ſource was clear and lively, the graſs green and freſh round about, and, by a great tuft of Trees, embraced and defended from the Sun, and the ſight of paſſengers.

Alcimedon, beholding the beauty of the place, alighted, and giving his horſe to his Squires, (who out of reſpect diſtanced themſelves, and followed the courſe of the River) to take ſome reſt whilſt their Lord ſtayed in the Wood, who approaching the Fountain, and taking off his Caſque, quenched his thirſt, and lay down upon the Graſs; where, after ſome thoughts, of the nature of thoſe which had for ſome time diſquieted him, he inſenſibly gave place to ſleep.

Whilſt he ſlept, the other part of the Wood reſounded with Horns and Dogs, and the noiſe of Hunters; the fair, fierce Menalippa (to whom the exerciſes of Diana were more agreeable, than thoſe of the other Goddeſſes) was this day hunting in the Wood, with the greateſt part of thoſe perſons which compoſed the Court.

The Garments proper to this days exerciſe, added a new grace to her admirable beauty; her hair, which Nature had made moſt beautifully flaxen, was covered with a Texture of Gold and Silk, made after the faſhion of the Grecian Morion, ſhadowed with a tuſt of white Feathers; and the reſt, tyed in ſeveral places with Bandelets of the ſame, fell ſome upon her cheeks, and ſome upon her ſhoulders, in an agreeable confuſion; that part of her habit, which covered from the ſhoulders to the waſte, ſhined with Gold and precious ſtones; but the ſleeves were of a light flying ſtuffe, turn'd back, and faſtned to the ſhoulders with claſps of Pearl, and ſo likewiſe at the knee, giving the appearance to a Buskin of the ſame embroidery, locking the middle of her leg with a Fermoir of Rubies and Emeralds: a gilt-Quiver full of Arrows, hung behind upon her ſhoulders, in a Scarf of the richeſt and faireſt embroidery, and carrying in her left hand a Bow, in the poſture of the fabulous Nymphs of the Poets, her Horſe white as ſnow, proud and haughty by nature, but much more of the burden he carried; and the fair Princeſs managed him with ſo much grace and vigour, that ſcarce the furious Pentheſilea, or the ſtrongeſt of thoſe warlike Women, (who eſtabliſht their Monarchy upon the banks of Thermodoon) could have performed it with ſo much facility and addreſs.

This day ſhe had given the Chaſe with an unuſual eagerneſs, and being mounted on one of the ſwifteſt Horſes of Dacia, had, in the chaſe of a Deer; out-run the company very many paces, and found her ſelf alone, and out of the way, in the middle of the Forreſt. She no ſooner heard the ſound of the Horns or Dogs, e're ſhe perceived her errour, and ſeeking to return, and joyn with the company, ſhe found her ſelf cloſe by the Fountain, where the Scythian Prince lay rocked in an agreeable repoſe. When the noiſe of the ſtreams had diſcovered the Fountain, the Trees could not hide it from her, knowing well the place, it being her retreat when her exerciſe had fill'd her with thirſt; and being ſo now, ſhe drew near to refreſh her ſelf a moment; and having alighted, and found a tree to faſten her Horſe to, ſhe ſaw Beliſa (the Maid whom ſhe beſt loved) coming towards her: Beliſa no ſooner ſaw the Princeſs, but alighting, received her Horſe. The Princeſs left her, and walked amongſt the Trees, till ſhe came where Alcimedon lay.

The firſt thing that preſented it ſelf to her view, ſome ſix or eight paces from the Prince, was his Caſque, which gilt in many places, and covered with Plumes of divers colours, preſented her with an agreeable object; but almoſt at the ſame time ſhe ſpyed its Maſter; who ſleeping ſounder than ordinary, waked not at the noiſe ſhe made in approaching him, by which means he gave her leiſure to conſider whatſoever her curioſity might make her deſirous to ſee; ſomething of fear poſſeſt her at an encounter ſo little expected, and thoſe advantages ſhe had above the moſt couragious of her ſex, did not deſend her from ſome apprehenſions, at the ſight of an armed man, ſo far from attendants; but having a ſpirit little inferiour to the hardieſt men, and being in a place where ſhe was abſolute Princeſs, and could at the ſound of a horn, draw many to her ſuccours, ſhe reſolved to ſatisfie that curioſity which the ſight of his Arms had given her.

They were fair and Proud, enriched with branches of Gold, wrought by an induſtrious hand; here and there divers ſtones of price, mingled their ſparkling beauties, which through the addreſs of the Workman, ſeem'd to be employed with ſome neceſſity

If their ſplendour ſtruck the eyes of the Princeſs, that of the ſleeping Prince toucht her after another manner. For, extended he lay upon the Graſs, and though a little turned on the left ſide, yet his face remained almoſt quite decovered: all the features thereof were form'd with an admirable proportion, and although his eyes were ſhut, 'twas yet with ſuch a grace, as nothing diminiſht his natural beauty; his Hair, which enclined rather to flaxen than black, play'd about his cheeks, by the aſſiſtance of a gentle air, advancing marvellouſly [Page] the beauty of his complexion, which through the coldneſs of his Country is common to all Scythians, but his had the advantage of extraordinary luſtre.

He was not more than twenty years of age, and having not as yet reſented any of thoſe diſpleaſures, which did afterwards ſomething alter his health and good Mine, he appeared to Menalippa with all the beauty he had received from heaven, and in it's highest ſplendour, or rather he appeared as a perſon admirable, and to which Menalippa had never ſeen any thing comparable, but in her Glaſs.

I know not whether it was an effect of the good Mine of Alcamenes, or the deſtiny of Menalippa, but certain it is, the Princeſs beheld him with ſome emotion, and her high fierce heart, which amidſt ſo many Princes that adored her, never beheld any but with diſdain, loſt part of its pride, and abaſed it ſelf to a particular attention for this extraordinary object: ſhe ran over the beauty and proportion of his face, conſidering his perſon from head to foot, and the more ſhe regarded him, the more worthy ſhe judged him to be regarded; ſhe devoured him with her eyes, yet thought ſhe ſaw him not half.

At firſt, this attention for an object ſo charming, did much delight her, but a little after, conceiving ſome deſpight, and retiring her eyes from a magnetick, which even forceably attracted them: Ah! what intereſt ſo great have I (ſaid the half-angry) ſo curiouſly to observe this Unknown, and what conſideration can arreſt me, who till now with diſdain have beheld the reſt of man-kind? Is this he, to whom the Gods have deſtined the ruine of the King of Scythia? and, is this he, to whom I am deſigned, as the price of that ſo famous Revenge? At theſe words ſhe turned from Alcamenes, and approached the Fountain to quench her thirſt; but when ſhe endeavoured to retire and take Horſe, it was impoſſible for her to follow this motion, or hinder her once more caſting her eyes upon the ſleeping Prince.

At this ſecond view, ſhe was more taken than at the firſt, and began to perceive the poiſonou's ſubtil inſinuation through her eyes into her heart; this forced bluſhes into her checks, as though ſhe had committed a fault in the preſence of ſuch who had power to condemn it, and began to reprove her weakneſs with reſentments of a true choler.

Yet with all this, ſhe continually beheld Alcamenes, and not to hold you longer with this deſcription, that great heart, which till then had beheld all men with repugnance and diſdain, and who could never imagine her inclinations would bow to receive a husband, though from the Queen her Mothers choice, ſaw it ſelf in a few moments diſarmed of all its fierceneſs, and began truly to love an unknown perſon, ignorant whether ſhe ſhould be ever beloved again.

Ah! Menalippa, ſaid ſhe within her ſelf, what is thy deſtiny, and by what ſtrange adventure goeſt thou to revenge thoſe, in whom thy diſdain have cauſed juſt reſentments? O fatal! O impoiſoned ſight! She ſtopped at theſe words, and ſupporting her head with one of her fair hands, If it pleaſe the Gods (continued ſhe) that he for whom heaven and my fortune reſerves me, reſemble this Unknown, how much ſhall I be obliged to their bounty? But alas (purſues ſhe with a ſigh) I feed upon vain imaginations, for I am a Maid, and incenſed.

Whil'ſt ſhe thus entertained her thoughts, the Prince, (whether by any noiſe ſhe made, or that his ſences were ſatisfied with ſleep) awaked; and no ſooner opened his eyes, but they were dazled with the ſight of Menalippa; and this Princeſs, who roſe ſo ſoon as ſhe ſaw him move, appeared with ſo much ſplendour and majeſty to his sight, that he became altogether confounded.

The beauty of Menalippa is ſuch, that few in the univerſe can equalit, and amongſt all thoſe whom I have ſeen in the world, yours only, Madam, (continued Megacles, addreſſing himſelf to Cleopatra) can pretend to any advantage over it; 'tis a majeſtick and enlightning beauty, a beauty which ſtrikes at the firſt ſight, without the little affiances of art or converſe: Her Complexion ſur paſſeth the whiteneſs of the Scythian Snows; the lineaments of her face form'd after the moſt regular proportion, her blew eyes may paſs for the faireſt in the World, their motions are ſo ſweet and imperious together, that they never inſpire love without fear, nor make themſelves fear'd but lov'd alſo; the beauty of her neck and hands, yeilded nothing to the reſt; and for the make of her Body it would be the faireſt of the world, were it not a little-thing extraordinary for her ſex, and approaching to the pitch of Alcamenes, who is one of the propereſt men of Scythia. Menalippa (ſuch as I have in a few words deſcribed her) though a thouſand times more fair, could not ſo unexpectedly appear to the aſtoniſht Alcimedon, without poſſeſſing him with emotions preportionate to the marvels of this encounter, and at that prodigious brightneſs which poſſeſs him at the ſame inſtant with aſtoniſhment, veneration, and fear, inſpiring him with no other thoughts, than thoſe which tended to adoration.

[Page] After he had with a trembling, and ill-aſſured action, run over this Marvel with his eys, the faſhion of her habit, and the divine beauty of her perſon, made him take her for Diana; and without ballancing this opinion, he caſt himſelf at her feet: Great Goddeſs, ſaid he, pardon to a ſtranger the errour he may have committed againſt your Divinity; had I known this ſacred place, I would not have prophan'd it by my preſeuce, not have incurred the puniſhment of Acteon, by a fault parallel with his.

This action, and theſe words of Alcamenes, though pronounced in an humble poſture, were yet ſo full of Grace and Majeſty, that they gave freſh ſpirit to that fatal draught which the Princeſs had rereived into her boſome; and knowing the ſtranger's error (though ſhe beheld the cauſe thereof with joy) yet would not leave him in it; but raiſing him with a ſweetneſs never uſed to any; Brave ſtranger, ſaid ſhe, (I am no Goddeſs, or, if I were, I could not be diſpleaſed to meet you: for the encounter of ſuch perſons are neither diſagreeable n or unfortunate; and I am glad that my preſence is neither troubleſome nor unpleaſant to you;) With theſe words ſhe raiſed him almoſt by force, and the Prince beholding her with more aſſurance than before, obſerved thoſe charms in her perſon, againſt which his young liberty, though maintained fierce and invincible againſt all other beauties, made not a moment of reſiſtance: I know not whether deſtiny, or their own merits, produced this prompt effect; but it is certain, that never mutual affection was more ſuddenly form'd, or rather, never fire catcht with more facility the moſt combuſtible matters.

But Alcamenes and Menalippa, being born one for the other, that which in ſome perſons, years would not have done, became perfect in the ſouls of theſe two Heroes, in an inſtant.

Alcamenes, loſt, and burning, beheld this Miſtreſs of his heart with an unaſſured regard, and the countenance of a person attainted of ſome crime: (Gods▪ cryed he, where could be born, or from whence come a perſon, ſuch a one as appears to my dazled eys! What Land can contain her, or what men are worthy to adore her!) Menalippa was raviſhed with joy at theſe words, and the paſſionate action of Alcamenes, knowing that her beauty had produced his aſtoniſhment, and part of that effect which ſhe deſired; in a moment ſhe read in the eyes of this Prince, the motions of his paſſion, and ſcarce able to diſſemble her ſatisfaction: I am not (ſaid ſhe, with a modeſt action) ſuch a one as you would perſwade me to be; and were you no ſtranger, as you words, and divers marks expreſſe you to be, you had poſſibly known the Princeſs Menalippa.

At the name of Menalippa, Alcamenes' was troubled, though by very great appearances, he ſupected the truth before, yet could he not apprehend it without trouble, conſidering that in the perſon, who had forced his heart the firſt moment he ſaw her, he ſhould find Menalippa, his mortal enemy, deſtined to the deſtruction of his Houſe, and murther of his Father.

This knowledge wounded him ſenſibly, yet made him not diſpute the victory with this triumphant beauty, and he ſecretly vowed, after a reflection of ſome moments, that had Menalippa been much more the cruel enemy of his father, and himſelf alſo, he could not but yield, nor live, but ſlave to Menalippa.

The fair princeſs, who obſerved his emotion, though ignorant of the cauſe, was willing to draw him out of it: (I know not, ſaid ſhe, whether the knowledg of my name hath given you any diſpleaſure, but I ſhould be very glad to learn yours; and I ſee things extraordinary enough in your perſon, to become inquiſitive after your condition.) The Prince having time to recollect himſelf, gathering an aſſurance, and lifting up his eyes which till then were fixt upon the earth, (Great Princeſs, ſaid he, the knowledge of your name hath not ſurprized me, neither do I find any thing in your perſon leſs great than your fortunes; and I am not amazed to ſee you hold a rank upon earth, nothing below that which I gave you in my firſt opinion, of which, I can ſcarce as yet diveſt my fancy; I ſhould rather take you for the Soveraign of the Univerſe, than the Princeſs of Dacia; and you ought not to expect leſs homage from all men, than from thoſe who are born your ſubjects; and amongſt the moſt humble adorers of thoſe marks of Divinity, which appear viſibly in you, you may number (continued he kneeling, and kiſſing the border of her Garment) him whom his good fortune hath conducted to your feet, and who will eſteem himſelf exceeding glorious if that little ſervice, by which he hath endeavoured to render you, the name of Alcimedon hath arrived at your ears.

At the name of Alcimedon, Menalippa recoyled ſome paces, for it was a name ſo known in the Court, and over the whole Kingdom of Dacia, by the brave actions of its bearer, for the ſervice of that Crown, that ſhe could not hear it pronounc'd without ſurprize, and very much joy, to underſtand that the perſon, whoſe beauty had conquered her in a few [Page] moments, was more worthy of that fortune by the charms of his valour: O how agreeably did this famous Name touch her ears, how did ſhe pleaſe her ſelf with the deſtiny of her, tillthen unconquered-heart, who receiving the yoak by a caprice of fortune, rather than a judicious choice, found that the beauty which captivated her, was even it ſelf a captive to the valour, and other vertues of its bearer, ſhe ſecretly thanked the Gods, and again raiſing the proſtrate Alcimedon, you could have told me, ſaid ſhe, nothing more pleaſant than this, and as you take me for ſomething above my ſelf, ſo I ſhall find no great difficulty to believe you to be that valiant Alcimedon, to whom this Crown hath ſo many obligations, and whoſe Reputations is ſo beautiful amongſt us, by ſo many glorious actions which you have performed for our intereſt; that Princeſs which ſpeaks to you, is the moſt obliged to acknowledge them; which doubtleſs ſhe will, if, to the great engagements we have to you, you add this, of accompanying us to the Court.

The Princeſs ſpake thus, to a Prince already perſwaded by his own paſſion, to yield; when ſhe ſaw her ſelf accoſted not only by Beliſa, but alſo by a great part of her Train, and a little after by all thoſe that compoſed the Chaſe; the Prince Barzanes was there, who no ſooner ſaw Alcimedon, but he knew him, and (having demanded leave of the Princeſs, by a geſture full of reſpect) ran to him with open arms, careſſing him with as much tenderneſs, as if he had been his own Son, rendring him the honour could be given to a Prince of the moſt elevated dignity.

The name of Alcimedon ran preſently from mouth to mouth through this noble company, and if thoſe that knew him in the Army, preſt to imbrace this valiant man, who by his vertues had gain'd a powerful aſcendent on their hearts, thoſe that knew him only by his reputation, ſtrove no leſs ardently to ſee him; and beholding with aſtoniſhme it, that the reports made of his good Mine, were exceedingly below the truth.

They regarded him with a marvellous attention, and loaded him with praiſes, which his modeſty could not endure; Barzanes as the moſt affectionate, and him that knew him beſt, was the moſt diligent about him, teſtifying a high joy at this arrival, and acquainting the Princeſs with many things to his advantage.

Merodates, Prince of the Taurick was there, and from this firſt moment, conceived an envy and jealouſy againſt him, yet could not refuſe to his fair reputation, nor thoſe excellent appearances he found in him, thoſe things which he thought due, and teſtified the eſteem he had of vertue in the perſon of him that poſſeſt it.

At laſt, Alcimedon, in obedience to Menalippa's will, to Barzanes prayers, but moſt of all through the perſwaſions of a powerful inclination, which attracted him to Menalippa, received his Horſe from his Squires, and followed the Princeſs, who entertained him during the way to Tenaſia.

His paſſion was ſcarce born, but it became great and violent, and the Princeſs, as ſhe hath ſince proteſted, already loved him paſſionately. Theſe two great ſouls knew each other at the firſt approach, and the ſympathy was greater between them, than the hatred of their Families, or other obſtacles which ſeemed to oppoſe the birth and courſe of this affection.

The ſame day Alcimedon was preſented to the Queen by the Princeſs, and the Prince Barzanes and Amalthea (who ardently deſired to ſee him, partly out of the love ſhe bare to his vertue, as alſo the uſe ſhe intended to make of him, in the War with the King of Scythia; received him with all the marks of eſteem and good-will, which ſhe could give to that perſon of the world, whom ſhe moſt dearly loved, and forgot none of thoſe careſſes and favours, which might engage him to her ſervice.

Moreover, he was firmly eſtabliſht in the Court: for having in a little time made his vertues ſhine, (beſide the general eſteem) he gained in ſuch ſort the affections of the Queen, that never favourite rendred himſelf more powerful over the ſpirit of any Soveraign, than he did over that of Amalthea. And as he gained the favour of all the world, ſo none envied his fortune, except the ſtranger Princes, who pretended to the poſſeſſion of Menalippa; and ſeeing him ſo favoured by the Mother and the Daughter, began to doubt whether the grandure of their birth, and the poſſeſſion of their Crowns, would render them more conſiderable than the vertue of Alcimedon.

Euardes, Son of the King of Bithinia, and Phraterphernes, Son to the King of Pont, both drawa from their Countries, by the beauty of Menalippa, ſighed equally for her in the Court of Dacia, Merodates, the moſt valiant of the three, and withal, the moſt proud, thought not the moſt powerful, felt the ſame fires, and entertained the ſame pretenſions: Oroſmanes, Prince of the Baſternes, neighbour to Dacia, breathed the ſame paſſion; yet none of them had been able to touch the ſtately heart of Menalippa: and though the Princes were all conſiderable for their valour and greatneſs, yet this fierce haughty Princeſs had [Page] never favoured them with one regard, which might afford the leaſt hope; the Reputation of her Beauty, and the Declaration which the Queen her Mother had made, to yield her to him that reveng'd her on the King of Scythia, had called thoſe Princes into her Territories: and, whilſt at the feet of Menalippa, they indeavoured to make ſome progreſs in her affection, Levies were made in all parts of their Kingdoms for the Scythian expedition.

Thoſe of Merodates and Oroſmanes, were bordering, but thoſe of Phrataphernes and Euardes, were to be drawn out of Aſia, and required a larger time e're they could come, none forgetting whatſoever might advance his particular fortune, yet they had really done nothing; and Merodates only by the repute of his valour, could boaſt of ſome place in the eſteem, though none in the affection of Menalippa.

Alcamenes beheld with diſpleaſure ſo many Princes Arm'd againſt his Father, and unable to diſſemble his reſentments, was (notwithſtanding the obligations he had to be pleaſant) perpetually fierce, and contracted no friendſhip with them.

'Tis true, that their love and pretenſions to Menalippa, rendred them more odious, than their deſign to carry a War into his Country: and, as Rivals, hated them more than as Invaders; he beheld them with Averſion, and would have done with Diſdain, had not prudence been an Enemy to his paſſion: for knowing himſelf more rich in all ſort of vertues, and more great in the extent of Monarchy, than them all; he might reaſonably have hoped for a better ſucceſs than them all, had not the hatred of the Mother and the Daughter, powerfully oppoſed themſelves to his hopes, and been an obſtacle greater than all the traverſes of his Rivals.

Whilſt this amorous Prince conſum'd, without diſcovering himſelf, and by his regards only, gave Menalippa cauſe to judge that his heart was wounded; by thoſe only he declared his torments to his fair Princeſs, nor was this Language altogether unſufficient to make her apprehend part of the truth.

Menalippa, over-born by her deſtiny, ſubmitted to that yoak, which hither to ſhe had deſpiſed, and ſuffered nothing leſs than he; yet not daring to permit her eyes to enter into ſo free a converſation, as Alcamenes did his, ſhe lived in a greater conſtraint; yet could not alwaies ſo command them, but by ſome favourable glances ſhe flattered his hopes, and as he obſerved them with a particular intereſt, in a ſhort time he perceived a great part of his happineſs.

This mute language prepared, and all other circumſtances ſeconded ſo well, that theſe two illuſtrious perſons no longer doubted a mutual affection; and the haughty Menalippa, who from ſo many Princes of birth equal to hers, could never indure the leaſt ſyllable of Love, became now even afflicted, that an unknown man, and apparantly of Rank inferiour to hers, kept a forced ſilence, and ſpake not openly of his paſſion. For in ſome moments ſhe would continue in theſe thoughts, but preſently began to fear what ſhe ſeemed to deſire, and ſounded the bottom of her courage, to find in what manner ſhe ought to receive ſo hard a declaration from this unknown perſon.

Alcimedon, though naturally hardy, and knowing himſelf ſufficient, to believe that the greateſt Princeſs upon Earth ought not to be offended with the declaration of his love, was yet diſquieted with cruel conſiderations, and could not reſolve to declare himſelf as an unknown, or as Alcimedon, without expoſing his hope to an entire ruine. To diſcover Alcamenes, he could by no means yield, ſuppoſing the little affection they began to entertain for Alcimedon, was not comparable to the hatred they bare to his Houſe, and himſelf alſo; and, To declare his paſſion to the Princeſs: in the diſguiſe of an unknown perſon, could boad no other than a bad ſucceſs; nor did he think ſuch a Princeſs as Menalippa heir to a flouriſhing Kingdom, and who might chuſe out the greateſt Princes of EUROPE and ASIA, would behold but with diſdain, the paſſion of a man, whoſe birth and quality were unknown, though prepoſſeſt with much eſteem and good-will towards his perſon.

He made on this ſubject many diſcourſes too long to relate, and in this poſture many Months paſſed, e're he could obtain from his courage the ſuccours he demanded.

But at laſt (as he is capable of the moſt hazardous enterprizes, and as he ſaw himſelf more animated by the favourable treatments of Menalippa, who ſufficiently favoured his deſign, and gave him often opportunities to entertain her with liberty) he reſolved (notwithſtanding his ſo many reaſons to the contrary) to eaſe his torment by diſcovering them, or to ruine his hopes.

One day, the Princeſs call'd him to her to walk in the Palace-Garden, and having diſcharged her Squires, to grace Alcimedon with the employment, ſhe made ſeveral turns, and at laſt led him into a little Cabinet; but her Maids entred [Page] not, by reaſon it was but little, but walkt in the Alley, and left Alcimedon alone with the Princeſs.

He had already reſolved, by the Eſſayes he had made upon his Courage, and the hope thoſe favourable appearances had given him, to lay hold on the firſt occaſion to diſcover his paſſion: So that he ſought a way, though trembling, to enter with a good grace upon this diſcourſe: Whilſt he was meditating; the Princeſs (through an open place of the Cabinet) ſhewed him a Spring, encompaſſed with ſome Trees, from whence a Rivulet took its riſe, branching forth in many Channels through the Garden: It was (ſaid the) near ſuch a place as this, that I firſt ſaw Alcimedon; and you may add, Madam, replyed Alcamenes, ('twas in that place, that Alcimedon left his liberty at the feet of the divine Menalippa, and charged himſelf with thoſe glorious Chains, which he will carry to his Tomb.) He ſtopt at theſe firſt words, and the Princeſs, though ſhe were not angry, yet bluſhed, and became much diſordered, and keeping her eyes fixt on the ground, as unable to lift them to Alcamenes's face, ſhe remained ſilent. The Prince, who ſtedfaſtly beheld her Countenance, and finding nothing there of cruel, but much more baſhfulneſs than choler, became more hardy than before; and putting one knee to the ground, ſome paces from the Princeſs, Divine Princeſs, ſaid he, if I have offended you, ordain with what manner of death you will puniſh my boldneſs, only grant me the favour as to believe, that if our adorations offend not the Gods, you can receive no injury from thoſe my heart intertains for you. This heart was yours from the firſt moment I ſaw you, and ſhall be yours till the laſt moment of my life; you may diſapprove it; you may condemne it, but you cannot by death draw it out of this gloricus ſervitude.

Here he ſtopped, and after Menalippa's example, faſtned his eyes on the ground, and if the Princeſs had regarded his action, ſhe might have ſeen that fear took poſſeſſion of his heart in this encounter, which it had never been able to do in the greateſt dangers.

Menalippa was joyful that he loved her, and ſhe loved him dearly, yet knew not how to expreſs her ſelf, or treat him; She was not ignorant of the Rules of good manners, and ſhe had a natural diſpoſition to puniſh with rigour, faults of the like nature with this of Alcimedon; yet had ſhe no diſſembling ſpirit, nor could receive with appearances of diſlike, thoſe things which ſhe deſired with all her heart. This irreſolution made her keep a long ſilence, at length, a little raiſing her eyes upon Acimedon, whoſe humble poſture helpt to gain her; (Stranger, ſaid ſhe, if I behold thy boldneſs with rigour, I ſhould judge it worthy of puniſhment, but if I follow my inclinations, I ſhall do thee no harm; thy temerity alone is all I can diſlike in thee, but nothing of the reſt is odious to Menalippa, and if thou wilt have her tell thee any more, firſt let her know who is this audacious man, that without giving us any other knowledge than that of his Sword, dares lift his eyes to the Princeſs of Dacia; on the accompt thou giveſt her, may depend a great part of thy deſtiny: And I tell thee further, thou wilt not diſoblige Menalippa, in letting her know thee to be ſuch a one, whoſe affection ſhe may entertain without offence.)

Theſe words heightned the courage of the Prince of Scythia: Divine Menalippa, ſaid he (with more aſſurance than before) death ſhall be leſs cruel to me than any occaſions of diſobeying you; but I am conſtrained by a neceſſity (which when you know, you will certainly pardon) for ſome Months to conceal both the Birth and Fortune of Alcimedon; and the gods are my Witneſſes, that it is only my reſpect to you, that cauſeth this difficulty, in a ſhort time you ſhall receive a knowledg of me, confirm'd by the teſtimony of all EUROPE, and therefore (great Princeſs) permit me to ſay, that though in all ſorts of great qualities, I am infinitely your Inferior, yet in Nobility of blood, in Dignity and Dominions, my Houſe gives place neither to yours, nor any in EUROPE; and if you are ſatisfied with the perſon of Alcimedon, that which ought to accompany him, to render him worthy of you, will be here ſound more advantagiouſly than in all the other Princes who have taken upon them the honour of ſerving you: In the Name of the gods, and by your bounty pardon me, if I can diſcover no more. When the term of this cruel conſtraint ſhall be expired, I will declare my ſelf wholly to you, without expecting a ſecond command, during which time, I ſhall deſire no further favour than thoſe I have received from you, nor pretend to any thing from your bounty, which may in the leaſt ingage you, before theſe truths are ſufficiently known, and until the Queen your Mother, with all the Court of Dacia, do confeſs that Alcimedon, is a Prince great enough to pretend openly to the glory of ſerving you.

[Page] Alcimedon finiſhed not this Diſcourſe, but with much difficulty; finding a ſtrong averſion to diſobey the command of Menalippa: But this fair Princeſs was ſo intricated on all ſides, as if the were troubled in being unable to learn of Alcimedon that which ſhe deſired; yet what he related concerning his Birth and Fortune, did highly ſatisfie her; and as ſhe had too much confidence in his vertue, to ſuſpect him of a lye, and of a lye which could but be unprofitable by his own conditions, her contentment became ſo great, that ſhe could hardly diſſemble it. And beholding Alcimedon with an affectionate ſweetneſs: (As I am more reaſonable than many others, ſaid ſhe, and that viſibly I act with more ſincerity than artifice, I will excuſe for your Reaſons the denial you make me; but I beſeech you not to abuſe that good opinion, which will have me believe that all you ſay is true.)

Alcimedon, falling on his knees, and with Tranſports imbracing her feet (My viſible Deity, ſaid he, if this heart were capable of diſguiſing it ſelf from you, it were not that heartburning for you with a paſſion the moſt holy a Soul can be inflamed with; and I deſire you to baniſh me your preſence, as that man of all the World the moſt unworthy to adore you, if (before I pretend to any other favour than this, of imbracing your ſacred knees) I preſent not, in the perſon of Alcimedon, one of the greateſt Princes of the Univerſe.

He uttered theſe words with an Action ſo paſſionate, and Menalippa read ſo much love in his eyes, that (unable to maſter the motions of her affection) after ſhe had offered her hand with an Action full of ſweetneſs and Majeſty (Friend, ſaid ſhe, if this be true, Menalippa ſhall never be anie's but thine; but if to my unhappineſs it prove falſe, ſhe ſhall never be to any one at all.

Finiſhing theſe words, ſhe carried one hand to her face to cover a bluſh, and with the other locking upon that of Alcamenes, and raiſing him (Alcimedon, added ſhe, you have gained my heart with too much facility, but believe that it is my deſtiny and inclination which hath given it you, rather than your Services; and ſo carry it, that I may never have cauſe to complain of the one or the other; to day I will entertain you, but no longer:) Finiſhing theſe words, ſhe went out of the Cabinet; but it was in a condition, and with a countenance ſo changed, that had it been obſerved by the Company, they might have feared ſome dyſaſter had befallen her.

But Alcimedon was ſo tranſported with joy, that it was hard for thoſe who ſaw him that day, not to diſcern in his face the ſatisfaction of his heart, and no ſooner had he quitted the Princeſs by her command, and recollected himſelf concerning his good Fortune, but he found his felicity too great to be contained, and ſcarce in the impetuous motions of his youth could he retain public demonſtrations of that happineſs which ſo many reaſons commanded him to conceal: he made a thouſand paſſionate Diſcourſes, and, as he loved with as much violence as ever any did, ſo all that his love produced was violent like it ſelf; but if his joy was immoderate at the firſt view of his happineſs, it became more compleat when he perceived that he was not only dearly loved by Menalippa, but that he had need of a ſpirit firm and ſolid, to require a Princeſs born with a true generoſity, and uncapable of any artifice.

At laſt through the ſympathy of their humors, and the force of their deſtinies, their affection became ſo ſtrong, as to juſtifie the opinion of thoſe who believe (that the love proceeding from inclination, is more powerful than that of acknowledgement and obligation) you will ſee by the ſequel of this Diſcourſe, that this is true, and may thence conclude that there was never a more ſtrong love contracted, than between theſe two illuſtrious perſons.

Menalippa in [...]irely opened her heart to Alcimedon, and this happy Prince read there his happineſs with extaſies; his love increaſed daily by the freſh graces he received from the Princeſs; and although they extended no further, than the honour of kiſſing her hand, yet he found ſo many charms in the Action, and thoſe words by which ſhe daily eſtabliſhed his happineſs, that he ſcarce believed there could be a compleater Bliſs; yet he was ſometimes perplexit, to think what the knowledge of Alcamenes would produce againſt the Fortune of Alcimedon, and Menalippa juſtified his fears a few dayes, after when in a converſe they had together (having hearkned with her ordinary bounty to the proteſtations made of his fidelity; (Alcimedon) (ſaid ſhe) (whatever promiſe I have made to favour your Deſigns, in caſe you prove faithful and true, yet that which you call your happineſs, is not intirely in my hands, and although I hope the Queen my Mother will yield much to my choice, yet it is certain that in the diſpoſition of Menalippa, ſhe will follow her firſt reſolutions, to give me only to him that ſhall moſt powerfully advance the King of Scythia's Ruine; and were I not confident of your Valor, from which I hope in this occaſion much more, than from all the other pretenders, whatſoever affection I have entertained for you, I [Page] ſhould not think my ſelf obliged to my promiſe, but as I know that in this War we are to expect nothing but Wonders from you, you need not doubt a favourable ſucceſs, and I am more troubled at the danger you muſt expoſe your ſelf to for the love of me, againſt thoſe redoubtable Enemies, than comforted by the advantages you may carry away.)

This Diſcourſe troubled Alcamenes, though he long ſince expected it, and being prepared, he quickly recollected himſelf, and did all he could that the Princeſs might not obſerve the diſorder in his face. Madam, ſaid he, I am not ignorant of the conditions that engage thoſe who aſpire to the glory of ſerving you; and you ought not to doubt, ſince my heart is yours without reſerve, but that I will alſo eſpouſe your reſentments; and I will not only ſerve you in your Deſign againſt Scythia with ardor and fidelity; but I dare promiſe you above all thoſe who ingage in this War for your Service, that I will ſerve you with ſucceſs, and will put the Crown of Scythia upon your Head: This promiſe may ſeem extravagant in the condition you ſee me, but when I ſhall be better known, I hope you will expect the performance with ſome confidence; there is a great deal of preſumption in my Diſcourſe, yet to drive it to the higheſt point, I promiſe my Princeſs never to demand the poſſeſſion of Menalippa, till I have Crowned her Queen of Scythia.

Whil'ſt Alcamenes ſpake, Menalippa beheld him attentively, and being unable to accuſe a man of vain boldneſs and preſumption, whom ſhe knew of a true and ſolid vertue, was ignorant what judgment to make on this hardy Propoſition, and the conditions wherewith he bounded his own good Fortune; his great confidence in promiſing things ſo great, perſwaded her of the grandure of his condition, and calling to her thoughts all the powerful Princes of the Earth to find Alcimedon amongſt them (Alcamenes only being excepted in the Number) not imagining that Prince would unneceſſarily expoſe himſelf to too manifeſt danger, or that he againſt whom the Queen her Mother arm'd the whole Earth, ſhould come and ſubmit himſelf to the power of his implacable Enemies.

Having kept ſilence a good while, and then beholding Alcimedon with a ſmile. You promiſe things difficult enough, ſaid ſhe, but I will diſtruſt neither your power not intention: I will only ſay, that in caſe you proſper not in your Deſign of making me Queen of Scythia, I will not bind you ſo rigorouſly to the conditions your ſelf hath put to your pretences, and will not for the Crown of Scythia loſe the affection I bear to Alcimedon, yet you have given me an occaſion to call to mind the Oracle, by the conformity I find between it and your promiſe; for the Queen my Mother having conſulted with the moſt famous of the Earth, concerning her Deſign of revenging the King my Fathers death, they have all unanimouſly anſwered, That the Conqueſt of Scythia was reſerved for Menalippa, and that Menalippa ſhould be one day Queen of Scythia. You need not doubt that the Queen received great ſatisfaction from this anſwer of the gods, and I believe that this hope is as great an incendiary to the War, as the vengeance ſhe breathes againſt the King of Scythia.

Alcamenes hearkned attentively to theſe words, and inſtead of fearing the ſucceſs of this War, he ſaw his hopes increas'd, and believed that the gods promiſed not the Crown of Scythia to Menalippa, but by her Marriage with Alcamenes; he again confirmed the promiſe he had made, and Menalippa proteſted, with incomparable bounty, that ſhe deſired not ſo much the Crown of Scythia, as ſhe feared the death of Alcimedon, having Martial Enemies to encounter, a King valiant and experienced, and againſt the young Prince Alcamenes his Sonne, who had the Repute of one of the moſt Valiant men upon Earth.

But whil'ſt Alcimedon enjoyed this felicity, he had the diſpleaſure continually to ſee his Rivals, and was obliged even before his face, to permit Merodates, Phrataphernes, Euardes, and Oroſmanes, publickly to proclaim their affections to his Princeſs: 'Tis true, the cold reception ſhe gave them, did miniſter ſome comfort to his ſpirit, and if the need ſhe had of their aſſiſtance, did ſeem to ſmooth her brow with a pleaſing aſpect, 'twas with ſuch a viſible conſtraint, that Alcimedon had not any cauſe to harbour the leaſt umbrage of diſcontent: ſhe alwayes teſtified more eſteem to Merodates than the reſt, viewing him as a Prince, whoſe vertue and courage claimed every ones reſpect, but ſhe confin'd her reſentments to this eſteem, without permitting him any place in her amity.

Alcimedon by the appearances of his condition, was obliged to ſhew them ſome exterior reſpect, and to ſeek in ſecret what they openly pretended to; yet thought not his Fortune any thing worſe, deſiring rather to be ſecretly lov'd, than publickly eſteemed.

Whil'ſt theſe intereſſed Princes beheld his acceſs to Menalippa, his frequent converſe with her, and many other teſtimonies of her eſteem, which ſhe would not hide, they began to [Page] regard him with envy; and a little after, this jealouſie increaſing by the appearances that cauſed it, they entertained a mortal hatred againſt him, and believing him their Inferiour, would ſometimes treat him with diſdain; but though Alcimedon did diſguize his Birth, and paſs in that Court for a private perſon, yet in theſe incounters he would not belie himſelf, nor give place to theſe Rival Princes his Enemies, no more than if his true condition had been known.

One day they were together in the Queens Cabinet, who entertained them about the War of Scythia, to which ſhe daily prepared her ſelf. Euardes, who was the moſt inconſiderate, made a Hundred Diſcourſes full of Bravadoes againſt the King of Scythia, the reſt ſeconded him in the ſame manner: one brag'd he would depopulate Scythia; another promiſed to preſent the Queen with the King Orontes's Head, and the moſt modeſt aſſured her, they would lay at her Majeſties feet, both the King and the Prince his Son, charg'd with Irons. Alcamenes, though he derided their preſumption, yet could not ſuffer it without Reply, and addreſſing himſelf to the Queen, having beheld the Princes with diſdain: Madam, ſaid he, though your Forces are great, and the aſſiſtance of theſe Princes conſiderable, I counſel you to prepare to the King of Scythia's Defeat, as to a buſineſs much more difficult than they repreſent it, and to forget nothing that may advantage you in an Enterprize where you I have need of all; I know the power of Scythia, which is not leſs than that of all theſe Princes together; I know the King Orontes, who in valor and experience may not be equalled by any of thoſe who imagine themſelves able to carry ſo aſſured a Victory over him; I have ſeen his Son Alcamenes fighting with a Courage might make the moſt hardy of theſe tremble, who imagine themſelves able to Chain him with ſo much facility; Alcimedon had ſcarce'uttered theſe words, but he repented them, fearing he had ſaid too much to conceal the intereſt he had in the King of Scythia; the four Princes murmured together, and Euardes, who ſpoke firſt, believing himſelf moſt intereſſed in the Diſcourſe of Alcimedon, took the word, and caſting a regard on the Prince of Scythia, which ſufficiently ſignified his reſentment: It ſeems, ſaid he, you intend to terrifie us with the praiſes you give our Enemies, we know Orontes, and have heard of the Prince Alcamenes; but we know nothing of either, that might make us apprehend the ill ſucceſs of this War; and you are miſinformed of our Valors, if you imagine we can tremble for one Alcamenes, or many Alcimedons, though they imbrace his Party: Euardes (replied Alcimedon) wiſh your ſelf no other Enemies to joyn with him, who of himſelf is ſtrong enough without others aſſiſtance; and believe that to vanquiſh one Alcamenes, and many Alcimedons, would require a great Number of Bithinian Princes.

Ah! it is too much Alcimedon (cryed Merodates!) were you well affected to the Service of the Queen, you would not take her Enemies part.

I beg the Queens pardon (replied Alcimedon) if I have failed in the reſpect I owe her, in publiſhing Truths well known to me, to the advantage of her Enemies, I am nothing the leſs zealous to her Service; and when we appear in the Field againſt her Enemies, we ſhall ſee who will give the braver on-ſet, whether thoſe that praiſe, or thoſe that deſpiſe themſelves.

This Diſcourſe had paſſed further, and without doubt had carried theſe Princes to extremities, had not the Queen interpoſed her Authority, and gently blaming Alcimedon (who deſired pardon) and intreating theſe Princes not to quarrel with a man who was very affectionate to her, and to whom the was redeemable for many great Services.

The four Princes united againſt Alcimedon: but the Prince Barzanes who loved him dearly, offered himſelf and all his Friends publickly; and could not indure that the Queen ſhould Treat him differently from the reſt, though there was in appearance a manifeſt difference. Alcimedon, beſides thoſe excuſes he made to the Queen, made many to the Princeſs Menalippa, and ſhe attributing what ſhe had ſaid to the grandure of his Courage, which could not diſſemble a Truth, and partly out of averſion to thoſe Princes whom he knew to be his Rivals, took nothing ill, but participating his reſentments, treated his Rivals with more diſdain than before.

But they muſt leave Menalippa, for the Queen having communicated her Deſign of marching againſt the King of Scythia, ſo ſoon as the Princes had joyned the ſuccours they deſigned for her, obliged them to take leave, and ſeek thoſe Troops they had ordered to be raiſed, intending to bring part of them into Dacia, and the reſt to meet at the appointed Rendevouz; Euardes and Phrataphernes departed firſt being moſt diſtant, having done all they could to obtain ſome ſhadow of hope from Menalippa: Merodates and Oroſmanes, who were Neighbours, retired not till ſome dayes after, the one to the Tauriques, the other among the Baſternes.

But ſcarce were they gone, when News came to the Court, That the King of the Sarmates, [Page] and the King of the Nomades, Brother and Succeſſor to him whom Alcimedon ſlew, had broken the Truce upon ſome ſlight pretences, and exerciſed all manner of Hoſtility upon the Frontiers.

The Queen (whom this News troubled in reſpect of the delayes it brought to her Deſigns) diſputed not the Reſolutions ſhe ought to take. Barzanes departed with the Troops which were ready to join with thoſe left upon the Frontiers, and Alcimedon (knit to Barzanes by a ſtrict amity) alſo infinitely joyful to find in this War occaſions of ſerving Menalippa, at whoſe deſire he took a command under Barzanes in the Expedition againſt his Father, march't under him with a part of the Army againſt the Sarmates and Nomades.

You will pardon me, if I inlarge not my ſelf upon the Adieu's between Alcimedon and Menalippa, in which either expreſſed all that a violent paſſion could render ſoft and touching; and excuſe me alſo, if I particularize not a War ſo ſuddenly ended: I will only ſay, that after ſome light skirmiſhes upon the Frontiers, Barzanes fell ſick, and was conſtrained to expect his health in a bordering'Town, leaving the whole command of the Army to Alcimedon, who managing his advantages with admirable prudence, and leading on his Souldiers with incomparable Valour, forc'd away the Victory in many conſiderable Combats; he re-took divers Towns which the Enemy had carried by Surprize, and having brought them to accept of Battel, he gained it ſo bloody and ſo intire, that Fifteen or Sixteen thouſand men were ſlain upon the place, the reſt put to flight, took the two Kings Priſoners, and conducted them with all the glorious ſpoils to the Town where Barzanes lay ſick.

This Prince's Recovery was very forward, but this good News rendred him his health compleatly, and, inſtead of envying Alcimedon's glory, who had rob'd him of the Victory, he intereſſed himſelf in it, as though he had been his Son; he writ of him to the Queen with praiſes that could not be given but to a Demi-god, and in all things he teſtified as much affection to Alcimedon, as could be expected from a Father. A few dayes after, the Frontiers being ſetled through the Defeat of the Enemies Army, and the Impriſonment of the two Kings, there remained no more buſineſs; ſo that marching towards the Court, and leading the two Priſoner-Princes with them, they found a very civil Treatment at Alcimedon's deſire, his Soul being great and generous in all things.

The King of the Sarmates received theſe good offices at his Conquerors hands as he ought; but the Nomad hated him mortally, partly becauſe he had ſlain his Brother, but moſt for this Impriſonment, and the cruel faithleſsneſs of his Nature.

'Twas in this Voyage, that Barzanes became captivated with the vertues of Alcimedon, and though he could not oblige him to declare his Birth, yet reſolved to chain him to himſelf by undiſſolvable Bands; and having an only Daughter (a moſt fair, and amiable Princeſs) without conſulting the Fortunes of Alcimedon (which he could not but judge great, having vertue for his portion) he reſolved to beſtow her on him, making him effectively his Son by alliance, as he was already by friendſhip.

Alcimedon during his abode at the Court of Dacia, had almoſt daily ſeen the Princeſs Alithea, (that was the Name of Barzanes's Daughter) and really ſhe was next Menalippa the moſt accompliſhed perſon of Dacia, and whom Alcimedon's reſpect to Barzanes had rendred the moſt conſiderable in his thoughts; he had made her very particular and aſſiduons viſits, and having alwayes deſigned carefully to conceal his love to Menalippa, he was nothing troubled, that the Court ſuſpected him to entertain ſome thoughts for Alithea.

Barzanes, who obſerved Alcimedons aſſiduity with his Daughter, believed that he had a particular inclination for her, which confirmed him in the Deſign of making the Offer, and bound his Daughter's Fortune by ſo conſiderable an eſtabliſhment. Moreover, being a Prince, whoſe Martial humor rendred him leſs artificial, he ſtudied not a greater fineſs in this occaſion, but opening his heart nakedly to Alcimedon, propos'd this Marriage with his Daughter, as a thing he thought very advantagious; and doubtleſs it had been ſo, had not Alcimedon been Alcamenes.

The Prince received this offer from Barzanes with a very ſenſible diſpleaſure, being unable to accept it, though with his Daughter he could have ſetled him in the Throne of the Univerſe, nor could he refuſe it without offending a Prince to whom he was ſo much obliged; and a Prince, who knowing him only by his vertue, offered him that which the Son of a great King might be contented withall. This conſideration caſt him into a great perplexity, yet he knew that he ought not to ſtick at the anſwer; ſo that being reſolved, he diſſembled his diſpleaſure the beſt he could, and teſtified all kind of reſpect and acknowledgment for the Offer he made (proteſting he had never merited the honour, but would [Page] endeavour to render himſelf worthy of it by that paſſion he had to ſerve him.)

Alcimedon believed with reaſon that it was better to uſe it thus, and receive the offer of Barzanes with reſpect, rather expecting when his Affairs would permit him to render his lawful excuſes, than provoke him in rejecting his Daughter without any probable reaſons of this injurious refuſe; or acquaint him with the true cauſe that hindred him from accepting it, that being the thing of all other, which he deſired to keep moſt ſecret, imagining Barzanes would not preſs him ſo hard, as to deprive him of the opportunity of reſolving with Menalippa, after what manner he ought to Treat her, believing alſo he would freely pardon him when the Truth was ſufficiently known. Barzanes doubted not Alcimedons conſent to this alliance, and altogether ſatisfied with the Election he had made; arrived with his ſuppoſed Son-in-law at Tenaſia within few dayes.

You will not doubt, I believe, that they were gloriouſly received, and that a Victory ſo ſignal obtain'd by Alcimedon, the period put to that War by his Valor, his captivating two Kings which he brought to Tenaſia, made him to be regarded as the moſt gallant of men; all that you can imagine in this Encounter, is below the Truth. Certain it is, that Alcimedon received from the Queen and Princeſs, and all the Dacian Nobility (who beheld him as their Deliverer, and a perſon altogether extraordinary) all the Careſſes and Honour they were capable to render him.

The Queen embracing him a thouſand times, call'd him her Son by a ſpecial favour, and promiſed him all the acknowledgment he could expect from the Grandure of his Services; Menalippa received him with a countenance expreſſing her love, and Careſſed him from her eyes more than from her mouth, in preſence of the Queen, and many other Witneſſes, remitting greater teſtimonies of her affection, till opportunity ſhould favour them with a private Conference; yet by the moſt favourable regards, ſhe let him ſee her heart was not changed, filling him with all the joy he was capable to receive.

After he had rendred his firſt Devoyres to the Queen and Princeſs, in expectation of a more particular converſe with Menalippa, he retired to pay his Viſit to the Wife and Daughter of Barzanes, to whom he thought this the ſecond Complement due, and the Queen deſiring to entertain Barzanes concerning the ſtate of the War, and the Frontiers which he had left, retired with him into her Cabinet, and would alſo that the Princeſs her Daughter (in whoſe prudence ſhe did much confide) ſhould enter into their Diſcourſe.

Barzanes rendred them an exact Account of the paſſages of this War, even to the leaſt particular, and of the condition he had left the Enemy in; but all his Relation contained nothing but Alcimedons praiſe, which the Princeſs hearkning to with a great concern, could ſcarce contain her joy.

After the Queen had hearkned with admiration, and given to the brave Actions of Alcimedon the approbation they merited; Brother (ſaid ſhe to the Prince Barzanes) (what you have related of this valiant man, and that which we knew before, makes me reſolve to recompence him, with the moſt important charges of this Kingdom, and retain him here at any price, to ſerve us in our Wars, particularly in that we are deſigning againſt Scythia, knowing no man in the World that I can better oppoſe againſt the Valor of Alcamenes, of whom Fame ſpeaks, as of a Prince altogether miraculous; let us ſee, my Brother, what we can find worthy of him, and if it be poſſible ſo to oblige him, that he may never depart from us.)

Barzanes ſmiled at this Diſcourſe: (Madam, ſaid he to the Queen, I will not believe that for all the Services I have rendred your Majeſty for the time paſt, you can ever be indebted to me, but in your Deſign of recompencing and ſtaying Alcimedon. I ſuppoſe I have rendred you a good office in preventing your intentions, by finding a means to fix him to your Service for ever, by a promiſe I have made him to give him my Daughter with all my Eſtate, and the Deſign I have to accompliſh this Marriage ſo ſoon as I ſhall receive permiſſion from your Majeſty.)

Menalippa changed colour at theſe words, and at this Diſcourſe of Barzanes; and the Queen taking no notice of her alteration (the buſineſs wholly poſſeſſing her thoughts) Is it poſſible, my Brother, ſaid ſhe, that you ſhould eſpouſe ſo great an affection to this Realm, as voluntarily to ſacrifice your only Daughter to the publick Intereſt, and make her Arms the ſoft Chains to link this valiant man to our Service; and that your love to us, or rather to vertue, hath cauſed you to caſt your eyes on Alcimedon, rather than on ſo many Princes who have ſought your Alliance?

('Tis certain, replied Barzanes, that I prefer the perſon of Alcimedon before that of a King, and I hold my Daughter and my ſelf more happy in the poſſeſſion of him, than of a Kingdom: Menalippa could no longer contain, but taking the word: ('Tis to love vertue, [Page] ſaid ſhe, as it ought to be loved; but what advantage ſoever Alcimedon may reap by the honour of your Alliance, are you ſure he is inclined to this Marriage?) I am not ſure, replied Barzanes, being not come ſo far; yet beſide the knowledge which I formerly had of Alcimedon's love to Alithea, he diſcovered himſelf clearly enough to me, and teſtified with much acknowledgment and joy, the honour he ſhould receive by our alliance; we have held agreement ever ſince, and he is now with my Daughter, whoſe ſight and entertainment he deſired with great impatience, and to whom I am confident he is gone to declare his happineſs.

Barzanes made this Diſcourſe without malice, and according to his real thoughts, imagining by appearances, that Alcimedon had received the Propoſition with much ſatisfaction.

But the Princeſs, ſwell'd as with a draught of poyſon by this cruel News, and the furious Eſſorts of her paſſion ſuffering her not to penetrate into the reſemblances of this adventure, could not but give manifeſt ſigns of the troubles that poſſeſt her, expreſſing it in ſeveral emotions beyond the bounds of moderation; all the Grandure of her Courage was neceſſary to hinder, and as it was very hard for her to diſſemble, carrying one hand to her eyes, and feigning a great Head-ake, ſhe deſired the Queens permiſſion to retire into her Chamber.

And paſſing through a Hall to go to her apartment, ſhe ſaw Alcimedon near a window with the Princeſs Alithea, whom he ſeemed to entertain with ſome emotion and confidence; this ſight redoubled her rage and her pace, ſo that being immediatly at her Chamber, and in her Cabinet, ſhe abandoned her ſelf to all that choler and reſentment could produce moſt violent.

Her grief was mute a while, not knowing where to begin, but a little after disburdning her ſelf with impetuoſity (What, ſaid ſhe, am I abandoned by this perfidious man, and abandoned for Alithea? has he forſaken Menalippa, born with advantages all the World knows above Alithea, and Menalippa, who loved him more than her ſelf, for Althea her Subject and Inferior in all things, for Alithea, who poſſibly loves him not? This Traytor, this blind man, who hath with ſo much diſſimulation abus'd the bounty of Menalippa, ſhall he injuriouſly quit her, without the puniſhment due to his Fidelity.)

Here a torrent of tears ſtopped the courſe of her words, but having dryed them, and demanding from her courage more anger than grief and tenderneſs, yet could ſhe not hinder all thoſe paſſions to ſtruggle within her Soul with equal force; and thoſe ſhe would have driven out, maintained as ſtrong a party as thoſe ſhe would have retained.

This Alcimedon (cryes ſhe, quite tranſported) to whom I gave my heart the firſt moment that I ſaw him, this unknown whom I have preferred before ſo many great Princes, for whom I have forgot all, and for whom I have forgotten my ſelf, this man who lated loved me with ſo much ardor and ſincerity, he who promiſed to Crown me Queen of Scythia, and in a ſhort time to diſcover himſelf to be one of the greateſt Princes of the Univerſe, ſhould be no other than a Deceiver, a wicked Impoſtor, an Infidel, who having lifted his eyes to Menalippa, or rather having been bewich't with love the Soul of that unfortunate Princeſs, would now ſacrifice her to Barzanes's Daughter. Ah! Menalippa, Ah! eaſie Princeſs, behold the effect of thy eaſineſs and ſhameful facility; that heart which ought not to be gained but by the Services, and blood of many great Princes, how hath it been caſt away upon an unknown at the firſt ſight, without paying for it the price of a ſigh: This Wretch knew well the value of that which he had ſo eaſily obtained, and with reaſon hath he deſpiſed that which I without reaſon have ſo lightly given.

Whil'ſt the Princeſs tormented her ſelf on this manner, and deſerted her Soul to the moſt violent effects of paſſion, ſhe ſaw one enter the door of her Cabinet (which was but half ſhut) and caſting her eyes upon the firſt Object that preſented it ſelf, the unfortunate Alcimedon (whoſe evil Genius had conducted him thither, appeared before her: Beliſa, to whom the mutual love of thoſe two perſons was known, ſuppoſing Menalippa's Retreat was to Alcimedon's advantage, told him he might enter into the Cabinet, and opened the Door her ſelf; but ſcarce was he entred, when the furious Princeſs riſing with precipitation from a Bed whereon ſhe lay, and advancing towards him quite tranſported: Traytor, ſaid ſhe, haſt thou the impudence to preſent thy ſelf before me? Alcimedon grew pale; and recoyled ſome paces, quite aſtoniſhed at this change; but the Princeſs gave him not time to open his mouth, but taking the word in a tone more elevated than before: Go, diſloyal man, ſaid ſhe, go faithleſs unknown, whom I have preferred before ſo many great Princes, go carry thy black Treaſons elſewhere, think not to make any longer abode in Dacia, where thou hast an Enemy too powerful, and too angry to leave thee ſecure; ſeek elſewhere alliances more ſutable to an Infidel, [Page] and never preſent thy ſelf before the unfortunate Menalippa, if thou wilt not that, with the loſs of thy life, ſhe revenge the Treaſons thou haſt committed againſt her.

Finiſhing theſe words with an Action altogether furious, ſhe thruſt him out of the Cabinet, and ſhut the Door upon him.

Alcamenes half dead with this adventure, traverſt the whole apartment, without beholding any one, and retired to his lodging quite tranſported; there he began to undiſguize his unhappineſs, and to ſearch the cauſe with mortal Traunces; he knew himſelf too innocent to find, through all the actions of his life, any thing deſerving this treatment, and he had always known Menalippa too reaſonable to be carried to ſuch extremities againſt him; without any apparent cauſe.

Firſt, he thought himſelf diſcovered for Alcamcnes, and that firſt thought ſomething bridled his aſtoniſhment; but afterwards calling to mind Menalippa's cruel words, and remembring ſhe call'd him unknown, and reproach'd him with her preference of him before ſo many great Princes, he knew that it was to Alcimedon, not Alcamenes, that theſe cruel words were addreſſed.

Juſt gods, cryed he (being confirmed in this opinion!) Is it poſſible that in ſo few moments, my Fortune ſhould receive ſo ſtrange a Revolution, and that Menalippa ſo juſt, ſo generous, and who an hour ſince by a welcome ſo ſweet, and by reguards ſo favourable, aſſured me of the continuation of my happineſs, ſhould paſs into ſo cruel an extremity againſt her faithful, her innocent Alcimedon. Here he buried himſelf in a profound recovery, endeavouring to find out the cauſe of his unhappineſs, and never thinking on what paſſed between Barzancs and himſelf, judging it uncapable to perſwade Menalippa that he was unfaithful; ſo that all his ſtudy taught him only this, that he was the moſt unhappy of men, without being able to gheſs the cauſe; Ah Deſtinies (ſaid he!) Ah Fortune! which haſt been too favourable to me, I ought to have believed, that a Fortune ſo promptly eſtabliſhed, could be of no long continuance; Alcamenes hath not merited thoſe Fortunes where with thou haſt favoured Alcimedon, and it is juſt, that by the fall of the unfortunate Alcimedon, Alcamenes ſhould become the moſt miſerable of all men.

Ah! fair hopes too lightly conceived; Ah! foundations of a great Fortune laid upon ſand! muſt you diſappear? muſt ye periſh in a moment? and muſt the unfortunate Alcamenes be ignorant, whence this unprovident Ruine comes!

How, Menalippa, added he, a few moments after, muſt I obey your cruel Command, muſt I never ſee you more? Ah! if for the puniſhment of my diſobedience to this Command, I had nothing to fear ſave the loſs of that life which you threaten, you ſhould ſee how much I deſpiſe Death in compariſon of a ſeparation from you.

He arreſted his thoughts ſome moments on this conſideration, and, to flatter himſelf, would believe that the Princeſs had been prejudiced by ſome falſe appearance, or the report of an Enemy, and therefore it were better to indeavour his Juſtification, than to obey a Command made in the firſt paſſionate motion, which leaves the mind rather to the guidance of fury, than reaſon, but as he loved the moſt paſſionately of all men, and was inviolably punctual in his love and reſpect, he thought he could not do it without offending both, and rendring himſelf worthy of his cruel deſtiny through his diſobedience.

He balanced theſe things a while, and had almoſt perſwaded him into ſome hope, that poſſibly Menalippa might alter her humor, when he ſaw Beliſa enter his Chamber, and preſent him with a Billet from the Princeſs; he received it trembling, and having k ſſed it, he put one knee to the ground, and read theſe words.

MENALIPPA to ALCIMEDON.

ENdcavour not to juſtifie thy ſelf with me, but depart this Enemies Countrey, ſo ſoon as thou haſt received my last Command, thy refuſal will but more peremptorily declare thy infidelity, and carry me to extremities, which thou wilt repent, if there remains any ſpark of vertue in thee.

Theſe cruel words ſhot death into the deſperate heart of Alcamenes, who kiſſing again the Billet, not without ſome tears which he could not retain: Yes Madam, ſaid he, I will obey you; then turning towards Beliſa (who regarded thoſe marks of his ſadneſs with pity) he would have ſaid ſomething to her, but her Maid (though toucht with his misfortune) acquainted him that ſhe had order from the Princeſs to hearken to nothing, and thereupon left the Chamber immediately.

Alcimedon pauſed not on what he ought to do, only lifting his eyes to Heaven with a deſperate regard: Let us dye Alcimedon (ſaid he) let us dye, but firſt let us obey Menalippa; after [Page] thoſe few words he entred into his Cabinet, where he writ a Letter to be given to Menalippa after his depart, and having called his two Scythian Squires, he commanded them to provide the three beſt Horſes they could, to depart immediatly: then taking Leander, his Dacian Eſquire aſide; Leander, ſaid he, My love to thee would not have ſuffered me to leave thee here, were not thy ſtay abſolutely neceſſary to the repoſe of my Soul: give therefore to morrow (or when thou canſt) this Letter to Menalippa, and paſs the reſt of thy dayes in her Service, if ſhe will honour thee with it; but I deſire thee, by the affection thou beareſt me, not to acquaint any with what thou knoweſt of this buſineſs between Menalippa and me; I am ſorry that I cannot requite thy Services to my deſire, or thy deſert; the gods will do it for me, and till then, keep this Ring for my ſake; ſaying theſe words (his face ſprinkled with tears which he could not retain) he gave the Letter to Leander, and a Ring, worth more than twenty Talents. The afflicted Squire received the one and the other with a deluge of tears, deploring as much his Maſters misfortune as his own, in not being permitted to follow him.

Alcamenes ſatisfying the other Officers of his Houſe with the furniture thereof, and of ſome Jewels, armed him ſelf, took Horſe and departed, accompanied only with his two Scythian Squires. Leaving Tenaſia on this manner, which but the day before he had entred with Triumph, Applauſe, and a thouſand fair hopes.

The End of the Second Book of the Eighth Part of Cleopatra.

The Eighth Part of CLEOPATRA.
BOOK, III.

NExt enſuing Night the Princeſs Menalippa paſſed in the moſt cruel inquietudes a Soul can be poſſeſſed with; all that a furious Jealouſie can produce in a heart wholly given up to it, tormented hers with a pitileſs violence; there were ſome moments wherein ſhe ſeem'd to repent her rigor, and her raſh baniſhing a man whom ſhe ſtill loved more than her life: Beliſa informed her with what reſpect he received the cruel order ſhe ſent him, how much the pitied him, and how dear the vertues of Alcimedon were to her, and failed not to relate the grief and deſpair ſhe obſerved in the Face Diſcourſes and Actions of Alcimedon.

This Recital had ſomthing ſoftned a heart, which was ſtill tender with affection towards him, at leaſt it gave the Princeſs ſome regret for her too quick proceeding, beſide reflecting on the cauſe of her anger, ſhe could ſee in any thing that Barzanes ſpake, very little reaſon to ſuſpect Alcimedon of infidelity, or that he ſhould leave her for Alithea, ſo that there were ſome moments wherein ſhe imagined him innocent.

In this uncertainty and agitation of ſpirit, ſhe paſſed the Night without reſt, and falling aſleep in the morning, it was late ere ſhe waked, and then calling Beliſa, ſhe put her upon the Diſcourſe of her meſſage to Alcimedon, which after ſhe had related with aggravation all ſhe knew of the Princeſs grief, ſeeing the Princeſs more capable of Converſation than the day before, and preſuming on the confidence her Lady alwayes had in her diſcretion, took the liberty to demand the cauſe of her anger againſt Alcimedon; ſaying, it muſt needs be great, having carried her to ſuch an extremity againſt a man ſhe ſo extreamly loved.

Menalippa unable to anſwer without ſome ſighs, ingenuouſly related the Subject of her Choler againſt Alcimedon, and related without diſguiſe, all ſhe learnt from Barzanes touching the pretended Marriage of his Daughter with Alcimedon.

Beliſa no ſooner heard this Diſcourſe, but ſtriking her breaſt: Ah! Madam, is this all [Page] the cauſe of that great anger which hath baniſh't Alcimedon for ever!

And judge you not Beliſa, replied the Princeſs, That I have reaſon to baniſh an unfaithful man, who left me for the Daughter of Barzanes: Ah! Madam, replied Beliſa, What a cruel injuſtice have you committed, and how have you exerciſed all your rigor againſt an innocent? The poor Alcimedon before he came (by his misfortunes) to the door of your Cabinet, whither I conducted him my ſelf, finding me in your Anti-chamber, and knowing you kept nothing concerning him as a ſecret from me, entertained me a great while, concerning the intention of Barzanes, and the offer he made of his Daughter; but I can aſſure you, Madam, his intentions held no correſpondence with thoſe of Barzanes, and that he negotiated with that Prince, only out of Civility due to the Uncle of Menalippa: He teſtified to me nakedly the trouble he was in, how handſomely to evade the offer of Barzanes, and entred your Cabinet, with a deſign of conferring with you, and receiving order and counſel thereupon.

Beliſa thus ſpake the truth, and Menalippa finding a likelihood in her Diſcourſe; began inſenſibly to be cured of her jealouſie, and more and more perſwaded of Alcimedons innocency; being a thing ſhe more deſired than her life; ſhe indeavoured all poſſible means to get out of this cruel Error, for according to reaſon and common ſenſe, there was ſmall appearance that Alcimedon ſhould quit her for Alithea, which opening her eyes to the Truth, ſhe began to accuſe her raſhneſs when to compleat the Victory, they told her that Barzanes was at her Chamber-door, waiting to give her the good morrow.

Though Menalippa was in no condition to be ſeen, the reſpect ſhe bare her Uncle, and much more the deſign of clearing Alcimedons innocency from his mouth, which begat her ſuſpition, ſhe commanded they ſhould bring him in.

Barzanes being at the Bed-ſide, took a Seat by the Princeſſes command, and after the firſt Diſcourſes of Civility, the impatient Menalippa wanted not pretence for her deſign, but put the Prince her Uncle upon the Diſcourſe of his Daughters Marriage, and deſired him to acquaint her ſincerely with what had paſſed touching that Affair, and what teſtimonies he had received of Alcimedon's love to Alithea, and after what manner he had taken the boldneſs to demand her in Marriage.

Barzanes, who was a Prince ſincere, and without artifice, told the Princeſs ingenuouſly, that Alcimedon had never ſpoken to him concerning his Daughter, and would have been leſs hardy to demand her in Marriage; but having conſidered vertue, and preferred it above all other eſtabliſhments he could expect or wiſh her, and ſuppoſing thereby to render an important Service to the State, in detaining Alcimedon, he intended to give him his Daughter, and made no difficulty to offer her to him. Alcimedon teſtified no particular deſign towards this alliance, but received the favour with great reſpect, and many teſtimonies of acknowledgement, which would not permit him to fancy he had any repugnance to this Propoſition; and although Alcimedon had loved Alithea, yet the diſproportion of their Fortunes might well hinder its diſcovery.

The more Barzanes talked, the more Menalippa was confirmed in the knowledge of the Truth, and ere her Uncle left the Chamber, ſhe doubted not but that Alcimedon had only acted out of Civility, and the reſpect he thought due to a Prince that loved him, and who was Uncle to his Princeſs. Her Soul quickly reſumed its former Seat, and that violent paſſion, which had diſlocated it, deceding to the pity ſhe conceived at the Report of Beliſa, of thoſe marks of grief ſhe ſaw upon the face of Alcimedon, began now to repent the rigor of her proceeding, when a little after Barzanes was gone, Beliſa preſented her with the faithful Squire of Alcimedon to whom that Prince had delivered a Letter to Menalippa.

The Princeſs who knew him, having often ſeen him with his Maſter, changed colour ſo ſoon as he entred her Chamber; but when ſhe beheld in his eyes all the appearances of a mortal ſadneſs, and ſome tears which the afflicted man could not retain, ſhe felt her heart beat exceedingly, and with great trouble commanded him to draw near, and acquit himſelf of his Commiſſion.

The Princeſſes Command made Leander more confident, and having excuſed the liberty which his obedience to his Maſter had neceſſitated him to, he preſented her with a Letter, which ſhe received without ſpeaking, and opening it with an action full of tenderneſs and repentance, read theſe words.

[Page]

ALCIMEDON to the Princeſs MENALIPPA.

Divine Princeſs,

I Shall not endeavour my juſtification ſince you have forbidden it, and Alcimedon muſt needs be criminal, ſince his juſt and ſoveraign Princeſs hath thought him ſo; only I protest my Crime is unknown to me, for ſince my glorious deſtiny conducted me to your fect, I know not wherein I have failed, no not in the leaſt thought, of that adoration which I owe you. I obey without murmur the arreſt you have pronounced, and depart with as much love and veneration for you, as if this Exile to which I am condemned, were meant an act of grace, and recompence of my Services. That relique of my life which is left me, ſhall be alwayes yours, though not acknowledged by you, and death from whom alone I can receive the remedy of my misfortunes, ſhall never be able to alter or alienate my affections: I beg not the return of that felicity which I have loſt as I gained, and which good and bad Fortune hath given to, and taken from me, without any merit or crime known to me; but only (if this prayer may be permitted) that you would not ſhut your eyes againſt the Truth, if favourable to me, and that you will not hate after death, the memory of,

Alcimedon.

The Truth which already intirely appeared to the ſpirit of Menalippa, needed no ſuch puiſſant ſuccours to convince her, for it had produced ſuch effects on the tender heart of the Princeſs, that Leander and Beliſa eaſily perceived it, her tears which bedewed the Letter, gave the firſt ſignal, and ſighs and ſobs which followed them, confirmed their perſwaſions; after a little pauſe, addreſſing her ſelf to Leander, ſhe ask't him where his Maſter was? And the diſconſolate Eſquire had no ſooner related his precipitate depart, with the pitiful circumſtances that accompanied it, but the ſad Princeſs felt her ſelf ſtruck as with a Clap of Thunder; How, ſaid ſhe to Leander, Is not thy Maſter in Tenaſia? And you may add, Madam (replied he) Is he any longer in the World, being unable to imagine he departed from Tenaſia upon any other deſign than that of dying. To theſe words he added many more, which had almoſt lodg'd death in the heart of this afflicted Princeſs, who learning with what deſpair he departed, yet alſo with how much reſignation and reſpect to her command, ſhe became the Subject of grief, fear and repentance. She mightily indeavoured to ſhadow part of her paſſions from Leander, and believing that after this Adventure Alcimedon would have leſs care to diſguize himſelf ſhe asked Leander, whether he knew the true condition of his Maſter; I never knew it, replied he, nor deſired to learn, ſince it was his will I ſhould be ignorant; and as all things declare the greatneſs of his birth, ſo the magnificence of a Preſent he made me ere he went, confirms me in the opinion of the grandure of his Fortune; whereupon he ſhewed the Ring Alcimedon gave him, and Menalippa with Beliſa having beheld it, both judged that ſuch a Preſent could not come, but from a great Prince; after ſeveral Diſcourſes which the Princeſs with great agitation made, Leander, ſaid ſhe, I do not think that in that little time ſince your Maſter departed, he can be far from hence; go therefore and follow him with all poſſible ſpeed, and if you become ſo happy as to overtake him, give him from me a Letter which I am going to write. I ſhould be ſorry that Dacia ſhould loſe ſo valiant a man, and one from whom we have had ſo many obligations, if it lyethin my power to call him back; do what you can to find him, but if you ſucceed not happily, return to give me an account; and ſtay in my Service, ſince it is the deſire of your Maſter, being the leaſt acknowledgement we can render for thoſe Services he hath done us. She ſealed theſe words with a gift, and obliged him inſtantly to take Horſe, and follow upon the Tract of his Maſter, having given him a Letter which ſhe writ in his abſence.

After Leander was gone, Menalippa commanded that Viſitants ſhould know ſhe was indiſpoſed, that ſhe might remain peaceably in her mournful ſolitude, and deſiring the Queen alſo to leave her this day free, ſhe conſumed it wholly in tears, and laments, wherewith ſhe celebrated the ſad departure of Alcamenes; it would be difficult (great Princeſſes) to relate all the complaints ſhe made on the lightneſs of her belief, and the promptneſs of her anger.

But if in theſe firſt dayes (whil'ſt there remained any hope of the return of Alcimedon by Leanders diligence) ſhe afflicted her ſelf moderately; her grief became exceſſive when after a Months ſearch, ſhe ſaw the afflicted Eſquire return without any News of his Maſter. All that a ſenſible grief could produce in a Soul capable of the moſt violent paſſions, like that of Menalippa, tormented hers with moſt violent aſſaults, and had not the diſcreet Princeſs imputed the cauſe of her ſadneſs to her indiſpoſition, whereinto her grief had really caſt her, ſhe had been diſcovered to the Queen and Court of Dacia; where, though ſhe was the moſt afflicted for the departure of Alcimedon, yet was ſhe not ſingular in her [Page] reſentments; the Queen, who beſide an inclination ſhe had to for his vertue, having loſt ſo valiant a man, and on whom ſhe had founded ſo much hope, became unſpeakably ſorrowful at the News of his departure!

Barzanes, who loved him as his Son, and who ſaw the hopes he had entertained of his alliance vaniſh, could receive no conſolation: All were at a loſs in gueſſing the cauſe, what care ſoever they took to diſcover it; only their griefs were ſeconded by the general ſorrow of all Dacia for the loſs of ſo valiant a man.

The Queen underſtanding that the Forces of her Allies were on their march, prepared her ſelf for the Scythian Voyage, and mounted thoſe Troops ſhe had long ſince deſigned for that Expedition; and found a way to encreaſe her power by an addition of that of the Sarmates and Nomades, whoſe Kings were by the Valor of Alcimedon ſtill in her Priſons; theſe two Princes ſent her word, that if ſhe would reſtore them their liberty, they would ſerve her with all the Force of their States in the Scythian War.

The Queen by the advice of her Council, hearkned to theſe Propoſitions, and a little after having generouſly freed them, they left Tenaſia, and marched with diligence towards their Kingdoms, where they had Troops ready for the Field, and in a condition to march, ſo ſoon as any of the reſt who had been ſo long a preparing before them.

At laſt (to abride my Diſcourſe) Merodates entred Dacia with Four thouſand Horſe, and Eight thouſand Foot; and Oroſmenes with Six thouſand Horſe, but no Infantry; and at the ſame time the Queen underſtood that the Prince of Bithinia with Three thouſand Horſe, and Twelve thouſand Foot; and the Prince of Pont with Fourteen thouſand Foot, and Two thouſand Horſe, would be in a few dayes at the Rendevouz appointed.

Amalthea raiſed in Dacia, and amongſt the Getes, and Gelons her Subjects, more than Eight thouſand Horſe, and Five and twenty thouſand Foot; ſcarce were they ready, when in execution of their promiſes, Pharnaces King of the Sarmates, and Orchomenes King of the Nomades appeared; the firſt with Three thouſand Horſe, and Seven thouſand Foot; the latter with Two thouſand Horſe, and Eight thouſand Foot.

This numerous Army compoſed of more than Eight and twenty thouſand Horſe, and Sixty five thouſand Foot, and commanded by many valiant Kings and Princes, had probability enough of overpowring Scythia, or any other Countrey it ſhould fall into; and the Queen Amalthea could not ſee her ſelf at the Head of ſuch an Army, without giving abſolute credit to the Oracles which promiſed the Crown of Scythia to Menalippa; She committed the charge of the Dacians, Getes and Gelons to the Prince Barzanes, which made the greateſt one part of the Army, and ſhe could not have given them a more valiant or experienced Chief, but ſhe ſighed for grief not to ſee Alcimedon on her ſide, fancing her Troops unvincible, had this great perſon fought at their Head. But if the abſence of Alcimedon afflicted the Queen and Barzanes, it incomparably more tormented the inconſolable Menalippa; but for Merodates, Euardes, Phrataphernes, and the other Rival Princes, it became a Subject of rejoycing to them, and particularly the diſloyal Orchomenes, Prince of the Nomades, in whom injuries had made an impreſſion againſt his Conqueror, more than all his civilities during his Captivity, reſolving to indeavour his deſtruction by all wayes poſſible, without any conſideration of honour, or the rank of Prince which he held,

Over this numerous Army, compoſed of ſo many different Nations, and commanded by ſo many Princes, there wanted a General in Chief, whom all the reſt ought to obey; for this great Body muſt have a Head to actuate its members; to this honour all theſe Princes pretended equally; Merodates the moſt fierce and valiant, though the youngeſt demanded it expreſly, and ſaid aloud, That he was moſt worthy of it, though poſſibly the leaſt powerful.

Phrataphernes, Euardes, Oroſmenes, Parnaces, and the wicked Orchomenes, had as many reaſons to pretend to it; and Barzanes, a Kings Son (though no Soveraign) a great experienced Captain, and commanding already the greateſt one part of the Army, would not yield the command, but as reaſonably as they, hoped for it: But the Queen ended the controverſie, by demanding it ſor her ſelf; reaſoning, that having armed them all in hers, and the Princeſs Menalippas quarrel, it was juſt that Menalippa and her ſelf ſhould take the journey in perſon, and march to a Conqueſt wherein Menalippa was particularly ingaged, ſince the gods promiſed it to her only. All the Princes underſtood with joy the reſolution of the Queen, and all the pretenders to the Princeſs were raviſh't to know that ſhe ſhould be an eye-witneſs of thoſe gallant things they intended to perform for her ſake.

Menalippa, who was more naturally addicted to Maſculine, than Feminine Exerciſes, whoſe ſtrength yielded to that of few men, and whoſe contiual Hunting-imployment had perfected her in-riding, and caſting the Javelin to attaque the moſt furious Beaſts with her naked Sword, had ſo hardned her body to all ſorts of toyls; and having long ſince eſpouſed the reſentments of the Queen her Mother, againſt the King of Scythia, ſhe imbraced the reſolution [Page] with joy, and prepared with ſome conſolation to carry againſt the Scythians whom ſhe hated, the effects of her deſpair, innocently cauſed by him ſhe moſt tenderly loved.

Some ſparks of hope failed not to kindle, that the bruit of this War, with her perſonal appearance therein, might cauſe Alcimedon to appear, ſignalizing and reconciling himſelf to her by ſome gallant action, or ſome wound receiv'd for her intereſt; this hope, which was not without a foundation, rendred her more gay than ordinary, and made her prepare for this Expedition with much reſolution; and, the Queen permitting, ſhe covered her body with a Cuiraſſe, and her fair face with a terrible Helmet, and built her ſelf up into an Amazon, nothing leſs couragious or vigorous, than the moſt gallant of thoſe valiant women, who have fill'd the Earth with their Reputation.

I will hold you no longer with theſe preparations: This great Armado conducted by the Queen, the Princeſs, and ſo many Princes, diſlodged from the place where the Rendevouz had been kept, and in a gallant poſture, marched towards Scythia, which it entred by the Province of the Napeens, where Amalthea carrying Fire and Sword, deſolated whatever the found in her paſſage; but meeting with nothing capable of ſtaying her upon the Frontiers, ſhe marcht towards this capital City, with great confidence of ſubjecting this powerful Kingdom under the Dominion of the Dacians.

The King Orontes, who ſuppoſed Dacia more inflamed by the Arms of the Sarmates than it was, and who could not imagine Amalthea would be ſo ſoon in a condition of bringing the War into his Countrey with ſo great a power, had been a little ſlow in putting himſelf in a poſture of defence, and had not fortified his Frontiers againſt the Enemies arrival, as he might; yet being one of the greateſt Kings of the world, and commanding a greater number of Provinces, furniſhed with Martial men, having ſent orders to the Sarcarians, Napeens, Maſſagetes, Iſſedons, Dahes, Arimaſpes, Rimnicians, Peſicians, Amordiens, Hiſtians, Edonians, Enchatians, Cokers, Cameenes, Antarians, and many other Nations which compoſed his Monarchy; he raiſed quickly above Thirty thouſand Horſe, and Fifty thouſand Foot; 'tis true, that before theſe Troops were fit to ſerve him, according to his intent, thoſe of the Queen of Dacia were far advanced in his Countrey, and had every where left the cruel marks of her paſſage: The King Orontes, a brave and valiant Captain, having reduced his Army into a gallant poſture, and believing that although his number was inferior to that of his Enemies, yet the Scythian Valor would ſupply the default; ſo not expecting the Dacians in the Metropolis, he march't in excellent order towards the Enemy, reſolving to give them Battel.

Now was his Soul fill'd with grief for the abſence of Alcamenes, and this Son on whom he had founded ſuch fair hopes, or rather from whom he expected the Victory, and the defence of his Eſtates, appeared not in a time wherein his aſſiſtance was abſolutely neceſſary; and the King knowing he wanted no courage to ſeek ſuch dangers, nor affection for his Father and Countrey, feared leſt by ſome ſad accident he were loſt for ever, and knew not how to accuſehim as ungrateful or unnatural, leſt he ſhould accuſe an innocent, and poſſibly a Prince who was no more in being; a hundred times did this ſad remembrance draw ſighs from his breaſt, and his whole Kingdom, who had adored the fair beginnings of Alcamenes, univerſally participated of his reſentments, highly regretting the abſence of their valiant Defender.

In the mean while the King being advanced to the City Nicea, a place very fair and ſtrongly fortified, incompaſſed with a great Plain, where he quartered his whole Army, reſolved to attend the Enemy, who lay not above two dayes march from thence, and who approached him with all diligence. The King reſolving to give them Battel, divides his Army into four Bodies: The firſt compoſed of Maſſagetes, Dahes, Sagues and Napeens, he gave to be commanded by Madates Prince of the Maſſagetes: The ſecond compoſed of Arimaſpes, Rimnicians, Peſicians and Amordiens, to Cleogaris Prince of the Amordiens: The third conſiſting of the Etheens, Histians, Edoniens, Enchateenes, and Ariaces, to Alcaſtes Prince of the Etheens; & retained the fourth for himſelf, formed of the Iſedons, Cameens, Antraians, Camaces, Satarchiens, Aſeens, Agrippeenes, Tauro-Scythes, and divers other Nations.

The Queen Amalthea beſtirring her ſelf in this War, and giving orders by the counſel of the Prince Barzanes, having firſt called all the other Princes, advanced within the ſight of Nicea, and encamped in that great Plain, within fifty ſtades of the Scythians.

The King of Scythia ſent out Scouts to diſcover the Enemy, who skirmiſhing upon the place, hindred the commodious lodging of Amalthea's Troops, and their preparation to give Battel the day following. Orontes might have further incommoded his Enemy, by ſeizing ſome places of advantage, whereby he might have diſputed their paſſage; but having no Deſign to draw this War out at length, and conſiding marvellouſly in the Valor of his Scythians he gave the Enemy all convenience to lodge, and prepare for the Battel ſo much deſired by both parties.

[Page] The marrow, Amalthea having gathered all the Princes into her Tent, and by their counſel given the laſt order for the Battel, and having learnt the diſpoſition of the Scythian Army; by the counſel of Barzanes, ſhe divides hers into four Bodies, after the Enemies example; Phrataphernes and Oroſmenes, with the Inhabitants of Pont, and the Baſternes, commanded the firſt; Barzanes alone, with the Dacians, Getes and Gelones (Subjects of Amalthea) made the ſecond; Pharnaces and Orchomenes, with the Sarmates and Nomades, their Subjects, took the third place; and Merodates, who had learnt that Orontes was in the fourth Body, would be his oppoſite, hoping to terminate this War by his Valor, and the Scythian-King's death; and Euardes being joined to him, compoſed their fourth Body of the Bithinians and Tauriques: All agreed that on the day of Battel (as the Queens Repreſentative) the Prince Barzanes ſhould be General, yet not to claim a propriety of the place for the future; and they rather choſe to ſubmit to him, than that the pretenders to Menalippa ſhould obey each other. This Army was ſtronger by a fifth part, than that of the Scythians, and commanded by valiant Princes, each of which might with reaſon entertain hopes of Victory.

The Queen of Dacia could not without trembling think of the event of this great day, and had ſhe not believed the Oracles, which promiſed the Crown of Scythia to the Princeſs Menalippa, her perplexity had been far greater.

All the pretending Princes made a Parade before their Princeſs, and there was not one of them that promiſed her not the King Orontes's Head; they all ſeemed very angry that the Prince Alcamenes was not in the enemies Camp, againſt whom they had made ſo many menaces, and upon whoſe death they hoped to raiſe Trophies of Reputation. Amalthea, who had heard the Valor of the Scythian Prince ſpoken of with fear and admiration, received the News of his abſence with a proportionate joy, and a happy Omen of a good ſucceſs; of her own Dacians, ſhe retained Four thouſand for hers, and the Princeſſe's Guard, cauſing them to ſtand in battalia before their Tents, which ſhe ordered to be invironed with a Ditch, ſuch a one as could be caſt up in ſo ſhort a time.

At length both Armies being drawn into Battalia, the Chiefs of each marched towards each other in excellent order; but when they came in ſight, they ſent their Salutes by dreadful ſhouts and exclamations.

Orontes and Barzanes having quitted their particular charges to give general orders, cauſed the Signal of Battel to be given, ſo that Phrataphernes and Oroſmenes on the one ſide, and Mandates Prince of the Maſſagetes on the other, began this cruel day. They amuſed themſelves for a while with a Combat of Arrows, but both parties being experienced, and the impatience of their Chiefs which breathed nothing but Victory, the one in a juſt defence of his Countrey, the other for the Conqueſt of Menalippa; brought them quickly to a conjunction; and here it was that the fight became terrible and bloody.

The ſecond Bodies followed the firſt, and after thoſe the reſt, impatient for the danger, and conſequently for the glory, hardly expected orders for the on-ſet, but falling on with a terrible impetuoſity, gave death a perfect dominion on every ſide.

It will be hard for me (great Ladies) and troubleſome to you, to relate all the particulars of this Battel. I will paſs over that which is not neceſſary for you to know, and relate only what imports much the continuation of this Hiſtory, and that which compoſeth one of the moſt remarkable parts thereof.

The Plain was already covered with dead bodies, and drowned with blood on all ſides; the Air reſounded with the cryes of wounded and dying men, and every where the Battel put on a terrible and hideous face. Here the Dacians ſunk under the Arms of the Scythians, and there the Scythians turned their backs to the Dacians; the mixture of different Nations, and their different manner of fighting increaſed the confuſion, and a great part of the day was paſt, ere it could be diſcerned to which ſide the Victory would incline; when the Princes, Rivals in Menalippa's love, impatient of the Victory, and deſiring to ſignalize themſelves in carrying the prize of this glorious day, began to make extraordinary Aſſaults, the Princes of the Satarcheens and Arimaſpes, fell under the Swords of Phrataphern and Oroſmenes; thoſe of the Aſeens and Edoniens loſt their lives by the hand of Euardes and Pharnaces: Orchomenes, wicked as he was, fought with very much Valor; but the brave Merodates, though he had already ſlain the Chiefs of the Agripeens and Antarians, and defeated the Enemy whereſoever he addreſt himſelf: yet not ſatisfied with his Valor, unleſs it had performed ſome more important Service; and knowing that the death of the King of Scythia was the price of Menalippa, it being the moſt equal revenge of the King her Fathers death; he ſought him on every ſide, and deſired nothing more than to ſacrifice his life to Amalthea's reſentments; nor was it hard to find him, for this valiant Prince, maugre the dignity of his Age, which (though ſtill vigorous) might well have cooled that boyling heat, [Page] that commonly hurries men into ſuch dangers, ran from Rank to Rank, carrying Death and Victory wherever he went, and bathing himſelf in the blood of his Enemies.

Merodates having pierced many Squadrons and Battalions, met him at laſt, and knowing him by divers marks: King of Scythia, cryed he, I come to receive death from thy hands, or to ſacrifice thee to the Ghoſt of Decebalus, and the reſentments of Amalthea; diſdain not to turn thine Arms againſt me, I am Merodates King of the Taurique Cherſoneſe.

The King of Scythia had neither intent nor leiſure to anſwer theſe words, but covering himſelf with his Buckler, prepared to receive his powerful Adverſary, and to overthrow with him the effect of this cruel menace.

At the firſt ſtroaks theſe two Princes mutually knew each others Valor, and though Merodates was in the flower of his Youth, and valiant amongſt the moſt valiant, yet he ſoon underſtood that this Victory was not ſo ſoon or eaſily to be obtained, as he imagined, but whilſt theſe two Princes fought obſtinately, in deſpight of the throng of thoſe who indeavoured to part them; and Orontes, buſied wholly to defend his life againſt the fury of Merodates, was conſtrained to quit the function of a General. Barzanes taking advantage of this diſorder, charged the Scythian Troops with ſo much vigor, and was ſo well ſeconded by Phrataphernes, Euardes, Pharnaces, and Oroſmanes, that defeating the Etheens, Cameens, and the Hiſtians, with their Princes, made the Scythian Army ſtagger, and at length viſibly give ground.

Barzanes and his valiant Companions knowing their advantage, made uſe thereof with prudence and courage, and at laſt perceived a large path to Victory; but on that ſide where the King Orontes fought with Merodates advantagiouſly enough they ſaw appear a body of Cavalry of ſome two thouſand Horſe, conducted by a man covered with black Arms, who entring the Battel with an impetuoſity, to which the already wearied Troops were forced to give place, carrying a terrible diſorder to that ſide againſt which he addreſt himſelf; he that headed theſe ſuccors, ſtruck like lightning, or ſomething more terrible, nor could ſuch blows be expected from a mortal.

This unknown having learnt intelligence of the Combat wherein the King was ingaged with Merodates, ſpur'd forward with an unreſiſtible fury, where Orontes, yielding to the youthful vigor of Merodates, diſputed his life with more courage than hope, and ruſhing in between them, let fall ſo powerful a ſtroke upon the head of Merodates, that ſtaggering in his Saddle, he had not force to oppoſe his Buckler to a ſecond blow, which falling alſo with a fury greater than the firſt, threw Merodates, valiant as he was, under his Horſes feet.

The Prince of the Tauriques was no ſooner faln, but the name of Alcamenes reſounded on every ſide, and running from mouth to mouth, gave as much courage to the Scythians as terror to their Enemies.

After the fall of Merodates, Alcamenes (for it was he) having wearied part of his men about the King, to favour the refreſhment his wearineſs required, threw himſelf with an incomparable fury upon the Princes his Enemies, and knowing them by divers tokens, diſdained to bear his force againſt the reſt, but carried his reſentments wholly againſt them.

Euardes and Oroſmanes were ſo unhappy as to be found in his paſſage, and the fierce Scythian knowing them, ſent forth a furious Cry, as a prologue to their fate, and ſeconded it with a blow which laid Euardes with his Horſe upon the ground, and ſtriking a reverſe blow upon the Head of Oroſmanes, clave it in two pieces, and threw him breathleſs amongſt the feet of the Combatants; then turning towards Euardes, whoſe followers indeavoured to lift him up, and diſdaining to regain ſo intire a Victory: Euardes (ſaid he) thou ſhalt poſſibly ſee before the end of this War, whether or no it be eaſie to Chain Alcamenes.

He ſtayed no longer on this ſide, but ſeeking his Rivals every where, met with Phrataphernes, and with a blow of his Sword laid him upon the Earth, forcing him to ſeek his ſafety amongſt the Souldiers of Pharnaces and Oroſmanes. After theſe great Actions which changed the face of the Battel, running with his valiant Troop in all places where his Succors were neceſſary, incouraging the fearful, and ſtrengthning the feeble; ſo raiſing the Affairs of his party, that the Victory which but now declared it ſelf for the Dacians, ſtood in an equal balance for ſome time, and a little after began to turn on the Scythian ſide. But the Day already declining, the Night prevented the intire deciſion of the Quarrel.

If Alcamenes had not the glory through want of time to carry away an intire Victory, yet he juſtly had that of preſerving his ſide, his Countrey, and poſſibly the life of the King his Father: He ſaw Barzanes often in the throng, and knew him by his charge, and divers other marks; but inſtead of turning his Sword againſt him, he defended him from his own [Page] party, and aſſur'd his life ſo much as it was poſſible for him.

The darkneſs had not been able to ſeparate the Combatants, if the King of Scythia of the one ſide, and Prince Barzanes on the other, had not ſounded a Retreat, and comple'd the Souldiers to return to the Camp. The Scythians loſt Thirty thouſand men, and the Dacians almoſt Forty thouſand, beſides the great Number of wounded, which were by either ſide during the obſcurity of the Night, drawn out from the reſt of the Army.

The King Orentes having performed all things which the neceſſity of his Affairs required, either to favour his Retreat, or to give neceſſary orders for the wounded, wearied with the travel of the day, and the incommodity of ſome light wounds he had received, retired to his Tent, where he reſolved to lodge, and not to enter the Town, though he might have quartered there with more commodity and aſſurance.

If he entertained ſome diſpleaſure for the loſs of his men, and through the apprehenſion which this dayes ſucceſs imprinted in his mind, yet the laſt events thereof became a refreſhing comfort; and underſtanding by the common voyce, that he was delivered out of the hands of Merodates by Alcamenes, whoſe Names he heard reſounded on all ſides; and that Alcamenes, whoſe abſence he lamented, or rather whoſe loſs he deplorred, was the perſon by whoſe Valor alone the ſucceſs of the Battel was chang'd, and the deſtiny of Scythia in that Battel, this fill'd him with tranſports of joy, and an impatience to receive this beloved Son, from whom he had received ſo ſignal and opportune ſuccors; ſcarce had he given way to the firſt motions of thoſe delightful paſſions, when he ſaw the Prince enter his Tent, followed by the Chief of thoſe who had been partakers and witneſſes of his brave Actions. Alcamenes taking off his Caſque, threw himſelf at the Kings feet, kiſſing his hand with a profound reſpect; and the King tranſſported with an exceſs of joy, caſt his Arms about his Neck with a thouſand imbraces full of love and tenderneſs.

My Lord, ſaid Alcamenes, I am culpable, and ſcarce can I hope even from your bounty any pardon for my fault.

My Son, replied the King,, if your departure poſſeſt me with grief, your return has not brought a leſs conſolation, nor could you have rendred it more dear and remarkable, than in the ſafety of your Father, and his whole Army.

Alcamenes replied to this Diſcourſe with much reſpect and modeſty, and the King rendred him all the Careſſes due to ſuch a Son as the great Alcamenes, to whom he had ſuch freſh obligations.

A little after caſting his eyes upon the Princes face, he beheld a very great change, and obſerved there the footſteps of that grief which had of late tormented his Soul, but reſerved the inquiry of the cauſe to a better leiſure; and as the life of his Son was dearer to him than his own, the care of himſelf gave place to that of Alcamenes, and ſcarce would he ſuffer thoſe light wounds he received to be ſearcht, till he ſaw his Son in perfect health.

The Prince abus'd not his bounty, and would not leave the King till he had ſeen his wounds dreſt.

After he had received the good Night, he retired to his Chamber, where almoſt all the Officers of the Army (tranſported with the joy of his return) came to kiſs his hands ere he went to Bed, having not the patience to expect till Morning ſo deſired a ſight; nor could Alcamenes deny them, what incommodity ſoever it might produce. I ſee, great Princeſs, that you are aſtoniſh't to find Alcamenes with his Father, without knowing how he came thither, and ignorant of what hapned to him ſince his depart from Tenaſia, and it being juſt that I relate ſomething of it, I will ſuccinctly do it, without wandring much from the Thread of my Diſcourſe.

The deſperate Prince left Tenaſia in a moſt deplorable condition, and haſting from the place whence Menalippa had baniſhed him with all poſſible diligence, ſo that in one Night, and the Day following, he was diſtant from Tenaſia more than three ordinary dayes Journies; he choſe no Path nor Retreat: In the Eſtate wherein he was, nothing being more odious to him than life, which he ſo neglected, that few dayes would have put an end thereto, had not the diligence of his Squires prevented. He left off thoſe fair and famous Arms which under the Name of Alcimedon had rendred him ſo well known in Dacia, and all other places where he carried them, and delivering them to his Eſquires to keep, he covered himſelf with black ones in their ſtead, imbroydered they were with branches of ſilver, underneath which he doubted not to remain unknown. I will not relate his continual ſorrows, wherein he alwayes reſerved a profound reſpect for Menalippa, not permitting himſelf the conſolation of a murmur againſt her commands.

[Page] At length he arrived upon the Frontiers of Dacia, and his Eſquires (not knowing what would be his Deſign) ſaw him fall ſick of a Diſeaſe which proceeded from his Grief, and had like to have brought him to his Grave; they found the commodity to conduct him to a little Town though againſt his will, where they concealed both his true Name, and alſo that of Alcimedon by his own order, and there they ſerv'd him ſo carefully, that what neglect ſoever he had for his life, they preſerved it by their diligence and intreaties, yet could not this health be reſtored in ſome Months, during which time, though he yielded to the will of his Eſquires, and received the ſuccors of nouriſhment which they gave, yet he lived in ſuch a manner, that his life could not be properly called any other than a continual death.

In the mean while the great Diſcourſe was concerning the preparations againſt Scythia, and being perfectly cured of the indiſpoſition of his body, he left the little Town to continue his Journey, hearing that the Rival Princes had joined their Troops with thoſe of the Queen of Dacia, and had begun their march towards Scythia.

What Deſpair ſoever poſſeſſed his Soul, and how great an indifference he ſhewed to all things that regarded not the cauſe of his grief, he could not but kindle at this report; and as he loved Honour as dearly as Menalippa, and alwayes preſerved great tenderneſſes and reſpects for his Father, the almoſt extinguiſht flame of courage began to rekindle; neither could his mortal ſadneſs forbid him to go whither his Honour and Paternal Love, and the hatred he bare to thoſe preſumptuous Rivals call'd him.

He found himſelf daily more and more confirm'd in this ſolution, but it was reſiſted by the love of Menalippa,; and conſidering that he could not take up Arms for his Father, without turning them againſt his Princeſs, he knew not how to ſatisfie both his duty and his love, nor pleaſe the one, without offending the other; How! would he ſay, ſhall I not ſuccor the King my Father againſt thoſe unworthy Rivals, who perhaps aim more at his Life, than his Kingdom? And alas! replied he, How ſhall I fight againſt Menalippa, to whom, maugre her cruelty, I will perſerve a faith inviolable ſo long as I live; But ah! I muſt not leave the King my Father without aſſiſtance, in the extremities to which his life may be expos'd ſo long as I can hold a Sword; and yet ſhall I carry my Arms againſt Menalippa. No, the dues of Nature cannot diſingage me from thoſe of love.

With theſe Conteſts he grievouſly tormented himſelf, viſiting many unknown Provinces, or rather many Forreſts and horrible Deſarts where he ordinarily ſought his Retreats, unable to to take any certain reſolution, and I think he would have remained irreſolute to the end, without being able to declare either againſt Love or Nature, if in paſſing near a Temple of Apollo (famous for the Oracle, it gave) he had not conſulted that god, at the ſolicitations of his Eſquires, whoſe anſwer was thus,

THE ORACLE, Go, Thy Father help, thy Miſtreſs ſee; And ſo, Repreſs that Grief which preſſeth thee.

This Anſwer ſo clear beyond the cuſtom of the Oracle, wrought very much upon the ſpirit of Alcamenes, and reſolved the doubt of what reſolution he ought to take, and ſomething eleveated his abated hopes, he reſolved therefore without weighing the buſineſs any further, to march and ſuccor his Father and Countrey; and he fancied that by the command of the Oracle which injoined him to reviſit his Princeſs he ought to hope for a change in his Fortune, the ſtorm of that anger which made her baniſh him, being blown over.

Theſe meditations diſſipating part of his ſadneſs, gave him his health and intire forces, and put him into a condition of ſerving his Father againſt the lovers of Menalippa. He entred Scythia a few dayes after, covered with the ſame black Arms he had born ever ſince his depart from Tenaſia, and marcht directly to the City of Serica, where the King made his abode; but before he got thither, he underſtood that the King was gone to meet the Enemy, and by good Fortune, lighting upon Two or three thouſand Horſe which were the laſt Levies of the Province of the Iſſedons, and the choice of Oronte's Cavalry, Alcamenes made himſelf known unto them, and putting himſelf at their Head, marcht with all poſſible [Page] ſpeed to Nicea, and reacht it on the day of Battel as I have related.

On this manner the Prince Alcamenes paſſed his life ſince his depart from Tenaſia, and becauſe there hapned nothing memorable to him, during that time, I have compriſed it in a few words, but will relate at large the following Events, which ſeem to me more worthy your attention.

Scarce had the Prince, whoſe reſentments were divided betwixt Love and Duty, rendred as he thought what was due to the one, but he felt himſelf ſollited to do the ſame Juſtice to the other; and as in ſuccouring the King his Father, he had obeyed part of the command of the gods, he believed to that whereby they commanded him to ſee the Princeſs Menalippa was due an equal obedience, and he found himſelf powerfully enough carried by his inclination, though he had not been obliged thereto by Religion.

He already reſolved of the order he ought to take, though it was not without trembling, that he diſpoſed himſelf to appear before Menalippa, and it may be (valiant as he was) he would never have had the aſſurance to have done it, if by the command of the gods he had not been incouraged, and by the ſucceſs of the beginning he had not expected a like event to the laſt effects of his obedience.

The morrow ſo ſoon as he was up, he called Cleomenes, a young man whom he loved dearly, and who had been nouriſht with him; in age and perſon ſo like they were that a great part of the Scythians ſuppoſed him a ſubreptitious Child of the King Orontes, he had indeed exceedingly the hair of the Prince, whereby you might judge him (next to Alcamenes) the handſomeſt man amongſt the Scythians; he waited not on Alcamenes in his Travels, becauſe he was not with him in the Province whence he departed, having a little before ſent him to the King his Father upon an important Affair.

And beſides that Cleomenes could not but be lovely ſince he reſembled Alcamenes, ſo was he alſo valiant and hardy, having given on divers occaſions great proofs of his courage.

Alcamenes no ſooner ſaw him, then (through the confidence he had in his diſcretion and fidelity, and the need he was in of his Service) he declared part of his mind concerning what he intended to do.

Cleomenes received with great reſpect the Princes confidence, and diſpos'd himſelf to render him all the Service he could deſire; nor could Alcamenes ſerve himſelf with either of thoſe Eſquires that waited on him in his Journey, both having been extreamly wounded in the Battel, fighting near his perſon, nor would be in caſe to quit their Beds in many days, without danger of their lives; at the door of his Tent he cauſed excuſes to be made to all thoſe that came to viſit him, then arming himſelf in thoſe Arms he left off when he departed from Scythia, and bearing on his Arm the Buckler, by whoſe device he was ſo well known to the Dacians, and taking Horſe early, he ordered them to tell the King he was gone to viſit the Quarters, expecting his awaking, and would return immediately; divers perſons would have accompanied him, but he would admit only Cleomenes; and covering his Buckler with a Cloth, leſt it ſhould be too much obſerved by the Scythians, he viſited firſt ſome Quarters, and having made a little Circuit, he marcht towards this Dacian Camp, and the Queens Tents.

It was in this Camp that rage and fury bare ſway, for the Queen was afflicted, that a Victory which ſhe ſuppoſed faſt in her Arms, ſhould eſcape by the arrival of Alcamenes, and that ſhe had loſt more men than the King of Scythia; and all thoſe Princes who a little before that made ſo many Menaces againſt Alcamenes, and who had been in this Encounter knockt down chaſed and wounded, by his Sword, without any difficulty joined their particular diſcontents to the general diſpleaſure, and full of ſhame, anger and grief, laid the cauſe of their misfortune upon him that was no way culpable.

He had abated the fury of Merodates, the pride of Euardes, and valiant Phraterphern, Oroſmanes he had ſlain, and made Pharnaces and Orchomenes flie, ſo that the greateſt conſolation they could find, was, that the diſgrace was Epidemical and common to them all, and that there was not one amongſt them that could deride his Companions. Barzanes alone was exempt from their Deſtiny, nor did he ſcruple to ſay, That he knew well (though he ignored the cauſe) that Alcimenes ſpared him.

So ſoon as it was Morning, the Queen Amalthea propoſed a Truce to the King of Scythia by the counſel of Barzanes, for three dayes to bury the ſlain of both parties, and particularly the Prince of the Baſternes, whoſe loſs was very much regretted, and to whom they would render Honours proportionable to his Quality.

[Page] A little after Amalthea call'd an aſſembly of the Princes and although Phratapherne and Pharnaces were a little wounded, they would aſſiſt and appear amongſt the reſt.

Never was a leſs pleaſant Aſſembly ſeen, and if the Queen could not diſſemble her diſpleaſures, to ſee her fair hopes ſo recoyle, the Princes could not hide the rage, and much leſs the ſhame of their misfortunes, not daring to lift their eyes to Menalippa, to whom they had ſo often promiſed the Head of Alcamenes.

This Lady, though ſhe intereſſed her ſelf in the diſpleaſures of the Queen her Mother, and and in that ſhe had formerly entertained very much averſion to Alcamenes, which received an acceſs by this laſt action, having in a few moments ruined a great part of their expectations, yet could ſhe not afflict her ſelf for the misfortunes of the Princes; and as her averſion againſt, was greater than her inclinations for them, all her affection being centred in Alcimedon, ſhe could not be troubled to ſee the event of what that Prince had foretold, and viewed with a kind of malignant joy, the confuſion ſhe beheld in their faces.

After the Queen had made ſome propoſitions concerning the ſtate of affairs, and deliberated upon what was moſt preſſing; Merodates burning with choler, and wrackt with different paſſions, his eyes ſparkling with a tranſport of fury, brake ſilence with an action altogether terrible, and addreſſing himſelf to the Queen, Madam (ſaid he) I dare confidently ſay, that without the coming of Alcamenes, the Victory had been yours, and for that which regards my particular, I dare ſay again, that I had revenged you upon Orontes, if the arrival of Alcamenes, had not ſnatcht, with the Victory; the life of his Father out of my hands. Alcamenes is valiant without doubt, but it is certain that he ſurpriſed me in the Combate, not giving me time to defend my ſelf; nor are his forces ſo much ſuperior to mine, that had he not aſſaulted me; when I had another valiant enemy before me, and wearied already as I was, by a long Combate, he had not laid me on the ground with two blows of his Sword; I think my ſelf as strong and valiant as he, and I have a deſign, if you pleaſe to permit, to meaſure my forces with his in an equal Combate, whereto I will defie him: for beſide my particular reſentments, I am carried by your intereſts much more; and in repairing my honour, as I hope, I ſhall take away the moſt puiſſant obſtacle of your deſign, who will alwaies dispute the victory, which you might eaſily obtain, were he either abſent or dead. Doubt not of what I ſay; 'tis Alcamenes alone can traverſe you more than all the reſt of Scythia; and that man who takes him out of the world, will do a more conſiderable ſervice, than if he had reduced half Scythia under your obedience. This day (with your leave) I will ſend a Herald to their Camp, and demand the Combate, and I promiſe my ſelf ſo far from his Courage, that he will not refuſe it to a Prince, whoſe birth is no way inferiour to his, and whoſe valour poſſibly is not ſo little known, but that he may hope for ſome honour from the victory, if Fortune favours him with it.

Thus ſpake Merodates, and the Queen, who entred into his reſentments, and judged that in hazarding the life of one Souldier, ſhe ſhould indanger his, whom ſhe feared more than all the Forces of Scythia, diſpoſed her ſelf to praiſe this couragious propoſition, when the proud Euardes riſing from his ſeat, and beholding Merodates with ſome marks of reſentment. You have reaſon Merodates, ſaid he, to indeavour againſt Alcamenes in a ſingle Combate, the reparation of what you loſt againſt him, in a tumult and diſorder; and I eſteem ſufficiently your valour, to believe that you could make him partake of the peril ſo well as the advantage; yet I hope no leſſe from my own Sword than from yours, and ſince that by the default of my Horſe, rather than my own, I have been ſubject to the misfortune with you, I will alſo try the Combate againſt Alcamenes, and for the ſame reaſons which you alledge, I believe I ſhall be accepted ſo well as you. And I (added Phrataphern, riſing up) do proteſt, that although you prevented me in the declaration, yet not at all in the deſign of defying Alcamenes, and although Merodates firſt propoſed it, yet have I courage and reſentments enough to perform it ſo well as he, and to attempt the ſame hazard for the Queens ſervice, and my own particular revenge. Scarce had Phrataphern ſpoken, when Pharnaces with as much boldneſs as the reſt, demanded the ſame advantage; and the wicked Orchomenes, though he waxed pale at the propoſition, and could not but tremble at the remembrance of Alcamenes his fury, not daring to do leſſe than his companions, demanded the combate with the ſame earneſtneſs. Amalthea, to whom the death of Alcamenes was of far greater importance than the life of either of theſe Princes, was not troubled at this conteſt; but Merodates, who made the firſt propoſition, ſwell'd with rage, to ſee himſelf traverſed in his intent, not enduring that any ſhould ſo much as demand the combate againſt Alcamenes, ſave himſelf.

At laſt, the Queen having hearkned to all their reaſons, and prais'd the noble Ardour, which carried them to ſo generous a conteſt, ordered that the pretences ſhould be decided by Lot; and ſo flattered Merodates with the aid of Menalippa, that he permitted his [Page] name with thè names of the four other Princes, to be written in Billets, and drawn out of a Caſque.

But as they began to write, they heard divers times the name of Alcimedon repeated at the entry of the Chamber, and a little after they acquainted the Queen that Alcimedon was at the Chamber door, and deſired permiſſion to kiſs her hands.

Amalthea at this News, aroſe from her ſeat, tranſported with joy, and cry'd with precipitation, Let him enter, and ran to meet him as far as the Chamber door: The Princes grew pale with anger, at the arrival of a man whom they loved not, whoſe valour umbraged theirs, and whoſe words they had found ſo true to their confuſion. But had they obſerved Menalippa's face, they might have perceived that this return of Alcimedon toucht her very heart; ſhe was ſo ſurprized and troubled, that unable to maſter the agitations of her ſoul and body, ſhe remained upon her ſeat, with the countenance of a perſon quite nonpluſt and confounded.

Alcamenes, entred the Chamber, with that grace an I majeſty which was naturally in his gate, and all his actions; and ſcarce was his foot in, when the Queen caſt her arms about his neck, with all the marks of a true amity.

The Prince put one knee to the ground, and ſaluting the Queen with a profound ſubmiſſion, received her careſſes: Alcimedon, ſaid ſhe, (having imbraced and raiſed him up) your departure hath ſenſibly afflicted me, but your return is in a time, wherein you may with glory enough, repair the fault which you have only committed, to merit its pardon.

Madam, (replyed Alcamenes) the neceſſity which forced me to leave you, when I was unprofitable, could not retain me when I believed my hand neceſſary; behold me then with the ſame zeal and the ſame affections, which have linkt me to your intereſts; and dispoſe (Madam) of the life and fortune of Alcimedon, who will ſpare neither the one nor the other in the glory of ſerving you. The Queen replyed to thoſe words in a moſt obliging manner, and taking him by the hand, preſented him to the Princeſs Menalippa, who ſtriving to overcome the trouble which poſſeſt her, roſe from her ſeat with an unaſſured countenance. Alcimedon threw himſelf at her feet, kiſſing her hand without the courage to ſpeak one word; and the Princeſs, who was in no better condition than he, only raiſed him, unable to teſtifie either by word or action, her joy to ſee him.

The Prince began to interpret this reception as a continuation of her anger and complained within himſelf, that he had been abuſed by the promiſe of the Gods; but he had no leiſure to reaſon, for he was ſcarce riſen from Menalippa's feet, but he ſaw himſelf in the arms of Barzanes.

This Prince made him a thouſand affectionate carreſſes, and what cauſe ſoever he had to complain of his departure, and the whole ingratitude which he had apparently teſtified, yet his inclination being more predominate than his reſentments, he beheld him as his Son, and imbraced him with all the marks of tenderneſs and affection.

The Princes, though unſatisfied with his arrival, and full of ill intents towards him, yet fearing to diſoblige the Queen, ſaluted him with civility enough, and Orchomenes himſelf (who in this moment deſigned his ruine) received him with an open countenance.

After thoſe firſt ceremonies, which interrupted the buſineſs which Alcamenes found them about; the Queen, who minded her intereſts more than any thing elſe, addreſſing her ſelf to Alcimedon, You come fitly, ſaid ſhe, to participate a glory which all theſe brave Princes have diſputed for: they are upon drawing Lots upon an account ſo honourable, that I am confident you will be joyful to turn alſo an adventurer.

Alcamenes doubted not, but that this occaſion of glory, was ſome deſign againſt his Father and himſelf, and finding no way to avoid the Queen's propoſition, he anſwered with much reſpect, That he ſhould eſteem himſelf too happy, to enter with thoſe great Princes into an occaſion of ſerving her, and commanded the ſame time his name to be put into the Caſque, amongſt thoſe of the Princes. But Merodates beholding all his actions with envy, began to murmur, and ſignified to the Queen, that being all of them either Kings or Kings Sons, ſhe ought not to rank any other with them, ſave perſons of their own quality. Alcimedon knew their intention, and turning his eys upon them with a Noble fierceneſs, My Lords, ſaid he, make no difficulty to receive me for a Companion in the glory which you ſeek, and believe it, before the end of this War, you ſhall poſſibly ſee that my birth is nothing inferiour to yours.

The Princes were not contented with this diſcourſe, and had perhaps diſputed with Alcimedon the title he pretended to; but they feared to diſpleaſe the Queen, who made this propoſition, and who (believing her intereſts more ſecure in the hands of Alcimedon than any others) inſiſted ſtill in her reſolution.

At laſt, the name of Alcimedon was put into the Caſque amongſt the reſt, and as Fortune, or ſome higher Power would have it, Alcimedon was drawn to fight with Alcamenes.

[Page] All the Princes teſtified a ſenſible diſpleaſure, though it may be there were ſome amongſt them, to whom this election of Fortune was not diſagreeable.

But the Princeſs Menalippa, (what confidence ſoever ſhe had in the valour of Alcimedon) waxt pale with fear, and ſighed, knowing how redoubtable the Forces of Alcamenes were: But the Queen (what love ſoever ſhe bare to Alcimedon) knew ſhe could not beſtow on Alcamenes a more valiant enemy, and ſo much rejoyced at this effect of hazard, that ſhe could not diſſemble her ſatisfaction. Alcimedon, ſaid ſhe, I know very well that the greatneſs of the peril, cannot divert you from a glorious enterprize, and upon the knowledge I have of your valour, I know you rejoyce to underſtand, that your Lot is to deſie the Prince Alcamenes to a ſingle Combate, and to deprive the Scythians by your courage, of the ſuccours of ſo powerful a friend. Theſe words ſo troubled Alcamenes, that not knowing what anſwer to make, or what reſolution to take in ſo ſtrange an adventure, he remained a great while quite confounded, ſearching ſome invention to draw himſelf out of this phantaſtique Labyrinth, wherein fortune had ſhewn how capricious ſhe could be: at laſt, fearing leſt his ſilence, and the aſtoniſhment which appeared on his face, might be ill interpreted, he endeavoured to compoſe himſelf; and beholding the Queen with as much aſſurance as he could poſſibly, Madam, ſaid he, I have been perhaps too ſlow, in teſtifying the joy I conceive for the honour you have procured me; yet have I for a few moments entertained ſome doubts, that in caſe the Prince Alcamenes be as ſcrupulous as theſe Princes, he will difficulty be drawn to meaſure his Sword with that of a man, who paſſeth but for a private perſon: But I know the ſpirit and courage of Alcamenes, and I aſſure my ſelf he will receive me, as though I were known to be the Son of a King, and will not hope for leſs honour from me, than from a King of the Nomades, or a Prince of Bithinia. I cannot make a longer ſtay here, being call'd away by an affair, for the rest of this day, which very much concerns me; I beſeech you therefore Madam, to ſend a Herald to the Scythian Camp, to defie Alcamenes, and I will not fail to morrow, an hour after Sun-riſing, to render my ſelf upon the place of Combate, by you appointed; the Judges ſuch as you ſhall chuſe, and the conditions ſuch as you deſire.

The Queen approved the diſcourſe of Alcimedon, and underſtanding more particularly that an important neceſſity forced him to leave the Camp (for the reſt of that day,) ſhe took upon her the charge of defying Alcamenes, and providing things neceſſary for the Combate.

The news was ſpread over all the Camp, that Alcimedon was come; and that it was he that muſt fight with Alcamenes on the morrow: and as the valor of Alcimedon was known with admiration amongſt the Dacians, they all praiſed the juſtice of Fortune; but there were ſome, who comparing the grand actions of Alcimedon, performed againſt the Sarmates, with the terrible efforts of Alcamenes againſt them the day before, were in doubt from which of the two to expect the Victory and were unaſſured of their Champion in ſo dangerous an enterprize.

Alcimedon having taken leave of the Queen by ſome words, and of the Princeſs by a paſſionate regard, went out of the Tent, and finding Cleomenes at the Gate, he took Horſe and with difficulty diſ-ingaging himſelf, from the imbraces of thoſe whom the name of Alcimedon, and the love they bare him, drew thither from all parts, he left the Queens Tents, and traverſing the Camp (where by reaſon of his known Arms, he was ſaluted by all as he paſſed) he made towards a high Wood, which he ſaw ſome thirty ſtades from the Camp.

He had recourſe to divers intentions, whereby he might keep his word as Alcimedon, and ſave his honour as Alcamenes, without diſcovering Alcimedon for Alcamenes, againſt whom he had obſerved ſo much hatred in the Queen and Princeſs, that he could ſee no reaſon to diſcover himſelf; his ſpirit laboured ſo much, unable to imagine what to reſolve on, but after a long meditation, he thought he had found a good way to draw him out of this intricacy, and upon this conſideration, turning towards Cleomenes, My friend, ſaid he, I have need of thy aſſiſtance, in one of the greateſt extremities of my life, and I confide ſufficiently in thee, to believe that I may eſcape through thy means.

Cleomenes having upon this diſcourſe given him new aſſurances of his fidelity, the Prince related punctually all that had hapned, and having acquainted him that he was ingaged to fight againſt himſelf, My friend, (purſued he) having well conſidered the difficulty of this affair, there is preſented to my thoughts one only expedient. Thy make is very like mine, thy face reſembles mine very much; thou muſt take theſe Arms which I wear, which all Dacia knows for thoſe of Alcimedon, ſo that when thou art covered with them, no one can know thee from him: with theſe Arms thou ſhalt go and lodge this night in ſome place of this Wood, where thou mayſt lye concealed, and tomorrow render thy ſelf upon the place of Combat, aſſigned between the two Armies. I will be there alſo, but I will aim my Javelin ſo, and ſo carry my blows, that they ſhall not wound thee: after the Combate hath continued ſome time on this manner, [Page] I will take thee in mine arms, and, after ſome appearance of reſiſtance, bear thee to the ground, where thou ſhalt yield the victory, and render thy ſelf my Priſoner: I will carry thee along with me to our Camp, till thou art out of the Dacians ſight, then feigning to render thee thy liberty, e're thou ſee the King, thou mayeſt retire, and quit theſe Arms where thou thinkeſt fit: ſo ſhall I have the liberty to ſee Menalippa as Alcimedon, and ſerve the King my Father as Alcamenes. This invention is a little deceitful, but my adventure is ſo; alſo and having ſufficiently meditated, I can find no other means of aſſiſtance, in ſo ſtrange an extremity.

Alcamenes would not loſe time, but having ſought the moſt retired part of the Wood, he alighted; he diſarmed himſelf of his own Arms, and covered Cleomenes with them: under which, he appeared ſo like Alcimedon, that Alcimedon himſelf might have been miſtaken.

The Prince armed himſelf in the Armour of Cleomenes, and when all things were in the condition they ought to be, Alcamenes having imbraced Cleomenes with tranſports, which ſeemed to foretel ſome ſiniſter accident, and having again inſtructed him how to carry himſelf in the Combate, took leave, and followed the path to the Scythian Camp; but would not enter till 'twas late, becauſe the Herald of Amalthea might have performed his office before he came, fearing leſt the Herald ſhould know him, what care ſoever he could take to conceal himſelf; and it hapned as he deſired, underſtanding as ſoon as he came to the Kings Tent, that a Herald from the Queen of Dacia, had been there to defie him, and that the King had returned him without an anſwer: Alcamenes was highly ſatisfied that it hapned thus, but the King would not by any means conſent to the Combate, alledging to the Prince his Son, that Alcimedon was an Unknown, againſt whom a Prince of Scythia could not draw his Sword without offence; and that he could not without an extreme imprudence, permit his only Son to expoſe himſelf to an uncertain event, without any deceſſity.

Alcamenes having heard the King with much reſpect, anſwered, that he had rather loſe his life, than caſt the leaſt ſtain upon his honour, which he had alwayes dearly preſerved; that he knew Alcimedon for a Prince full of valour, and for a man, whom the greateſt Prince upon earth, could not refuſe without diſhonour. To theſe words he added many more, ſo preſſing, that the King (being naturally very generous) was conſtrained to yield; yet much leſs to the force of his perſwaſions, than to the opinion of his valour, againſt which, he believed that of the unknown Alcimedon could make no long reſiſtance.

The Prince ſent an Herald immediately to the Camp of the Dacians, to acquaint the Queen, that having received the challenge of Alcimedon, which her Herald had made in his abſence, he accepted it, and would wait him at the place of Combate, an hour after Sunriſing, between both Armies, with one Judge on his ſide, and only a thouſand Horſe for the Guard of the Field.

The Queen Amalthea promiſed the ſame thing on the behalf of her Champion, and the buſineſs being thus ſetled, Barzanes was choſen Judge for Alcimedon; and the Prince of the Maſſegetes, for Alcamenes.

The night, paſſed in the expectation of both parties of the event of ſo memorable a Combate, and the knowledge which they had of the valour of each others Champions, made them to expect this ſpectacle with extraordinary impatience. The morrow, ſo ſoon as the day brake, all things were prepared; though Alcamenes provided for this feigned Combate with repugnance, and a divination of ſome misfortune. Amalthea, who was charged with all things that concerned Alcimedon, made ready for him with no leſs diligence; but the Gods had otherwiſe diſpoſed of the event of this day than men had appointed, for the unfortunate Cleomenes covered with the Arms of Alcimedon, as Patroclus with thoſe of Achilles, had a like deſtiny: He departed at the appearance of day from a Country-houſe, where he had paſſed the night, and, to obey the Prince, he marched with all diligence towards the Dacian Camp; he was ſo fierce under theſe brave Arms of his Prince, that he almoſt conceited he was metamorphoſed into him; but this innocent pride laſted not long, for ſcarce had he made ſome paces in the Wood, where the day before he had exchanged his Arms, but he ſaw twenty Cavaliers making towards him, who having encompaſſed him, before he had time ſcarce to think on them, caſt him to the earth, and pierced him through with their Javelings in a moment.

The cruel men ſtopt not there, but part of them alighted, ran upon him, and, lifting up the vizor of his Helmet, they gave him ſeveral ſtabs in the face and throat. When they thought he was dead, they took Horſe, and made towards the Dacian Camp, not touching either his Horſe or Arms.

The perfidious Orchemanes, Prince of the Nomades, the wicked enemy of Alcimedon, partly for and in revenge of his Brother's death, and partly for his own impriſonment, had [Page] ſent thoſe Aſſaſines to expect on the way by which the Prince muſt return into the Camp (as he had learnt) promiſing them for their performance great rewards; and theſe cruel men had but too well acquitted themſelves, had not the Gods (to whom the life of Alcamenes was dear) prevented it by the fall of the unfortunate Cleomenes. The Princeſs Menalippa having been troubled this night with ſome unlucky dreams, and being very melancholly, both for the Combate which Alcimedon was to undertake the next day with Alcamenes, and out of the diſpleaſure ſhe received, for not having ſpoken to him the day before: To cure him of the fear of her diſpleaſure, ſhe aroſe early in the morning, ſeeking ſome divertizement amongſt her Train, which attended her: She cauſed a Chariot to be prepared to take the Air, and would only permit Beliſa and the faithful Leander (who remained ſtill in her ſervice, and who by chance was not in the Queens Tent the day before, and ſo miſt the happineſs of ſeeing his Maſter) to wait upon her.

Menalippa accompanied with only theſe two perſons, giving order to tell the Queen when ſhe awaked, that ſhe was gone to take the air in the Fields, and would return after the Combate between Alcamenes and Alcimedon was ended, deſiring not to be preſent at it; after which orders given, paſſing through the Dacians Tents, ſhe cauſed her Chariot to be guided towards that Wood, which was within ſight of the Camp, and wherein the unfortunate Cleomenes lay ſlain; as the diſtance was not great, the Chariot was quickly in the Wood, and the Princeſs cauſing it to ſtay, alighted, and began to walk amongſt the Trees leaning upon Beliſa's arm; and her ſpirit being poſſeſt with ſad I dea's, her converſe was full of ſadneſs, and was diſpoſing her ſelf to disburthen her troubled heart, when ſhe ſaw a gallant Horſe ſadled and bridled, feeding at liberty, and lifting up his head to approach the Chariot-Horſes, he filled the Wood with ſneezings; this Horſe being that, whereon Alcimedon uſed to charge. Leander thought he knew it, and the nearer he came, the more he was confirmed in his opinion; he told the Princeſs what he thought, but the had already caſt her eys upon a Buckler, which ſhe ſaw lye ſome paces from the Horſe, and ſhe no ſooner beheld it, than by its famous devize, familiar to all the Dacians, ſhe knew it for Alcimedons. She recoyled at this ſight, and calling Leander, Thou ſhewd'ſt me Alcimedons Horſe (ſaid ſhe) and I can ſhew thee his Buckler, and by what we ſee, we may judge he is not farr off. Scarce had ſhe pronounced theſe words, when ſhe ſaw the miſerable Cleomenes under the Arms of Alcimedon, and believed effectively that ſhe ſaw Alcimedon, ſtrecht at the foot of a Cheſtnut Tree. She thought he had been a ſleep, and making no difficulty to approach him, intending to charm all fear, which the ſuſpition of her anger might have left upon his heart, and to make him ſatisfaction for the ill treatment ſhe had given him, when drawing near this feigned Alcimedon, ſhe ſaw the ground covered with blood round about him, and the great bubbles which iſſued out of the defaults of his Cuiraſs, from thoſe wounds which he had received in the face.

This ſpectacle forced cryes both from Menalippa and Leander; and running on him together with precipitation, they took off his Caſque and Cuiraſs, and Leander with a cloath wiped his face covered with blood and wounds, and ſince in an other condition he very much reſembled Alcamenes, being of the ſame age, and his hair of the like colour, 'tis not difficult to ſuppoſe, that it being now disfigured with wounds, he might be taken for Alcimedon.

All the courage of Menalippa made too weak reſiſtance againſt this deplorable ſight, and whilſt Leander caſt forth cryes, and tore his hair, Menalippa, more ſenſible than he (though not leſs couragious) loſt all ſenſe and knowledge, and fell in a ſwoon upon the couragious pretended Alcimedon. Beliſa, though exceſſively afflicted, ran to her Miſtreſs, looſening her cloaths to bring her to her ſelf: her pains were for ſometime uſeleſs, but at laſt the Princeſs opened her eys, and returned from her faintings.

She caſt her ſelf again upon this dying body, and by chance Leander at the ſame time perceived ſome remainder of life in him; At leaſt, my Lord, ſaid ſhe, diſcover thoſe Murtherers, thoſe Monſters, that have reduced you to this condition. The poor Cleomenes brought to his laſt ſigh, endeavoured to ſpeak, and deſiring, as I believe, to diſcover the truth of this adventure; Alcamenes Prince of Scythia, ſaid he, with a voice ſo low, that it was ſcarce intelligible, Alcamenes Prince of Scythia, repeated he, but could ſay no more, and death in this moment deprived him both of ſpeech and life.

At the ſame time two or three Peaſants, who by the priviledge of the Truce, had ventured to come and cut wood, and who had ſeen all which hapned in the murther of Cleomenes, came and offered their ſervice to the Princeſs, and, unasked, told what they ſaw, and how that this man was ſlain by more than twenty Horſe-men, without having time to think of his defence: ſo that Menalippa at that moment wherin ſhe thought Alcimedon gave up the ghoſt, remembred that ſhe heard him name Alcamenes, Prince of the Scythians, [Page] and beleived he had murthered him, which the wicked Peaſants alſo confirmed, and that he was accompanied by twenty men. See how ſtrongly Fortune ſported againſt Alcamenes! and think it not ſtrange, if the afflicted Princeſs accuſed him of the death of Alcimedon!

'Twas here, where grief alone was a ſufficient conduct to the Tomb, and where the adjuncts of rage and fury, rather diverted and hindered, than advanced the violence of its effects, and helpt to recall thoſe forces which had left her, to run to that vengeance which ſhe breathed, rather than to Death, which was ready to imbrace her: She aroſe from the ground quite furious, and caſting upon this exſpiring body a funeſt and mortal glance, How Alcimedon (ſaid ſhe) doſt thou dye before my eyes, by the treaſon and cruelty of Alcamenes? if I love thee not ſufficiently to ſurvive thy loſſe, I ſhould be weak and cowardly to run to death, rather than to thy revenge. This Barbarian, whoſe courage hath been ſo much admired, and with ſo much injustice, fearing the Combate he was to maintain againſt thee this day, hath murthered thee baſely and inhumanely in the obſcurity of the Wood; and ſhall Menalippa, to whom, by the juſt anger of Heaven his treaſon is diſcovered, deplore like a Woman, and dye weakly like one of the people, inſtead of executing that vengeance for which the gods have reſerved her? Ah! no Alcimedon, expect not this imbecillity from a Courage which was never ſufficiently known to thee. I have it poſſibly comparable to that of men, and this arm, which hath given death to Bears and Boars, ſhall Arm it ſelf to deſtroy that Monſter, who hath ſnatched from me my Alcimedon. She ſtopt here, row [...]ing in her mind a thouſand furious thoughts, whilſt Leander and Beliſa with a River of tears, ſolemnized the Funeral of Alcimedon, and the deſpair of Menalippa, who after a long conteſt, being reſolved, and wipeing off thoſe tears which trickled from her fair eyes, wherein rage and grief had an equal ſtock, 'Tis no time to weep Menalippa, ſaid ſhe, 'tis on indifferent griefs we ſhould bestow our tears; ours requires blood, 'tis with blood they muſt be waſhed away, but with Menalippa's it demands alſo that of Alcamenes. Finiſhing theſe words ſhe turned towards Leander, and beholding him with eyes ſwoln, from whom, in ſpight of all her reſiſtance, a river of tears perpetually flowed, Leander, (ſaid ſhe) Alcimedon is dead for me, and I ought to be reproacht with his death, ſince it was my Enemy, and my intereſts that took him out of the world; I have loved Alcimedon (Leander) and I ſcruple no longer to let you know it; I have loved him living, and I love him ſtill, dead as he is, more than I love my own life. Oh! would to the gods, that by the leſſe of this unfortunate life, I could ſave that of my faithful, my beloved Alcimedon, and Oh! would that he breathed in the ſtead of that unfortunate wretch, who now deplores in vain his deceaſe: but ſince it is not permitted me to recall his breath by the exchange of mine, I will revenge his death, for the Gods have not acquainted me with it, and diſcovered its author by ways ſo extraordinary, but to let me underſtand, that to me only is reſerved this vengeance; But in telling you my deſign, O Leander! O Beliſa! I alſo declare, that if you indeavor to hinder it, you ſhall ſee me plunge this ſteel in my breſt, and ſo you'l make me doubly miſerable, in taking away the conſolation which I hope for, before my death: ſpeak not one word therefore, to divert me from my reſolution, and help to Arm me with thoſe unfortunate Arms, beneath which my poor Alcimedon hath given up the ghoſt. I have ſtrength enough to carry them, and to rule his Sword, and it was doubtleſſe for this action (to which the Gods reſerved me) that I uſed my ſelf to the chaſe of wild Beaſts, and exerciſes more ſutable to men, than perſons of our ſex, it was not without myſtery that I received from heaven a compoſition and force of body nothing ordinary, and I will make uſe of, in this occaſion, of that which poſſibly is not ordinarily placed in a woman: when I am Arm'd, and have left you, expect here my return in two or three hours, and if I comenot in that time, put this precious body in the Chariot, and conduct it into our Tents, there to receive the Funeral rites. See what I have reſolved, and fail not in the obedience which I deſire, if you intend not to hurry me to the utmoſt extremities of deſpair.

The deſperate Princeſs ſpeaking thus, Beliſa and Leander obſerved ſomething ſo terrible in her eyes, and face, that they loſt all the courage and reſolution they had taken to contradict her, and certainly in thoſe ſad moments, Love and the Graces had forſaken the beauties of Menalippa, to give place to thoſe furies which tormented her; and ſhe appeared to thoſe afflicted perſons in a poſture ſo terrible, that fear overcame them, and they durſt not oppoſe that reſolution which they condemned.

Leander at her reiterated command, deſpoyl'd the cold bloody body of its Arms, and Caſque; and Beliſa having taken from the Princeſs her long encombring habits, ſhe covered her head with the Caſque (though bloody in ſome places) and with Leanders help, ſhe buckled about her the Arms, which ſhe kiſt and waſht with tears as ſhe put them on.

Being Arm'd ſhe appeared like ſome Bellona, or ſomething more dreadful, and by the fury which doubled her forces, ſhe ſeemed no more troubled with the Arms, than if ſhe had uſed them all her life. I have told you that her ſtature was extraordinary, and 'tis [Page] certain that at this time, the difference was ſo ſmall, that ſhe might eaſily have been taken for Alcimedon. When the Princeſs ſaw her ſelf in this poſture as ſhe deſired, and that Leander had brought the Prince's Horſe and Buckler, ſhe bowed towards the beloved body, and took her laſt adieu, with a tenderneſs able to cleave with pitty the moſt ſavage hearts; and conjuring Leander and Beliſa to remember her commands, and to declare nothing that they knew, till the time ſhe had preſcribed, ſhe took Horſe, and being no Novice in that exerciſe, ſhe ſpurr'd him forward to the addreſs of the ſtrongeſt men, and ran with ſo much impetuoſity, that they preſently loſt ſight of her.

The field of Battel was already covered with the Souldiers of both parties, who with great diligence had faſtened the Barriers, and erected a Scaffold for the Judges; there were two of them, one for the King of Scythia, and the other for the Queen of Dacia, and the Princes of her ſide, and the Barriers were invironed with a thouſand Horſe of either Army.

The Judges had already taken their ſeats, with much civility: and a little after the King Orontes on the one part, although he had ſome wounds which would have kept in bed any perſon of a leſs robuſt complexion; and the Queen Amalthea on the other, with the Princes of her Train, placed themſelves upon the Scaffold, at the ſound of a hundred Trumpets that attended them, and which made the fields of Nicea eccho; they expected only the two Combatants, who ſeemed a little ſlow; and 'tis certain, that Alcamenes marching not to this Combate, with that ardour and fierceneſs which uſed to accompany him in others, it being only a fiction and diſſembled action, was not over-haſty to take the Field; yet he appeared a little after the appointed time, but it was not with his accuſtomed boldneſs and gallantry, nor with that menacing Mine, which darted fear into the moſt aſſured. His Arms were enriched with Gold, and ſome ſtones, his Buckler of the ſame, without any device; his Caſque was covered with a ſhade of Plumes, and he alwaies kept the vizor of his Helmet down, becauſe of Barzanes, who from the Scaffold might eaſily have known him: though he affected nothing terrible in his gate, yet could the God of Battels have pleaded ſmall advantage over him, and Barzanes concluded with the Prince of the Maſſegetes, that nothing could match him, unleſs the brave perſon, who was to fight him this day, had the good fortune. Alcamenes walked a long time in the Field ere his Enemy appeared, and all the world began to condemn the ſloath of Alcimedon; and thoſe, to whom he was not well known, made ſiniſter cenſures on his courage. Amalthea, who was out of humour, and in ſome trouble for the Princeſs, (the cauſe of whoſe walk the could not divine) and prickt with delight at Alcimedons delay, and the more, in that the Princes his Enemies indeavoured to ſtain his courage, and openly blamed his ſloath: the perfidious Orchomenes, who with the life, would alſo have taken away the Honour of his Enemy, ſaid, he knew him better than the reſt, and had alwaies made a judgment of him, different from that of others, and that he believed he would not come at all.

Barzanes who dearly loved Alcimedon, ſupported impatiently their murmures, and ſtill aſſured the Prince of the Maſſegetes, that he would not fail to appear, usleſs ſome important adventure hindred; Alcamenes himſelf was aſtoniſht at the delay of Cleomenes, and for ſome moments, thought that he wanted courage for this enterprize; at laſt he heard the moſt remote ſay that Alcimedon was come, that Alcimedon was hard by, and a little after they ſaw him approach, or rather the furious Menalippa in his Arms, in a poſture ſo terrible, that it had been eaſie to have perceived, with a little obſervation, that ſhe was agitated with ſome other paſſion than the deſire of glory; the Dacians gave a great ſhout at his arrival and Orchomenes believing himſelf betray'd by his Servants, beheld him to whom he had given the commiſſion, with a menacing eye, and by an inflamed regard, reproacht his fidelity.

So ſoon as Menalippa was in the Field, not muſing her ſelf with formalities, ſhe road to the end of the Barriers, and faſtning her ſelf in the Saddle, ſhe ſtarted with a mighty impetuoſity, (imploring aſſiſtance from the Gods, ſhe might paſs her Javelin through the throat of her Enemy.) Alcamenes ſtarted at the ſame time, but having no deſign to hurt Cleomenes, he had choſen the weakeſt Javelin he could find, and inſtead of addreſſing it to the Vizor, or any other dangerous place, he threw it againſt the middle of the Buckler, where it brake without any further effect; Menalippa aim'd hers directly at Alcamenes's Vizor, but whether it were by the fury of her courſe, or paſſion, or the little experience ſhe had in this exerciſe which made her fail in the attempt; her blow ſliding by his Caſque, it paſt without doing any harm; then drawing her Sword, ſhe made to her Enemy, who expected her in the ſame poſture.

She aimed many blows at him which he put by with his Buckler, and wherein he perceived, if not more force, at leaſt more fury, than he could have expected from Cleomenes: ſtruck only at thoſe places where he found her covered with her Buckler, being very careful [Page] not to hurt a man, who only ſought to ſerve him, and as he had not been accuſtomed to ſport and feign in ſuch occaſions, he was quite aſhamed of the perſon he repreſented, being obliged in this Combate to diſſemble that valour, which on all occaſions he ſo prodigally teſtified.

At laſt, the impatient Menalippa, breathing nothing but fire, made a furious blow, which he avoiding, it fell upon her own Horſe, and the Blade being exceeding good, it gave him ſuch a wound, that the inraged Beaſt ran with all his force to the end of the Field, yet not ſo ſwiftly, but the Princeſs had leiſure to quit her Stirrups and alight. Alcamenes (joyful to ſee his enemy on foot, ready to terminate the Combate after the manner he had deſigned with Cleomenes) alighted, and approached Menalippa, with his drawn Sword. The deſperate Princeſs caſt her ſelf upon him, with ſo much fury, that the Prince could not prevent (her Sword meeting with the default of his Arms) a light wound.

Alcamenes was aſtoniſht at this fury of Cleomenes, and ſeeing that all the ſpectators were too far to underſtand what they ſaid, Friend, ſaid he, thou ſpareſt me not, and if thou fighteſt long, thou wilt not repreſent amiſſe the perſon of Alcimedon. Theſe words confirmed the Princeſs in the belief ſhe had againſt Alcamenes, and not induring a diſcourſe wherein he ſeemed to play with the deſtiny of poor Alcimedon, Ah Traytor, ſaid ſhe, haſt thou imagined that the obſcurity of the Wood could hide thy Treaſon? or doſt thou think to ſave thy ſelf by thy deceit? Give me death immediately, or expect to loſe thy life by the hand of thy moſt mortal Enemy.

Their Caſques ſo diſguiſed each others voice, that they could not diſcern it; yet Alcamenes knew that it was not Cleomenes, found himſelf in a great confuſion, and his own confuſion turning into a fury, which Menalippa was not likely to reſiſt, What ſoever thou art, ſaid he, with a menacing tone, thou ſhalt loſe thy life by the hand of Alcamenes, and thou haſt done ill to draw me out of an order which might have preſerved thee. He accompanied theſe words with many blows, which put Menalippa into diſorder, and made her Arms bluſh with ſome drops of blood.

The Judges and Spectators obſerved this redoubled fury, and eaſily perceived a difference between the beginning and the end of the Combate.

The Princeſs could no longer ſuſtain the ſhower of blows which fell upon her, which drew blood in many places, and at laſt the irritated Alcamenes, preſſing her between his arms: though ſhe yielded in ſtrength to few men, and that ſhe imployed at this time all that nature hath given her, he threw her to the Earth, and tearing off her Caſque with violence, You muſt dye, ſaid he, or yield me the victory. He had ſcarce finiſhed theſe few words, but caſting his eys upon his Enemies face, he ſaw the treſſes of long hair which diſcovered her ſex, and perceived at laſt, in ſpight of all contrary appearances the face of Menalippa.

O Gods! how great was the Prince Alcamenes's, aſtoniſhment at this ſight, and with what motions was he ſeized at ſo unexpected a ſpectacle. Truly (great Princeſſes) it is difficult to expreſs that, which he that reſented it, is certainly unable to relate.

Aſtoniſhment gave place to grief, and beſide the ſorrow he received for the wounds he gave her, and in that he had preſented his threatning Sword to her fair face, he could not ſee Menalippa metamorphoſed into a Souldier for his deſtruction, without becoming infinitely ſenſible of the hatred which carried her to ſo great an extremity, imagining that ſhe knew him as Alcimedon, and as Alcamenes, and that Cleomenes had diſcovered or betray'd him.

Menalippa gave him time to make this reflexion, through the aſtoniſhment which her fall had cauſed, but when ſhe was come to her ſelf, ſeeing that ſhe was between the arms of her Enemy (who had not lifted up the vizor of his Caſque, becauſe for divers reaſons he would not ſhew his face to the Judges) ſhe indeavoured to diſ-intangle her ſelf, and to ſeize the Sword which he held in his hand; but Alcamenes holding her arm, and preſſing hers between his, more like a lover than an Enemy, Ah Menalippa! ſaid he, what hatred is this, that hath carried you to ſuch violent extremities against Alcamenes? Alcimedon hath incurr'd your diſpleaſure, but Alcimedon hath been ſufficiently puniſhed, and I have made him ſuffer thoſe miſeries, which poſſibly your ſelf would have been ſo pitiful not to have ordained him. Inſtead of culpable Alcimedon receive Alcamenes, whom I preſent unto you, in whom you will find all the love, and all the fidelity, which were ſometimes agreeable to you in the perſon of Alcimedon; and you will find here thoſe advantages, which you could not have met with in the perſon of a miſerable Unknown.

Thus ſpake Alcamenes, and it ſeemed that his evil Genius had dictated all the words he uttered, ſo proper they were to confirm the Princeſs of the manner of Alcimedon's death, and Alcamenes's Treaſon, which working violent effects upon her ſpirit, ſhe diſ-intangled her ſelf from the paſſionate imbraces of her conquerour: Traytor, ſaid ſhe, ſince▪thou haſt [Page] puniſhed Alcimedon, puniſh alſo the unfortunate Menalippa, and give her death by thy cruel hand, or prepare thy ſelf to receive thine from hers. Alcamenes unable to hold her, recoyled ſome paces, and prepared to preſent his breaſt, to ſatisfie her cruelty, when he ſaw the Judges of the Field with him, who, during their conteſt, had deſcended the Scaffold, and knowing Menalippa, they ran to ſeparate them, and interpoſing between them, hindred her cruel intent; but in a few moments the Judges were not alone, for Amalthea, with the Princes from her Scaffold, having known the face of Menalippa, and ſeeing it was her, who fighting had received divers wounds, unable to ſubmit to the Empire of reaſon, in the violence of her parental compaſſion, which maſtered it, ſhe cry'd Treaſon, and that it was not againſt Alcimedon, but Menalippa, that Alcamenes had fought; that the Princeſs was wounded poſſibly to death; and that the cruel man, who had put her into that condition, ought to loſe his life as a puniſhment of his crime.

As ſhe uttered theſe words, they cryed Arms, (which the Queen tranſported with grief, hindred not:) The thouſand Dacian Cavaliers, who guarded the Field, overthrew the Barriers, to be revenged on Alcamenes; but the Scythians, who ſaw them, did as much on their ſide to ſuccour their Prince; and if the moſt zealous of the Dacians took up their Princeſs to carry her into the Queens arms, the moſt affectionate amongſt the Scythians, covered their Prince with their Bucklers and Bodies, giving him time to take Horſe, and put himſelf into a fighting condition.

The two Judges of the Field having proteſted their innocency, as to the breach of Treaty, took leave of each other, to attend their charges, and in a ſhort time this Field was the place of a general Battel, then a particular Combate.

The King of Scythia beholding with diſpleaſure the rupture of the Truce, ran to his Troops, and commanded all the Princes and Chiefs to their charges, to draw the Army out, into the beſt order which the neceſſity of affairs would permit.

Merodates, Phrataphernes, Euardes, and his companions, had performed the ſame on their parts; and whil'ſt thoſe who mingled themſelves at the Combate, in a diſorderly and bloody confuſion, ſtrove for the Victory, by little and little increaſing, they ſaw themſelves fortified by two great Armies. As they fought in diſorder, ſo I cannot very orderly follow my diſcourſe; and as I oblige my ſelf rather to the particular actions of Alcamenes, than to theirs that fought for him; I will only ſay, that the Prince finding himſelf that day animated with the moſt violent grief and anger he had ever reſented in his life, he made thoſe who were ſo unhappy as to preſent themſelves before him, ſuch eaſie ſacrifices, that they rather took him for a Fury, than any thing mortal.

This Battel had the form of a Maſſacre without choice or diſtinction, party againſt party, the vanquiſht with the vanquiſher, and the dying with their Murtherers were invelloped in the ſame ruine. Alcamenes, who could not fear death, but rather through his rage indeavoured to render his depart more funeſt to his Enemies, left every where bloody marks of his fury. The firſt of the Enemy-Princes who preſented himſelf, was the diſloyal Orchomenes, who fierce with the death of the pretended Alcimedon, marcht to the encounter with more boldneſs than before, and who (conducted by his evil Genius, and the Daemon revenger of perfidies) durſt with a Troop of his men attend the furious Prince: but ſcarce had he ſeen the fall of ſome of them, by that redoubted hand, but repenting his raſhneſs, he trembled, waxt pale under his Arms, and deſigned a retreat amongſt his Souldiers, when the irritated Prince (maugre their reſiſtance who would have oppoſed) thruſt his Sword through his body chaſing thence his diſloyal ſoul, not ſuffering it to rejoyce in the crime of that day.

After the death of Orchomenes, who was ſeconded valiantly by all his ſubjects, and all cut in pieces by that mighty hand; which paſt from them amongſt the Bithinians, and ſeeing the proud Euardes at their head, he caſt himſelf like a Lyon upon him, and at two blows with his Sword, deprived him of life.

The Bithinians loſt courage at the death of their Prince, and falling ſoul on thoſe that followed, had cauſed by their diſorder the loſs of the whole day, if Barzanes on the one ſide, and Merodates on the other, had not rallied the fugitives, and fortified thoſe trembling Troops with the beſt aſſurance they could; yet not ſo happily, but that by the valour of Alcimedon, and the King his Father, and divers brave Princes, who fought under their Enſigns, a geart part of the Dacian Army were Routed.

Day now, as the time before, was Alcamenes greateſt Enemy; his Victory had been intire, if the darkneſs which covered the face of the Earth, had not hindred: The Dacians loſt more than twenty five thouſand men, but the Scythians not above ten thouſand.

Barzanes and Merodates cauſed a retreat to be ſounded, and Orontes (whom the effuſion of ſo much blood had filled with compaſſion) did the like, and permitted the Dacians to retire to their Camp.

[Page] But doubtleſs, great Princeſſes, this long relation hath been troubleſome to you, and, if you pleaſe, I will defer the reſt to another day.

This Princeſſes, who had given great attention to the diſcourſe of Megacles, would not permit him to leave off, and having aſſured him, that they ſhould hear the continuation without incommodity, he cauſing Lights to be ſet up in the Chamber, by reaſon the day began to fail, thus continued his Diſcourſe.

The end of the third BOOK.

THE HISTORY OF ALCAMENES and MENALIPPA.
BOOK. IIII.

THE ſucceſs of this day in all likelihood, ought to have given as much ſatisfaction to the King of Scythia, as diſpleaſure and confuſion to his Enemies; and it is certain, that by this notable loſs, and the little hopes there was left of their remaining forces, the Dacians could not expect a favourable event to this War; this fill'd him with joy, and fortified his hopes, but his content could not but be imperfect, whil'ſt he obſerved the grief, or rather the deſpair of Alcamenes.

This diſconſolate Prince, inſtead of rejoycing at his Victory, and the grand actions he had done that day, being retired from the place of Battel, with all the marks of rage and fury in his eyes and face, entred his Chamber, which he faſtned upon him, and threw himſelf on a Bed, not permitting any to ſee him, or ſearch ſome light wounds he had received. The King who was advertized thereof, went to his Chamber, and by the priviledge of his authority ſaw him, and cauſed him to permit the dreſſing of his wounds, but could not diminiſh his ſadneſs, nor cauſe him to enter into any converſation.

He conceived, this violent diſpleaſure proceeded from the diſhonour he might fancy the fighting with a woman had brought to his Arms; and after he had done his indeavor to comfort him upon this accident, ſuppoſing time would do the reſt, he bid him Good night, and retired to his Chamber. It was ſome comfort to the Prince to find himſelf alone, and this ſolitude ſerved to repreſent the cauſe of his griefs more lively than before. The ſight of Menalippa an Amazon, and of Menalippa arm'd againſt his life, had rather increaſed than diminiſht his love; and the hatred of that irritated Princeſſe, which in likelihood ought to have leſſened his affection, ſeemed to have given new forces to torment him. She appeared (under thoſe Arms, and in that condition, wherein he had ſeen her ſubject to his victorious Sword) more charming than ordinary; but after he had ſome time dwelt upon this Idea, he remembred that he had fought againſt this ſo beautiful and beloved Warriour, that he had drawn blood from her fair body, and offered his menacing Blade to her adored face; this thruſt him into an unſupportable grief, and from grief he paſt to a mortal diſpair.

He conſidered how great a hatred it muſt be, that could drive her to ſuch extremities, he call'd to remembrance how fruitleſs all his ſubmiſſions were, after he had put himſelf into a [Page] poſture of approaching her, and in what horrible fury he had left her, when he was conſtrained to ſeparate from her.

From thence, running over all the circumſtances of his misfortune, ſeeking the cauſe with incredible torment, yet could not he imagine what it might be, unleſs that either Cleomenes had betray'd him, (which he could not imagine;) or that he had been betrayed in the place where he lay that night, and carried to the Dacian Camp, and there conſtrained to declare that Alcimedon was Alcamenes, and that the innocent deluſion was diſcovered, which he had made uſe of as an evaſion, in that Caprice whereinto Fortune had throwa him; he was confirmed in this belief by the words which Menalippa ſpake in the Combate, and by the reproach ſhe caſt upon him for his Treaſons, committed in the obſcurity of the Wood; and having ſetled his perſwaſions here, Ah me! ſaid he, is Alcimedon Alcamenes! Son to the enemy of Amalthea? but is it true alſo that Alcamenes is Alcimedon, who hath rendred ſo important ſervices to the Crown of Dacia, who hath loved Menalippa a thouſand times more than his life, and who hath had the happineſſe to be loved by her. I ought to have believed (amiable and cruel Princeſſe) that your affection to Alcimedon, would not erace your hatred to Alcamenes, and that you were generous enough to ſtifle (in the hatred of your Houſe) a particular affection; if in knowing me for Alcamenes, you knew me for the Son of your Enemy, yet you have learnt thereby, that Alcimedon was no Impoſtor, when he profeſt himſelf to be a great Prince, and when he promiſed to give you the Crown of Scythia.

But, blind that I am, (ſaid he, a little after) ought I not to remember an evil that hath coſt me ſo many tears? and have I not proved, that without the aſſiſtance of Alcamenes, Alcimedon was ſufficiently odious to Menalippa; and that cruel baniſhment, wherein I have lingered ſo many unfortunate days, hath it not ſufficiently declared the hatred of my Princeſſe? and could I hope that the knowledge of Alcamenes, to a heart already pique'd againſt Alcimedon, would produce any other effects, than thoſe, unfortunate one I, now ſuffer.

Ah Gods! added he, if it might be permitted me to murmure againſt you, I would reproach you with the falſity of your promiſe: for if it be true that I have ſuccoured my Father with ſucceſſe, it is as true that this ſight of Menalippa which you ordained me, is the greateſt misfortune that can happen to me in my life, ſince by this viſit I have found her more cruel, and inexorable, than I could have imagined; nor have I ſeen her—O Gods! but to preſent my Sword unto her beautiful breaſt, and to draw blood from her fair Body.

Speaking thus, he felt his Grief boyl into rage, and caſting his eys by chance upon the Sword which he had uſed in the Battel, and upon which he might ſtill have obſerved ſome drops of Menalippa's blood, had not the mixture of ſo much which he had ſpilt that day, confounded it: Perfidious inſtrument of my crime, (cry'd he,) the firſt ſervice thou haſt rendred me, hath been ſufficiently fatal to me: if I had the Sword of Alcimedon, which I left with Cleomenes, and which is now in Menalippa's power, it would poſſibly, better than I, have known Alcimedon's divinity, and would have denyed obedience to the ſacrilegious hand which drew it against her; but this firſt ſervice ſhall be the laſt I will receive from thee, for I ſhall be aſhamed to wear the criminal ſteel, that hath drawn blood from Menalippa. Saying thus, he brake it into ſeveral pieces, not without a revery of ſome moments, whether it were not better to plunge it into his breaſt.

Thus did he paſſe the Night, tormenting himſelf; and, the day appearing ere he had either ſought or found a moment of reſt, one of his Squires, who entred his Chamber, related that the Queen Amalthea, under pretence of carrying off her dead, demanded of the King, Eight Days Truce.

Alcamenes, who well knew into what condition the Enemy was reduced, and, that if the King would take his advantage, he might ruine them in a day, had reaſon to fear that he would refuſe the Queens demand, and finding himſelf too culpable towards Menalippa, he ſent, and inſtantly deſired the King to grant Amalthea's deſire; The King Orontes, who naturally was an excellent Prince, and who beheld with regret this effuſion of blood, conſidering alſo the prayer of his Son, he thereupon granted Amalthea the Eight Days Truce: and having given orders to fetch off, and bury the Dead, and incamped his Army further off, by reaſon of the infection of the Air, he went into his Son's Chamber, with a ſpirit full of tenderneſs, and quite bent upon a reſolution which he now diſcovered.

He found Alcamenes in the condition I repreſented him, and though he indeavoured to recall himſelf in the Kings preſence, yet was it difficult to hinder the whole appearance of his grief from him: The King having ſometime entertained him with the affairs of the War, and ſeeing he could not draw a word from him which was not diffected into ſighs [Page] and ſobbs, he reſolved to oblige him to diſover his heart; to advance which deſign, he took one of his hands, and preſſing it between his own with much affection, My Son (ſaid he) I cannot taſte with ſatisfaction the advantages your valour hath given us, nor rejoyce to ſee in a few days my Kingdom intirely delivered from its Enemies, ſo long as you appear in this condition, wherein, to my extream ſorrow, I behold you; I alwayes hoped better things from your courage, what reaſon ſoever you had to afflict your ſelf, and I muſt believe it exceeding great, ſince it can conquer a heart like that of Alcamenes: I thought yeſterday, upon the firſt obſervation of your ſadneſſe, that it proceeded from drawing your Sword againſt a Woman, and a fair Princeſſe, but ſeeing you this day in the extremities of the moſt violent grief, I believe it could not render it ſelf ſo powerful over your ſpirit, were it not fortified by ſome other paſſion; and it is not impoſſible, but that in the moment, wherein the fair face of Menalippa appeared to you in the Combate, it might produce love enough in your Soul, to reſent the violence of your Sword againſt her, and for having drawn ſome drops of her blood. Bluſh not Alcamenes, (continued the King, ſeeing him change colour) if this be the true cauſe of the ſadneſſe, wherein you appear to the eyes of a Father who dearly loves you; you ſhall receive no hindrance from him, to the compleating your felicity; and though the action of Menalippa hath ſomething in it very contrary to the ſweetneſſe and moderation of her ſex, yet hath ſhe many vertues, as I have heard by the common report, which makes me look-over this action. And born ſhe is of a Blood, and in a Fortune, which might make you hope from me an approbation of your love; and indeed the Heir of Dacia is a perſon conſiderable enough, to ſurprize the affections of the greateſt Prince; and the repoſe of Alcamenes is dear enough to me, to make me overcome thoſe reſentments I might have againſt my Enemies. If your ſadneſſe may be diſpell'd by this propoſition; I will offer peace to Amalthea; in a time when ſhe can no longer make War againſt us, and with the Peace, propoſe to her the marriage of Alcamenes with Menalippa. She will not perhaps be ſo obſtinate in her hatred towards me, as to ſhut her eyes againſt ſo great advantages; and ſhe will be ill adviſed, to refuſe a Peace, when it lyes in our power to ruine her; or reject for her Daughter, the greateſt and moſt advantagious Match ſhe could wiſh. Whilſt Alcamenes heard the King ſpeak thus, though he received by this diſcourſe but an imperfect joy, yet could he not diſſemble it, and kiſſing the Kings hand with a profound reverence, and ſome ſighs, which he could not retain, My Lord, (ſaid he) beſide the obligations which are common to me with all children, I have particular ones to your bonnty, which I cannot diſſemble without ingratitude; I will not deny to your Majeſty, (ſince you have diſcovered it againſt my will) that the face of Menalippa inſpired me with love, when my Sword was upon the point to have given her death; I will ſay no more, nor give bounds to a bounty too great for Alcamenes. But if your Majeſty hath any inclination to this alliance, I will receive it with all the reſpect I ought; I doubt only, that all the advantages which Amalthea can find, will not bow the spirit of Menalippa; and I beſeech your Majeſty, not to uſe the authority of the Queen to force her inclination.

Alcamenes ſaid no more: and the King, who knew his intent, and who, as I told you, was weary of the War, though it had continued but a little while, and preferring the repoſe of his people before a bloody Victory, having commanded the Prince to comfort himſelf, and to hope all things from his care; left the Chamber, and paſt into his own: where ſending for Amphimachus, Prince of the Tauro-Scythes, he largely inſtructed him with his intention, and giving him a Letter to Queen Amalthea, cauſed him to depart towards the Enemies Camp.

Here it was that Grief and Deſolation put on their true ſhape, and if the whole Camp, groaning for the loſſe of ſo many thouſands, that had been ſlain that day, for the death of the Prince of Bithinia, and the King of the Nomades, and for that of a great number of principal Officers, who had left their Bodies in the Field, as Trophies of Scythian Valor; The Queen, to the great cauſe ſhe had to regret this loſs, joyned the grief ſhe reſented at Menalippa's deſpair.

She cauſed her to be carried off the Field, to be diſarm'd, and her wounds dreſt; and though they were but light, yet the unconſolable grief of the Princeſs, would have put the leaſt bodily diſtemper into a capacity of indangering of life.

In vain had the Queen imbraced her, and bedewed her face with tears; in vain had ſhe conjured her by the moſt preſſing words affection could put into her mouth, to declare the cauſe of her deſpair, and funeſt reſolution.

The deſperate Princeſs anſwered not but by ſobbs and tears, which flowed inceſſantly from her fair eys, or if the afflicted Mother could ſometimes force a few words from her, [Page] they ſo ſavoured of rage and fury, that they eaſily diſcovered her Soul to be poſſeſt with a mortal ſadneſs.

But though Menalippa could not conceal her grief, yet ſhe would her love; chooſing rather to ſuffer the perpetual demands of the Queen, than confeſſe ſhe had loved Alcimedon, and that it was for him ſhe fought with Alcamenes, and was faln into deſpair. Notwithſtanding the pre-occupation of her Soul, ſhe cauſed Beliſa to order the Body of Alcimedon, ſecretly to be buried (which was very eaſie amongſt ſo many thouſands that kept him company) and this Maid who with Leander had carried it to the Camp, according to her orders, would nevertheleſs divulge nothing of this adventure, having not yet received the Princeſſes commands: ſo ſhe put the Body of Cleomenes in an unfrequented place, where it could not be known by reaſon of the wounds in his face, and being ſtript of Alcimedon's Arms, which might have made him obſerved.

Menalippa, in her deſign of concealing her love from the world, received ſome ſatisfaction from this diſcretion of Beliſa, charging her to recommend the ſecret to Leander, and all thoſe who knew ought of this adventure.

The Queen preſſed her unceſſantly to reveal the truth, partly to underſtand the cauſe of her deſpair, and alſo to know how ſhe came by Alcimedon's Armour, and what was become of that valiant man, and how he permitted her to fight in his place; yet he could never draw the leaſt word out of her mouth, that might give any ſatisfaction in what ſhe deſired, and all that ſhe could obtain, was a promiſe to declare the truth within ſix days, on condition that till then ſhe would give her the liberty of her tears, without troubling her for a clearer knowledge.

The Queen, who even adored her, and placed in her only, all her affections and hopes, was conſtaained to be ſatisfied with this promiſe; and though ſhe diſapproved and condemned the furious reſolution and Combate of her Daughter, which ſhe could not attribute but to a violent deſpair, yet durſt ſhe not blame her for this action, as ſhe would doubtleſs have done, had ſhe been in a condition capable of reproof.

Yet was not Menalippa's heart ſo repleniſht with her own misfortunes, but there was room left to reſent the Queen's; and ſeeing her drowned in tears at her Pillow, Madam, (ſaid ſhe) I render my ſelf unworthy, by my folly, of that bounty you testifie towards me; In the Name of the Gods, allay the troubles of your ſpirit, and hope with me from the bounty of Heaven, that mine will repoſe it ſelf, when yours becomes more ſerene. Ah Menalippa! reply'd the Queen with a ſigh, You have little reaſon to imagine my ſpirit can be at reſt, whilſt yours remains in the condition it now appears; and you have little valued my repoſe, when you expoſed a Daughter, more dear to me than my own life, to the conquering Sword of the valianteſt man upon Earth. I am not (reply'd ſadly Menalippa) the firſt perſon of my ſex that hath drawn a Sword againſt men, and you your ſelf have inspired me with Warlike inclinations, by the education you gave me; however this action may partly be excuſed to you, by the hatred which, with my milk, you have made me ſuck againſt the Fâmily of Orontes, and which I believed might reaſonably transport me to this extremity, againſt the Son of my Fathers Murtherer, againſt a man, who robbs us of the hopes of revenge, and of the poſſeſſion of Scythia, which the Gods hath promiſed us, and againſt a man, to whom for other reaſons alſo, I have an irreconcileable averſion. It muſt be, Menalippa, (reply'd the Queen, and ſhaking her head) that theſe deſperate reſolutions againſt Alcamenes, have ſome deeper cauſes, than thoſe that are common to us both; and, were he not born of your Father's Murtherer, he hath done nothing in this War, nor in the Combate againſt you, but what might rather cauſe eſteem than averſion. Pardon me Madam, (repli'd Menalippa briſquely) in that my reſentments are not conformable to yours, and, if I have not generoſity to love enough vertue in mine Enemies. Amalthea knew by the manner of pronouncing theſe words, that ſhe could not contradict her without augmenting her affliction, and a little after going out of the Chamber, ſhe permitted her to paſſe the night (through her inſtant intreaties) without any other company ſave that of Beliſa.

During the remainder of this night (which ſhe gave wholly to ſighs and tears, for unhappy Alcimedon) ſhe made often reflections on the actions and words of Alcamenes in the Combate; and obſerving (amongſt thoſe cruel ones, whereby he owned the death of Alcimedon) that he was in love with her, and offered himſelf to her, with all the marks of a paſſionate man, ſhe became aſtoniſht at the quick birth of his love, and flattered her ſelf poſſibly (notwithſtanding her mortal grief) with the glory of ſuch a conqueſt; [Page] and of the quick and marvellous effects of her beauty. After a long revery, If it be true (ſaid ſhe) that Alcamenes loves me, I praiſe the gods for the occaſions they have given me, of revenging his cruelty by that I will exerciſe againſt him; and if the Barbarian be ſo happy to eſcape the death which I prepare for him, I will make him feel from this heart, pre-occupied by a paſſion ſo juſt, all that a juſt reſentment can inspire me with of moſt cruel, and moſt conformable to the hatred I bear him.

In theſe furious thoughts ſhe paſſed the night, and part of the next day, receiving ſome nouriſhment, and permitting them to dreſſe her wounds, not out of love to life, but of deſign to imploy it wholly in revenging Alcimedon.

Part of the day was paſt, when they came to advertize the Queen, that the Prince of the Tauro-Scythes deſired admittance from the King of Scythia. What hatred ſoever ſhe bare his Maſter, yet knew ſhe how to treat Ambaſſadours, eſpecially in a time wherein Fortune had been adverſe to her, and where ſhe was forced to acknowledge, that the ſurety of her Troops, and ſafety of her perſon, depended wholly upon his bounty.

She received the Prince in the preſence of Merodates, Phrataphern, Barzanes, and other principal Officers of the Army. Amphimacus preſented her with a Letter from Orontes, by which he hoped to incline her more than by the mouth of his Ambaſſadour: Amalthea opened it in the preſence of the Princes, and read aloud theſe words.

ORONTES King of SCYTHIA, to the Queen of DACIA.

IT is not in my power (great Queen) to blot out of your memory, the loſſe you have received by our Armes; But I can eaſily repreſent to you, that the King Decebalus dyed in the Field with his Sword in his hand, without trechery, cruelty, or any circumſtance, that might inſpire you with a greater hatred towards me, than other common Enemies. You have already powred forth much blood in his revenge, and you ought to be ſatisfied with the death of a hundred thouſand men, whom you have ſacrificed to his Ghoſt. Few Women have ſo ſolemnly and gloriouſly acquitted them of their conjugal affection; But it is enough (Great Queen) and I demand peace in a time, when you may well judge I can nothing apprehend the event of the War: There is blood enough ſpilt, and I have pity both upon your Subjects and mine own: And (if you refuſe it not) I deſire your amity and Alliance; the gods, as I am informed, have promiſed the Crown of SCYTHIA to the Princeſſe MENALIPPA your Daughter, and I offer it, in preſenting ALCAMENES for her Huſband; I beleive 'tis thus the gods would be underſtood; and all other wayes to advance her upon the Throne of our Anceſtors, will be found leſſe eaſie. MENALIPPA hath conquered SCYTHIA in a moment, ſince in a moment ſhe hath conquered the heart of ALCAMENES, and this Prince, whoſe life ſhe aſſaulted with ſo much animoſitie, layes the ſame life, with the Crown I ſhall leave him, at her feet. The Prince of the TAUROSCYTHES (whom I have impowred) will negotiate according to your Commands, ſo ſoon as you let him underſtand them; and will teſtifie unto you, how much I deſire the union of our Crowns, Families, and Affections.

Whilſt Amalthea readd this Letter, the divers agitations of her Soul were legible upon her face, and if on one ſide the reſentment of the King her Husbands death poſſeſſed ſtill her ſpirit, filling it with averſion to the King of Scythia, on the other part the advantage ſhe found in his offer, and the pitiful condition ſhe was in through the defeat of her Amry, of which in all likelihood ſhe could expect nothing but the intire ruine, diſarm'd by degrees that revenge, which ſhe had preſerved ſo many years, forcing her to give Reaſon audience, though hitherto ſhe had preferred Paſſion and Animoſity; and beſide, comparing the offer of Orontes with the Oracles, which had promiſed the Crown of Scythia to the Princeſs her Daughter, her eyes were opened to theſe appearances, and judged that it was by this Marriage, and not by Force, the Gods intended ſhe ſhould be Queen of Scythia.

Whilſt ſhe rowled theſe thoughts in her mind, without expreſſing them to the Company, Merodates, being amorous of Menalippa, and impatient of a propoſition which deſtroyed his hopes, cryed with precipitation, that the offer of Orontes ought not to be imbraced, and that the Gods, Blood, and Nature, would be viſibly offended, in caſe Menalippa ſhould marry with the Son of her Father's Murtherer; Phrataphern (full of amorous pretences) confirm'd his exclamation, and added what ever he thought capable to authorize it: but Barzanes, (more prudent than they) though he exceedingly reſented the death of the King his Brother, found no difficulty to tell the Queen (after they had [Page] conducted the Ambaſſadour of Scythia into another Chamber) that ſhe ought to receive with open arms the Kings propoſition; and that this fortune, which at this time was very great for Menalippa, could not with prudence be rejected, at a time, wherein through the defeat of their Army, they lay expoſed to the mercy of the Enemy; where neither the valour of Merodates nor Phrataphern, could hinder them from being cut in pieces, if the Scythians had any ſuch intent. The reaſons of Barzanes were confirmed by all the Officers of the Army, and by Pharnaces, who having a few moments before loſt all hope of re-ſeeing their dear Country, could not hear the propoſition of ſo glorious a peace and ſo little expected by all appearances, without proteſting aloud to the Queen, that (unleſs ſhe intended their intire ruine) ſhe would not reject it.

Amalthea hearkned to this diſcourſe, as unwilling to be accuſed of the deſtruction of thoſe Souldiers which remained, by her obſtinacy, nor could ſhe think without ſome joy, upon the fortune which preſented its ſelf to Menalippa, in a conjuncture of time, when ſhe expected to be expos'd, with her, to a multitude of diſgraces; ſo that, maugre the crye; of Merodates, and Phrataphernes, (who would never conſent, but in a rage departed the Chamber) ſhe ſent for the Prince of the Tauro-Scythes, and told him that ſhe willingly imbraced the Peace which he offered, nor had ſhe any repugnance to the Kings Alliance: but it was juſt that ſhe communicated it to her Daughter, who had herein the principal intereſt, and whoſe conſent ſhe would demand.

Amphimacus reply'd to this diſcourſe of the Queen with much civility and reſpect, who having left him with the King of the Sarmates, and the principal Officers of the Army, ſhe with Barzanes went into Menalippa's Chamber, to whom ſhe read the King of Scythia's Letter, and informed her, that all the Dacians ſetled their deſires on this Peace and Alliance, and her ſelf alſo, who had a deſire to terminate this War by an honourable concluſion.

Amalthea hoped that notwithſtanding the hatred Menalippa had expreſt againſt Alcamenes, ſhe would yet ſubmit her reſentments to thoſe of her Mother, and open her eyes to Orontes's advantagious propoſition; but ſcarce had ſhe diſcovered her thoughts, when the irritated Princeſs (caſting a tranſported regard at the Queen); How Madam, ſaid ſhe, do you deſigne me for the Spouſe of Orontes's Son, who kill'd Decebalus, and who would yeſterday have taken away my life in your preſence, with the ſame Sword wherewith he hath ſlain three Kings, fighting in your Quarrel? and him, againſt whom you have inspired me with ſo much hatred from mine infancy?

Daughter (replyed the Queen,) It is not juſt that enmities ſhould be eternal, and prudence commands us to perſevere in, or change, our reſolutions and inclinations, according as they are either advantagious or hurtful: Alcamenes is very innocent of the King your Fathers death, and in the death of the Kings, his Enemies, he hath done but his duty; if he wounded you in the Combat not knowing you, he treated you with reſpects ſo ſoon as he knew you; and yielded to you with the Victory, both his heart and liberty; and beſide you know that amongſt all the Princes of the Earth, only the Emperor of the Romans is greater than he, and the King of Parthia alone his equal; ſo that in our better Fortune you could not have hoped for a more advantagious offer, than that which preſents it ſelf to you, now our Affairs are deſperate, and when the King of Scythia can finiſh our ruine, and render himſelf Maſter of our Deſtinies. The King of the Nomades, the King of the Baſternes, and the King of Bythinia's Son, are dead for our intereſts, and of an Army of an Hundred thouſand men, there ſcarce remains Twenty thouſand, and a great part of thoſe wounded, who beg the peace with as much ſtrength as they are weak to return to the Battel; beſide all this, your Deſtiny calls you to it, and you have not ſo little judgment, but to know that the Crown of Scythia, promiſed by the gods to Menalippa, cannot be Conquered by our Forces, nor put upon Menalippa's Head, but by her Marriage with Alcamenes.

To theſe perſwaſions, the Queen added whatever ſhe thought capable to bend the Princeſſe's mind to what ſhe deſired; and before ſhe concluded, made her underſtand, that ſhe askt her conſent but to a thing already reſolved, and to which ſhe abſolutely commanded her to conform her obedience.

Menalippa underſtanding the Queens reſolution, and not daring to contradict her long, ſighed with grief, and diſſembling ſo much as ſhe could poſſibly the rage that tranſported her: Madam, ſaid ſhe, I was not prepared for this dayes Tryal, nor did I think the cauſe of Orontes and Alcamenes would be handled by the Queen Amalthea againſt Menalippa; reſpect cloſeth my mouth, yet will not hinder me to demand till to morrow, to remit my spirit into that obedience which it ought, in which time, I hope ſo to work on my heart, that I may contradict you no more, but I beſeech you that I may have it intirely free from the viſits of any body.

[Page] Amalthea believing that the Princeſs would ſubmit to her will, for the reaſons ſake at leaſt which accompanied it, eaſily granted what ſhe demanded, and having kiſt and imbraced her with all the marks of tenderneſs (to which the diſconſolate Lady made no return) went forth out of the Chamber, commanding that he ſhould be ſeen only by whom ſhe would.

The Queen acquainted the King of Scythia's Ambaſſador with what had paſſed, intreating him to ſtay with her till the morrow, that he might return to his Maſter with the intire reſolution of his Negotiation: The Prince obeyed, ſending one of his Servants to advertize the King concerning the ſtate of Affairs, and the diſpoſition which he had found in the Queen of Dacia to conclude the peace which he had propoſed.

During the reſt of this Day, and the Night following, the Dacians (the evil Eſtate of whoſe Affairs made them ardently deſire the peace, and who the day before had feared their total Defeat, paſſing from mortal fears to the ſweeteſt hopes) gave a thouſand Teſtimonies of their joy; and even thoſe who came from burying their Brothers, or dear Friends, could not but partake in the common ſatisfaction; the thoughts of the Commanders were conformable to thoſe of the Souldiers; and (except Merodates and Phrataphernes) there was ſcarce a man in the Army, but appeared full of content, praiſing the moderation of the King of Scythia. The next Morning ſo ſoon as the Queen was dreſt, ſhe went into Menalippa's Chamber, imagining that her own time of conſidering being expired, ſhe was diſpoſed to follow her Mothers Commands. But O gods! how great was her aſtoniſhment; when approaching her Daughters Bed, ſhe found her not there, and only ſaw a large open place in the Tent, by which ſhe went out.

Amalthea would not give credit to her firſt fears, but going into the Chamber of the Princeſſes Maids, ſhe found them all except Beliſa, who lay with her Miſtreſs, but could learn no News of Menalippa: Then in paſſing again into her Chamber, ſhe ſaw a Letter upon the Table, which at the firſt ſight ſhe knew to be the Princeſſes hand; ſhe ſnatcht it up with precipitation, and readd theſe words.

MENALIPPA to the Queen AMALTHEA.

FInding it impoſſible to obey your cruel Command, and being unable (without an extream grief) to ſee my ſelf reduced to a neceſſity of diſobeying you, I have indeavoured by my flight to prevent the one, or other, of theſe evils; and I am poſſibly leſs capable in this action towards you, than if I had openly oppoſed your will; and towards the gods, than if I had eſpouſed Alcamenes: A Barbarian it is, whoſe Crimes (whereof you are ignorant) are known to me, and will be in time declared to you; in the interim (Madam) pardon me, if I preſerve thoſe reſentments wherewith you inſpired me, and if I declare that I will never marry Alcamenes, nor any other that cannot bring me Alcamenes's Head: 'tis to this I invite all thoſe who have testified hitherto an inclination to ſerve me, and to this it is that I ſollicite the valiant Merodates and Phrataphernes, and all thoſe who believe the poſſeſſion of Menalippa to be a Fortune good enough to invite them unto any danger. Trouble not your ſelf at my departure; I go before you into Dacia; where you ſhall find me, ſo ſoon as you have quitted the Deſign of giving me to Alcamenes: It is not without a ſenſible regret that I leave your Majeſty, but I have left a far greater in my Soul, for having been ſo unhappily deceived in my opinion of your affection, which hath abandoned me in a deplorable extremity; but this cruel conſtraint (which I expected not from a nature ſometimes ſo full of bounty) in taking away my laſt conſolations; hath not taken away from me the reſentments of that love, reſpect, and veneration which I have hitherto preſerved for my Mother, and will preſerve to my Tomb.

I know not (great Princeſſes) how to expreſs the Queens grief at the reading of this Letter, and the knowledge of Menalippa's flight; all that I can ſay, will be ſo far below the Truth, that you will pardon me if I inlarge not on this part. I will only ſay, that poſſibly never a perſon ſo conſtant and couragious as Amalthea, gave ſo publick teſtimonies of grief; ſhe poured forth a River of tears, tore her Hair, and call'd the gods a thouſand times for witneſſes of her misfortunes, and uttered all that a moſt violent grief could inſpire a Soul leſs moderate than hers withall, and when the firſt tranſports were paſt, having ſent for the Princeſſes Domeſtiques, who were all there except Beliſa and Leander, ſhe knew that only theſe two had accompanied her: you may imagine alſo that ſhe failed not to cauſe many to take Horſe, with order to bring her back if it were poſſible, or to wait upon her into Dacia, if her Deſign was to retire thither; part of the Army disbanded upon this occaſion, and the Camp was almoſt quite deſerted through every ones impatience to ſeek [Page] Menalippa; Merodates and Phrataphernes (content with the rupture of this Marriage, and fierce and proud at the mention Menalippa made of them in her Letter, and the confidence they had in their own Valor, having proteſted aloud they would obey this glorious command, that they would loſe their lives, or take away that of Alcamenes) took Horſe with the firſt, and followed according to the beſt conjecture the Tract of Menalippa.

The Queen perceiving amongſt the reſt in her Chamber, the King of Scythia's Ambaſſador, turned towards him (her eyes drowned in tears) and preſenting him the Letter, which ſhe held in her hand; You may ſee my misfortune, ſaid ſhe, and you may acquaint the King your Master, and the Prince his Son, that it is no fault of mine, that the peace and alliance ſecond not his intent, nay rather, though having deſired it with paſſion, cauſing me to make uſe of my authority out of ſeaſon, I have loſt my Daughter, and with her, all the conſolation of my life.

The Prince of the Tauro-Scythes anſwering in tears, which expreſt the intereſt he took in her afflictions: I will hope from the generoſity of Orontes (added ſhe) that he will not ſet upon me in my misfortune, nor refuſe me now a peace which himſelf hath offered; the alliance ſhall be (if he deſires it) compleated ſo ſoon as I have the diſpoſition of my Daughter: in the mean time I demand a free Retreat into my Countrey, promiſing him never to trouble him in his; nor will I ever forget how generouſly he hath uſed his advantages over us.

The Scythian-Ambaſſador retired, and quickly after preſented himſelf before his Maſter, who underſtood with much aſtoniſhment the ſucceſs of his Negotiation; Alcamenes was leſs aſtoniſht, but mortally afflicted, and perceiving the King uncertain in his reſolution, he conjured him to make up the peace with Amalthea, and to permit her to retire peaceably with her Troops; and the King willing to comply with his Son, ſent Amphimacus the ſame day to the Dacian Camp, with full power to conclude the peace, and to favour the Retreat of the Dacians ſo much as the Queen could deſire.

Amalthea received with joy the courteſie of King Orontes, and proteſted ſhe would never be his Enemy; then giving order for the march, ſhe diſencamped the next Morning towards Dacia, full of a mortal grief for the loſs of Menalippa.

Thus ended that War which had been conceived and begun with ſo much noiſe, and ſo fair hopes, and that Army who expected no leſs than the Conqueſt of Scythia, returned inconſiderable in their number, and pitiful in their condition, having left the greateſt part of their Companions in that Countrey which a few dayes before they beheld as the Field of their Victories. A little after, the King Orontes quitted the City of Nicia, and having taken leave of his now unprofitable Troops, and ordered their Princes his Vaſſals to lead them into their ſeveral Countries, he returned to the chief City, carrying the ſaid Alcamenes along with him; which he could never have done, had not his reſpect to the King made him do violence to himſelf.

You may imagine that his mortal ſadneſs received no ſmall increaſe at the reading of Menalippa's Letter which fell into his hands; nor could he apprehend why this Princeſs (who before theſe laſt effects of his paſſion, had appeared moſt moderate in all her actions) ſhould not be content to have precipitated her ſelf into a dangerous Combat, through the only deſire of killing him, nor content to have diſobeyed the commands of her Mother, for whom ſhe had alwayes preſerved a profound reſpect; but alſo by her flight to expoſe her perſon to thoſe dangers which do continually threaten her Sex, declaring to the Queen her Mother and all the World, that ſhe would never marry any man but him who brought her Alcamenes his Head; he could not conſider all theſe things without a clear ſight of Menalippa's hate, which poſſeſt him with the greateſt extremities of grief a heart ever ſubmitted to; and as he continually reaſoned with himſelf upon the cauſe of his unhappineſs: Is it poſſible, would he ſometimes ſay, that my being born of Orontes ſhould kindle ſo much hatred in a heart I have formerly known ſo generous, and ſo reaſonable? And is it ſo great a Crime for the Son of Orontes to love Menalippa? And an offence ſo cruel againſt the Daughter of Amalthea, to be loved by the Son of Orontes, that it ſhould render the Son a thouſand times more odious than the Father, and inſpire her with ſo cruel and deſperate Deſigns againſt him, having never entertained but moderate ones againſt his Father; but what could be this Crime hid and unknown to the Queen her Mother, whereof ſhe accuſed me in the Letter, unleſs it be the boldneſs of having loved her, knowing my ſelf to be the Son of her Enemy? After what manner ſoever I examine the actions of my life, I can find my ſelf culpable of no other fault, and that methinks cannot juſtly deſerve thoſe puniſhments which the pitileſs Menalippa ordains me, nor carry the fair Princeſs to ſuch reſolutions againſt her faithful and innocent adored; the love of Alcamenes ſhould appear more conſiderable in the perſon of a man who was Enemy to her houſe, and in the perſon of a Prince who was conceived, born and nouriſht in the hatred of Menalippa, and her Family, rather than in one who had ſubmitted under favourable aſpects, and [Page] who had no croſſes in his pretenſions, neither from fortune nor former inclinations; yet it pleaſed the gods, and my cruel Deſtiny, that this fair and juſt Menalippa, ſhould arm her ſelf with an unknown ſteel to take away my life, expoſing her own to danger to deſtroy mine, and arming the whole World againſt me.

He ſtopt ſome moments upon this conſideration which had almoſt awaked reſentments in his Soul able to combat his love; but he found himſelf too weak to undertake it, for although the comfortleſs Prince, apprehended in the unjuſt proceedings of Menalippa, a juſt occaſion to revolt from his love, yet could he not bring it about, or ſcarce form a deſire towards it: If I conſult my reaſon (ſaid he) if I conſult my courage, they will tell me, that I ought no longer to love this cruel perſon, who arms her ſelf againſt my life with ſuch obſtinate inhumanity: But though my reaſon and courage are counſellors ſtrong enough, yet are they unable to aſſiſt me, and it is aſſiſtance I want, when counſels are unneceſſary; depart then all other thoughts, all other reſolutions, ſave thoſe of dying for Menalippa; 'tis my life I muſt give her, ſince 'tis my life ſhe demands; it is unneceſſary to arm Phrataphernes or Merodates to procure my death, for Alcamenes himſelf will ſerve you more faithfully and more powerfully, and through his means you will doubtleſly obtain that whereof by other means you will be very uncertain; I will go and pierce in your preſence this unfortunate heart, whoſe flames are ſo criminal; and will ſatisfie your eyes and deſires if it be poſſible with a ſpectacle able to cleave with pity any other heart but Menalippa's. This was his laſt reſolution, nor did he weigh the deſign of killing himſelf before Menalippa's eyes, and of preſenting her with that odious Head which ſhe demanded.

He was prepared for this funeſt Voyage, and the day was already come, when he ſaw an Herald arrive, who (having demanded of the King the accuſtomed Sureties) defied the Prince Alcamenes in the behalf of Phrataphernes and Merodates: The King was exceeding angry at this defiance, and had he not been withheld by his Vertue, as well as by the Law of Nations, he would have exemplarily chaſtiſed this boldneſs; he ſpake to the Herald in terms which made him tremble, and told him he was not reſolved to permit his Son to fight againſt thoſe Princes whoſe lives he had granted a few dayes before, and who poſſeſt neither life nor liberty but by his bounty alone; that ſuch Combats were not ordinary amongſt perſons of Alcamenes's Quality; and that through his facility he would not introduce the damnable cuſtom of defying Princes in their own Courts: To this he ſpake many things full of Choler, and his reſentments were approved by the whole Court, who murmured highly at the liberty of theſe ſtrangers; but Alcamenes appeaſed this Tumult by his Authority, and reſpectfully oppoſing himſelf to the reſentments of the King his Father, ſaid aloud, That he knew no reaſon why this Combat ſhould be diſpenſed with, being demande▪ by Princes of an equal Quality to his; and confidently proteſted at laſt to the King, that (having never contradicted his will till then) he would go ſeek them in their own Countries, in caſe he denied them to fight in his preſence. Orontes oppoſed a long time the Princes Deſign, with reaſons which all the World approved, yet were they too weak to reſiſt Alcamenes's reſolution, and after a long conteſt this deſperate Prince obtained leave on the morrow to fight them both one after the other in the greateſt Plain of Serica, not induring to divide that into two dayes which he thought he could finiſh in one; nay, he obtained of the King in the Heralds preſence an Oath, that in caſe he were ſo unhappy as to loſe his life, the Princes might retire without the leaſt harm; After this promiſe, and the ſafe conduct ſigned by the Kings hand, the Herald returned to his Maſters, who lodged not far from the City, and who had the liberty to enter and provide them what they thought neceſſary for the Combat. Alcamenes ſent to viſit them, and conſtrained them to profeſs, notwithſtanding their animoſity, that ſo brave a Prince deſerved rather the love, than the hatred of Menalippa.

After Alcamenes had a good while conſulted how he ought to carry himſelf in this Combat, he thought it better to teſtifie his love and reſpect to Menalippa, by preſenting his naked breaſt to thoſe whom ſhe had ſent to take away his life and continued ſometime in the Deſign of rendring his Neck to the Sword of Merodates, or Phrataphernes, ſince Fortune ſeemed to favour his Deſign of giving his life to his Princeſs; but a little▪ after, Choler againſt his Enemies awakening, and Jealouſie againſt his Rivals, he repented his Deſign of giving away with his life the victory and poſſeſſion of Menalippa: No, no, ſaid he, I will not give to theſe Enemies (whoſe hatred requires it) neither the glory nor the reward of the victory, it ſhall be preſented more gloriouſly to the Princeſs Menalippa by the hand of Alcamenes; this was his laſt reſolution, and ſcarce had the next Morning light appeared, when he was covered with his Arms the very ſame he wore in the Combat againſt Menalippa, and not amuzing himſelf with many formalities to render the Action more pompous, he marched towards the place appointed, accompanied by all the perſons of Quality of the [Page] Court, who would needs have the Honour to wait upon him.

The people of Serica had already filled the place, unleſs that patch which was invironed by the Barriers, and intended for the Combatants: The Judges (whereof the one was Prince of the Tauro-Scythes, and the other a Prince of Phrataphernes's Kindred) had already taken their places, and the two ſtranger Princes appeared almoſt at the ſame time, covered with proud Arms, and advantagiouſly mounted; they had determined by lot who ſhould fight firſt, and it hapned to Phratapherne: which Merodates impatiently ſuffered, though he believed there would be Valor enough to imploy his againſt. He remained at the further end of the Barriers, whilſt Phratapherne advanced in the Liſts, with an Action which made every one behold him as a valiant man. After they had devided the Sun, and obſerved other formalities, the two Warriors parted at the third Signal of the Trumpet, and having traverſt the ſpace which ſeparated them with exceeding ſwiftneſs, they found themſelves in the middle of the Liſts, with an equal force, but a different fortune: Alcamenes was lightly wounded in the ſhoulder, there where the Caſque joins to the extreams of the Cuiraſs; but having directed the point of his Javelin to the Viſier of Phratapherne, thruſt the murthering ſteel to the hinder part of this unfortunate Prince's Head, who fell without life over the Crupper of his Horſe.

The Scythians caſt forth a cry of joy for their Prince's Victory, and thoſe of the Train of Phratapherne bewailed with a mournful murmur, the Deſtiny of their deplorable Maſter; they entred the Liſts to take away the Body, nor could Alcamenes behold their Action without teſtifying ſome marks of grief and pity.

But he had not time to make great Demonſtrations of his reſentments: for ſcarce had he given ſome moments to the conſideration of that misfortune, which within a few dayes had made him ſpill ſo much blood, when he was drawn out of it by the impatient Merodates, who deſiring rather to offer blood than tears, to the Ghoſt of his Companion, ſpurr'd into the Liſts with a menacing poſture; but before he could put himſelf into a condition to fight, a man paſſing amongſt the Servants of Phratapherne, accoſted him, preſenting him with a Letter. Merodates, who feared no Treachery from his Enemy, made no difficulty to read it.

Alcamenes caſting his eyes upon the Meſſengers face, obſerved ſome features which were not altogether unknown to him, and a little after knew him for the ſame Leander who had been his Squire, and whom he had left in Dacia to give his Letter to Menalippa: Merodates having quickly read the Billet: Alcamenes, ſaid he, you may ſee the orders I have received for our Combat, and by the conditions they impoſe upon me, you ought well to defend your Head: Alcamenes having received the Billet without Reply, ſaw with a mighty ſurprize that it was Menalippa's hand; but his aſtoniſhment was increaſed, when having caſt his eyes upon it with ſighs, he read theſe words.

MENALIPPA to MERODATES.

REmember Merodates, that it is not your Victory, but the Head of Alcamenes, that I require: you muſt dye or kill that Barbarian, there being no other way to Conquer Menalippa.

At the ſight of this known Character, and reading thoſe cruel words, the diſconſolate Alcamenes had almoſt loſt Courage, and it is not without wonder, that in the grief which oppreſt him, he could be able to fight with one of the moſt valiant men of the World, he lifted up his eyes to Heaven with an Action full of pity, nor could his juſt reſentments hinder him from bearing this Billet to his mouth, reverencing that Princeſs whom he adored even in thoſe marks of her inhumanity. It is juſt, Menalippa, (ſaid he, with a voyce defected into ſighs) that this odious Alcamenes ſhould loſe that life ſo much deteſted by you; but it must be from Alcamenes, not from Merodates, that this heart-burning for you muſt receive its mortal wounds, and you will be little obliged to me, if any other hand, ſave mine own, ſhould offer you this agreeable victim. He would poſſibly have ſaid more, when Merodates retook his Billet: Alcamenes, ſaid he, you ſee the hard conditions of our Combat, and that there is no favour to be ſhewn or hoped for, ſince I muſt obey Menalippa; Alcamenes, Maugre the grief which tranſported him, beheld Merodates with a ſmile full of ſharpneſs and diſdain, Uſe thy Victory, if the gods give it thee, ſaid he, but I do not fear to ſee Alcamenes this day ſolliciting the Clemency of Merodates. They ſaid no more, but ſeparating towards the extremities of the Liſts, that they might take their Career, they parted at the ſame time with an equal fury, and joined with a ſucceſs little unequal, their Javelins breaking without any effect upon their Bucklers; then drawing their Swords, they dealt blows worthy the hands that diſcharged them.

[Page] As Merodates was valiant amongſt the moſt valiant, ſo this Combate became brave and long, and ſometime-doubtful; but it will be difficult to relate all the particulars of this Combat, and having already in this Story deſcribed very many Combats, it will perhaps be unpleaſant to you; I will only ſay, that an hour paſt ere Victory declared it ſelf on either ſide, and as Merodates to his ordinary Valor added reſolution either to conquer or dye, he often put the life of Alcamenes into great danger, and ſaw not his own blood run down his Armor, without making his Enemies bluſh with the ſame tincture; thoſe to whom Alcamenes's Valor was known, wondred to ſee that of Merodates little inferior; and there were ſome moments wherein the King Orontes trembled and waxed pale, repenting that he had not utterly oppoſed this Combat. But the Genius of Alcamenes was ſtronger than that of Merodates, and the Victory was due to him, and reſerved for him.

Merodates perceived the diminution of his ſtrength, and it ſeemed to him that the force of Alcamenes received an increaſe, (nor was it a wonder that he grew ſo weak, having loſt ſo much blood.) Alcamenes deſirous of the Victory, gave him no reſpite whilſt he thought him able to diſpute it, and dealt him at laſt ſo many wounds, that having no more force to hold himſelf upon his Saddle, he was too weak to reſiſt the powerful Arms of his Adverſary, who imbracing him about the middle, drew him from the Saddle, and threw him upon the Earth. Merodates had no power to riſe, and Alcamenes having alighted almoſt ſo ſoon as he was down, the vanquiſht Prince doubted not but that he was coming to execute with rigor the conditions of the Combat. This thought made him loſe no Courage, and beholding Alcamenes with an aſſured eye: Finiſh, ſaid ſhe, thy Victory, and take away from me a ſhameful life, which I neither can, nor will ask of thee. Thou ſhalt not ask it, replied Alcamenes, but thou ſhalt receive it from him in whoſe power it is to take it away, and I will leave thee ſo glorious, that thou ſhalt be able to preſent it to Menalippa without ſhame, to whom I will teſtifie the brave thing thou haſt done to obey her.

Merodates ſighing with grief, received this favour, and beholding the Prince with reſentments which had nothing of the Enemy in them; I know not, ſaid he, by what misfortune a man ſo vertuous could have incurred the hatred of Menalippa, but the respects which I preſerve for her, ſhall never more arm me againſt you; and if I eſcape theſe wounds you have given me, I ſhall behold you as my Conqueror, and the moſt generous man upon Earth.

He had ſpoken more, had not the Prince, who feared the loſs of his blood would prove the loſs of his life, which he deſired to preſerve, cauſed him to be taken up, and carried to the Palace, ordering his wounds to be dreſt with as much care as they would take for his own.

But ſcarce had he performed this generous part, and not yet remounted, when from amongſt the Throng a Cavalier ruſhed in with impetuoſity, who paſſing through a place in the Barriers which was open, and ſpurring his Horſe towards the Prince, accoſted him with his Sword in his hand, before he could prepare to receive him, and aiming his Sword at the default of his Cuiraſs, pierced it through his body up to the Gardes.

Thus this great Prince vanquiſher of ſo many Princes, fell upon the Field, where he had obtained two ſo gallant Victories, and ſcarce could his Soul contain it ſelf from following a River of blood, which covered the ground round about him: A thouſand cryes were raiſed in an inſtant at an Accident ſo ſtrange and unlooked for. Thouſands ran to the fallen Prince and his Aſſaſine, who by a Thouſand Swords had loſt his life, if ſome prudent perſons, who knew of how great conſequence it was to arreſt criminals of this Nature living, had not oppoſed the firſt fury of the Tumult, telling them that it was by puniſhments proportionable to the Crime, that ſuch Monſters ought to periſh; and that by Torments thoſe things were to be drawn from them, which a ſudden death would prevent.

Thus hindred they the deſtruction of Alcamenes Murtherer, yet they loaded him with Chains, and carried him to Priſon, whence he was not likely to return, ſave to thoſe tortures which the grandure of his wicked Action deſerved.

The King, overwhelmed by this Accident, had almoſt loſt a Courage which never yet forſook him; it ſo pierced his heart, that it was difficult to know whether of the two was the more dangerouſly wounded. All the City, which Alcamenes's vertues had filled with as much love as veneration, with tears lamented his misfortune; and it ſeemed as if this one blow had laid all the hopes of Scythia in its Tomb.

Thoſe eſteemed themſelves happy who could lend their arms and care, to carry their Prince to the Palace, and the great multitudes of people who preſt to ſuccour him, had almoſt deprived him of all ſuccour; the cruel Sword ſtuck in his body, and ſcarce in drawing it out, could they hinder the Life from following; the Chirurgions who viſited this [Page] large wound by two Orifices, could give the King no apparent hopes, ſaying only they had ſeen greater wounds cured, and that it was not impoſſible but that the Prince might be ſaved. You may imagine they employed all their Art about a cure of that importance, and as they were the moſt experienced of all Scythia, they made uſe of thoſe remedies which were indeed the moſt capable of preſerving the Prince's life; for a long time they could not recover his loſt ſenſes, and when (by the force of remedies) they returned, it was with ſo much weakneſs, and ſo little knowledge, that it increaſed the general fear: They dreſt alſo his other wounds which he received from Merodates, but they were inconſiderable.

The King (who alwayes remained with him full of an unconceivable diſpleaſure, and who by all his Courage could not render himſelf Maſter of his mortal grief) was obliged at laſt to quit the Chamber, leaving the wounded Prince to his neceſſary repoſe, and paſſing into his own apartment, he there committed himſelf to the moſt violent effects of his afflictions. The remainder of this day he gave to tears and ſighs, and paſt the whole Night in a ſutable occupation: but the next Morning to his tender grief ſucceeded a juſt reſentment, and a deſire to know who was the perſon guilty of ſo great a Crime, that he might ſtudy a proportionable vengeance both for him and his Abettors; therefore (though againſt the ordinary forms and cuſtoms of Kings, who are leldom ſeen by Criminals) judging that an Adventure ſo little common, ought to be proceeded in after an extraordinary manner, he ſent for the Aſſaſine of Alcamenes to examine him, himſelf not confiding in his Judges upon an Affair of ſo great importance: they obeyed his Command, and a few moments after, he ſaw the Criminal enter in the midſt of the Guards with two others, who voluntarily offered themſelves Priſoners, and who confeſt themſelves guilty of the ſame Fact. The King notwithſtanding all his moderation, could ſcarce contain himſelf from running on them to ſtrangle them with his own hands, inſtead of an examination. But had he not been arreſted by the Dignity of his perſon, the beauty which ſurprized him, had been a ſufficient ſtop to the torrent of his paſſions, which at the ſame time ſtruck, and fill'd him with admiration and aſtoniſhment.

The Garments of the Criminal had been abuſed and torn by thoſe that had taken him, and his body ſo loaded with Irons, that he could ſcarce ſtand under them; but through the vail of this miſery ſhone a beauty ſo inflaming, and eyes brighter than the Planet under which they were born, caſting beams ſo quick and piercing, that the Soul of the afflicted King pre-occupied as it was with grief and rage, could not refuſe to this imperial object its due reſpect: he remained quite confuſed and non-pluſt; then fixing his eyes awhile upon this fair face, and comparing Menalippa's cruel hate, together with ſo much of her face as he had ſeen in her former Combat with Alcamenes, he ſuſpected it was ſhe her ſelf; but from ſuſpition he quickly paſt into a certainty, when this fair perſon perceiving his aſtoniſhment, permitted him not to open his mouth, but beholding him with an aſſured eye, Orontes, ſaid ſhe, our offences are equal: Thou haſt ſlain my Father, and I thy Son. This Diſcourſe will inform thee that I am Menalippa; I have executed a vengeance due to my hand only, and committed a Crime in thy opinion, whereof I neither can nor will repent; give that then to the revenge of thy Son, which I have given to a perſon more dear to me than ever Alcamenes was to his Father: spill my blood, I have ſpilt thy Sons, and thou ſhalt ſee I will implore thy Clemency neither by word nor ſigh; but if thou thinkeſt any thing due to the dignity of my Birth and Sex, ſuffer me no longer to languiſh under theſe ſhameful Irons wherewith I am laden, and preſerve at my death that honour which I have inviolably kept through the moſt unhappy accidents of my life.

Thus ſpake Menalippa with a countenance which made Orontes judge that the fear of Death was the leaſt of her care, and he was ſo moved by her looks and Diſcourſe, that had Menalippa been guilty of any other Crime than the aſſaſination of Alcamenes, ſhe had overthrown all his reſentments againſt her; but Alcamenes was too dear to Orontes, and the Act of Menalippa appeared too cruel, to ſuffer him to ſubmit ſo ſoon to thoſe tenderneſſes which ſhe might have raiſed in another heart. And beholding her with eyes wherein were repreſented the different motions of his paſſions: Cruel and inhumane perſon, ſaid he, What fury could ſtretch thy barbarous Arm againſt the boſom of the unfortunate Alcamenes? And what offence haſt thou received from a Prince, who gave thee his heart at that time when thou didſt aſſault his life with ſo much inhumanity? Tis with too much injuſtice that thou ſayeſt our offences are equal; thou haſt ſlain a Prince who adores thee, and who, notwithstanding the efforts thou haſt made againſt his life, breathes not but to love thee: And though I took away thy Fathers life, it was when he aſſaulted mine, his Sword in his hand, in a Battel, and in a poſture which hath left no reproach upon my memory, nor to thee or thine any just occaſion of reſentment; but if there remains any, why fell it not upon Orontes, but on the innocent [Page] Alcamenes? And wherefore ſparedſt thou not that heart-burning for thee, to carry thy rage againſt thy Fathers Murtherer? Ah! doubtleſs the loſs of my life was not capable of ſatisfying thee, and thou haſt with reaſon fancied, that in taking away my Sons, thou ſhouldeſt deprive me of mine, with a double portion of torment; I have offered thee this unfortunate Prince, whom thou haſt taken from me, and with him my Empire, in a time when I could have made thee periſh, with the reliques of that Army, which miſguided Rage had conducted into my Countrey; poſſibly, this offer had not been diſadvantagious for Menalippa; and Alcamenes was great enough both by his Actions and Birth, to have found in any other heart ſave thine, another manner of acknowledgment.

The afflicted Father ſpake thus, and would have extended his reproaches to a further length, if Menalippa (who, truly touched with compaſſion for him, though her unhappy Error ſuffered her not to be ſo for Alcamenes) had not interrupted him, wiping away ſome tears which ſprinkled her Cheeks.

King of Scythia (ſaid ſhe) though I will not ſeek an excuſe for the action which I have done, yet I proteſt to thee before the gods, that it was not to be revenged on Orontes, that I puniſht Alcamenes; and that I never entertained any hatred againſt thee which was not guided by reaſon, or which was capable of carrying me to any particular deſigns either against thine or thy Sons life; but know, that I have puniſht Alcamenes for his own fault, and that I had never aſſaulted his life, had he not taken out of the World by the moſt unworthy and barbarous treaſon, all that I could love amongſt men, and all that could carry me to theſe extremities, which may make it appear to thee that I am weary of my life: Thou ſhalt know no more, and Heaven is my Witneſs, that I would never have ſaid ſo much to any one elſe; diſpoſe now of my deſtiny at thy pleaſure, preſerve only in my death the reſpect due to the modeſty of my Sex, and the dignity of my Birth.

The tears which the remembrance of Alcimedon drew from Menalippa's eye, ſtopt the courſe of her words, and the King ſhaking his Head at her Diſcourſe, teſtifying the little Credit he gave to it: Thoſe reproaches of Treaſon and Unworthineſs (ſaid he) wherewith thou abuſeſt Alcamenes, will find little faith amongſt men, with whom his Actions are clear enough; and if he hath ſlain any one that was dear to thee, it muſt have been in Battel, or in ſome of thoſe Combats which thy Rage hath raiſed againſt him. But Alcamenes is not yet dead, and if it pleaſe the gods to leave him with me, I ſhall have generoſity enough to return thee free into thy Countrey, and forget, in favour of thy Sex and Beauty; and Alcamenes love, the bloody injury thou haſt done me; but if my Son dyeth of the wound received from thy hand, by the immortal gods I will not leave his death unpuniſht; were Alcamenes dead, I would loſe that life without regret, which I only preſerve for his ruine, and in which there remains nothing which can make me deſire its conſervation.

Theſe words made the King judge that the Soul of Menalippa was poſſeſt with a powerful deſpair, and he began to believe that her hatred might have another foundation than the King her Fathers death; yet quite tranſported with grief and anger as he was, he commanded them to take away the Irons from her hands and feet, and to give her Garments conformable to her Sex (if ſhe would,) and inſtead of the Goal an Apartment in the Palace, with order to guard her carefully, yet ſo, that ſhe might taſte nothing of Captivity ſave that of a Priſon.

Menalippa praiſing the moderation of Orontes, and unable to diſapprove his reſentments, had ſome regret for his grief, and, being diſcharged of her Irons, ſhe retired into the appartment they offered her, where ſhe put on womans Cloaths, not thoſe they preſented, becauſe they were her Enemies, but ſuch as ſhe cauſed Beliſa to carry with her, ſhe refuſing any other attendants. Whilſt the wounded Prince diſputed betwixt life and death, his wound being ſo great that a complexion leſs robuſt than his could not have one moment ſurvived the cruel ſtroak; he paſſed the Night with great weakneſs, and the day following when they took away the Playſters, the fear ceaſed not; and the Chirurgions only ſaid, as the day before, there were ſome hopes, and though his cure was difficult, yet was it not impoſſible. As they permitted not the Prince to ſpeak, ſo they permitted only ſuch to ſtay in his Chamber that were neceſſary for the preſent neceſſity, and it was in this ſolitude and ſilence that they perceived this poor Prince (whoſe judgment in ſpight of his feebleneſs and violent Feaver was intire and ſound) ſtudying upon his adventure unable to imagine by all conjectures that his wound came upon any other account ſave Menalippa's. The King would not tell him what he knew, for fear the News ſhould increaſe his misfortune and affliction, by letting him know that Menalippa had been charged with Irons, and dragg'd to a Priſon; but that which the Princes thoughts were moſt buſied on, was, that the Sword wherewith he had been wounded remaining after the blow in his body, he believed that by [Page] this Sword he could clear himſelf of part of his ſuſpitions, and having called one of thoſe which ſerved him, he commanded to bring it to him; it was remarkable enough through the beauty of the Hilt, to have cauſed ſome one in the Chamber to have it carried it away, but by Fortune it was left, and preſented to the Prince, who no ſooner caſt his eyes upon it, but he knew it for the ſame he had along time worn under the Name of Alcimedon, and which he had given to Cleomenes with the reſt of his Arms, and which he ſaw in Menalippa's hand in the firſt Combat: This ſight made him imagine that it was by Menalippa's hand he had been wounded, and calling to mind that little of her face which appeared as ſhe fell on him, and remembring the Letter which Merodates received from her by Leander, whom he believed to be ſtill in her Service, he no longer doubted but that it was from Menalippa that he received the wound. This knowledge was the Parent of different thoughts, and if it redoubled his grief to ſee the continuation of Menalippa's hatred, he received alſo much conſolation through the belief he had, that, to pleaſe Menalippa before he dyed, he could not dye more gloriouſly than by her hand; he rouled this thought ſometime in his mind without ſpeaking, at laſt raiſing his voyce with a weak and an unaſſured tone: Ah (ſaid, he) the gods be praiſed, I dye by the hand of Menalippa. He repeated theſe words divers times: and, a little after, Well Menalippa (added he) ſince 'tis your Will that I dye by your hand, I willingly imbrace it, and ſhall receive my death with an intire joy, if I may be permitted to kiſs the hand that gave it. He ſtopt at theſe words, caſting his eyes ſometimes on the fatal Sword, and ſometimes on thoſe that ſtood round about him, who conjured him to be ſilent, if he deſired to preſerve his life; but they were much more aſtoniſhed, when after he had kept ſilence ſometime; But why, ſaid he, do I oppoſe my ſelf to Menalippa's Will, ſince ſhe thruſt not this revenging Sword into the odious body of Alcamenes, but that he ſhould dye thereby? What ſhould oblige me to ſuffer theſe Remedies, which are contrary to Menalippa's intention? In ſaying thus, he would have carried his hand to the binding of his wound, to tear them off; but thoſe which were with him knowing his intention, had laid hold of his hands, which by reaſon of his weakneſs were eaſily maſtered, whilſt others went, to advertize the King, who was in a Chamber by, and who never but almoſt by force left his Sons Bed-ſide. Alcamenes ſtayed his hand when he ſaw the King, for whom he had alwayes a great reſpect, and this afflicted perſon who came to know the cauſe of his Deſpair, telling him with are proach, full of tenderneſs, that he could not neglect his own life without hazarding that of his Fathers: Alcamenes inſtead of anſwering to this Diſcourſe, beholding the King with a paſſionate Aire: My Lord (ſaid he) Menalippa is in your hands, in the Name of the gods hide not from me where Menalippa is: The King, who imagined he could not long conceal the Truth, confeſt it all, and told him that for his ſake what reaſons ſoever he had to the contrary, he had taken Menalippa out of Priſon, diſmiſt her Chains, and given her an Apartment in the Palace, with order to ſerve her like a Princeſs of her Birth.

Alcamanes peaceably hearkned to the King, and when he had left ſpeaking, My Lord, (ſaid he) if you love the life of the unfortunate Alcamenes, Treat Menalippa not as his Murtherer, but as his Princeſs and Soveraign Queen; in taking away mylife, ſhe only takes her own; and when ſhe pierceth this heart by a thouſand wounds, ſhe only outrageth her ſelf. In the Name of the gods, my Lord, Order, that inſtead of Priſons and Irons, that they give her Crowns and Scepters, if ſhe will receive them from us; and if ſhe refuſeth them from an Enemy, detain her no longer in a Captivity which cannot but be odious to her, and cauſe her to be conducted into Dacia with an Equipage ſutable to ſo great a Princeſs, and the Heir to ſo great a Kingdom. Do me this favour, my Lord, if you will that I dye ſatisfied, or live ſo long as the gods ſhall pleaſe to permit; and in reward of that fidelity which I will preſerve for this memorable Princeſs to my Tomb, obtain the favour of her, my Lord, that, before my last ſigh I am injoy her ſight a moment, though it be only to receive reproaches from her fair mouth, which will make me either the more contentedly dye, or give forces to prolong this life as you deſire. He had ſaid more, if the King (who beheld with what paſſion he made this Diſcourſe) had not left him, promiſing to indeavour what he deſired, on condition that he would perform his part for the preſervation of his life.

Alcamenes promiſed the King all that he would, that he might obtain what he deſired; and the tender King without deferring it longer, went into the Apartment, where they guarded Menalippa.

This Princeſs, who had appeared before him with ſhame in a mans Habit, had now taken the Garments of her own Sex, and the King ſeeing her in a poſture wherein ſhe had not appeared unto him, could not refuſe her the reſpect due to ſo extraordinary a beauty, and his heart being touched to the quick with Alcamenes's deſire, he accoſted the Princeſs no more as a Criminal, but as the abſolute Miſtreſs of his Sons Deſtiny, and tendring her the honour [Page] due to her Quality: Princeſs (ſaid he) Alcamenes dyes as you deſire, and the ſooner, cauſe you deſire it; he ſhall dye full of diſſatisfaction, if he firſt ſees you not free, and conducted into Dacia, ſo ſoon as you deſire, in a condition conformable to your Birth; I vow I ſhould not have been ſo generous as to have permitted you to depart gloriouſly with the life of my Son, and of a Son worthy a better Deſtiny; but ſince it is his Will, and poſſibly the laſt Will of this unfortunate Prince, you are free, and may depart this odious Countrey when you pleaſe. I only ask this one thing of you, if the prayers of a King whom you have rendred the moſt unhappy Prince upon Earth, may touch you, that you will permit Alcamenes to ſee you a moment, and give you his laſt adieu. This favour (ſuch as it is) is poſſibly due to the reparation of the injury you have done me; and it ought not to be refuſed to a Prince, who receives from you his Deaths wound with ſo much reſpect and reſignation.

Menalippa was not only aſtoniſh't at theſe words, but ſhe alſo reſented a mortal affliction to find ſo much generoſity in perſons againſt whom her hatred ought to extend, even to the utmoſt extremities. And unable to diſſemble the firſt reſentments that preſented themſelves to her ſpirit, Immortal gods, cryed ſhe, can it be that a man who by ſo much wickedneſs hath arm'd me againſt his life, ſhould teſtifie ſo much vertue in the reſt of his Actions? Or muſt it be that Barbarians become innocent, only to render me more guilty? My Lord, continued ſhe (turning towards the King) I will ſee Alcamenes, ſince you deſire it; not as the price of that life and liberty which you offer me, and which I refuſe; nor to expreſs any Repentance of the evil I have done him, but to make him confeſs before you, as he confeſt to me in our Combat, that 'tis not the Fathers offence which hath arm'd me againſt the Son, and that the cruel Treaſon which he hath committed, is worthy of a death leſs glorious than that which poſſibly he hath received from the hands of Menalippa; your intereſt in his misfortune hath touched me, and I ſhall be well ſatisfied that you learn from his mouth that which will partly juſtifie the injury I have done you. In ſaying theſe words, ſhe walked towards the Apartment of Alcamenes with the King who accompanied her, followed by Beliſa, who left her not, and gave no time to the King to advertize the Prince of her coming.

The Curtains were drawn in Alcamenes's Chamber to exclude the light, and the Bed was placed in a corner ſo obſcure, that one might enter the Chamber, and approach the Bed without beholding his face; but the paſſionate Prince beheld attentively that of the fair Princeſs, and was ſo ſtrucken, that his forces were unable to ſupport him. Menalippa, unwilling to make a long ſtay in the Chamber of Alcimedon's Murtherer; and deſiring to explain her ſelf in a few words, ſhe caſt an aſſured regard on that ſide where ſhe ſaw the Prince, and doing violence to her ſelf that ſhe might ſpeak: Alcamenes, ſaid ſhe, I come at the deſire of the King thy Father, to preſent thee the face of that unplacable Enemy whom thy black Treaſon hath arm'd againſt thy life, even to the laſt moment of hers; 'tis thy Crime and thy Deſtiny which hath rendred me cruel, and not my inclinations; and thou art not ignorant that that black Action which the forreſts and obſcurities have hid, hath made me return into thy boſom ſo juſt a vengeance. Declare to the King thy Father that which thou didſt confeſs to me, or rather diſcover a Crime whereof thou didſt boaſt in our Combat; Modeſty hath made me hitherto hide the intereſt I have therein, even in the extremities whereto it hath carried our lives; I will paſs by thee (whom I have no intent to ſatisfie) and give thee to the juſtification I owe to the King thy Father, that which I have refuſed to the repoſe of the Queen my Mother, if the gods will prolong thy dayes, and defend them againſt the Arms of Menalippa: after the ſight and repentance of thy Crime thy life will be more tranquill; and if it be their Will that thou dyeſt of the wound I have given thee, thou wilt juſtifie me amongſt men, and make that known for a juſt vengeance, which by miſunderſtanding paſſeth for an effect of rage and cruelty. I am not troubled at the loſs of my life, if in ſacrificing thine I have ſatisfied the Ghoſt of him I love: Thus ſpake Menalippa, and ſhe might long have ſpoken without the Princes interruption; for it was the ill Fortune of Alcamenes, that he was faln into a Swoon, without which, he had ſpoken, and made himſelf known to Menalippa, and by that diſcovery had finiſhed thoſe cruel Traverſes which ſo long had perſecuted his life; but the gods would not that this hour ſhould be the laſt of his ſufferings.

When he came to himſelf, and conſidered the condition wherein he was, and called to mind all that had paſt, his memory gave him occaſion enough to exerciſe all his vertues, and he had certainly need of all his conſtancy, and all the iudeavours of the King, to conſent to the care that they took of his life, which promiſing to permit, he ingaged the King to ſet Menalippa at liberty, and the King gave him his word that the next Morning ſhe ſhould depart [Page] with an honourable Train, which ſhould conduct her even into her Mothers Arms. They ingaged themſelves on this manner one to the other by this mutual promiſe, and if the Father ſacrificed to the love he bare his Son all his reſentments againſt Menalippa; Alcamenes diveſted himſelf for his Fathers ſake of all the averſion he had to life, and reſolved to ſuffer thoſe remedies, either in hope they would be fruitleſs, or out of Deſign that, in caſe he eſcaped this wound, he would ſeek Menalippa in Dacia, and dye there before her eyes. When the King was gone out of his Chamber, he ſent for Soſthenes, one of the two Squires that had ſerved him in his Travels; the other had been killed in the firſt Battel, and this returned to the City but the day before, from a Government which the King had given him Alcamenes by his ſwooning had loſt part of thoſe words which Menalippa ſpake, yet heard enough to underſtand that ſhe accuſed him of ſome wickedneſs and black Treaſon: As he knew himſelf blameleſs in any thing ſave the innocent change of his Arms, and the ſuppoſition of Cleomènes; he would let Menalippa underſtand before his death part of thoſe things he had to ſay to her; ſo that cauſing Soſthenes to draw near his Bed (whatever the Phyſitians could ſay to the contrary) he cauſed him to write that which with much pains he dictated, ordaining him to give it to Menalippa after his death: this being finiſhed, and his ſpirit left to its laſt reſolutions, he appeared more quiet than before: he inquired concerning Merodates's health, commanding their attendance on him, with as much care as on himſelf, charging his Servants to excuſe him, being hindred by his wounds from rendring him thoſe aſſiſtances which he ought.

He returned thanks to all the principal Scythians, who ſtirred not from his Anti-Chamber, enquiring continually concerning his recovery, and in all things he gave them reaſon to judge that his ſpirit was much calmed; but though this appeared with probability enough, it is alſo certain that Alcamenes's grief was now come to its utmoſt extremity.

In the mean time Menalippa having demanded permiſſion to viſit Merodates, teſtified to him, by the moſt obliging words her grief and natural fierceneſs would permit, her acknowledgment of the Service he would have done her, and her ſorrow to ſee him wounded for her intereſts; but ſhe was aſtoniſht when ſhe heard Merodates, inſtead of the paſſionate Diſcourſes he uſed to make, to ſpeak of nothing but the vertues of Alcamenes, teſtifying the diſpleaſure he reſented at the wound ſhe had given him, proteſting that if it pleaſed the gods to ſave him, he would diveſt himſelf for his ſake, of all thoſe thoughts he had entertained for her, adviſing her to change her hatred into acknowledgment and love, and a firm deſire of rendring him poſſeſſor of that happineſs, who of all men breathing did moſt highly deſerve it.

Menalippa was ſo angry at theſe words of Merodates in favour of Alcamenes, and Alcimedon's Murtherer, that, having expreſt her reſentments by angry looks, ſhe left the Chamber without Reply.

Yet could ſhe not hinder the ſtrife of different thoughts which combated in her breaſts: and that rage which ſhe preſerved againſt Alcimedon's Murtherer, left room for a reflection on the love and perſeverance of a Prince who dyed by her hand with ſo much reſignation, who deſired ſhe might be treated with ſo much reſpect, even then when he felt the pains of that Death which ſhe had indeavoured to give him, and who in theſe laſt ſighs of his life could never be drawn to the leaſt complaint againſt her.

Her implacable fury could not hinder the Entertain of ſome tender thoughts, and it is certain that, had ſhe believed Alcamenes guilty of any other Crime than the Death of Alcimedon, ſhe would have given the Garland to pity, which combated her other reſentments with a powerful force: Immortal gods (ſaid ſhe) that the wicked and cruel Treaſon of Alcamenes ſhould be comparable with his Vertues! And could he, who teſtifies ſo much Valor and Generoſity in Combats, ſo much perſeverance and love to his pitileſs Enemy, and ſo much conſtancy in his Death, ſhould be the man who in the obſcurity of a Wood by the help of twenty men ſhould murther the innocent Alcimedon? Injurious fortune! muſt the wicked and perfidious become vertuous, only to render me Criminal? haſt thou not made me ſee, haſt thou not made me love, haſt thou not made me loſe the unfortunate Alcimedon, all to arm me againſt thee as an unfortunate Alcamenes?

From hence making a reflection upon her paſt Fortune, and the preſent condition of her life, all her conſtancy could not divert a River of tears which powred down her fair Cheeks, paſſing the reſt of this day, notwithſtanding the comforts her faithful Beliſa indeavoured to give in moſt mournful and deplorable imployments: But if the day was cruel to her; the inſuing Night was nothing leſs ſad, and having ſufficiently tormented her ſelf by the remembrance of Alcimedon and Alcamenes, ſleep at laſt rendred it [Page] ſelf Maſter of her Senſes. After many confuſed Viſions, that Alcimedon, whom ſhe had continued in her thoughts, preſented himſelf before her in a Dream: He appeared as he was when moſt dear to her memory, though pale and covered with blood, having his ſide pierced with a great wound like that which ſhe had given Alcamenes; the beloved Prince ſeemed to point at the wound with one hand, and ſtretching forth the other with a paſſionate Action: Menalippa (ſaid he) ſee how you recompenſe my love, behold the performance of your ſpecial promiſes! you have thruſt the ſteel unprofitably into my Breaſt, for againſt a heart which hath alwayes adored you, there needs no other arms than thoſe of your hatred; behold this blood which you have cruelly ſpilt! and pour forth the reſt, if you are ſo thirſty after it; but remember that you indeavour your own misfortune, and that you cannot perſecute my life as you do, without ſubmitting your own to new afflictions; content your ſelf at leaſt with the evils you have already done me, ſeeing that even in juſt occaſions of anger and hatred, you ſee me alwayes ardent, alwayes faithful; bend your ſpirit to the pity you owe me, and the love you owe your ſelf.

Thus ſpake the beloved Phantaſm to the ſleeping Princeſs, who was ſo touched with the Viſion, and the paſſionate Diſcourſe, that her ſleep departed, leaving ſuch as impreſſion upon her, that in opening her eyes, ſhe fancied that the dear Image appeared. She found her ſelf waſht with tears, and although after ſome moments ſhe was able to diſtinguiſh a Dream from a real Apparition, yet could ſhe not but ſtretch her Arms on that ſide whither ſhe thought the ſpirit of Alcimedon retired, and calling him back with a voyce interrupted by ſighs: Return my dear Alcimedon (ſaid ſhe) and ſee that 'tis into the boſom of Alcamenes that I have thruſt my revenging ſteel, and not into thine: Tears were too feeble to ſatisfie what I owe thee, and ſince it muſt be blood, who's more fit than thy Murtherer's? Already he draws towards his end, and inſtead of ſolliciting me to haſten the hour, thou indeavoureſt to touch me with pity for that inhumane Act; but think not that I can be ſorry for your Aſſaſine, and conſider that whether in abandoning a dear Mother, a flouriſhing Kingdom, and leading a life expoſed to many dangers, a reputation committed to the opinions of men, and all to revenge you, I have not given ſufficient Teſtimonies that I dearly love you. She made many more Diſcourſes of this Nature, and at laſt changing the Subject for Alcamenes: Wherefore deluding Alcamenes (ſaid ſhe) doſt thou rob me of Alcimedon's face, it is to diſarm me of my juſt anger, whoſe laſt effects thou mayeſt well fear? Ah! rather take the odious ſhape of mine Enemy, and if thou eſcapeſt this wound, live if thou canſt in ſafety from Menalippa's fury, which thy ſubmiſſions had almoſt diſarmed: She talked long after this rate, tormenting her ſelf all the Night, and in the Morning ſhe roſe early, but ſo troubled at her Dream, and the Ideas which it had left in her ſpirit, that ſhe was ſcarce capable of any Diſcourſe.

So ſoon as ſhe was dreſt, the Prince of the Maſſagetes entred her Chamber, and told her from the King that ſhe might depart ſo ſoon as ſhe pleaſed, and that if ſhe thought ſit, an honourable Train ſhould attend her from Serica to the Metropolis of her Kingdom.

Menalippa was confounded at Orontes's bounty, and was even upon the point of repenting the evil ſhe had done him, but (whilſt ſhe prepared her Anſwer, and was thinking in what manner ſhe ſhould receive her Enemies offer) ſhe ſaw Soſthenes enter her Chamber with the Letter which Alcamenes had dictated.

Menalippa received, opened, and read it, not knowing what to do in the trouble that poſſeſt her, and had ſhe conſidered ſhe would not poſſibly have received a Letter from Alcimedons Murtherer; but full of pre-occupation, ſhe read theſe words,

The Dying Alcamenes, to the pitileſs Menalippa.

WEre not death more dear and glorious to me from your hand than mine own, I had proſecuted your Deſign; but if it be poſſible I will dye by you, as I dye for you; and if (by the anger of Heaven) this glory is refuſed me, I will ſeek my conſolation in the felicity of pleaſing you, and render you in Dacia this Head which you have devoted to your reſentments; it is not juſt that you ſhould come to ſeek with ſo much pain and peril here that which is your own, and which I would have offered to you had you not prevented me. The gods know it was alwayes my Deſign to obey you, and I deſire them to abandoned me to diſgraces yet more great (if it be poſſible) than thoſe I have already reſented, if the Crimes you reproach me of, are known to me, or if I think my ſelf culpable of any offence towards you, ſave when I lifted my ſacrilegious hand againſt you. I have given the better part of my blood towards its reparation, [Page] and if there remains one ſigh to compleat your ſatisfaction, I will chaſe (O Menalippa) the unfortunate Soul out of my dying body, leaving it not ſo much as a receptacle upon my lips, unleſs to expreſs the laſt accents of the dying Alcamenes's love. Go then, fair Princeſs, into what place ſoever you will, either dead or alive, I will ſend the ſpirit of Alcimedon to you; he will ſhew you the wound which you have made, and a heart where, instead of Alcamenes whom you ſeek to deſtroy, you can only harm Menalippa; pardon me the injuries which you have received in this barbarous Land, whoſe Crown Alcimedon promiſed to, and Alcamenes deſtined for, you; and do me the favour to believe, that you might without danger, trouble, or diſpleaſure, have ſeen the laſt moments of,

ALCAMENES.

Though Menalippa read the beginning of that Letter without any particular emotion, yet thoſe parts of it wherein he mentioned Alcimedon, where he threatned to ſend the ſpirit of Alcimedon, to ſhew her the wound ſhe had made, ſo troubled her, partly to comprehend the ſenſe of thoſe ſtrange words, and the conformity they had with her Dream (the Idea of which was ſtill freſh in her memory) and wherein the ſpirit of Alcimedon which Alcamenes threatned to ſend, had already made its firſt appearance; that there ſcarce remained either Reaſon or Diſcourſe in her; ſhe was exceedingly aſtoniſht, how Alcamenes ſhould know that Alcimedon had promiſed her the Crown of Scythia, and in this mixture of different thoughts ſhe fell into the extremities of confuſion: What Fortune is mine, ſaid ſhe, within her ſelf? and with what manner of man have I to deal? who could not only kill Alcimedon, but alſo diſpoſe of his ſpirit after death, and know the moſt ſecret of his thoughts whilſt living. Her ſpirit being imbroyled on this manner, ſhe knew not what preſented it ſelf to her eyes or thoughts, at laſt lifting up her eyes, which had been fixt on the ground, and faſtning them on the face of Soſthenes, whom ſhe had ſeen a thouſand times in Dacia with Alcimedon, ſhe preſently knew him; this ſight and knowledg plunged her into a great perplexity, and being forced to take her Bed through weakneſs, which but a little before ſhe had left, and caſting moſt paſſionate regards upon the face of Soſthenes, Are you not call'd Soſthenes, ſaid ſhe, and did you not ſerve Alcimedon whilſt he was in Dacia? I have ſerved him many years, ſaid Soſthenes, and to him have I dedicated all the dayes of my life. How couldſt thou then (replied Menalippa) without horror come near his Aſſaſine? I have not done it, reply'd Soſthenes, but in obedience to his Command: and the perſon of his Aſſaſine is ſo dear to him, that I cannot render him a more agreeable Service, than in promoting that paſſion which he will preſerve for her even to his Tomb.

How, replied Menalippa? Doth the ſpirit of Alcimedon ſtill love the perſon of his Murtherer? She ſtayed a while at theſe words, and (not giving Soſthenes time to ſpeak) 'Tis no marvel, added ſhe, that this generous ſpirit came whilſt I ſlept, indeavouring to diſarm my ſpirit againſt Alcamenes: and I begin to underſtand his threat of ſending the Ghoſt of Alcimedon to me, though I cannot imagine what power he hath ſo to do. But, Soſthenes, ſince Alcimedon hath ſo dearly loved Menalippa, and that Menalippa hath preſerved ſo much amity for Alcimedon, Wherefore, after the loſs of your Maſter, have you not, after Leanders example, fix't your ſelf in Menalippa's Service, but in that of Alcamenes. This Diſcourſe began to trouble Soſthenes, imagining (with ſome movements of pity) that grief had diſturbed Menalippa's judgment; but as he was preparing a Reply, Leander entred the Chamber, quite out of breath, and accoſted the Princeſs with a mighty aſtoniſhment: Madam, ſaid he, I come to tell you News that will certainly ſurprize you, and fill you with Repentance for many of your Actions. Menalippa, whoſe ſpirit was already very unſetled, had not power to anſwer, which Leander taking for a permiſſion to ſpeak: Madam, purſued he, in paſſing through the next ſtreet, I ſaw two men fighting with a mighty animoſity; I drew near to part them, but juſt as I came, one of the two having received a mortal wound, fell at my feet, I drew near to help him; but whilſt I was upon this friendly office, I ſaw my ſelf incompaſſed with a great Number of others, who came upon the ſame Account. Your ſuccours are unprofitable, ſaid the wounded perſon to me; I perceive I muſt dye, and the gods who at this time have juſtly deſerted me, have permitted this in puniſhment of the Murther I committed on the perſon of Alcimedon: Theſe words exceedingly ſurprized me. How, ſaid I, are you one of thoſe that Alcamenes made uſe of to kill Alcimedon? Alcamenes (replied this man) contributed nothing to the Death of Alcimedon, it was by the Command of Orchomenes King of the Nomades, whoſe Subject I am and who with Nineteen more of my Companions, murthered that valiant man near the City of Nicea. Alcamenes was ſo far from being Alcimedon's Murtherer, that he revenged it on the perſon of Orchomenes, whom he ſlew in the Battal. Theſe words having [Page] thruſt me into a marvellous aſtoniſhment; Friend (ſaid I) in the Name of the gods hide not the Truth of that Relation which you have begun, it is of ſo great importance, and will conduce to the juſtification and repoſe of ſome ſo conſiderable perſons, that you may expect very great Rewards, if the gods ſpare your life.

I pretend no longer to life, reply'd he, and in the laſt moments thereof I ſhould be ſorry to lye, in charging my ſelf with a Crime which will render my memory odious: That which is only like to juſtifie me, is, that Orchomenes was my King, and that I am a Nomadian by birth, and at that time commanded thoſe Troops which compoſed his Lifeguard. Then related he to more than Fifty perſons that were preſent, that Orchomenes having nouriſht a violent hatred againſt Alcimedon for the death of his brother, and the impriſonment himſelf ſuffered by his Valor, no ſooner ſaw this Prince return to the Dacian Camp, but he deſigned his death, and immediately after his departure from the Queens Tents, cauſed ſome to obſerve which way he went; and being informed, he commanded me to take twenty more of my Companions, and attend Alcimedon's return, and kill him how he could, promiſing exceſſive recompences, and giving part before hand. This order was punctually obſerved, for the innocent Alcimedon the next Morning caſt himſelf into our Ambuſcado, where he was born to the Earth, and pierced with twenty wounds in the face and throat: Thus, Madam, did he declare the circumſtances; ſo that there is no reaſon to doubt but that it was ſo carried; a little after, notwithſtanding all our indeavours to prolong his life, till the end of his Confeſſion, he dyed in our Arms, and I ran with all diligence to relate the News, which will be confirmed by more than fifty Witneſſes.

This was Leanders Relation, and Menalippa had too much confidence in his fidelity to doubt the Report, and ſo called no other Witneſs; but when ſhe made reflection upon the dying words of Alcimedon, who had uttered no other Name but that of Alcamenes, her confuſion remained, and could perceive no light in theſe contrary appearances. It is true (ſaid ſhe aloud) 'tis true, that Alcamenes hath teſtified too much vertue in all his Actions, to be guilty of ſo black a Murther, yet it is true, replied ſhe, that Alcimedon did name Alcamenes, and Alcamenes himſelf ſeemed to confeſs the Crime, and to glory in the death of Alcimedon.

The Prince of the Maſſegetes, who was preſent all this time, underſtood nothing at all, and Soſthenes who underſtood a part, was ignorant of the reſt, and more aſtoniſht than any. He knew the Prince had never told the King his Father any thing of thoſe Adventures which hapned to him under the Name of Alcimedon; ſo that before the Prince of the Maſſegetes, he would not ſpeak more clearly to Menalippa, not utter thoſe things which his aſtoniſhment had put into his mouth; but beholding her in a ſtrange perplexity, and mortal inquietude: Madam (ſaid he) you may believe Leanders Relation, and if you will but ſee Alcamenes this one time, I dare promiſe you that you will be certainly convinced, it was not he who ſlew Alcimedon. The Princeſs (confounded) raiſing her ſelf at theſe words: Yes, Soſthenes, ſaid ſhe, I will reviſit Alcamenes, and this Truth which I deſire to know, is ſufficiently important to make me paſs beyond my reſentments; I cannot underſtand after thoſe words I heard from him, how he could be innocent of Alcimedon's death? but if he be really ſo, I will ſo repair the Cruelties which I have exerciſed towards him, that I am ſure he will grant my pardon. At theſe words ſhe aroſe, and deſiring Soſthenes to demand the Princes leave to ſee him, ſhe followed him immediately, and was almoſt ſo ſoon there as he.

The Prince (whoſe wound had made many promiſes that day of amendment) and the King who was with him, underſtood with aſtoniſhment her demand; nor could they divine the cauſe, though the Prince imagined his Letter had done it; and reſolving his ſpirits againſt any thing cruel or funeſt that could arrive, he prepared to receive this ſecond Viſit of Menalippa with more courage than the former, and the King thought he ſaw ſome beams of joy darting a good augure from Soſthenes's face.

Menalippa entred the Chamber, followed by Leander and Beliſa, but it was with leſs fierceneſs, and more ſweetneſs than formerly. The King cauſed a Chair to be ſet for her by Alcamenes's Bed, where being fate, Alcamenes, ſaid ſhe, (with an aſſured countenance) I come to make that reparation which I owe to you if you are innocent, or which I owe my ſelf if you are guilty of that Fact which I would have puniſhed by the loſs of your life; I will make a confeſſion of that before the King, and other perſons here preſent, which I refuſed to confeſs in the extremities of my life to my own Mother; and which I would never confeſs to any, were my own life only intereſſed therein. I have loved (ſince I muſt acknowledge it) with an innocent affection the valiant Alcimedon; his Birth was never known to me, though I am not ignorant that it was of the moſt illuſtrious amongſt men; [Page] but I have loved in him all the vertues, and with ſo much innocence and purity, that this aſſeveration makes me not bluſh. I have loſt him by a diſmal accident, on that day he ſhould have fought with you: I ſaw him mortally wounded, under thoſe Arms known to all Dacia by the brave Actions he performed under them; and as he was giving up the Ghoſt in my Arms, I demanded the Name of his Murtherer, and could draw nothing out of his mouth, but (the Prince of Scythia.) That which I owed to his revenge made me forget my Sex, love liſted me a Souldier, and I covered my ſelf with the Arms of my dear Alcimedon, to revenge him by the death of Alcamenes; and it hapned that, in that Combat, you ſpake to me of Alcimedon, and boaſted that you had puniſhed his boldneſs, uttering whatever could confirm me in the opinion I had conceived; you know what effects it hath produced ſince: love rendred me furions to revenge him I loved; and I have not ſpared your life, having firſt expoſed mine to all manner of diſgraces. You have accuſed me doubtleſs of cruelty, but you would rather have excuſed me, were my paſſion ſufficiently known to you. In brief I have believed you the cruel Murtherer of my beloved Alcimedon; but this day that belief hath been ſhaken by contrary appearances; the King of the Nomades is accuſed of this Fact, and I have rather believed it of him, than of ſuch a Prince as Alcamenes, in whom I have alwayes found too much vertue to have believed him ſo guilty, had not mine eyes and ears impoſed a contrary opinion: Many things do perſwade me that you are innocent, and the ſpirit of Alcimedon it ſelf reſiſted this Night the reſentments I had againſt you, and complained of the wound you received from me, yet it was from Alcimedon's own mouth that I learnt his deſtiny, and you your ſelf ſpake to me of Alcimedon, as of a perſon whoſe moſt ſecret thoughts you knew: My Soul is ſo troubled at ſo many contrary appearances, that I know not whereon to rely; and I ſhould loſe my judgment, but that Soſthenes makes me hope that you will draw me out of this cruel uncertainty; if you are innocent of this Crime, I will repair with the laſt drop of my blood, the injuries I have done you; if not, I will endeavour to ſatisfie Alcimedon's Ghoſt, by ſacrificing my own life, not indeavouring any thing more againſt yours, which after the generous treatments which I have received from the King your Father, and your ſelf, I cannot attempt without ingratitude.

Thus ſpake Menalippa. And Alcamenes (who called all his courage to his aſſiſtance) loſt not one of theſe words: But! O gods! what expreſſions can repreſent the ſtate of his Soul, at this change of his Fortune! He apprehended at the ſame time, not only that he was not hated by Menalippa, not only that her great Soul was touched with pity for him, and that he now ceaſed to be the object of her cruel hate which had produced ſo many funeſt effects; but alſo, that all thoſe violent demonſtrations of her hatred againſt Alcamenes, were the moſt tender and moſt paſſionate proofs of her love to Alcimedon; in ſhort, the wound he had received, the blood he had loſt, the dangers he had run, both from the hand of Menalippa, and all thoſe Enemies whom ſhe had raiſed againſt him, were ſo many teſtimonies of the moſt violent love he could have deſired his Princeſſes heart to be poſſeſſed with.

Certainly (great Ladies) it will be very hard to apprehend to what extremities this knowledge carried him, and if grief had almoſt caſt him into the Tomb, joy wanted but little of producing the ſame effects; he ſtrove with it a long time, knowing he ſhould need all his Forces to reſiſt it; and though he could not become an intire Maſter, yet he obtained ſo much of his patience, as was neceſſary to advance his Fortune to the uttermoſt, He remained a long time unable to ſpeak, and gave Menalippa leaſure enough to interpret his ſilence amiſs, but having diſſipated part of that which impeded his Diſcourſe: Yes, Menalippa, ſaid he, Alcamenes hath puniſhed the audacious Alcimedon; but Alcimedon, (too glorious to be beloved of Menalippa) hath forgiven Alcamenes thoſe things he made him ſuffer; and Alcamenes cannot complain of Menalippa's cruelty, if Menalippa ſtill loves her Alcimedon.

He ſpake only theſe few words, and there needed no more to make Menalippa know the beloved voyce of Alcimedon; Beliſa and Leander who knew it (notwithſtanding the reſpect of the place) cryed both together: and the Princeſs impatient, or rather tranſported, drew the Curtain to view Alcamene's face, and there found, maugre its paleneſs, all the lineaments of Alcimedon. A while ſhe reſiſted theſe appearances, which ſhe could not but ſuſpect, comparing what ſhe ſaw, to what ſhe had ſeen; the Prince perceived her aſtoniſhment, and taking courage from his good Fortune: Doubt not, Madam, ſaid he, that this Alcamenes whom you have ſo hated, is the ſame Alcimedon whom you confeſs to have ſo dearly loved; and, as you never declared to the Queen your Mother the affection you bear Alcimedon, ſo did I never acquaint the King my Father, that Alcimedon was Alcamenes.

[Page] Him whom you ſaw exſpire under mine Arms, was without doubt the unfortunate Cleomenes, whoſe ſtory you ſhall know hereafter: and if you remember the words I ſpake to you in the Combate, you will judge that Alcamenes as Alcimedon, might ſpeak them of Alcimedon: And laſtly, Madam, (continued he, taking one of her fair hands, and preſſing it with a thouſand fiery kiſſes) the ſame Alcimedon who promiſed you the Crown of Scythia, is ſtill in a condition of making you the ſame offer, through his Fathers bounty; and if you will permit him to paſs at your feet, the reliques of that life which the Gods ſhall afford him, you will too generouſly repair thoſe evils he hath ſuffered by you, and thereby render me as happy and glorious, as even now I ſuppoſed my ſelf miſerable.

Alcamenes added many words to theſe, during which, the Princeſs was partly recovered from her aſtoniſhment, and poſſeſt with ſo immoderate a joy, that it had likely to have proved mortal. After a ſtrong reſiſtance, neither modeſty, nor the Kings preſence, could hinder her from throwing her arms about his neck; and preſſing him with ſo much affection, that the Prince, unable to reſiſt ſo dear carreſſes, had almoſt fainted in her arms: Alcimedon, ſaid ſhe! my dear Alcimedon! expreſſing by theſe words only, the tenderneſs of her heart, better than by the moſt eloquent ſhe could have ſpoken; a River of tears (whoſe courſe ſhe could not reſiſt) ſucceeded, and oppoſed themſelves to all the tumultuous expreſſion ſhe would have uttered: but having given to her joy, all that ſhe could not refuſe to Alcimedon living, ſhe began to conſider Alcimedon dangerouſly wounded by her own hand, and this conſideration had almoſt carried her into her former tranſports of grief. How often in a moment did ſhe ask pardon for her cruelty with a torrent of tears? how did ſhe deteſt that cruel hand which gave the unhumane blow? and, how often did the tranſported Prince proteſt, that her greateſt favours had never been ſo ſweet as this precious wound, which had given him ſo infallible a proof of her affection for Alcimedon? I ſhall abuſe your patience (great Princeſſes) if I draw this diſcourſe to a greater length, and ſince there is nothing more conſiderable to ſay, I ſhall conclude in a few words.

The firſt tranſports being over, the King drew near to participate in the common joy, and having joyned to the pardon which he begged of Menalippa for his reſentments againſt her, his thanks for her affection to Alcimedon, he underſtood by Leander and Soſthenes, all his Son's adventures, to the leaſt particulars; and Menalippa recounted the cauſe of her errour to proceed from Alcimedon's change of Arms with Cleomenes; and Alcamenes learnt poor Cleomenes's fate, whereof till then he had been ignorant.

The wound of Alcamenes was the only obſtacle to their happineſs, and it pleaſed the Gods that within a few days they loſt their fears of him, and a little after he quitted his Bed and Chamber, recovering with his fortune his ſtrength and courage, though with diſpleaſure to ſee himſelf ſo ſoon cured of a wound, which he had received by a hand ſo dear, and upon an account ſo glorious.

He was ſcarce cured, when the King, having obtained Menalippa's permiſſion, ſent the Princé of the Tauro-Scythes to the Queen Amalthea, to relate the wonderful adventures of theſe two Lovers, and demanded her conſent to the Marriage: To which ſhe agreed with exceeding joy, and a ſatisfaction much more intire, when ſhe underſtood that Alcamenes, whom ſhe had ſometime ſo hated,, was Alcimedon, whom ſhe ſo dearly loved: She ſent into Scythia the flower of her Court, to aſſiſt at the ceremony of ſo famous an Alliance; and the Prince Barzanes, raviſht with joy at the fortune of his friend, and pardoning him the refuſal of his Daughter, was the chief of that proud Ambaſſage. At laſt, they arrived at Serica, where Alcacamenes excuſed his ingratitude to Barzanes, and received him with all the careſſes and honour he could have rendred to the King his Father; and his power from the Queen of Dasia was no ſooner underſtood; but all things were prepared for this famous Wedding, which a few days after (with all imaginal pomp and ſatisfaction to the two Lovers, in the injoyment of a happineſs which had been croſt by ſo many traverſes of Fortune) was accompliſhed.

Merodates (intirely cured) aſſiſted at this famous Marriage, not teſtifying the leaſt regret; and having promiſed to Alcamenes an eternal friendſhip, returned into his Kingdom, whence, as I learned ſince, he carried a War into Thrace; and there loſt his life, having acquired a beautiful reputation by many Victories.

It is ſome five or ſix years, ſince the concluſion of the Amours of Alcamenes and Menalippa; and it is certain that their love hath ever ſince continued in its primitive ardour; and that Alcamenes contemplating daily the admirable vertues of the Queen his Spouſe, hath alwayes conſidered her as a divine perſon.

[Page] The King Orontes dyed two years after theſe Nuptials; and it was about the time of Alcamenes's Coronation that I arrived in Scythia, where I had the honour to be known by this great Prince, and where I took care to inform my ſelf particularly of his memorable adventures.

Thus finiſhed Megacles his long relation, poſſeſſing both the Princeſſes with admiration, which they expreſſed by divers Queſtions, notwithſtanding the preſſures of their own misfortunes.

After this converſe, Megacles cauſed Supper to be ſerved in, and a little after gave them the good night; both the Princeſſes lying together, fought to unbend their cruel inquietudes, by ſome moments of repoſe.

The End of the Eighth Part of Cleopatra.

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA; OR, Loves Maſter-piece. Part. IX.

[Page]

LIB. I.

ARGUMENT.

The two Princeſſes Cleopatra and Artemiſa, compare their Misfortunes, and compaſſionate and comfort one another. Artemiſa, out of her Love to Alexander, and the Deſire ſhe had to be acquainted with her future Relations, entreats Cleopatra to give her an account of her Brothers and Siſters. Cleopatra relates the Hiſtory of Julius Antonius, Antonia, and young Ptolomy. Julius Antonius, riding a hunting one day, is thrown by his Horſe; and relieved by an unknown Lady, whom he falls paſſionately in love with. Lucius Scipio is in love with Emilia, the Daughter of Statilius Scaurus. Being a friend of Antonius's, he carries him to ſee his Miſtreſſe, where, by a fatall chance, he meets with the unknown Lady, who proves to be Tullia, the Daughter of Cicero. She abhors Antonius, as being the Son of Anthony and Fulvia, who had put Cicero to an ignominious and cruel death. Tullia is courted by Cecinna, with the approbation of her brother Quintus Cicero, who bringing her one day to the Amphitheatre, to ſee the combats of certain beaſts, Antonius hath another ſight of her, but is much troubled at her kindneſs to Cecinna. She ſhews him a box, wherein was her own picture, which he going to return her, it ſlips out of his hands into the Area, where the beaſts fought. Antonius, perceiving how much Tullia was troubled at it, out of an extravagance of paſſion, leaps down into the Area among the beaſts, and takes it up: but bringing it to her, out of a confidence ſhe would take that expreſſion of his love with civility, if not with kindneſſe, ſhe, out of the horrid averſion ſhe had for him, would not receive it: whereupon he keeps it, proteſting he would never reſtore it to any hands but her own. Cecinna, meeting him afterwards alone, demands the box of him, which Antonius refuſing to deliver him, it begat a duel, wherein Cecinna is killed. Upon which accident, as alſo at the requeſt of Tullia, that he would not appear in her ſight again, Antonius leaves Rome, and is never after heard of.

THE ſlumber of the two fair Princeſſes could not be long, not only becauſe the night was far ſpent before they fell afleep, but alſo becauſe the importunate reſentment of their misfortunes would not permit a reſt of any great continuance. They had hardly opened their bright eyes to receive in the light, but they opened them withal to let out tears:and it could hardly be diſcerned whether came out of their mouths firſt, or certain broken ſighes or ſome mournful expreſſions. The dawning muſt needs be full of affliction, that was to be delivered of a day ſo fatal to theſe two deſolate Princeſſes: for neither could the great courage of Cleopatra, nor the reſignation of Artemiſa fortifie them, ſo as to entertain with conſtancy, the firſt idaea that preſented it ſelf to their imaginations, of the miſery they were to expect. Artemiſa, having been awake ſome few minutes, and beſtowed her firſt reflections on the memory of her Alexander, turns to the Princeſſe Cleopatra, and putting forth her arm to embrace her, ſhe felt her give a little ſtart, and turning from her to the other ſide with a certain action, wherein ſhe obſerved no ſmall diſturbance; Thinking her ſelf obliged to be as tender of the concernment of that dear Siſter of hers, as of her own: ſhe haſtily asked her the reaſon [Page] of it; and the fair Daughter of Anthony, uſhering in her anſwer with certain ſighs, Siſter, ſaid ſhe to her, the affliction I am in does not only diſturb my reaſon, but it is as unmerciful to my ſenſes; and my deluded imagination, having while I ſlept entertained me with the idaea of Coriolanus, hath brought in to my ears, the ſound of his very voice, and cauſed me to hear certain words, which I ſhould be confident could proceed from no other mouth than his, were I not now ſatisfied, to my confuſion, that it is onely to my imagination, that I muſt attribute theſe deplorable effects of my affliction. Inexorable, and yet unfortunate Princeſs, (ſaies that known voice) I muſt then be content to loſe you for ever. Theſe few words are all I heard, or, to ſay better, thought I heard but the ſound; I have ſome time been ſo well acquainted with, hath made ſuch an impreſſion in my hearing, that, with all the aſſiſtance of my reaſon, I can hardly be perſwaded, that I have not heard the very voice of Coriolanus. 'Twas with that reflection that I ſtarted as you felt, and turning to you that I looked wiſh'dly about me through that remainder of the impreſſion, which my errour had left in my thoughts.

Such was the diſcourſe of Cleopatra; and Artemiſa approved her opinion: but it was not long ere ſhe fell into another imagination which might have added very much to her affliction, had ſhe faſtned her thoughts on it: for ſhe imagined for ſome minutes, that Coriolanus, killed in the combat wherein ſhe had left him ingaged; it might haply be that his ſpirit, wandring about that which he had ſome time dearly loved, had entertained her with thoſe paſſionate words. This reflection found at firſt ſome little entertainment in her mind, and might have done abundance of miſchief there, had ſhe afforded it any long entertainment: but that being ſuch in her, as was not capable of ordinary weakneſſe, that extravagance was ſoon diſpell'd by the light of her reaſon and communicated to Artemiſa, who gave it more credit then ſhe had done. For the Armenian Princeſſe was eaſily drawn in, to think the opinion very probable, and ſoon perſwaded, that if it were true, that Cleopatra had heard certain words pronounced by a voice, like that of Coriolanus, 'twas, queſtionleſſe, the ſpirit of that unfortunate Prince, dead in the combat, wherein they had left him with little aſſurance of his ſafety, that ſpoke them to the Princeſſe he had ſo dearly loved while he lived, and whom haply he ſtill loved, even after his death. From the opinion ſhe had conceived of the death of Coriolanus, ſhe derived all the affliction her vertue could give her for a Prince, whoſe extraordinary endowment deſerved a better fate; and the friendſhip ſhe had for Cleopatra, for a man, who (how angry ſoever ſhe might ſeem to be, and how highly ſoever ſhe might diſguiſe her ſentiments) was much dearer to her, than her life. Certain it is, that what ſenſe ſoever ſhe might have of her own misfortunes, it abated nothing of what ſhe conceived for ſo great a loſſe, ſo that to the tears ſhe ſhed for her own unhappineſſe, ſhe added ſome for the death of Juba's ſon. But when, reflecting on her fortune, ſhe paſſed from one conſideration to another, and was ſatisfied that ſhe might mind her own intereſt with thoſe of others, without any breach either of friendſhip or generoſity, ſhe thought, that, if Coriolanus were, for certain, dead, (an accident ſhe neither could nor would conceive, without an extraordinary affliction) it might occaſion no inconſiderable alteration in Cleopatra's condition and her own, and that, it being not impoſſible, Cleopatra's inclinations might change, when the object of her affections were in the grave, if ſhe could conſider the love of the King her Brother, with other eyes than ſhe had done before, and be perſwaded by time and neceſſity to marry him, that Prince, how exaſperated ſoever he might be againſt Artemiſa and Alexander, would not onely pardon them for Cleopatra's ſake, but would, no doubt, confirm their marriage, and ſuffer them to enjoy in quiet what they had ſought with ſo much trouble and danger. To this happineſſe would be added alſo that of having Cleopatra, for whom ſhe had a paſſionate affection, her Siſter two ſeveral wayes, inſomuch, that this reflection flattered her into a hope that was not unpleaſant. True it is, that ſhe could not raiſe it to that height, as to reflect on the death of Coriolanus without grief, but rather that ſhe was content to ſeek out ſome comfort in her misfortunes, without intrenching ſo much as to the leaſt wiſh, upon what ſhe ought the vertue and friendſhip of Cleopatra. Yet durſt ſhe not communicate this reflection to the deſolate daughter of Anthony, conceiving, not without reaſon, that ſuch a Diſcourſe would not be delightful to her: but ſhe felt her reſolution growing ſtronger and ſtronger by that glimpſe of hope, and betrayed in her countenance, more ſetledneſſe and leſſe ſorrow, than ſhe had done the day, nay indeed, for ſome minutes, before.

This little alteration happened in her thoughts, at the ſame time that thoſe of Cleopatra met with ſuch another; for that fair Princeſſe, out of motives quite contrary to thoſe of Artemiſa, had juſt then faſtned on reſolutions, worthy the Cleopatra's. She had hardly well fixed on them, but, not able to diſguiſe them either by her countenance or her diſcourſe, [Page] ſhe embraced Artemiſa, with a geſture leſſe ſad than all the precedent; and letting her read in her eyes part of what paſſed in her ſoul, Siſter, ſaid ſhe to her, Let us not weep any longer, but rather hope, from the aſſiſtance of the Gods and our own Courage, the remedy of our misfortunes; it may be our unhappineſſe will not be ſo great us we were afraid it may; and if our hard fates reſerve us for what we fear as moſt inſupportable, we ſhall not want the aſſiſtance of our vertue, either to overcome, or to entertain it as we ought. For your part, Siſter, I hope it will be no hard matter to pacifie the King your Brother; and I think it not impoſſible, you and Alexander may come together: and for me, I can eaſily contemn whatever may happen to me, when I do life it ſelf. Ever ſince the cruel confidence I have had of the infidelity of Coriolanus, I value it ſo little that I ſhould not be much troubled to loſe it, when ever it ſhall pleaſe my ill fortune to put me into any ſuch exigency; and if the King your Brother violates the reſpect due to me, or do any thing that ſhall make my captivity inſufferable to me; I ſhall free my ſelf by the ſame courſes the Queen my mother took to avoid it; and I have that example ſo much before my eyes that I were unworthy the name I bear, ſhould I ſeek for aſſiſtance any where elſe while I have that of my own courage. This reſolution once taken, I no longer fear the King of Armenia, and ſince I hope no more of Coriolanus whether dead or unfaithful, I look on whatever may happen to me, in a manner with indifference, and ſhall entertain it haply with a conſtancy whereof the very example may add much to yours.

No doubt but Artemiſa found ſome comfort in this diſcourſe of Cleopatra, not that ſhe approved that hope, which the daughter of Anthony grounded only on a contempt of life, but was glad to ſee her in a quieter poſture then ſhe had been in before: and though ſhe had not the confidence to diſcover to her the reflection that had found her the entertainment of ſome few minutes, yet was ſhe of a belief that time might ſo diſpoſe of her as to endure ſuch a diſcourſe, and that in the mean time ſhe might admit a converſation leſſe afflictive than that wherein they had already paſſed away ſo many cruel hours. Accordingly, no ſooner were theſe two Princeſſes reſolved to ſubmit to what the uncertainty of fortune might caſt upon them, but they ſeemed to be quite changed from what they were; the current of their tears was dried up, and by degrees they paſſed to ſome diſcourſe different from that of their preſent misfortune. Yet could not Artemiſa give over diſputing in favour of Coriolanus, and would maintain againſt Cleopatra, that after the laſt expreſſions he had given her of his affection, in his forſaking of his kingdom, the trouble it was to wander up and down the earth to find her out, and the late combat he was engaged in before their eyes, againſt thoſe that would have raviſhed them, ſhe could not be perſwaded he was unfaithful to her. Cleopatra, who would gladly have been induced to believe Coriolanus innocent, oppoſed what ſhe ſaid with the reaſons before alleadged, yet ſo as that through her arguments, might be perceived part of what Artemiſa repreſented in his favour. But at laſt this diſcourſe of a perſon, of whoſe life there was much uncertainty, adding to her grief, ſhe would needs change it, and put Artemiſa upon ſome other.

The love which that Princeſſe had for Alexander, made her deſirous to know, and willing to hearken to any thing that related to his family, as if ſhe had ſome concernment therein; and that conſiſting of divers illuſtrious perſons of both ſexes, Artemiſa, who had ſeen only Alexander, and Cleopatra, and young Ptolomey while yet a child, had the curioſity to deſire ſome account of the Siſters and Brothers of her beloved Prince. She had not the time to underſtand the particularities of their lives and fortunes, (for what ſhe had heard from Alexander, related to the time while they were yet very young, and not what happened to them ſince his departure from Rome:) but though ſhe would gladly have been informed of all, yet had ſhe a more particular inclination for the Princes Antonia, whom Cleopatra had mentioned very much to her advantage in her own Hiſtory, and young Ptolomey, of whom ſhe had heard ſuch beginnings, as gave many occaſion to conceive very great hopes of him. Cleopatra ſatisfied her as to all ſhe deſired; but afterwards obſerving, her deſign was to have a more particular knowledge of them, and thinking it cruelty not to comply with the affection ſhe expreſſed towards her houſe: Siſter, ſaid ſhe to her, I perceive you are not ſatisfied with the account I have given you of our houſe, and if we were in ſome other place, I had already entertained you with the diſcourſe, you would put me upon, of the fortunes of our neereſt relations: but, Siſter, the likelihood I am in to engage in a long relation much diſconſonant to our preſent condition, and ſuch as would require ſuch a freedom of ſpirit as I now have not as to narration, nor you to attention, deterres me.

Ah Siſter, ſayes Artemiſa, for my part, what misfortune ſoever I am perſecuted with, I cannot want the attention I ought to have for the fortunes of our Brethren; and if you can as well without inconvenience give me a particular account of their lives and affairs, as I ſhould hear it without paſſion, you would make no difficulty to undertake a relation, that may prove the greateſt caſe to my afflictions, that haply they are capable of. Not, Siſter, that I dare, [Page] without bluſhing, put you to that trouble, and if you think it fit that Camilla, or any other of your Women, who haply can ſatisfie me as to what I would know, ſupply your place, I ſhould make leſſe difficulty to abuſe her patience than yours, and ſhould nevertheleſſe receive the ſatisfaction I deſire. Siſter, replies Cleopatra, no doubt but Camilia is able to acquaint you with part of what you deſire, and would entertain you with adventures, ſuch as muſt needs be known to the perſons that were about us: but ſhe cannot poſſibly give you an account of ſome particularities, that haply went no farther than my knowledge, ſince it was to me more than any one elſe, that the perſons now to be ſpoken of, communicated their moſt ſecret ſentiments, and that it was in a manner in my preſence, that the greateſt part of the things happened. The relation will haply be ſomewhat long, (though it may not contain any great variety of adventures, and that in all likelihood I ſhall not be able to leave off when I would) but ſince I made a ſhift yeſterday to continue that which I had begun, of the Hiſtory of my own misfortunes, I hope I ſhall be as able to go through with this, and I ſhall endeavour all that lies in my power not to omit any thing that may any way ſatisfie your curioſity. Whereupon Cleopatra, preparing her ſelf for the narration, the two Princeſſes thought it their beſt courſe to lye ſtill abed, becauſe it was very betimes in the morning, and bid thoſe that waited on them, to prevent, as much as they could, any from coming to diſturb them. Camilia took that charge upon her, and ſo, not long after, the fair Cleopatra having beſtowed ſome few minutes to recall into her memory the things ſhe had to ſay, began her diſcourſe in theſe terms.

THE HISTORY OF JULIUS ANTONIUS, ANTONIA and PTOLOMEY.

BEfore I give you the account you deſire of the adventures of Ptolomey and Antonia, it will not be amiſſe, Siſter, to make mention of an Elder Brother we have had, & whom haply we have yet, though I ſaid little of him in myown Hiſtory, in regard it is ſo long time ſince we have either ſeen or heard of him, that we have acted hitherto as if there were no ſuch perſon in the World. His beginning diſcovered him not to be unworthy the blood of Anthony, and all things in him were great enough to reſcue him from the oblivion of his neereſt relations. But before I acquaint you with the firſt beginnings of his life, and the ſtrange accident whereby we loſt him, I ſhall tell you what condition the unfortunate Anthony left his family in when he dyed, though I doubt not but you have heard ſomthing of it from Alexander. I am eaſily perſwaded, Siſter, you are not to learn how that Anthony left ſeven children by three wives, by Fulvia, who was the firſt Antillus, and Julius Antonius, by Octavia, Caeſar's Siſter, the two Princeſſes, Agrippina and Antonia; and by Queen Cleopatra, Alexander, Ptolomey, and my ſelf. For the two daughters by Octavia, and for us, the iſſue of Cleopatra, we all had our education together, in the houſe of that Vertuous Princeſſe, with all the civilities and kindneſſes that could be expected from a moſt affectionate mother; and as to the two children of Fulvia, Antillus was killed not long after the death of our Father, by Caeſar's Souldiers, (his fate having proved not unlike that of our Brother Caeſarion, whoſe firſt eruptions, and the great inclinations he diſcovered, raiſed ſome jealouſie of him in Auguſtus, who for that reaſon took away his life) and Julius Antonius was provided for as we were by the indulgent [Page] Octavia: and not long after poſſeſſed of the houſe of Fulvia, and all the eſtate belonging thereto, with an addition of ſomewhat out of Anthony's. To be ſhort, his condition was ſuch, that he needed not envy the fortunes of any Roman whatſoever, and though he had not thoſe Kingdoms at his diſpoſal, which had been at his Father's, yet did he keep up our houſe in the greateſt luſtre it ever was in before the death of Julius Caeſar, and before Anthony and Auguſtus made themſelves Maſters of the Empire. He was elder than Alexander and my ſelf by ſeven or eight years, inſomuch, that within a ſhort time after our misfortune, and while we were yet brought up as children by Octavia, he was numbred among the young Princes that pretended to employments and opportunities of acquiring fame. He was certainly born to all the nobleſt and greateſt endowments, and though he were not ſo fair as Alexander, yet had he a high and majeſtick look, was of a proper ſtature, and wanted not any of thoſe advantages, either of body or mind, which could rationally be wiſhed in him. With this, his inclinations were abſolutely noble; he was wholly diſpoſed to the acquiſitions of vertue, and an earneſt ſuitor to thoſe opportunities which lead a man to glory. We cannot indeed complain, but that he expreſſed as great affection towards us, as we could expect from a Brother, and him a vertuous one: but in regard we were of ſeveral venter's, lived in ſeveral houſes, nay, that ours was in ſome ſort divided between him and us, and that even among the kindred of Fulvia, there was no ſmall averſion for the name of Cleopatra; certain it is, that our familiarity was ſo much the leſſe with him, and that he concerned himſelf leſſe in our Affairs, than if our family had not been diſ-united: which is the reaſon that you have had ſo little mention made of him in the firſt beginnings of the life of Alexander and mine. Whence yet I would not have it thought, as I told you, that we can reproach Julius Antonius with any backwardneſſe to do all the civilities and good offices we could expect from his friendſhip; but that when any great emergencies interven'd, he was no longer among us; and it is upon that account that I have been deſtitute of his aſſiſtances in all thoſe occaſions which the love of Coriolanus hath furniſhed me with, to make uſe of them, and of which I have already made you a relation.

You have, I queſtion not, underſtood, from Alexander, as alſo from me, all the particularities of our youngery ears; but to give you an account of Julius Antonius, I am to tell you, that after he had attained perfection in all thoſe exerciſes, that are proper to perſons of his birth, he was no ſooner arrived to an age fit to bear arms, but he ſought out the wars with much earneſtneſſe, and ingaging himſelf in the armies of Dalmatia, Pannonia, as alſo that which Marcus Craſſus conducted againſt the Baſternes, and having gone through all employments and charges ſuitable to his age, with all the good ſucceſs imaginable, he acquired a noble ſame, and gave the World ground to conceive as glorious hopes of him as of any other whatſoever. Being, after ſeveral years ſpent in travel, returned to Rome, he ſetled there, and was honoured by all, nay wanted not from Caeſar himſelf more then ordinary expreſſions of eſteem and affection. He was at firſt eſtabliſhed at the Court among perſons of the higheſt rank, ſo far, that onely Marcellus, and the children of Livia, particularly favoured by Caeſar, ſeemed, by reaſon of the advantage of their fortune, to aim at higher pretences. His expence was noble and magnificent, his diſpoſition inclined to do civilities and to oblige, and his whole deportment ſuch as all the World approved, and were ſatisfied with. Accordingly, he ſoon got him a great number of friends, and, thoſe onely excepted, whom the diviſions of Rome, and the diſtractions of the Triumvirate had made irreconcileable enemies to our houſe, there were very few of the Roman Nobility, who had not a particular eſteem for him, and courted not his friendſhip. When he went to Auguſtus's Palace, he was attended by a gallant retinue of young Gentlemen. In all publick ſhews, and all Aſſemblies that met either at the Empreſſes, or at the young Princeſſe Julia's, he alwayes had the general acclamations: and it was already the ordinary talk in Rome, that, if Fortune were any thing favourable to him, he would raiſe the houſe of Anthony to the height of luſtre it had been in ſome few years before. But it was not the pleaſure of the gods, he ſhould continue long in that condition, and the quiet that he himſelf loſt after a very ſtrange manner, proved the occaſion of our loſing of him to our no ſmall grief. Now, Siſter, ſhall you hear ſomething which you will haply be aſtoniſhed at, as to the parallel you will find there is between the fate of Alexander and that of Antonius; whence you will haply imagine, that fortune treating them as Brothers, would needs have ſome conformity between their adventures.

Among thoſe exerciſes of the body he was moſt addicted to, Antonius was the greateſt lover of hunting, and uſed it very often. To that end being gone adays journy from Rome on the Tuſculum▪ ſide, where the Country is very pleaſant, and very fit for that kind of divertiſement, he paſſed away certain dayes there, with abundance of ſatisfaction. [Page] The laſt of thoſe he intended to beſtow on that exerciſe, being, as he was hunting a Stagge, forced to croſſe certain woods in the purſuit, he came into a very pleaſant valley, where putting-on his Horſe very negligently down a little deſcent, and along the ſlippery graſſe, he ſtumbled, but ſo of a ſudden, that he could not get his feet out of the ſtirrups, nor prevent the horſe falling upon him ſo violently, that having knocked his head againſt the root of a tree, he was not only ſenſe-leſſe for the time, but received alſo a very conſiderable wound. A further misfortune was, that none of his fellow-huntſmen being mounted comparably to him, or having taken other wayes, there was not any one of his people neer him, to afford him any aſſiſtance in that condition, ſo that he lay groveling on the ground, ſenſe-leſſe, loſing blood; and being much in need of help, when certain perſons that paſſed by in a Chariot, in a way not far off, drew neerer, and came out of the Chariot to relieve him. They were in number three, and they women, without any man with them, but he that drove the Chariot, and certain ſlaves that followed it. She of the women that ſeemed to be of the greateſt quality, perceiving my Brother to be in the ſad condition I told you of, was extreamly troubled for him. and concluding otherwiſe by his countenance, and the ſumptuouſneſſe of his cloaths, (though he had onely a riding ſuit on) that he was of no mean condition, ſhe ſeemed very much inclined to do him all the good ſhe could. She firſt looked on the wound in his head, which ſhe found not to be very dangerous, yet did ſhe not think it amiſſe to put ſome linnen to it, which ſhe tore off the cloaths of her maids.

While ſhe was thus employed, Antonius, whoſe greateſt hurt proceeded from the ſenſe-leſſeneſs he had been in, comes to himſelf, and opening his eyes, ſaw that he was under the hands of thoſe fair and officious Surgeonneſſes. He was not a little aſtoniſhed at the adventure, and though he were in ſome doubt of the truth, nay, remembred that he had ſeen the Chariot as he came into the Valley, yet could he neither forbear being ſurprized at the firſt, nor afterwards divert the amazement with the ſight of ſo beautiful a perſon, as ſhe that ſtood by him, put him into. He caſt his eyes upon her, yet without ſpeaking, and viewed her all over ſeveral times, in ſuch a manner, as eaſily betrayed his admiration. He had indeed ſome reaſon to look on her with a particular attention, for there was both in her countenance and her perſon, what might very well faſten the eye, and fetter the imagination. Her ſtature was of the nobleſt, and her deportment diſcovered a certain grace that was wholly particular. All the features of her face were regularly well drawn, her mouth extreamely handſome, her hair of the faireſt flaxen that could be, and her eyes were animated by ſomething ſo ſparkling, and withal ſo paſſionate, that, among the greateſt Beauties the earth affords, there is not haply any one ſo fit to produce a ſudden effect, and to imprint ſomething of paſſion in a ſoul capable thereof. In fine, whether ſhe were truly ſuch, or that the inclinations of Antonius repreſented her as as ſuch, ſhe ſeemed to him a very Admirable Perſon, and he looked on her a long time with a certain aſtoniſhment, without ſo much as being able to open his mouth to acknowledge the good office ſhe had done him. But at laſt he abſolutely recovers himſelf as well of his ſurprize, as the ſenſe-leſſeneſſe occaſioned by his fall, and conceiving himſelf to be in a very undecent poſture, before a perſon he thought worthy all poſſible reſpects, he would needs riſe up, but he could not do it without ſome difficulty, as having his leg a little cruſhed by the horſe that had fallen upon it; inſomuch, that when he was got up, being not well able to ſtand, he was forced to lean againſt a tree, where, minding not ſo much the pain he felt, as the noble adventure he had met with, he at laſt broke forth, and looking on that fair Lady, with an action that already ſpoke ſomething that argued abundance of paſſion, I know not, ſaid he to her, fair, or rather, divine, Lady, what acknowledgments I ought to return your Goodneſs, for words will be but weak expreſſions thereof, if you do me not an abſolute favour, by affording me ſome occaſion to return you part of what I owe you. The aſſiſtance you have received from me, replies that excellent perſon, with ſuch an accent as diſcovered ſomething ful of charm, is no more then what we are obliged to do to all thoſe that ſtand ſo much in need thereof as you did, and particularly to thoſe, who, as you, carry about them what diſtinguiſhes them from the ordinary rate of men. Your preſent condition is not, as far as I can judge, very good, and therefore if you pleaſe to make uſe of my Chariot, I will bring you to a place, where you may receive the helps you ſtand in need of, better then you can here; Theſe words came from her (as Antonius hath related ſince) with ſo much kindneſſe, inſinuation and majeſty, that he was infinitely taken with it, and felt at that inſtant, the ſudden quickening of a paſſion, which till then could never get entrance into his ſoul; inſomuch that he began to conſider her again with a geſture that expreſſed part of what he felt, and thinking it a diſhonour not to return ſome anſwer to ſo obliging a Proffer. I have not been able, ſaid he to her, to reſiſt the effects of your goodneſs, nor prevent your hands from taking the pains they have, becauſe I was in a condition that allowed [Page] me not the knowledge of your favours; but how precious ſoever I ought to account them, I ſhall not preſume ſo far upon you as to abuſe them, but be content to preſerve, till death deprive me of it, the glorious remembrance of thoſe I have received, without deſiring any other of you, which, being trouble ſome to you, might too much betray my incivility.

Thus did he endeavour to put off the civility of the Unknown Lady, wherewith yet he was at laſt willing to comply, out of the violent inclination he had to follow her: but juſt upon this comes in ſome of his people, and ſeeming to be not a little frighted at that adventure, they came about their Maſter, viewing him all over with much earneſtneſs, and holding him up under the arms to help him to walk. Antonius began to feel within him a wound, which took up his thoughts more then the hurt of his body, and ſo was deſirous, with aſſiſtance of his men, to get near that fair Lady, who was gone ſome few paces from him: but at the ſame time one of her Maids, having before ſpoken to one of Antonius his men, comes to her, and whiſpers ſomething in her ear. She had no ſooner heard what ſhe ſaid, but her colour changed. She ſeemed to be extreamly at a loſſe; inſomuch, that turning her back on the Prince, after ſhe had called her ſlaves to her, ſhe went to her Chariot, got into it, commanded it ſhould be made faſt, and to make all haſt thence. Antonius, more ſurprized at this accident then he had been at the former, it raiſed in him a certain vexation and aſtoniſhment, ſo that being ſtill between his people, he lift up his voice, the better to be heard by that fair Lady: How, Madam, ſaid he to her, do you forſake me ere you afford me the time to return you my thanks? I forgive them you, replied ſhe a little ſmartly, and you ſtand no longer in need of my aſſiſtance. The Prince was not able to maſter himſelf in the agitations, which ſo unexpected a ſeparation cauſed in him, inſomuch, that his impatience was ſuch that he ſpoke then what he would not haply have the confidence to ſpeak in a long time, had he been in another condition, Ah Madam, cry'd he, the pain I endure, is much very greater than you imagine, and the wound you have ſeen is very ſlight in compariſon of that which you have given me, Alaſſe, continued he, ſeeing her departing, and following her with his eyes, while ſhe made all the haſt ſhe could away, must I loſe you ſo ſuddenly, and with ſo much cruelty, without knowing either the cauſe of your departure, or my unhappineſſe? What have I done? What have I attempted? Or what have I ſo much as thought, that ſhould in a moment work a change in thoſe officious inclinations? Have you perceived in my heart the creation of your own eyes there? Or have you diſcovered therein any thing ſo injurious to your ſelf, as to arm, in an inſtant, with ſo much disdain, a mind wherein I had found ſo much goodneſs, and ſo much humanity? Theſe words he ſcatered into the air, while the Chariot drove on with all ſpeed, till that, not long after getting into a Wood, he quite loſt the ſight of it.

Antonius, over-preſſed with affliction, ſate him down on the graſs, whereupon reflecting on his adventure, he found ſo much matter to grive at, that it was with much ado that he admitted any the leaſt mitigation thereof. He was ignorant what motive could induce a perſon ſo officious, and one that had made proffers to him ſo full of obligation, after ſhe had aſſiſted him with her own hands, to exchange ſo much indulgence into ſo much diſdain; nay, he was to ſeek who that fair, good-natured, and ſcornful perſon was, from whom he had received ſo much good, and ſo much hurt; and what compleated his affliction, was, that he could not inform himſelf from any of his own people, who ingeniouſly confeſſed they had not the curioſity to enquire, though one of her Maids had come to them and learned his name, which it ſeems they made no difficulty to tell her. Antonius blamed them a hundred times for their ſtupidity, though they alleg'd by way of excuſe, that the diſturbance which his fall had put them into, ſo took up their thoughts, that they could reflect on nothing elſe. Being therefore deſirous to do all that lay in his power to learn out the name of a perſon, whoſe idaea was but too well engraven in his heart, he commanded one of his men to get on horſe-back immediately, and ride after the tracks of the Chariot, and without fail to find out ſome means or other to know the truth, and to come and give him an account of it at a houſe of Servilius's, which he named to him, that lay about two hours riding from that place, and upon the way to Rome. Having given him this order, he, with the aſſiſtance of thoſe that were about him, got on horſe-back, and though it was with ſome difficulty that he ſate, yet he made a ſhift to ride on eaſily towards Cervilius's houſe.

It were a hard task for me to repreſent to you the different reflections that exerciſed his thoughts all the way he rode; but certain it is, as he hath himſelf acknowledged ſince, that though he felt no ſmall pain in his body, yet he never ſo much as minded it; and that he had ſo deeply graven in his heart the idaea of a perſon, one while kind and obliging, and another, cruel and diſdainful, and yet both in her mildneſs, and in her ſcorn ever fair, and ever full of charm, that he was not one minute without it. What a fantaſtick adventure is [Page] this of mine? ſaid he. And what arms does Fortune intend to take up againſt me? Ought I to ſee that accompliſhed perſon in a condition, wherein her good offices had begun, what her fair eyes have compleated? or Could my ſoul, prevented by the obligation, be inſenſible as to beauty? But when I had ſeen her, when I was obliged to her for her aſſiſtance, when her beauty had enflamed me with love, muſt I loſe her after ſo ſtrange a manner, contrary to all probability, contrary to all rational order? and, what I think yet much more inſupportable, ſee her depart diſdainful, incenſed and exaſperated, from a place, where ſome few minutes before ſhe had appeared with ſo much goodneſſe? By what action have I incurred her diſpleaſure? or what could ſhe diſcover in my perſon, which ſhould oblige her, ſo of a ſudden, to exchange her firſt ſentiments, for ſuch as were abſolutely oppoſite thereto? Or is it poſſible ſhe may have truly read in my eyes the love which I already feel for her? or could ſhe look on that unexpected influence of her beauty, as an injury worthy her indignation, and this deportment of hers towards me?

Having thus for ſome time ſpent his thoughts on that part of his adventure, and paſſing to the other; But is it poſſible, added he, I ſhould commend, or be diſſatisfyed with anyone, and not know whom I either commend, or am diſſatisfied with? and ſhall I be long ignorant whom I ought to returne my thanks to, for the aſſiſtance I have received, or whom I ought to complain of, for the wound hath been given me? For, in fine, I feel, and that not without ſome confuſion, that I am really in love. Tis from the bloud of Mark-Anthony, who lived and dyed the moſt amorous of mankind, that I derive theſe amorous inclinations: for had I not been born of him, the charms of that Unknown Beauty had not produced ſo unexpected an effect.

Amidſt theſe reflections he comes to the houſe of Servilius, who chanced at that time to be there himſelf, and who having underſtood the accident had happened to him, cauſed him to be put into a bed, and to be attended with as much care and affection as might be. The hurt he had gotten by his fall was not ſo conſiderable, inſomuch, that before he leſt Servilius's houſe, which was about two or three dayes after, he had very well recovered himſelf: but that which troubled him moſt, was, that he could not learn any thing of what he deſired from the perſon he had ſent after the Chariot, who had brought him no other account, than that having loſt the track of it in the ſand, he had never been able to recover it again; and that, notwithſtanding all the enquiry he had made up and down the Villages thereabouts, yet could he not meet with any tidings of it. So that my Brother, being ſtill as ignorant as he had been before, after he had deſcribed the place as well as he could to Servilius, and given him all the marks whereby he might poſſibly know it, could not meet with any ſatisfaction at all, though Servilius, the more to humour him, had ſent for ſeveral other perſons, and had very diligently enquired of all the Ladies that might have any habitation near the place where the accident had happened.

Antonius having taken a great deal of pains in this buſineſſe to no purpoſe, returns to Rome with as much melancholy, and haply with as much love as ever man could be capable of. He diſſembled the cauſe of his affliction, as thinking it not fit to diſcover it, but to ſome few perſons, that were his very intimate friends, who were not a little aſtoniſhed at the adventure, and aſſiſted him what lay in their power, to find out the name of the perſon, whoſe image he had ſo deeply imprinted in his heart. Agrippa, to whom he had made a relation of this ſtory, and who was his very particular friend, had ſome diſcourſe with him of it, when ever they met together, and aſſiſted him what he could, (though as ineffectually as others) in the inquiſition he was ſo much bent upon. His melancholy was remarkable, and obvious to all the World: inſomuch that thoſe who knew him to be naturally of a cheerful diſpoſition, could not conceive upon what grounds his humour was ſo changed of a ſudden. It being about ſix or ſeaven years ſince what I relate to you happened, Alexander and I were too young to be admitted of his Privy Councel, ſo that it is ſince that I came to the knowledge of theſe particularities.

In the mean time Antonius, as to point of magnificence, lived much after the rate he was wont to do. He went dayly to the Emperour's Court, who had a very great eſteem and affection for him; and whereas the generous Octavia, his Siſter, with whom we were (notwithſtanding the ill treatment ſhe might have received from our Father,) had nevertheleſſe very great reſpects for his memory, ſhe was as earneſt for the advancement of thoſe children that he had by his other Wives, as ſhe could have been for that of herown, and that meerly out of the exceſſe of vertue that was in her. Thence was it that ſhe had a deſign to marry Antonius to one of the Daughters ſhe had had by Marcellus her former Husband, and who were brought up with us, without any diſtinction, as if we had been really Siſters: as conceiving that ſhe could not better diſpoſe of her Daughters than [Page] to beſtow them on the Sons of her Huſband, or rather, that ſhe could not do any thing more contributary to the advantage of the Son of Anthony than, by making him her Son in law, to make him Caeſar's Nephew, who was able to raiſe his fortunes to the higheſt pitch of greatneſſe. It was indeed an admirable expreſſion of the indulgence of Octavia, in regard that by way of addition to the merit of their perſon, which yet is extraordinary, her Daughters, whether we conſider their birth or their fortunes, were ſuch as there were no men in the World, who would not have been proud to ſerve them, upon the leaſt appearance of any ſuch pretention; nay, it might haply be affirmed, that, Julia onely excepted, they were the beſt Matches in the World.

You may well imagine that Antonius being acquainted with that goodneſſe of Octavia towards him, entertained it with all manner of acknowledgement and reſpect; but by reaſon of the misfortune whereby he was a little diſordered, he received it not with any great joy, but found it no ſmall difficulty to diſguiſe his reſentments as he was obliged to do. His love was not haply raiſed to that violence which it might have arrived to, by a further knowledge of the perſon beloved; yet was it ſtrong enough to maintain the Garriſon of his ſoul againſt the aſſaults and eruptions of another paſſion, and to ſatisfie him, though not without an extraordinary affliction, that, of neceſſity, he muſt either prove ungrateful towards Octavia, or oppoſe the advantages were intended him, or reſolve to do a thing, which, how advantageous ſoever it were, could not appear to be ſuch, nay, not indeed ſupportable to his prepoſſeſſed imagination. But it being withall certain, that he was a perſon of very great endowments, and a noble education, he neglected not to do what he thought requiſite, to expreſſe his acknowledgements to Auguſtus's Siſter, and forced his inclinations ſo far, as to do all thoſe devoirs and civilities, which he thought might be expected from him by the Princeſſe Marcella, (ſo was called the elder of the Daughters of Octavia by Marcellus her former Husband.) T was indeed with abundance of prudence and diſcretion, that he overcame the violence he did himſelf in that particular; but it was withal eaſie to obſerve, that he made it not his buſineſſe to aſſure himſelf of that good fortune ſo much as in all appearance he ſhould have done; or rather that he ſuffered thoſe that were employed about it, to beſtir themſelves, he doing little or nothing contributary thereto. Thoſe who made this obſervation were very much aſtoniſhed at the diſ-activity he expreſſed in an affair of ſuch concernment to him, and inſtead of imagining the true cauſe, were perſwaded that his indifference or backwardneſſe proceeded from the little inclination he naturally had to marriage in general, againſt which he had been often heard to ſpeak, and for which it was known he really had ſome averſion.

But when he had done all he thought himſelf obliged to by way of ſacrifice to that violence he had done his inclinations, and had ſome hours freely to diſpoſe of, his diſcourſe ran upon misfortune, and his entertainment was of a ſtrange poſture of his ſpirit, and the odde effects of his adventure. He did indeed endeavour all he could, to force out of his thoughts the inevitable Idaea which would have a place there, whether he would or no, and was ſo prejudicial to his quiet and his eſtabliſhment. Nay I know he did all that lay in his power, to get it thence; and it may be his endeavours had, with the aſſiſtance of time and his reaſon, proved effectual, if he had not afterwards met with ſomething, that inſtead of contributing to his recovery, confirmed him in his paſſion.

Among thoſe friends whom he accounted his moſt intimate and familiar, Lucius Scipio, of the illuſtrious houſe of the famous Scipio's, whoſe glory hath filled the univerſe, was the chiefeſt. He was a perſon not unworthy the name he bore, as being one, that while he was yet very young, the hope generally conceived of him, was, that he would not degenerate from his Anceſtors. He had a violent paſſion for Emilia, the Daughter of Statilius Scaurus, and being very free and open to Antonius, he had given him a faithful account of the progreſſe of his love, and had carryed him along with him to Emilia. But this affection of his being of no long ſtanding; Antonius's acquaintance at that houſe was not very great, beſides that it was haply the leſſe, by reaſon it had been contrary to our Father's party; nay I think he had accompanyed Scipio but once thither. It is ſeituated upon the Tyber, and the Garden, which is one of the faireſt about Rome, reaching down to the River-ſide, which is kept off by a Terrace with Pilaſters, very magnificent, and very commodious for walking. It being the faireſt ſeaſon of the year, Emilia came down thither ever night to take the freſh-air, and Scipio, out of a certain piece of gallantry, very ordinary in Rome, taking a little boat, and driving along the River to Scaurus's Garden, had often ſeen Emilia upon the Terrace, and, without quitting the boat, had had in that manner ſeveral converſations with her. And whereas the deſign he had upon the Lady, was approved by his friends, no body took any offence at, or cenſured his ſo doing; for [Page] ſince the houſe was alwayes open to him, the converſation of the Garden was not forbidden him

But meeting one evening with Autonius at Octavia's, he invited him to that divertiſement, and that he did the more freely, in regard he did not conceal any thing from him of his amorous adventures. The melancholy Antonius was content to accompany his friend to that walk, and being gotten into the boat with him, they went down the River towards Emilia's Garden. Antonius, out of a confidence not inferiour to that of Scipio towards him, had diſcovered his mind to him, and had fully acquainted him with that fatal adventure, whereby he came to fall in love with that Unknown Beauty, and which had changed his natural cheerfulneſſe into ſo much cloudyneſſe and melancholy Scipio had taken abundance of pains to get him the acquaintance of that Excellent Perſon, but his endeavours had proved as fruitleſs as thoſe of other people: now this conſideration being the ordinary employment of Antonius's thoughts, it proved alſo the ſubject of his diſcourſe with Scipio in the boat, and they talked of the conſequences of that accident, till they came, in ſight of the place where Emilia was wont to walk. It being as fair and pleaſant an evening as could be wiſhed, Emilia failed not to be walking upon the Terrace; where Scipio and Antonius had no ſooner diſcovered her, but they could perceive another Lady walking with her. The Waves of the Tiber did continually waſh the wall of the Terrace, ſo that Scipio could cauſe the boat to be brought as near it as he pleaſed, and the Terrace being of no great height, he could diſcourſe with Emilia, and not ſpeak any louder then ordinary, and diſcern all objects with eaſe, at a certain diſtance, which was not very great As they drew neer, Scipio, who knew not the Lady that was with Emilia, would have asked Antonius, whether he had any acquaintance with her: and Antonius, whoſe thoughts were otherwiſe taken up, and had not ſo much as looked towards her, thought to have a fuller ſight of her when the boat was come ſo neer as that he might eaſily diſcern her. But, at the ſame inſtant, ſhe, not deſirous it ſeems to be known, lets fall her vail over her face, and deprived them of the ſight of it; yet not ſo ſuddenly, but that the prepoſſeſſed Antonius could perceive ſome few raies of the ſame Beauty which he had ſo well engraven in his memory. This confuſed and imperfect glimpſe put him into ſuch a diſturbance, that he was no further concerned in the firſt interview between Scipio and Emilia, than a ſubmiſſive ſalute to Emilia and her Companion amounted to, on the latter whereof his eyes were ſo much the more faſtened, out of that ſuſpition that raiſed no ſmall tempeſt in his heart. At laſt he diſperſed that cloud which he thought his mind over-ſpread with ſo unſeaſonably, and with ſo little ground, and engaging himſelf in the converſation that was between Emilia and her Friend, he confirmed her by his diſcourſe, in the good opinion ſhe had conceived of him. Emilia's Companion ſeemed not at all concerned in their diſcourſe, though ſhe were ſtill in place, and it being her deſign not to diſcover her ſelf, ſhe accordingly was reſolved not to ſpeak at all. But Scipio having a particular curioſity to be acquainted with his Miſtreſſes's Friends of her own Sex, addreſſing his ſpeech to her: Since you are a Friend of Emilia's, ſaid he to her, can you have ſo much cruelty as to conceal your ſelf any longer from thoſe perſons, who of all the World, have the greateſt honour that may be for whatever is dear to Emilia? The Lady, who thought her ſelf obliged not to be altogether wanting in point of civility towards a perſon of ſo much worth as Scipio, eſpecially one ſhe knew to be much in the affections of her friend; or rather out of an imagination, that the accent of her voice would not be diſcovered by a perſon, with whom ſhe had not exchanged above three or four words in her life, would needs put her ſelf to the hazard of making him ſome anſwer. Seeing him therefore in a great expectation of it; Though I am a friend of Emilia's, ſaid ſhe to him, yet am I not any of thoſe you have ſeen about her before, and, for my face, it is ſo little known in Rome, that you would be never the more ſatisfyed, though you had your full ſight of it.

Thoſe few words were all they could get from her, but there needed no more to diſcover her to my Brother, and the accent of that voice came ſo full into his memory, that at the firſt ſyllable ſhe uttered, he knew her again as perfectly as if he had ſpent his whole life with her, and to the knowledge of her voice, adding the great trouble ſhe was in to conceal her ſelf, and the little glimpſe he had had of her face when ſhe covered, he was abſolutely ſatisfied ſhe was the ſame perſon, that, in ſo few minutes, had raiſed ſuch a combuſtion in his ſoul. Whence it came that he was at ſuch a loſſe at the rencounter, that he continued in ſuſpence for ſome minutes, between aſtoniſhment and joy; but at laſt not able to maſter his firſt reſentments, which abſolutely betrayed him to the mercy of his paſſion, and crying out with an action full of tranſportation; Ah Madam, ſaid he to her, though you are unknown to Scipio, you are not to Antonius, and the fatal aſſiſtance you once afforded him, hath left an impreſſion of you too deeply graven in his heart ever to miſtake you; [Page] however you may be pleaſed to conceal your ſelf from him. Tis you that a grateful inclination and a ſoul over-flown with the tendreſt paſſion ſeeks every where; and it is you alone for whoſe ſake I contemn all the Roman Beauties, nay, whatever the earth affords beſides.

He had ſaid more, his paſſion it ſeems ſuggeſting ſuch words as he could not forbear uttering, when that cruel Beauty deſirous to avoid all further diſcourſe with him, whiſpered ſomething to Emilia, and taking her by the arm, drew her along with her, hardly affording her the leaſure of a few words to excuſe her ſelf to Antonius and Scipio; ſo that ſhe was forced to leave them, to conduct her friend, who pretended to be indiſpoſed. If Antonius was ſurprized at this unexpected meeting with his Unknown Miſtreſs, he was no leſſe at her haſty departure; and if the one had raiſed a certain joy in him, the other cauſed in him an equal affliction, as being not able, without an exceſſive grief, to imagine that that very perſon, to whoſe ſervice he had devoted himſelf with ſo violent a paſſion, ſhould have conceived, for him, an a verſion as great as the love he had for her. He would have run after her, had it been in a place where he might have done it, but that ſatisfaction being not allowed him, he purſued her with his eyes as long as he could, and being in the boat he held his arms acroſſe, the ordinary poſture of a man in a confuſion; or, to ſay better, at an abſolute loſſe. O ye gods, cryed he at laſt, after he had continued ſome time in that condition, what fortune do you intend me, and with what new kind of misfortune is Heaven reſolved to perſecute me! This he ſeconded with a many other exclamations, which it were hard for me, and withal to no purpoſe, to repeat to you: but at laſt having fixed on ſome reſolution, he turned to his friend, who was in a manner as much aſtoniſhed at this adventure as himſelf, and looking on him with an action abſolutely paſſionate; Dear Friend: ſaid he to him, you are ſenſible of my preſent condition, and, I doubt not, are much at a loſſe to ſee the ſtrangeneſs of my fate. I, by an unexpected accident, light upon what I ſeek I know not where, and what I love, though it be unknown to me, and from this rencounter I derive no other knowledge then that of my own inevitable misfortune, ſince I cannot but apprehend, to my confuſion, that I am no leſſe hated then I am my ſelf amorous, and that this cruel Unknown Beauty abhorrs me ſo far, that to avoid me, ſhe forgets all Courtſhip and ordinary civility: It muſt needs, that Nature hath put ſomething that is odious in my perſon, that ſhould cauſe ſo ſudden and ſo ſtrange an antipathy between us, ſince I am confident it cannot proceed from any of my actions.

Hereupon he ſate ſtill for ſome minutes, while Scipio, no leſſe ſurprized then he, could not find any thing to ſay to him upon that adventure: ſo that reaſſuming the diſcourſe: If you have any affection or respects for me, ſaid he to him, as I ought not to queſtion but you have, you may do me a good office which I ſhould gladly return you in ſuch an emergency. My cruel unknown Miſtreſs is now at Emilia's, ſhe may not haply ſtay there an hour; and if I let ſlip this opportunity of knowing her, I ſhall not haply recover it while I live again, it being not to be doubted but that, when ſhe leaves Emilia, ſhe will oblige her to conceal from me what ſhe would have me ignorant of. When Emilia left us to follow her, ſhe forbad us not to come to her houſe, and conſequently without any fear of displeaſing her, you may bring me to that part of the houſe where ſhe lodges, where you have free admittance, and where we ſhall find her yet, provided we afford her not the time to be gone: ſo I ſhall ſee her through your means, I ſhall take acquaintance with her if I can, and ſhall endeavour to learn the cauſe of this violent averſion. As you respect the gods, Friend, deny me not this aſſiſtance, which you may not haply have the opportunity to afford me while you live again, in an exigency wherein my quiet is ſo much concerned.

He would have added other intreaties, when Scipio, who had abundance of affection for him, not ſuffering him to proceed: There is no neceſſity, ſaid he to him, to uſe ſo much ſollicitation to work out a quiet which is as dear to me as my own, let us go to Emilia's, ſince you deſire it; and let us hope, that, in caſe ſhe take any diſpleaſure at this action, ſhe may pardon it out of a conſideration of our friendſhip. Having taken this reſolution, they cauſed the boat to put off, and being brought as neer as they could come to the ſtreet, wherein was the great gate of Scaurus's houſe, they went about, and ſoon got thither. Scipio being much acquainted in the houſe, went ſtraight to that part where Emilia had her lodgings, where thoſe of the houſe were wont to ſee him almoſt every day; and, as fortune would have it, they were no ſooner come into her Chamber, but they preſently perceived Emilia and her Companion; who, ſtanding neer a window, with their backs turned to it, were fallen, as they inferred from their geſture, into a very ſerious diſcourſe. Antonius immediately knew the beloved countenance of the cruel one that ſo much avoided him, and the freſh flames, which at that moment found a paſſage quite into his heart, heightned the fatal fire that was already kindled in his ſoul. He went towards her very amazedly; but ſhe immediately perceiving it, to avoid him, as one would do, whom they think moſt abominable, haſtily leaves Emilia, and runs in a cloſet, that lay hard by whereof the [Page] door was open. It happened, that either by accident, or by reaſon of the fright ſhe was put into, ſhe forgot to ſhut it, ſo that Antonius, whom the ſudden tranſport of his paſſion had deprived of part of his diſcretion, and ſmothered the reſpect he ought Emilia, followed her into the cloſet, and ſeeing her ſit on a chair, runs to her with ſuch precipitation, that he was at her feet, and held her faſt by the knees, in a manner before ſhe had, the time to perceive what he did. This beautiful enemy of Antonius, being neither ableto get away from him, nor yet to endure his preſence, whoſe importunate purſuit verymuch enflamed her indignation, ſpent ſome few minutes in conſidering what reſolution ſhe ſhould take, diſcovering in her countenance the marks of an extraordinary agitation, At laſt ſhe thought fit to ſpeak firſt, and endeavouring to force my Brother from her knees, with an action, which though it expreſſed her ſufficiently incenſed againſt him, yet made her not ſeem the leſs amiable. Upon what account is it, ſaid ſhe to him, that thou dareſt thus violate the reſpect due to my ſex and my birth, and by what action is it that I have deſerved to be expoſed to thy unmerciful perſecution? Is it not enough that thou haſt received from me an aſſiſtance which I was not obliged to afford my enemy? Or wilt thou in requital force me once more to quit Rome to avoid what is to me, of all the earth contains, moſt abominable? Theſe words pronounced with a ſhrill voice, and after a manner abſolutely imperious, ſtruck Antonius like a Thunder-clap, and put him for a while to ſuch a loſs of ſpirits, that he knew not what to ſay. At laſt; rallying all the courage and reſolution he had about him to ſtand out this encounter. Adorable enemy: ſaid he to her, whom I do adore, though, I do not know, and to whom I am odious, yet am to learn the reaſon why miſtake not for a perſecution, or any want of reſpect for your Divine Beauties, thoſe effects that proceed from a cauſe abſolutely contrary. No, theſe are the expreſſions of my gratitude, and a paſſion full of veneration and reſpect, which I fatally conceived for you, at the very moment I became obliged to you for your aſſiſtance. Then it was that I became yours, much out of a conſideration of the aſſiſtance you afforded me, but infinitely more through the violent impreſſion which your celeſtial beauties made of a ſudden in my heart, which there upon abſolutely yielded to be yours without the leaſt reſiſtance. I have tenderly, nay indeed but too too tenderly for my own quiet, preſerved the memory of the obligation you put upon me, and the glorious wound I received and therefore you ought to be the leſſe offended, if I am at ſome pains to ſind out the opportunities both to acknowledge your goodneſſe, and to ſee again thoſe fair eyes that had hurt me. If my eyes have done you any hurt, replies the Unknown Beauty ſomewhat angrily, they have done me ſuch an injury as I ſhall never be able to pardon them: and if what you ſay be true, you will find your ſelf very unfortunate in your addreſſe to a perſon, who cannot, otherwiſe then by hatred and averſion, make any return to your affection. I am indeed eaſily perſwaded, replied the amazed Antonius, that I deſerve this cruel averſion by reaſon of ſome defects in my perſon, ſince I am confident I could never have merited it by any action, or thought I have ever been guilty of. I ſee then, replyed ſhe much diſpleaſed with him, that I am ſtill unknown to you, and, were you not ignorant whom you speak to, I am confident you would not ſpeak to me at all, Certain it is, ſaid he to her, with a very ſubmiſſive gesture, that I am to learn whom I ſpeak to, and whom I have be ſtowed my ſelf on, unleſſe there be no more requiſite to know you, then to have well obſerved the divine qualities of your admirable perſon: all the endeavours I have uſed to gain a more particular knowledge of you, have proved ineffectual, ſo that I am now at a loſſe what I ought to learn, or what I ought to deſire, ſince the knowledge of your perſon is of no leſſe concernment to me then that of your averſion. You ſhall know both together, replies the Unknown Beauty, and you will be no longer to ſeek why I ſhun you, when I have told you that I am Daughter to Cicero, and you remember, that you are Son to Anthony and Fulvia, his Executioners. With theſe words ſhe goes out of the Cloſet into Emilia's Chamber, and out of that into another, where ſhe locked up her ſelf for fear of further purſuit.

But indeed there was no neceſſity ſhe ſhould take all that pains, for he, whoſe purſuit ſhe was ſo much afraid of, was at ſuch a loſſe, and ſo ſurprized at the diſcovery ſhe had made to him of her ſelf, that he hardly knew where he was. No that, from his underſtanding that ſhe whom he loved was Cicero's Daughter, he felt any diminution in his love nor yet that being his Daughter, ſhe appeared leſſe amiable; but that all the hopeshe might have conceived vaniſhed away in an inſtant. And when it came into his mind, not onely that Anthony had cauſed Cicero to be put to death, but alſo that Fulvia, his Mother, had cauſed his head and his hands to be faſtened to the Roſtra, where he uſed to make his Orations, and had committed a thouſand cruel indignities on the reliques of that great perſon, whoſe memory was ſo precious among the Romans, he had no more to ſay for himfelf, and could not blame his Daughter for the horrour ſhe had conceived againſt the Son of Anthony and Fulvia. For, though indeed divers perſons had loſt their lives, during [Page] the proſcriptions of the Triumvirate, which yet occaſioned not eternal enmities between families, yet it is certain that in the death of Cicero, there had been ſome circumſtances ſo cruèl, and Fulvia, naturally inclined to bloud, had uſed him with ſo much inhumanity, even after death, that my Brother, whoſe memory was of a ſudden burthen'd with all thoſe things, and whoſe inclinations were abſolutely vertuous, could not think on them without horrour. Woe is me, cryed he at laſt, riſing up from the place where he had continued all this while, and turning to Scipio and Emilia, who had been witneſſes of all that was paſſed, the Daughter of Cicero, hath indeed reaſon to avoid the Son of Fulvia, hath not his own deſtiny at his diſpoſal, and cannot forbear loving, whiles he lives, the Daughter of Cicero.

With theſe words he, at the entreaty of Emilia, ſate down, and lay under ſuch a dark cloud of affliction, that for a good while he was not fit for any converſation. During that time, he underſtood from Emilia, without any deſire of his to be informed, that Tullia was a neer Kinſwoman of hers, and that her Mother Terentia was of the family of the Scauri, that the beauty and excellent endowments of that young Lady had made no great noiſe in Rome, and that her perſon had not been known there ſo much as in all probability it ought to have been; by reaſon that while ſhe was yet very young, and that during the time the houſe lay under diſgrace, her Mother had carried her to a Country-houſe neer Tuſculum, where ſhe had ſpent her life in ſolitude, without ever returning to Rome; and that haply ſhe had not come thither ſo ſoon, if, upon occaſion of her Mothers death, which happened not long before, her Brother Quintus Cicero, who lived at Rome after a very noble and high rate, and had been nominated Proconſul in ſome part of Africk, had not ſome few daies ſince ſent for her. Emilia further acquainted Antonius and Scipio, that Tullia, beſides the perfections of her body, had a many admirable endowments; that ſhe had cultivated an excellent diſpoſition with an excellent education; and that, during the time of her ſolitude, being addicted to the ſtudy of the nobler kind of Sciences, ſhe was grown perfect therein; that ſhe diſcovered abundance of courage and vertue; that ſhe was not ſubject to the weakneſſe of our Sex; and that ſhe was of a converſation infinitely pleaſant, when ſhe was among perſons to whom ſhe was pleaſed to communicate her ſelf.

To theſe Emilia added a many other things in commendation of Tullia, whereof the effect was; that they made the wound of the unfortunate Antonius wider than it was, and diſarmed him of all the forces he had to oppoſe a paſſion, wherein he expected not to find any ſatisfaction. Scipio was extreamly troubled at it, through thoſe ſentiments which friendſhip inſpired him with; and Emilia, who had that eſteem for his vertue, as all others had that were acquainted with it, had an extraordinary compaſſon for his misfortune, and would have been very glad to find out any means to comfort and aſſiſt him. But knowing Tullia to be a perſon conſtant and unchangeable in her reſolution, eſpecially in thoſe, wherein ſhe thought her honour concerned, and that from what ſhe already knew, ſhe foreſaw that the paſſionate Antonius would find but little ſatisfaction in his love, ſhe endeavoured to divert his thoughts from it, with the beſt agruments ſhe could make againſt it, and forbore not to tell him whatever ſhe imagined might put him into ſome doubt of the ſucceſſe, and fear of her friends humor. My Brother heard her with abundance of patience, and great expreſſion of the reſentment he had of her goodneſs, in concerning her ſelf ſo much in his misfortunes: but when all was done, he proteſted to her, that it was impoſſible for him to make any advantage of her good advice, and that that unfortunate paſſion was grown ſo predominant in his ſoul, that he was out of all hopes ever to ſee himſelf free from it, what courſe ſoever he might take. Scipio added his remonſtances to thoſe of Emilia, and knowing, that, beſides the difficulties, which his friend might well fear in reſpect of Tullia, he was in the ready way, by a fruitleſſe love, to ruine his fortunes which ſeemed abſolutely to court him in the deſign which Augustus had to marry him to one of his Neeces, he repreſented to him whatever his friendſhip could ſuggeſt that were moſt rational, and moſt likely to prevail with him in that emergency: but he took pains to as little purpoſe as Emilia, and that poor lover, too too violently prepoſſeſſed, made them both ſuch anſwers, as raiſed in them more compaſſion to ſee him ſo reſolute, then hope to ſee him of any other mind. I am not to learn, ſaid he to them at laſt, that in Tullia's averſion. I have a terrible enemy to engage with, nay am further-ſatisfied that the hatred ſhe hath for our Family is ſo juſtifiable, that I ſhould find it a hard matter to find any pretence to condemn her for it. As to the deſign which Caeſar and Octavia have upon me, I know it amounts to thoſe advantages, to which, the poſture of my Fortune conſidered, I could not raiſe my hopes: nor am I ignorant, that by my importunate addreſſes to a perſon that ſhuns me, and will haply ſhun me while ſhe lives, I run the hazard of turning the Emperours's good inclinations towards me [Page] into juſt reſentments againſt me. But there is ſomething withal I know much better than I do all this, that is, that I am not able to hear any reaſon in the wretched condition to which I am reduced; and that whatever the moſt enforcing arguments might produce where there is freedom of ſpirit, they will have no effect at all upon amind fatally and unfortunately prepoſſeſſed. I am abſolutely perſwaded, added he a while after, that this misfortune is an effect of the wrath of the gods againſt the memory of Anthony and Fulvia, and that they could not revenge that of the unfortunate Cicero, againſt his murtherers, otherwiſe then by ſacrificing their Son to the Daughter of him whom they ſacrificed to their rage and ambition. O Anthony, O Fulvia! concluded he with a ſigh, I refuſe not to be the victim that muſt appeaſe the incenſed Deities; and I cheerfully offer my ſelf up to the fair Tullia, to expiate the bloud you have unjuſtly ſpilt.

Theſe were all the words Emilia and Scipio could get of him; and a while after, out of a fear to diſpleaſe Emilia, by depriving her of the converſation of her friend, he took his leave of her in ſo ſad a manner, that it raiſed in her an extraordinary compaſſion for him, and went out of the houſe with Scipio, who would not by any means leave him; but it was in ſuch a poſture, and with a countenance ſo diſturbed, that it was no eaſie matter to know him.

From that day he grew more and more melancholy and affected ſolitude much more then he had done; and if, while he knew not who was the object of his paſſion, the deſire to be acquainted with it, was his perpetuall torment; the knowledge he had of it troubled him alſo after a ſtrange manner: and the leſſe diſturbed and moved he was at it, the more he ſeemed to be afflicted and caſt down. He was ſeldom ſeen at the Emperous, or at Octaviae's, or at the Princeſſe Julias, or in any of the nobleſt companies of Rome, and if any of his friends came to him, where he ever entertained them with abundance of civility, they found him ſo changed and different from what he was wont to be, that they had not the patience to ſee him in that condition, without concerning themſelves in his affliction, though they knew not the cauſe of it. All his thoughts, all his deſignes, aimed at nothing ſo much as to find out an opportunity to ſpeak once more to Tullia, out of an imagintion, that, if he could but caſt himſelf at her feet, and entertain her with the diſcourſe which his mind perpetually ran upon, though her ſoul were made of iron, he ſhould ſoften it. In this imagination he made a hundred paſſionate ſpeeches, and his love inſpired him with the tendreſt things any mind could be capable of: but when he had ſufficiently ruminated on what he would have ſaid to her, he ſtill was to ſeek for the opportunity to ſpeak with her.

Tullia had been in Rome but ſome few dayes, and her abode was at her Brother's, Quintus Cicero, who lived after the rate of a Conſular houſe, ſuitably to the condition his Father had left him in; but there was no likelihood Antonius ſhould ever give her a viſit at that houſe. The Son of Cicero had for the family of Anthony a reſentment which none could blame him for; and though, by reaſon of Caeſars authority, the factions of the Triumvirate had been reconciled, and that the families among which the difference of parties had produced very fatall effects, were content to be quiet, and forbore openly to endeavour the revenge of paſt injuries: yet had not that reconciliation, which had put a Period to the civil wars, ſo far reunited their hearts, as to eſtabliſh friendſhip, and ſecure the freedom of viſits: nay, though this had been effected among thoſe whoſe enmities were grounded on more inconſiderable injuries, yet thoſe between the children of Cicero, and thoſe of Anthony and Fulvia, amounted to ſome thing more bloody, than to admit of any correſpondence between them: Beſides, young Cicero was a perſon of a nature much different from that of his Father; he was ſtupid, brutiſh, and malicious, and though he ſmothered his reſentmenrs out of a fear to diſcover them againſt a houſe of a far greater fortune than his own; yet is it certain, that, if he could have done us a miſchief without any hazard to himſelf, he would have embraced the opportunity to do it: and therefore it was impoſſible Antonius ſhould attempt the ſeeing of Tullia at her Brothers houſe, without putting his life into manifeſt danger. Yet was it not this fear that hindred him: for, that of diſpleaſing Tullia had a far greater influence upon his ſpirit, than that of hazarding a life that could not be of much value to him, conſidered with the misfortune that attended it: Nay, he would have cheerfully ventured into that houſe, though his enemie's, without any reflection on the danger that might enſue, had he obſerved in Tullia any ſentiments different from thoſe of her Brother: but it was his unhappineſſe, that after he had ſubdued the enemies he contemned, he ſhould meet with one that was terrible, againſt whom yet he had no arms to defend himſelf. A hundred times did he caſt himſelf at Emilia's feet, and made uſe of the intereſt Scipio had in her, to obtain of Tullia the permiſſion to ſee her but once more in his life: in anſwer to which, Emilia, who had a great eſteem for Antonius, as alſo upon the interceſſion of his friend, did all [Page] that lay in her power to perſwade her Kinſwoman to afford him that ſatisfaction. But Tullia was not onely inexorable as to that requeſt, but fearing ſurther that in her viſits to Emilia, ſhe might meet with Antonius at her houſe, either by accident, or out of deſign, ſhe entreated her not to take it amiſſe if ſhe came not to her any more, till ſhe were confident that Antonius had quitted all inclinations for her; inſomuch that having earneſtly intreated her pardon for that reſolution, ſhe perſiſted in it ſo far, that ſhe made no more viſits to her, or, if ſhe ſaw her ſometimes, it was at ſuch hours that ſhe was in no fear of finding my Brother there.

This cruel obſtinacy of hers to avoid Antonius had almoſt put him into deſpair, and yet ſuch was his unhappineſſe, that what would have recovered any other out of an affection ſo much ſlighted, made his cure the more deſperate. All the diſcoveries of Tullia's cruelty ſignified, in his apprehenſion, ſo many expreſſious of her vertue, and the reſpect ſhe had for the memory of her Father; and ſo bewayling his own misfortune, he thought he could not juſtly charge her with any thing. He conſtantly viſited all the places ſhe was wont to frequent: but ſhe, being as carefull to avoid him, as he was diligent to find her out, forbore going thither as ſoon as ſhe perceaved that he had diſcovered ſo much: yet could not all her caution hinder, but that he ſaw her ſometimes in the Temple, but ſhe either let fall her veyle as ſoon as ſhe perceaved him, or took up ſuch places, and kept ſtill ſuch company that he could not come to her. But one day above the reſt, ſhe having not been ſo careful as at other times, and being gone to the Temple of Ceres, with the Maids that ordinarily waited on her, while ſhe was at her devotion, in a remote corner, and at ſuch a time as there were hardly any people in the Temple; my Brother, who had cauſed her to be watched where ever ſhe went, having had notice of the place where ſhe was, failed not to come thither, and to ſpeak to her, but with a countenance that ſufficiently diſcovered the fear he was in to diſpleaſe her. Tullia had no ſooner perceaved him coming towards her, but ſhe lets fall her veyle, and by that action had almoſt put the ſad Antonius ſo far out of countenance, that he hardly had the courage to ſpeak to her. However, he made a ſhift to recover himſelf; and when he was got neer her, making a halt as if he ſtayed for ſome body, and having looked towards the door of the Temple, he at laſt turned his face to Tullia, whom, though ſhe looked another way, addreſſing his ſpeech to her; Is it poſſible, Madam, ſaid he to her, you ſhould hope for any favour from the gods you adore, when you your ſelf are inexorable towards thoſe men that adore you? Tullia was ſilent a while out of a reſolution not to make Antonius any anſwer at all; but at laſt conceaving that what ſhe ſhould make him would be ſuch, as ſhe might haply be rid of him for ever after: It is not for the Son of Fulvia, ſaid ſhe to him, to hope for any favour from the Daughter of Cicero; and if Cicero's Daughter may expect any from Anthony's Son, it ſhall be no other than that he would never either ſee or think on her again. You cannot without injuſtice, replies Antonius, charge me with the crime of Mark-Anthony and Fulvia; uay I am confident you are ſatisfied of my innocence; I am ſo, replyed ſhe, and therefore I have not the leaſt thought of revenge for you; but, if I am not miſtaken, I can be charged with no injuſtice, if I abjure all converſation with their ſon, who were the implacable murtherers of my Father. Ah unmerciful woman! replyed the afflicted Prince, you pretend reaſon not to be revenged of a perſon that is innocent, and in the mean time know very well, that, if you ſhould thruſt a dagger into my breaſt, there were much leſſe cruelty in your revenge, then there is in your ſhunning me as you do. I ſhall ſhun you while I live, replyed ſhe very angrily, and, if you get not from me, I ſhall not onely quit this Temple, but ſhall leave Rome and Italy, in caſe you do not forbear perſecuting me. With theſe words ſhe would have riſen out of the place where ſhe was, but Antonius, thinking he could not any further preſſe her without incivility, prevented her departure; and having made her a low reverence, he went from her, ſo clouded with affliction, that for that whole day he was not capable of any converſation.

Though Antonius ſound it a great difficulty to conceal from thoſe who were acquainted with his natural cheerfulneſs, the change which that unfortunate paſſion had wrought in him, yet were they ignorant of the cauſe, and for a good ſpace of time onely; Scipio knew the myſtery of it. But, at laſt, it came to the knowledge of diverſe perſons by ſeverall diſcoveries ſufficiently extraordinary, but particularly by one which, becauſe it was publick and withall very rare, made no ſmall noiſe in Rome. The Emperour, Livia, Julia, Octavia, and all the Illuſtrious Perſons about Rome were one day aſſembled in the Cirque, where they were to be entertained with the combats of ſavage beaſts, by Agrippa, who had brought them out of Africk to that purpoſe, as you know it is an ordinary thing at Rome, as alſo that thoſe who would have the reputation of being magnificent, do often entertain the people with ſuch ſports. Though Tullia went very ſeldom into great companies, [Page] as well by reaſon of the mourning ſhe was ſtill in for her Mother, as out of a fear of meeting Antonius, yet this day ſhe thought her ſelf obliged to go, not onely upon the account of Agrippa: who was at the charge of the divertiſement, but alſo becauſe it was her Brothers will ſhe ſhould go, and accordingly he brought her thither with divers other Perſons of their Family and Alliance. Antonius, who was very much in hope ſhe would be there, and expected, with much impatience, to ſee her, obſerved, very much to his ſatisfaction, the place where ſhe ſate, which was near enough to her Brother, and ſome of her Kinſwomen: but found withall to his grief, that Lucius Cecinna, a young man, of an Illuſtrious Houſe, and one that had the reputation of courting her, having waited upon her thither, ſate down by her. This ſight made Antonius bluſh, and enflamed him with indignation and jealouſie; yet durſt he not ſeat himſelf near Tullia, out of a fear ſhe would take it unkindly, and a confidence that ſhe would admit no converſation with him? But he got into a place, which, being not very far from her, and at one of the Angles of the Amphitheatre, joyning to that where ſhe was, gave him the advantage of ſeeing her better than any other part where he could have placed himſelf. The ſeats of perſons of quality are in the loweſt Stage, and neereſt the Area, which is the place where the combats are fought, whether they be between Beaſts or Gladiators: ſo that thoſe of that rank may lean againſt certain Pilaſters, whereby the Cirque is compaſſed about, and which is raiſed up to ſuch a height, as to ſecure them from the fury of the Lyons and Tygers, that are the creatures of greateſt agility: the ſeats behind that, being raiſed, and ſtanding at a greater diſtance, are for the people, who are ordinarily admitted to theſe ſights, to their very great delight and entertainment. I went thither my ſelf that day with the Princeſs Julia, though we were both of us at that time but in the thirteenth year of our age, and conſequently I can give you a more particular account of this action, than of ſome others at which I was not preſent.

Antonius had his eyes continually faſtened on Tullia's face, who never was guilty of ſo much as one look towards him. This amorous Prince looked upon that freedom of converſation which was between her and Cecinna, with a very jealous eye, and with no ſmall diſturbance of mind: and if any one had concerned himſelf ſo far as to mind his actions, he might eaſily have obſerved in his countenance the agitations of his ſoul. There had paſt diverſe combats of ſeveral beaſts, which found the Spectators abundance of ſport and entertainment, and they were going to open the door to let in a Tyger and a Bear of a prodigious bulk, to ſet them a fighting together, when Antonius, who had his eyes ſtill fixed on Tullia, ſaw, that amidſt the converſation ſhe had with Cecinna, and certain Ladies that ſate about her, ſhe took out a little box, ſet with divers rich Diamonds, wherein was her own picture, which her Mother had cauſed to be taken about a year before, and which ſhe had given her at her death. She had ſhewn it to thoſe Ladies, and Cecinna had it in his hands a good ſpace: but at laſt going to reſtore it to Tullia, the box, through negligence, ſlipt out of his hands, and, ſhe leaning on the raile, it fell down into the Area, juſt when the two furious beaſts were coming into it with looks ſo full of terrour, that they put the Spectators into ſome fear. Tullia, being extreamly troubled at the fall of the box, ſhe reſpected ſo much, into a place, whence in all likelihood there would not be any ſo deſperate as to fetch it again, gave a great outcry, and by her countenance and all her actions expreſſed an extraordinary diſturbance at that accident. The Emperour, and all that were preſent, ſoon came to underſtand it, but there was no poſſibility to recover it while the beaſts were within the Cirque. Cecinna, who was partly the occaſion of the falling of the box, endeavoured to perſwade Tullia to patience, by telling her, that, after the combat of the beaſts, he would go and find it for her: but ſhe giving too much way to her indignation upon ſo leight an occaſion, anſwered him very roundly, that had ſhe been a man, ſhe would have ventured her life to fetch her picture. She had no ſooner delivered theſe words, but young Antonius, whom his paſſion had at that time abſolutely deveſted of all reaſon, diſtracted as to all matter of conſideration, not onely of the hazard whereto he expoſed himſelf without any neceſſity, but alſo of the noife which that action muſt needs make, contrary to the deſign he had to keep his love ſecret, turning towards that ſide where Tullia was; Fair Tullia, ſaid he, loud enough to be heard by her, you ſhall find there is a man who dares hazard his life to do you this inconſiderable ſervice; and thereupon, leaning upon the raile, he vaulted over it into the Cirque. I was ever of opinion, that Antonius, a perſon naturally diſcreet, would never have been guilty of an action ſo extravagant, had he not been tranſported by an over-violent paſſion. But I imagined withall, as diverſe others did, that to do Tullia that ſervice, whereof the conſequence deſerved not he ſhould expoſe his life to ſo great a danger, he had been encouraged partly by a belief he was of, that he might not haply, while he lived, meet with ſo noble an occaſion [Page] to expreſs his love to her, and partly by a deſire he had to let her know the difference there was between him and Cecinna, whom ſhe preferred, and favoured even in his preſence. However it were, this action raiſed a many outcryes among the Spectators, even to the Emperour himſelf, who had a great love and eſteem to my Brother. My Siſter and I were almoſt out of our ſelvesto ſee it, Octavia was not a little troubled at the accident, nay there was hardly one in that great Aſſembly, that was not troubled at it, onely Antonius ſeemed to be the perſon that had any confidence, and though he were a little ſtartled at his alighting, by reaſon of the height of the place whence he had leapt down, yet immediately recovering himſelf, he drew his ſword, and went with an undaunted courage towards that ſide where the box lay ſparkling among the ſand. He was ſo happy as to take it up without any hindrance, and ſo indiſcreet as to open it in the ſame place, and to have the patience to look on the beautiful picture of Tullia that was encloſed within it. Yet was it not with ſo little caution, but he ſtood ſufficiently on his guard, to defend himſelf if the beaſts came to faſten on him: but as he went towards the door at which he was to go out, he made no more haſte than ordinary, and retreated ſo as if he had not been in the leaſt fear of the two beaſts that were within the Cirque. The Bear ſtirred not from the place ſhe was in, but the Tyger came up to my Brother with his ſparkling eyes, and in ſuch a poſture, as put all that were preſent into a fright. Antonius might have gained the door before the Tyger could have faſtened on him, if he would have run for it, but ſuch a flight he thought unworthy his courage; and therfore ſeeing this terrible enemy coming towards him, he ſtood and expected him, and preſented the point of his ſword to him with an admirable conſtancy. You may well imagine, that all thoſe to whom Antonius's life was any way dear, were not a little troubled at the accident: but it was the pleaſure of the gods, that when the furious beaſt ſaw the gliſtering of the ſword, it made a halt, and ſeemed uncertain what reſolution to take: when the Emperour having called out to thoſe of his guard that were about him, immediately to kill it, it was ſhot with above twenty arrows, and fell down dead at Antonius's feet. He ſeemed to be ſomewhat troubled at the death of the beaſt, ſaying he was very ſorry he had deprived the Emperour and the Spectators of part of their entertainment, and when he thought he might retire without diſhonour, (for the Bear had not ſtirred from the place) he came to the door which they kept open for him, and by the ſtairs joyning thereto, came up in the Amphitheatre. As all that were preſent had a ſecret admiration for what he had done, ſo did all gladly make way for him, it being perceived that it was his intention to reſtore Tullia her picture; and accordingly having without much trouble gotten up to the place where ſhe was, he comes to her with a ſubmiſſive action, and preſenting her with the box: Were I not odious in your ſight, Madam, ſaid he to her, I would entreat you to entertain the inconſiderable ſervice I have done you without averſion: and if I am ſo unhappy as that I cannot be otherwiſe, I beſeech your acceptance and acknowledgement of that I would have done you by expoſing my life, which you ſo much deteſt, to danger.

Now the enmity which is between the Children of Cicero, and the Houſe of Anthony, being known to all the World, no body took any exceptions at thoſe words of Antonius; but there were many who thought that that action ſhould have obliged Tullia to ſome kindneſs, or at leaſt to receive that ſervice with a ſeeming civility. But her deportment was quite otherwiſe, and inſtead of making any acknowledgement of the ſervice he had done her, ſhe turned her face another way, and vouchſafed not ſo much as either to make him any anſwer, or receive out of his hands the picture he preſented to her. This action, which diſpleaſed all that were preſent, ſtruck Antonius to the very heart; but having fortified himſelf with an extraordinary courage, and done an action ſo full of gallantry, that he thought himſelf obliged to preſs it home: Madam, ſaid he to her, not without ſome violence done himſelf, to ſmother his grief in ſo great an Aſſembly, I muſt confeſſe my unhappineſs ſuch, that I deſerve to be treated as I am, but do not, haply, the precious treaſure you are pleaſed to leave me, as ſuch as I durſt not have detained, had you thought good to receive it.

Theſe words ſtartled young Cicero not a little, who ſate neer his Siſter, and was as much diſpleaſed at my Brother's action as ſhe, but withal would have been much troubled to ſee him keep his Siſter's picture. But he whom they had greateſt influence on, was the amomorous Cecinna, who being paſſionately in love with Tullia, could not without much diſturbance within himſelf, ſee her picture in the hands of a man, whom he looked on as his Rival, and withal a powerful one: ſo that he would undertake to Antonius, to perſwade Tullia to receive the picture, and while he deſired it, Cicero reached forth his hand to receive it from him. But Antonius looking on them both with a certain contempt, and with a diſdainfull ſmile; Tis not thee, Cicero, ſaid he to them, and much leſſe to thee, Cecinna, that I intend to reſtore it; And ſince Tullia is content it ſhould remain in [Page] my hands, I ſhall keep it no otherwiſe than I would do my life. If thou wouldſt have had it, added he, looking on Cecinna, thou ſhouldſt have gone for it to the place where it fell through thy negligence; and if thou art ſo deſirous of it, thou muſt force it out of a place, whence there will haply be as much difficulty to get it, as from among Bears and Tygres. However it be, I here proteſt before the gods, that I ſhall never part with it willingly, till Tullia deſire it of me her ſelf, and that I will never put it into other hands than hers.

With theſe words he left Tullia, and, without any more adoe, immediately quitted the Amphitheatre, out of a fear that Tullia might change her mind, and call for her picture. She was upon the point to do it, as being deſirous it ſhould not remain in his hands, nay indeed would not have been well ſatisfied to leave it with any man, how great an affection ſoever ſhe might have for him: but, thinking there were other wayes to retrive it, ſhe thought it better to have patience for ſome dayes, than to remit any thing of her diſdain, and ſtoop ſo low as to deſire it, after what had paſſed before ſo many great and Illuſtrious Perſons.

This action raiſed no ſmall noiſe in Rome, and found all people matter of diſcourſe. Several judgments paſſed upon it: there were a many that attributed it to the true cauſe; others made it onely a piece of gallantry, and the effect of a violent deſire of glory, a thing not inconſiſtent with the fiery humour of a young man: Nay, ſome, pitching upon an opinion probable enough according to the intention of Antonius, and the diſcourſe he made of it, which was, that, having diſcovered Tullia in that great Aſſembly to be the Lady from whom he had received ſuch aſſiſtance when his horſe fell under him, whom till then he had not known, and had ſought out ſo much, though he knew not who ſhe was, imagined that he had reſolved to expreſs by ſome ſervice, the reſentment he ſtill had for the kindneſs ſhe had done him, and that juſt then an opportunity offering it ſelf, he thought he could not, without baſeneſs, that is, without being accounted either an ungrateful perſon, or a man of little courage, let it ſlip. With this diſcourſe did my Brother ſatisfie the Emperour, who blamed him very much for expoſing his life to ſo great a danger without any neceſſity; but that account of the buſineſs being probable enough, Auguſtus, who could not diſapprove thoſe actions that argued courage, had a greater eſteem for Antonius then he had before. Octavia, who was as tender of all the children of Anthòny, as ſhe was of her own, eſpecially of him ſhe intended to make her Son in Law, entertained this diſcourſe as the Emperour did; and attributed to gratitude, excellency of nature, and the courage of Antonius, what was meerly a demonſtration of his paſſion. And yet what had paſt at the cloſure of the buſineſs, concerning Tullia's picture, which he had refuſed to reſtore either to Cicero, or Cecinna, with words paſſionate enough, might cauſe a little ſuſpicion; but it might alſo be attributed to pure gallantry, which might produce that effect in a perſon of the age my Brother was then of, and that, after the doing of ſo noble an action. In fine, every one cenſured it according to his inclination; and Antonius, whatever might be ſaid to him, could not repent him of it, though he was extreamly troubled at Tullia's deportment towards him, and that the vexation he conceived thereat, put him ſometimes into a reſolution, to do what lay in his power, to free himſelf of that cruel ſlavery.

Some dayes after, having intreated Scipio to bring my Brother with him to her houſe, he failed not to come; and having told her that he ſhould think himſelf extreamly happy, if ſhe would be pleaſed to lay any commands upon him, ſhe told him before Scipio, who was preſent, that ſhe was deſirous to have ſome diſcourſe with him upon the entreaty of Tullia, who had charged her to demand her picture of him, and had deſired her to employ all the intereſt ſhe had in him to get it, upon the confidence ſhe had that my Brother would not deny that ſatisfaction to a perſon, for whom he ſeemed and profeſſed to have a great eſteem. Antonius entertained this diſcourſe of Emilia's with abundance of reſpect, and when ſhe had given over ſpeaking, Madam, ſaid he to her, it is not without reaſon your friend is perſwaded that you have an abſolute power over me, and accordingly I did not much doubt but that ſhe would make this requeſt to you, when ever ſhe ſhould be content to have her pictture again: and I further engage my ſelf, that I will return it as ſoon as ſhe ſhall be pleaſed to receive it, and that I have no intention to keep it againſt her will, though I haply better deſerve that favour than others, whom ſhe may confer it upon. Tullia is more diſcreet, replies Emilia, than to beſtow her picture on any one: and I can aſſure you ſhe hath no ſuch intention, and that it is onely for her ſelf that ſhe hath entreated me to get it out of your hands. Ah Madam! replied my Brother, you know what I am obliged to by my oath, an oath I took in the moſt Illuſtrious Aſſembly in the World. I cannot return the picture till Tullia deſire it, nor put it into any other hands than her own. I conceive my ſelf diſengaged as to the one half of it, and I receive the demand you make of it, as from Tullia's own mouth: but for the other [Page] part of my oath,, whereby I am obliged t to reſtore it onely to her ſelf, it cannot admit any explication. And if you will give me leave to add to the juſtice of my cauſe the confidence I have in your goodneſs, and to ſpeak ſincerely to you, as to a perſon whoſe protection I caſt my ſelf under, I ſhall tell you, that for the favour of one viſit from Tullia, ſhe ſhall receive her picture. 'Tis the leaſt ſhe can do, if ſhe have any deſire to have it again: and if ſhe deny me ſo poor a requeſt, you are to imagine it is her pleaſure I ſhould keep it: all I deſire is to put it into her own hands in your preſence, and you ſhall be privy to our converſation. And, to acquaint you with what is most ſecret to my thoughts, ſince you ſee I have but this onely means left me to procure one viſit more of Tullia while I live, methinks you cannot without cruelty take it away from me. Emilia found a great deal of reaſon in my Brothers diſcourſe, and Scipio adding his perſwaſions to the others to prevail with her, they brought her to this at laſt, that ſhe promiſed to uſe all the intereſt ſhe could with Tullia to oblige her to ſee Antonius once more, and to receive her picture from his own hands, according as he was engaged by his oath.

She made it her buſineſſe that very day, but to no purpoſe, ſo that Antonius underſtood by her, the next, that all the entreaties ſhe could make to her, could not induce that hard-hearted Beauty to condeſcend thereto, and that, at laſt, ſhe had with a ſtrange conſtancy proteſted, that ſhe had rather loſe her picture, by an accident whence it might not be inferred that ſhe had any deſign to favour Antonius, then reſolve to ſee him, and to ſpeak, with her will, to a man, whoſe name thoſe of her family could not hear without horrour. My Brother was extreamly caſt down at this obſtinacy of Tullia, and entertain'd Emilia with diverſe diſcourſes, which moved her to much compaſſion for him: but he alſo continued firm to the reſolution he had made not to deliver the picture, not that he could do Tullia this diſpleaſure without ſome repugnance, but that, beſides the comfort he received from the ſight of that dear image, he thought he could not with honour reſtore it, after the proteſtation he had made not to do it before Cecinna and Cicero, who pretended to be ſo much concerned in it. What confirmed him further in this reſolution, was, that, ſome dayes after, he underſtood that Cicero, purpoſely to ſpight him, had beſtowed his Siſter on Cecinna; and it was conceived that within a few dayes he was to marry her, and indeed it was certain that he had promiſed her to him, and though Tullia had not till then any particular affection for Cecinna, yet being diſcreet and vertuous, ſhe ſubmitted to her Brother's will, and without any contradiction entertained the Husband he was pleaſed ſhe ſhould have. This news put my Brother into ſuch violent tranſports of grief, as you may eaſily imagine, if you conſider well what I have told you concerning thoſe of his Love; nay, it is almoſt a miracle that he did not diſcover it by ſome action ſuit able to the paſſion he was hurryed by. At firſt all his thoughts ran upon ſome thing that was violent and fatal; and when he imagined to himſelf that his Rival was happier than he, did not onely deprive him of what he loved, but might haply be the cauſe of all Tullia's rigour towards him, had prevented him by an affection, that made her inſenſible of all the expreſſions he made to her of his, and exaſperated her againſt him more than any conſideration of the death of Cicero, he could not oppoſe the torrent of his reſentments, nor think of any thing but the death of his Rival. How ſaid he, walking in a furious manner, it was then the love of Cecinna that made Tullia's heart impenetrable as to all compaſſion; and it is Cecinna that robs me of this unmerciful Beauty, and, with her, of all the ſatisfaction and deſire of life? I wonder not, added he, at his backwardneſs to recover her picture, and the confidence he had ſoon to be poſſeſſed of the perſon, hath made him take it the more indifferently to ſee her fair image in the hands of an unfortunate Rival. 'Tis the knowledge he had of my misfortune made him neglect what haply both his intereſt and his honour had obliged him to do, and I am ſatisfied he had courage enough to take the advice of his reputation in that emergency, if the hope of a greater happineſs had not made him leſs earneſt for what was of leſs conſequence. Whereupon he walked for a good while, without ſpeaking at all, then breaking forth into his ordinary tranſports, Think not, Cecinna, ſaid he, that I reſign Tullia to thee, as thou haſt done her picture to me; it ſhall coſt thee the pureſt of thy blood to dispute whoſe ſhe ſhall be, and ſince I have hazarded my life for her picture, it is but juſt thou ſhouldſt venture ſomething for the perſon.

This was the reſolution he took; but when he thought himſelf fully confirmed in it, he met with ſuch difficulties in that deſign which he was not a little ſtartled at. He had reaſon to fear he might diſpleaſe Caeſar, who, upon what had paſſed in his preſence fearing the conſequence, had forbidden them very ſeverely to attempt any thing one againſt another. Nay, there was yet ſomething more in it, as to what reſentment the Emperour might have of it; for when he conſidered that he could not quarrel with Cecinna upon the account of any intereſt in Tullia, without declaring openly, & diſcovering at the ſame time the little [Page] regard he had for the advantageous deſign which the Emperor and Octavia had for him, and that in a conjuncture on which his abſolute fortune depended, he knew not what courſe he ſhould take to overcome that difficulty. And yet this was not conſiderable to him, in compariſon of the fear he was in of Tullia's indignation, as putting it out of all doubt that he muſt needs force her to the extremities of enmity towards him, by putting himſelf in a poſture to take away that mans life whom ſhe accepted for her Husband. To be ſhort, this conſideration prevailed ſo far upon him, that he hardly minded the reſt, and how far ſoever he might be from deſerving the cruel treatments he received from that incenſed Beauty, yet was his ſoul guilty of ſuch extraordinary reſpects towards her, that he would have lookt death in the face with leſſe diſturbance, than the occaſion of offending her.

Theſe contradictions kept his thoughts in an aequilibrium in ſo ſtrange a perplexity; ſo that finding it a hard matter to fix on any thing, he continued ſome dayes without faſtning on any reſolution. During that time he delighted altogether in ſolitude, avoiding the company even of his Friend Scipio, and retiring into the moſt ſolitary places, where he would not admit any of his own people to be about him. Without the gate called Porta-Capena, there is a little Wood neer the fair Gardens of Metellus, where the ſhadineſs and ſolitude of the place afford very pleaſant walking, for ſuch as avoid company. Antonius going out of Metellus's Garden, was directed thither by his own cruel thoughts, or rather by ſome genius, who would determine his irreſolutions. He walked there a long time alone, (having left thoſe ſervants that he brought with him from home, which he could not diſmiſſe, at the Garden door of Metellus) and had endeavored to find out, though with no ſucceſſe, what might prevent the happineſs of Cecinna, without any violation of the reſpect he ought Tullia, or incurring the diſpleaſure, (if it were poſſible) of the generous Octavia and the Emperour, when coming to a croſſe-walk, he ſpies a man coming all alone towards the place where he was, and having looked on him very attentively, when he was come ſomewhat neer, he found him to be Cecinna. The ſight of him enflamed Antonius with indignation and jealouſie; and though he ſuſpected what deſign brought Cecinna towards him, yet did he miſtruſt his own thoughts of miſtake, and was in ſome fear he ſhould not have ſo much power over himſelf as to reflect, in that emergency, upon thoſe conſiderations whereby his hands were as yet tyed up. In this uncertainty he expected him as ready to fight, and in ſuch a poſture as put Cecinna into ſome diſturbance.

Now my Brother being a perſon of higher quality in Rome than he was, and his intereſt conſequently, with thoſe that managed the ſupreme power, much greater, he was more cautions and circumſpect in what he undertook, than he had haply been with another perſon, whoſe fortunes had been meaner; and accordingly coming very civilly towards him, It hath been my buſineſſe for ſome dayes to find you out, ſaid he to him, and I ſhould have ſpoken to you ſooner, could I have done it with the ſame liberty as I now do. I ſhould have given you all you could have expected, anſwered Antonius, if I had had but the leaſt notice of your deſires, and ſince you now have as much freedom as you could have wiſhed; neglect not this opportunity to acquaint me with what you think fit to let me know. I doubt not, replyed Cecinna, but you know that ſufficiently well already, and if you but remember that Tullia's picture is ſtill in your hands, you are at the ſame time ſatisfied of the great concernment I have to entreat you to return it to me. I have not deſired it of you while I was of opinion it might be gotten out of your hands without my interpoſition. But now that the intereſt of Tullia, and that of her friends hath proved ineffectual, you will not think it ſtrange, if, as things now ſtand between us, I endeavour to obtain that from you which you had denied them,

Antonius looking on him with ſcornful ſmile, There is indeed but very little likelihood, ſaid he to him, I ſhould grant Cecinna what I had denied Emilia: beſides, I am of opinion, that if you had been ſo deſirous of Tullia's picture, you would have gone for it to the place whence I took it. Though I was much leſſe obliged to do it than you, it were unjuſt I ſhould, with the hazard of my life, procure a thing you had ſlighted, to beſtow it on you with ſo much eaſe, and you may haply find your ſelf very much miſtaken, if you imagine there may be leſſe danger to get it out of my hands, than to recover it out of the Area of the Amphitheatre. Had there been any neceſſity for that action, replied Cecinna, I ſhould have done it as well as you: And if there had been any juſtice, interrupted Antonius very roundly, to reſtore what I had ſo well gotten, I had reſtored it to Emilia, and not to you. However it be, Cecinna, you ought not to expect it, as being the laſt of all men for whom I ſhould have that compliance. I thought indeed, replyed Cecinna, I ſhould be forced to thoſe extremities with you, which the Emperour hath forbidden us: and it is with that deſign that I ſought you out, reſolved to take away either your life, or Tullia's picture. This is it I expected from thee, replyed Antonius fiercely, and which I thought I had ſo ſufficiently obliged thee to, as to make thee contemn all other conſiderations.

[Page] With theſe words they both layd hands on their ſwords, and drew at the ſame time, there being not any body neer to hinder them. They exchanged a many blows, with much more fury then circumſpection. Cecinna fought with abundance of courage, but with little good fortune; and being over-raſh and inconſiderate, be received two mortal wounds in the body, upon which he fell down at my Brother's feet, with very little remainder of life. Antonius had no doubt wiſhed the death of Cecinna, and had behaved himſelf in that duel with abundance of indignation and animoſity againſt him; but being a perſon of a great and noble ſoul, ſeeing him fall with all the mortal ſigns, his anger vaniſhed, and compaſſion took place in his heart, into which the paſſions whereby it was then moved, were not againſt its admittance. He came to Cecinna, to do him all the good he could, and endeavouring to ſtop his bloud, perſwaded him to take courage, by all the words which might expreſſe the regret and ſorrow he conceived at his misfortune.

But while he was employed in this compaſſionate office, there comes, by an accident, you cannot but be aſtoniſhed at, a Chariot, full of Ladies, to take the pleaſure of a ſolitary walk in the Wood, to the place where they were: and the Ladies, who intended to take a walk, being got out of the Chariot, came on eaſily without any jealouſie of what had happened, to the very place where the unfortunate Cecinna was expiring his laſt, in my Brother's arms. You may well imagine what aſtoniſhment this ſad ſpectacle raiſed in the Ladies; but it will be hard for you to conceive that of my Brother, when with Emilia and ſome other Ladies of his acquaintance, he ſaw the cruel Tullia; that very Tullia whom he had ſo well engraven in his ſoul. I leave it to you to ſupply the difficulty of expreſſion I meet with in this ſtrange rencounter, ſo hard is it for me to give you an account of the agitations of theſe two ſouls in ſo unexpected an adventure. If Antonius was ſurprized to ſee that Tullia whom he adored, that Tullia, who ſhunned him with all the cruelty imaginable; nay, the ſame Tullia, whoſe Lover, that was to be within a few dayes her Huſband, he had killed; you may well think that Tullia, on the other ſide, was not leſs aſtoniſhed to meet with that Antonius, whom ſhe avoided, ſtanding over the expiring Cecinna, and ſoiled with the bloud of a man ſhe was to be married to. She had not had, tis true, any violent affection for him, yet it is withall certain ſhe had no diſ-inclination towards him; and ſince ſhe had been acquainted with the deſign her Brother had to make her his Wife, ſhe had entertained in her heart all the love ſhe thought her ſelf obliged to have, for a perſon that was ſhortly to be her Husband: ſo that ſhe could not ſee him weltring in his bloud, and expiring at his enemies feet, without feeling an extraordinary affliction, and whatever her ſoul was capable of, upon an accident of that nature. She at firſt ſight gave a great outcry, and was ready to ſwound in Emilia's, arms, who made a ſhift to hold her up, and, a little after, caſting her eyes on both Antonius and Cecinna, on the one, with all the demonſtrations of compaſſion, and on the other with all thoſe of indignation, ſheding tears for Cecinna, and darting forth her wrathful looks on Antonius, ſhe continued for ſome minutes in an uncertainty as to what reſolution ſhe ſhould take whether to avoid what ſhe hated, or to ſuccour what ſhe was obliged to love. And whereas ſhe ſeemed to be rather carried away by the averſion ſhe had for my Brother, or at leaſt inclined rather to the motives ſhe conceived ſhe had to avoid him, then to the affection ſhe had for Cecinna, her firſt reflections ſeemed to engage her to avoid the face of an enemy, eſpecially he being ſuch a one as confirmed himſelf to be ſuch, by the action he had then done. But afterwards, upon ſecond thoughts, ſhe, being a Lady that choſe rather to be guided by her duty then her paſſions, and conceived her ſelf obliged to relieve Cecinna dying upon her account, rather then to avoid Antonius, comes to him, with a face bathed in tears, and by certain broken words entreated him to take heart, and to further all he could the deſign ſhe had for the preſervation of his life. The expiring Cecinna met with this ſatisfaction in his misfortune, that he breathed out his laſt in the arms of Tullia, and muſtering up all the ſtrength he had left him; to turn his eyes towards her, and to take her by the hand, ſhe reached forth to him, while one of her Mayds held up his head in her lap; Madam, ſaid he to her, I looſe my life by the hands of Antonius, but it was through my own fault and ſeeking; and therefore I beſeech you to forgive him my death as heartily as I do my ſelf. The compaſſion, he takes at my misfortune, deſerves yours; and I dye happy and glorious, ſince I dye at your feet, for your ſake, and in a condition that forces thoſe fair ſhowers from your eyes.

With much difficulty was he deliverd of theſe words, but with them he loſt his ſpeech and, ſome few minutes after, breathed out his laſt, leaving in Tullia's ſoul ſuch violent characters of paſſion, that ſhe hardly knew where ſhe was, or what ſhe did. My Brother, to give her way, retired ſome few paces when ſhe came neer Cecinna; and being extreamly moved with pity for his misfortune, the affliction he perceived it was to Tullia heightned [Page] his own ſo much and ſo violently, that he had much ado to keep off from deſpair. He, at firſt, thought himſelf obliged to avoid the eyes of that incenſed Beauty; nay, though he was infinitely deſirous to have a ſight of her, yet muſt he need imagine, that, as things then ſtood, he could not without inhumanity importune her with his. Out of this conſideration had he already retired ſome few paces; but his paſſion growing too ſtrong for him, would needs oblige him to ſpeak to her, and to make ſome reparation for the injury he had done her. This reſolution grew ſo ſtrong upon him, that he could not reſiſt it, and ſo ſlighting all thoſe reflections that were incompatible with the violence of his love, he came ſome paces neerer, he looked on that deſolate Beauty, with all the agitations that a ſoul that hath loſt all command of it ſelf can be capable of. He had not hardly had the confidence to open his mouth, had he not been encouraged by the preſence of Emilia, whom he knew to be favourable to him, and from whom he expected ſome relief. But at laſt, having rallyed a the courage he had, he ſets one knee on the ground, and looking on Tullia in a trembling poſture; I ſhould not preſume to importune you with my ſight, Madam, ſaid he to her, if I thought not my ſelf obliged to make you ſome ſatisfaction for the injury I have done you; and though Cecinna hath in ſome ſort juſtified me, by telling you that I onely ſtood in a defenſive poſture againſt him, yet the diſpleaſure I have done you is greater than to be paſſed over with ſuch a reparation. There was no need of this laſt misfortune to heighten the averſion you have ever had for the unfortunate perſon that now adores you; and this ſight of you, which I ſo earneſtly begged before, ſhould not have been granted me, together with that of an accident which can raiſe in you nothing but horrour for this ſo unhappy a wretch. But ſince it is the diſpoſal of heaven it is but juſt that both Heavens anger and yours ſhould be appeaſed: and ſince I am already ſo well acquainted with your heart, as to believe I ſhall find in you all the reſolution requiſite to revenge your ſelf, and to do right to the Manes of Cecinna, here take the ſword, (continued he, drawing it, and preſenting her with the hilt) take the ſword that hath taken away the life of Cecinna, thruſt it into this breaſt which lyes open to you, and ſpare not, after the injury I have done you, a life, which, even in a condition, of innocence hath ever been odious to you.

At theſe words Tullia, who all the while would not ſo much as look towards him, but turned her face another way, gave him ſuch a ſudden and furious look, that haply upon the firſt ſallies of the violent paſſions ſhe was then abſolutely ſubject to, ſhe might have granted the deſolate Antonius the death he ſo much deſired, and that accordingly ſhe would have taken the ſword he preſented to her, and whereof the very ſight very much enflamed her indignation, when ſhe perceived upon it certain drops of Cecinna's blood. But the prudent Emilia faſtening immediately upon it, got it, not without much difficulty, from Antonius; and this ſhe did, as well in regard of the uncertainty ſhe was in as to Tullia's intention, as to prevent that deſperatè Prince, from making uſe of it againſt himſelf, as he might have done, in the diſtraction his grief had then put him into.

Tullia continued for ſome time without ſo much as opening her mouth, expreſſing the agitations of her ſoul by her looks and ſilence more effectually than ſhe could haply have done by her words. But at laſt, not able to maſter the impetuoſity thereof, and looking on the proſtrate Antonius with eyes, wherein, through the tears that fell from them, the fire of her indignation diſcovered it ſelf but too apparently; Unmercifull diſturber of my quiet, ſaid ſhe to him, thou who being the iſſue of my Fathers Executioners, art reſolved not to degenerate from their cruelty; Is it poſſible that thy inhumanity cannot be ſatisfied either with the bloud of Cicero, ſpilt by thy Friends, nor with that Cecinna, which thou haſt ſhed thy ſelf, but thou muſt perſecute to the death an Unfortunate Mayd, who hath not without reaſon avoided thee, and who never yet gave thee the leaſt offence? Doſt thou hope, ſtained with the bloud of him that was to be her Husband, that ſhe can regard that odious paſſion, which hath proved the cauſe of all her unhappineſſe? Or doſt thou imagine ſhe can look otherwiſe on thee than a Monſter, and the fouleſt object of deteſtation and horrour? Go Barbarian, go Sonne of Fulvia, and diſturb no longer the Daughter of the Unfortunate Cicero, for whom thy cruelty hath opened a ſource of tears, which no paſſion could ever have made her ſhead.

As ſhe uttered theſe words which came from her attended with a deluge of tears, ſhe reſted her face on Emilia's arm, when Scipio, who was then in queſt of either his Miſtreſs or his Friend, came into the place, directed thither haply by the gods, to prevent my Brother's deſpair. He was in few words made acquainted with all that paſt; and though compaſſion had that effect which it could not but produce in him, yet he made a ſhift to ſmother it, the better to ſerve his Friend, and ſo joyned with Emilia to oppoſe thoſe ſentiments of hatred and indignation which Tullia had conceived againſt my Brother. But, notwithſtanding all their arguments, intreaties and remonſtrances, ſhe was ſtill as inflexible as ever; and the ſuppliant poſture wherein Antonius had continued all this while, or [Page] the abundance of tears he ſhed after her example, could not raiſe in her the leaſt touch of compaſſion, nor any way moderate her exaſperation.

When he ſaw that the mediation of Emilia and his Friend proved altogether ineffectual, riſing up from the place where he was, and looking very dreadfully on Tullia, I now ſee Tullia, ſaid he to her, that nothing but my death can ſatisfie you, and I were very much to blame, if, being neer the dead body of Cecinna, I ſhould hope to find that pitty from you, which in the greateſt innocence of my life, and amidſt the moſt prevalent expreſſions of my love I could never obtain: nor indeed was it to your compaſſion that I addreſſed my ſelf, but I defied the implacable averſion you have for me to put a period to that life, for which you have ſo much horrour. I muſt confeſſe, I ſhould have embraced death more kindly from your hands than my own, as conceiving your revenge would be the more abſolute, when you took it your ſelf. But ſince Emilia hath deprived you of that ſatisfaction which yet had been but proportionable to the grief I have innocently cauſed you, I ſhall make it my own buſineſſe to ſacrifice to you the remainder of this life, which hath been ſo unfortunately preſerved, and is ſo cruelly abhorred.

With theſe words he pretended as if he would go away with an action not far from extravagance; but Scipio, who, during his diſcourſe, was gotten neer him, ſtayed him, and Tullia, implacable as ſhe was, yet having abundance of vertue about her, would not leave in the perſons that heard her, the ſentiments which her diſtraction might have raiſed in them, ſo that endeavouring once more to expreſs her ſelf to Antonius, yet without looking on him: I come not out of a cruel race, ſuch as thine is, ſaid ſhe to him, nor do I deſire any bloudy reparations for the injury thou haſt done me. I neither wiſh thy death nor thy life, and leave thee Maſter of a Fate wherein I never intend to be ary wayes engaged: but if the horrid outrages which my family and my ſelf have received from thee and thine, may give me leave to hope any ſatisfaction from thee, I intreat, as thou dost reſpect Heaven, or whatever elſe may be dear to thee, that thou never appear before me again, and that thou free me for ever henceforward of a ſight which neither is nor ought to be any way ſupportable to me. This thou canſt not refuſe me, if thou haſt any ſpark of vertue left in thee: and if thou grant it me, I engage my ſelf never to deſire either of the gods or men any revenge againſt thee, and that I ſhall not be guilty of ſo much as a wiſh that may contribute any thing to the diſturbance of thy life. 'Tis but juſt, Madam, ſaid Antonius to her, who was already reſolved what to do; I ſhall give you the ſatisfaction you deſire of me, though it be more inſufferable then what I had offered you my ſelf, and I proteſt to you, that you ſhall never while you live ſee again that unfortunate perſon whom you thus condemn to eternal baniſhment. With which words he went away along with Scipio, who would not by any means leave him, out of a fear of ſome effect of his deſpair; and not long after Emilia, and the other Ladies, having cauſed the body of Cecinna to be brought away, returned into the City in the confuſed condition which it is not hard for you to imagine to your ſelf.

I ſhall not trouble you, Siſter, either with the grief of Cecinna's Friends and Cicero's, or with the diſpleaſure of the Emperour at that action, wherein yet he could not much blame my Brother, after he had underſtood the circumſtances of it. But I muſt needs tell you, that Antonius, having ſpent the night with Scipio, who would by no means leave him till he were a little recovered, vaniſhed the next morning, and hath not been ſeen ſince in any part of the earth that ever we could hear of, though he hath been ſought out everywhere. He went away with a very ſmall retinue, purpoſely to avoid being diſcovered in the places through which he paſſed, and where he intended to ſpend his life, onely he left a Letter for Scipio, wherein he intreated him to make his excuſes to all thoſe to whom he was obliged to make any, either out of reſpects of birth, or any other conſiderations, further deſiring him, not to enquire after the place of his retirement, proteſting to him that he knew it not himſelf, and that he was reſolved to wander up and down the World, till he were quite recovered of Tullia's love, and then he promiſed to return to Rome, and not before. Scipio and all his Friends ſent ſome after him for certain dayes, but they returned to Rome very much troubled that they could meet with no tidings of him. Tullia extreamly caſt down, and in a manner diſtracted at this unhappy adventure left Rome ſome few dayes after, and returned to her ſolitude, where ſhe continued for many years. And thus, by a paſſion fatally enflamed, have we loſt a Brother; a great and excellent perſon. It is ſix or ſeven years ſince this loſs happened, which yet I was ſenſible of, before it could be thought one of my age could be ſenſible of any ſuch thing, and in regard that it is ſince that time that all the remarkable accidents of my life are happened, my Borther could not be any way concerned in them. And thence it came, that I made no mention of him in the relation of all the misfortunes which the love of Coriolanus hath engaged me in. I ſhall now proceed to the adventures of the reſt of our Family, which having happened [Page] long ſince the other, I have accordingly freſh in my memory.

Here the fair Cleopatra made a ſtop to take her breath a little, and Artemiſa, who had heard her with very much attention, without ever interrupting her all the time, ſeeing her come to that place, Good Heaven, Siſter, ſaid ſhe to her, what an extraordinary obligation have you put upon me by this diſcourſe of yours? and what regret have you raiſed in me for the ſad fortune of that Brother of yours, who in all probability, would have loſt nothing of the luſtre of your noble houſe? How angry have I been with that inflexible Tullia, who made ſo little diſtinction between the innocent and the guilty, and how different have our ſentiments been, though we have met with equal occaſions to expreſſe them? I could not abſolutely diſapprove the [...]arriage of Tullia, replies Cleopatra, though it were ſomewhat too violent at the latter end. At ſo bloudy a ſpectacle as that of the death of Cecinna, ſhe could not be leſſe troubled then ſhe ſeemed to be; and in the beginning, though Antonius were innocent, yet was he Son to thoſe who had put her Father to a death notorious for the cruelty of its circumſtances. And if there were no reaſon ſhe ſhould be deſirous to be revenged upon him, ſo was there not on the other ſide any that ſhould engage her to admit his converſation, much leſſe the expreſſions of his affection. In your fortune things are very much different; your friendſhip took its firſt riſe from your infancy, and from that time you have been accustomed to endure the preſence of Alexander, not as that of their Son who had put Artabaſus to death, but as that of a Prince that adored you, and for whom ever from that time you had no averſion. The two fair Princeſſes had ſome farther diſcourſe upon that ſubject, which ended, Artemiſa having entreated Cleopatra to go on with her diſcourſe, ſhe proceeded thus.

The end of the firſt Book.

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA; OR, Loves Maſter-piece. Part. IX.
Lib. II.

[Page]

ARGUMENT.

Cleopatra, purſuing the Hiſtory of Antonia and young Ptolomey, entertains Artemiſa with a deſcription of Auguſtus's Court, and gives her an account of all the moſt conſiderable Perſons about Rome, in point of Love and Courtſhip. Auguſtus entertains Terentia, the Wife of Mecaenas, in the Gardens of Lucullus, where Mithridates walking with Antonia, diſcovers his paſſion to her, and is ſlighted by her. Undreſſing her ſelf that night, ſhe finds, in one of her ſleeves, a letter from an Unknown Servant. Tullia, meeting with young Ptolomey at Sabina's, is taken with him, but he reflecting on her inflexibility towards his Brother Julius Antonius, ſlights her. Antonia going to the Empreſſes, where all the great perſons about the Court were met, is ſurprized by her Unknown Lover with another Letter, which ſhe finds in her handkerchief. A ſhow upon the Tiber, wherein the Unknown Lover ſurpriſes her in a Galley, which for the invention and magnificence proved the miracle of the divertiſment. That night Antonia, undreſſing her ſelf, finds another Letter, at the reading of which ſhe gives Cleopatra another which ſhe found in one of her Gloves. Archelaus and Mithridates, Suitors to Antonia, conspire againſt their Unknown Rival, watch him one night, but are both worſted by him, whereupon he ſends them a letter. Tullia and Emilia walk into the Gardens of Lucullus, and, for more privacy, go into an Arbour, where Tullia acquaints her with her love to Ptolomey, and is overheard by him and Lentulus, who thereupon falls deſperately in love with her. The ſolemnity of Auguſtus's Birth-day, the ſeveral exerciſes and divertiſements of it deſcribed, wherein the Unknown Lover of Antonia being declared Conquerour, receives accordingly the Prizes, which he preſents at the feet of Antonia, and ſhe, upon the command of Octavia, accepts. Having ſo done, he conveys himſelf out of Liſts yet not ſo, but that being perceived by Mithridates, he is by him purſued and overtaken in a Wood, where they engage, and Mithridates is overthrown. Archelaus perceiving Mithridates departed, out of the ſame motive of jealouſie, follows him, to diſcover the Unknown Lover, and comes up to them juſt as he had worſted Mithridates. Archelaus, ſeconding Mithridates, engages with the Unknown, who after a little fighting, perceiving ſome coming from the City, unhorſes him, yet not ſo, but that the other laying hold of his cask, the chin-pieces broke, and his head being by that means unarmed, he is diſcovered and known to be Druſus, the Son of Livia, and Brother to Tiberius. Marcellus and Ptolomey, coming in upon this, he makes his apology to them, and is by them carried away immediately to be preſented to Antonia, who, upon the mediation of Auguſtus, Livia, Octavia, Marcellus, Ptolomey, and others, entertains him as her Servant. Archelaus goes into the wars againſt the Parthians. Mithridates, is made, by the Emperour, King of Comagenes, Polemon, of Pontus, and Ptolomey continues his devotions to Marcia.

[Page] 'TIS ſince the loſſe of our Brother Julius Antonius, as I told you, that ſo many memorable accidents have happened in our Family, ſuch as no doubt but he would have concerned himſelf in, as he ought to have done, had he not been abſent, nay, it may be, abſolutely loſt. It was much about the time of his departure that Coriolanus made the firſt addreſſes of his love to me, or it was then at leaſt that I was come to an age, wherein I ſeriouſly began to take notice of them. I have already acquainted you with all that hath befallen me ſince, even to the moſt inconſiderable circumſtances, ſo that I am diſpenſed withall as to any relation that concerns my ſelf, though what hath happened to me be of greater conſequence than any thing elſe that hath befallen our Family. For what relates to Alexander, you have been acquainted with the adventures of his firſt years to his departure from Rome; and for what hath happened to him ſince, I have learned it from your ſelf, who muſt needs have been the beſt acquainted of any with his adventures, as having been the onely occaſion thereof. All then that now lyes on my hands to do, is, to give you an account of young Ptolomey, of the Children of Anthony and Cleopatra, and, of thoſe of Anthony and Octavia, of my two Siſters, Agrippina and young Antonia, whom you have ſo particular an affection for. For Ptolomey he is yet of an age wherein it cannot be expected he ſhould meet with many adventures, though the World hath, from ſeveral particular actions of his, conceived very miraculous hopes of him: and for my Siſters, I ſhall punctually acquaint you with all you deſire to know concerning them.

Theſe two Princeſſes, born, no doubt, to all the perfections of nature, have extreamly improved and heightned them by an excellent education, for I need ſay no more to you than that they have been brought up by their Mother Octavia, to let you underſtand what advantages they might derive from that. Agrippina is certainly a very rare and exquiſite Beauty, hath a great command of underſtanding, and is of an exemplary vertue; nay, it will haply be found that the World is but poorly ſtored with perſons whoſe accompliſhments and perfections may come into the ballance with thoſe of this Princeſſe. Yet is it as certain that Antonia ſurpaſſes her in all things, and though Heavea hath beſtowed on her a Beauty of the firſt magnitude among thoſe terreſtrial Conſtellations, whoſe influences the earth adores and is guided by, yet is this Beauty of her perſon much below that of her mind, and that of her inclinations. Never was there any one of her Sex that had a mind fixed with ſo much ſoliditie, refined by ſo much purity, and heightned by ſo great a diſengagement from things that are inconſiderable and beneath her. It diſcovers ſuch a conſonancy of ſweetneſſe and ſeverity, as amounts to a juſt moderation, and all her actions are guided by ſo certain a rule, that they defie whatever the moſt irreconcileable malice durſt object againſt them. I could tell you much more of her, Siſter, and yet be in ſome fear I might not ſpeak enough; ſince it is undeniable, that, taking her in all things, there cannot be any thing more accompliſhed then Antonia, and it is generally acknowledged in Rome, that Octavia, the honour and ornament of her Time, could not have furniſhed the World with any thing elſe that were more worthy her ſelf, or more like her Mother in all her great and excellent perfections.

It is not many years, ſince Domitius Aenobarbus, a man Illuſtrious enough by his extraction, but much more for his great employments, and the noble actions he did, addreſſed his affections to Agrippina, and afterwards became an earneſt and conſtant Servant of hers. And in regard his engagement in this deſign was not without the approbation of the Emperour, Octavia, and, in a word, of all thoſe perſons whoſe countenance he ſtood in need of, Agrippina, out of pure compliance with Octavia, entertained his addreſſes with the eſteem and acknowledgement ſhe was obliged to, and, without any repugnance or violence of paſſion, was reſolved to ſubmit to the diſpoſal of thoſe perſons to whom ſhe ought an obedience. But, on the contrary, Antonia, having a diſ-inclination to love, and an averſion for whatever had but the leaſt appearance of gallantry, had ſpent all the years of her life to this very laſt, not only without loving, but even without ſo much as enduring any diſcourſe, or indeed the leaſt diſcovery of any ſuch thing, though her extraordinary Beautie, and the amiable excellencies of her perſon had raiſed her no ſmall number of ſervants among thoſe of greateſt quality upon earth.

Among the moſt eminent of thoſe that had any thoughts for her, Archelaus, King of Cappadocia, a young Prince, of great valour, and abundance of vertue, was one of the firſt that declared himſelf a ſervant of hers: and certainly, if an exceſſe of merit heighthned by ſervices, full of paſſion and reſpect, might have had any influence on the heart of Antonia, it was not improbable they ſhould faile of their effect on it, on the behalf of that Prince. His alliance with Caeſar, or rather his dependance on the Empire, to which his [Page] dominions were tributary, (as were thoſe of moſt Kings upon earth) obliged him to be very much reſident at Rome, where all other Kings as well as he were forced to make their conſtant addreſſes to the Emperour.

Twas in one of theſe voyages that he became a ſacrifice to the fair eyes of Antonia, and upon that account ſtayed longer in Rome than he had reſolved to do. Whole yeares paſt away ere he durſt make his caſe known, or any way diſcover himſelf to her, who was the occaſion of all his ſufferings. And though that, during this time, he travelled very much up and down, either within his own Kingdom, or into thoſe of his next neighbours, whither the war often drew him; yet was his love his perpetual attendant, and upon the leaſt occaſion brought him ſtill to Rome, where he had left the fair object of his paſſion. Whenever he felt in himſelf any inclination to diſcover to Antonia what he ſuffered for her ſake, her ſeveritie, and that modeſt fierceneſſe ſhe was ſubject to, put him to immediate ſilence: and whereas upon all other occaſions he was never known to be awanting as to courage, yet all that great confidence he was naturally maſter of, proved, as to this deſign, abſolutely unſerviceable, and that out of no other conſideration than that he was not ignorant of the inflexible humour of Antonia. But at laſt he ventured to break ſorth into ſpeech, after he had uſhered in the diſcourſe by thouſands of actions which might have ſignified no leſſe then what he ſpoke; but this firſt overture of his proved ſo little to his ſatisfaction, that for a long time after he could never reflect on it without a certain regret, which muſt needs be the greater, in that Antonia, who till then had ſuffered his converſation as the would do that of a Prince, eminent for his vertue, and high in the eſteem of all the World, could not endure to hear from his own mouth, the firſt declaration of a paſſion which ſhe had a natural averſion for, and entertained it with ſuch a reſentinent, as eaſilie put her upon a reſolution to avoid all occaſions of diſcourſe with him. However, after ſome time ſhe was perſwaded to endure it, but not ſo much out of any remorſe of her inclinations, as by the mediation of Octavia, who would not have her treat, with diſdain and incivilitie, a King of extraordinary merit, as alſo upon the advice of her Brother Marcellus, whom ſhe had very great reſpects for, and who highly eſteemed Archelaus. But after all, the greateſt advantage he made of this ſorbearance amounted not to ſo much as to make his condition any whit the better; and if Antonia gave him ſometimes leave to wait on her, and to fall into diſcourſe with her, yet could he never either from his addreſſes or converſation infer the leaſt hope they might ever prove affectual, or derive any other comfort from them, ſave that of being aſſured, that his Rivalls, (who no doubt were not a few, and thoſe very conſiderable) were not treated any thing more favourably than himſelf.

Beſides Archelaus, there was a great number of other Princes at Rome, and there daily came ſome from all parts, as I told you, to do homage, and make their acknowledgements to the Lord of the greateſt part of the Univerſe. Among the moſt accompliſhed were Mithridates and Polemon, perſons whom their excellent endowments made accordingly conſiderable, it being indeed upon the account of their vertue, (which added a great luſtre and advantage to their birth) that they had not long before receaved Crowns from the liberalitie of Auguſtus; Polemon that of Pontus, and Mithridates that of Comagenes. Mithridates, a perſon naturallie confident and daring, and of high and aſpiring thoughts, captivated by the perfections of Julia, and flattered into ſome hopes through her eaſineſſe, in admitting addreſſes and adorations, made no great ſecret, for ſome time, of the inclinations he had for her: but at length, ſeized with a fear of diſpleaſing Marcellus, whom all the World very much reſpected as well for his repatation as his vertue, and to incenſe the Emperour himſelf, who would not have taken it kindlie that his Daughter ſhould be cajolled into any other affection than that of Mercellus, on whom he had reſolved to beſtow her, he was forced to ſmother his firſt inclinations, and after he had continued for ſome conſiderable time in an uncertainty, without being able to faſten on any chance, he at laſt ran the ſame fate with a many others, and became an admirer of the excellencies of Antonia, and accordingly put himſelf into the ſame praedicament with Archelaus. Polemon, on the other ſide, continued Maſter of Liberty for a long time, but at laſt was forced to ſacrifice it to Marcella, Daughter to Octavia, by her former Huſband, and Siſter, both by Father and Mother, to Prince Marcellus: but his engagement into that affection was with very little hope, or likelyhood of any good ſucceſs; not but that his great worth and high birth were very conſiderable, but, it was the generall belief that the Emperour had long before deſigned his Neece the Princeſſe Marcella for Wife to the great Agrippa, a perſon ſo conſiderable in point of reputation and intereſt, as not to be parallelled by Polemon, or indeed by any other perſon in the Empire, unleſſe it were by Prince Marcellus himſelf. His younger Siſter by the ſame marriage, named Martia, [Page] a Princeſſe of an excellent Beauty, an admirable wit, and a diſpoſition full of ſweetneſſe and complaiſance, had alſo a great number of Suitors; and you are not to imagine but that Princeſſes of ſuch worth, extractions and intereſts were more likely to raiſe deſires than hopes in the hearts of ſuch perſons as were the moſt eminent.

I have purpoſely given you this ſmall account that you may thence infer what a noble and great Court there muſt needs be at Octavia's where we were no leſſe then five Princeſſes, who, next to Julia, might, not without reaſon, pretend to the firſt rank among all thoſe of the Empire, and that had had the honour to be brought up by the conduct of a perſon, whoſe vertue is a thouſand times more conſiderable than all the advantages ſhe might have derived from either her Birth or her Fortune.

Beſides thoſe that I have named to you, that were particularly related to the Imperial Houſe, or were otherwiſe of Royal extraction, there was at Rome a great number of thoſe Illuſtrious Families, which are no way inferiour to thoſe of Kings, as alſo of thoſe Conſular Houſes, whereof the chiefes have ſo often led Kings in Triumph, and diſpoſed of Kingdoms as if they had been their own private eſtates. The admirable Sulpicia, Daughter to Lucius Metellus, the Beautiful Hortenſia, Daughter to Caius Lentulus, Scrvilia Daughter to Servilius Hala, Flavia, of the Noble Bloud of the Fabii, Sabina, of that of the famous Scipio's, and the diſcreet Virginia, the Daughter of Catulus, were, as I may ſay, in reſpect of us of the ſecond magnitude. In like manner, among the men, the very ſame Families, and others of that quality had produced no ſmall number of ſuch, as, in all probability ſhould not degenerate from the glory of their Anceſtors; and as to matter of magnificence and gallantry, next to Marcellus, the Sons of Livia, and the Princes I have already mentioned to you, young Craſſus, Son to thoſe of that name, who dyed among the Parthians, a perſon already arrived to the fame of divers Noble Victories, young Catulus, Albinus, Ciuna, Lentulus, Flavianus the Son of Scaurus, Emilianus, of the race of the Scipio's, and Cornelianus deſcended of that of the Cato's, were the moſt Eminent and Remarkable in Rome, as well for their excellent endowments, as their Pomp and Magnificence. All theſe perſons, or atleaſt the greateſt part of them, came every day to the Empreſſe's Court, or to the Princeſſe Julia's, or to us, or to Scribonia's, or to Terentia's, the Wife of Mecenas, and it may be well affirmed, that there was never any thing of oſtentation, and magnificence, comparable to what was ſeen in the publick ſhews, and divertiſements, that theſe Illuſtrions Perſons daylie entertained us with, and that with ſuch prodigality and profuſions, as it were impoſſible to meet with in any other place, then a City that is Lady of the Univerſe, and ſurfeited with the ſpoiles of ſo many Kingdoms.

I need not tell you, Siſter, that I have all this while digreſſed from what I had firſt undertaken, purpoſely to give you a ſlight deſcription of Auguſtu's Court, and that out of a confidence you would not take it amiſſe to be acquainted with the names of thoſe perſons that are the moſt conſiderable in the Univerſe. I ſhall therefore now return to our own Family, and give you a punctual account of all that you deſire to know concerning it, omitting, out of deſign, what hapned long ſince, the more to haſten to a relation of what hath hapned within theſe late years, as well becauſe it is of greateſt conſequence, as that is freſheſt in my memory, and moſt within my knowledg.

That you may therefore be the better informed as to what concerns the affairs of our Familie, you are to know, That Julius Antonius, as I have already told you, had been loſt for ſome five or ſix years; That I was at Rome expoſed to the cruel perſecution of Tiberius; That Alexander was, not long before, gone from Rome into the Army in Pannonia, whence it was that he came to you; That Ptolomey was brought up in Caeſar's Court, all the World conceiving miraculous hopes of him; That for our two Siſters, that were born of Octavia, Agrippina was courted by Domitius Enobarbus, and the younger Antonia by Arehelaus, King of Cappadocia, and divers other Illuſtrious Perſons, as well among the Romans, as among thoſe Princes that had their education in Anguſtus's Court, and that for the two Princeſſes, the Daughters of Octavia and Marcellus, and whom we ſtill looked on as our Siſters; Marcella was courted by Craſſus and Polemon, but according to the general opinion, deſigned by the Emperor for the great Agrippa; and the young and fair Martia, beſides a many other Suitors and Adorers, whom her excellent perfections magnetically drew after her, was moſt earneſtly courted by Emilianus, one of the houſe of the Scipio's, and young Catulus, both perſons extreamly conſiderable as well upon the ſcore of their vertues, as extraordinary worth and parts. The other Ladies, whom I have named to you, were alſo courted by the moſt Illuſtrious Perſons about Rome, of Roman extraction, inſomuch that Rome was, in point of galantry and magnificence, much beyond what I am able to repreſent to you. The Emperour, who, as you know, is yet in the flower of his age, and is naturally very much inclined to whatever ſounds any thing of gallantry, gave himſelf the [Page] example as to what tended that way, through the engagement and inclinations he then had, and ſtill hath for Terentia, Mecaenas's Wife, a Woman of great Beautie, and a vaſt wit and underſtanding, but with this diſadvantage as to her reputation, that the frequent addreſſes and familiarity of the Emperor did her ſome injury, as being one, that, having been Wife to a man whoſe vertue the whole Empire had a particular honour and veneration for, ſhould have carryed her ſelf with that reſervedneſſe as might have been proof againſt thoſe reports, which but too too often blaſt the moſt circumſpect behaviours.

This excellent woman did the Emperour one day take occaſion to entertain with a Comedy, Muſick, and Walking, in the fair and famous Gardens of Lucullus, and all the perſons I have named to you, with divers others, whom I have not mentioned, were admitted into the noble meeting. The firſt divertiſement they were entertained with, while they expected the other, (which were not to be had, but by torch-light) was that of Walking, ſo that the Company being gotten into thoſe pleaſant walks, they took their turns about, and ſaw all the rarities of the Garden, which certainly are admirable, and not below the report that is ſpread over the World of it, and the charge, which the moſt ſumptuous of mankind had been at about it. The Empreſs, whoſe thoughts have ever been more taken up with what related to her ambition and State-Affairs, then with any thing elſe, pretending to be ignorant of the Emperour's inclinations, and ſeeming not the leaſt troubled thereat, would needs make one of that Aſſembly; and while they walked, was led by Agrippa, though ſhe had no great reſpects for him, and looked on the intereſt he had with Auguſtus, with ſome jealouſie. Mecoenas waited on the Princeſs Octavia, and after her the Emperor himſelf led Terentia; after them came Julia, led by Marcellus, and after her my ſelf, led by Tiberius. Domitius had Agrippina by the arm, and King Archelaus the fair Antonia. Marcella was conducted by Prince Polemon, Martia by the gallant Craſſus; Sulpitia, by Lentulus; Hortenſia by Flavianus, Sabina by Cinna, Servilia by Emilianus, Flavia by Albinus, Virginia, by Cornelianus, & the excellent Cipaſſis (who for her own worth, and the friendſhip which Julia had for her, was numbred among the moſt conſiderable) by Ovid. Beſides all theſe, Druſus, Ptolomy, Mithridates, and Horace, whom they had brought with them, and whom all the World reſpected, and was in love with, for his admirable wit, having not any Ladies to wait on, or being unwilling to engage themſelves any where againſt their inclinations, very pleaſantly deſired leave to diſpoſe of themſelves where they might meet with any hands free; which Livia having, in the name of the whole company, granted them, Druſus came and took me by the hand, out of a confidence his Brother, who had me by the other, would not take it amiſs. Ptolomy addreſſed him ſelf to the beautiful Martia, who was led by Craſſus; the daring Mathridates confidently faſtened on Antonia, who was led by Archelaus; and Horace, after he had recollected himſelf a little after a very pleaſant manner, laid hold of Cipaſſis, who was led by Ovid, and reaching him her hand, ſaid very wittily, that for an unfortunate ſtranger, ſhe was not the worſt waited on [...]n the Company, having thoſe two men about her.

This Noble Aſſembly, the nobleſt haply that the whole Univerſe could have afforded, went all together into a ſpacious walk, covered in a manner with trees of an extraordinary height, and abutted, as all the reſt did, upon a large Baſin of Water, which is in the midſt of the Garden, having in it one principal figure which may be ſeen from all the extremities, and that is a Neptune, placed in the midſt of the water, ſeated in his Chariot, drawn by Tritons, and holding in the right hand his Trident, which at the three points of it, caſt forth water to a greater height then the higheſt trees of the Garden. He is compaſſed about by a hundred Nereids of Alablaſter, diſpoſed about the extremities of the Baſis, in a hundred ſeveral poſtures placed at equal diſtances within a row of Pilaſters of white marble, by which it is encompaſſed. From this place, by the means of twelve ſpacious walks, which abutt there, may be ſeen all the extremities of the Garden, and the end of every walk is remarkable for ſome object that does a certain pleaſant violence on the ſight, and ſurpriſes the Spectator in twelve different manners. That particular walk into which we were gotten, entertained our eyes onely with the gate of the Garden, and a proſpect of Rome; but all the reſt end either with perſpectives, made with ſo much art, that they deceive the ſight, even to the extremity thereof; or with grotts, admirable as well for the variety of ſhells, and the Nacre whereof they are built, as for the diverſity of the ſprings and figures, whereby they are adorned, or with Arbours miraculous for their ſtructure, or laſtly with deſcents of water, ordered with ſuch extraordinary artifice, as that falling from an exceſſive height upon a many ſeveral ſteps, it makes a confuſed, but withal, a pleaſant noiſe, and ſo runs into a number of little channels, which border the Walks in divers places, croſs them in divers others, ſo that people are forced to go over them upon Bridges, having on both ſides Pilaſters of Marble.

The twelve principal Walks are croſſed up and down by an infinite number of others, wherin it is not hard for one to loſe himſelf; but with this advantage, by way of recompence, [Page] that whereſoever chance, or your own inclination diſpoſes of you, the objects you are entertained with, are every where very delightful and very ſurprizing. There are thouſands of rarities in this Garden, which I do not trouble you with an account of, and for what I have told you, it hath onely been by the way, and ſomewhat beſides my purpoſe.

When the whole Company had taken ſeveral turns about the Baſin, it divided it ſelf into ſeveral parties according to the different inclinations of the perſons. Julia having made a propoſition to that purpoſe, and repreſented that walking, wanted that freedom and divertiſement when there were a many together, which it had when there is more privacy. For my part I was reſolved not to leave Octavia, who began to direct her courſe towards one of the principal Walks, and my Siſter Antonia was as reſolved to keep me company. It was, I muſt confeſs, no ſmall ſatisfaction to me, that Druſus came and joyned with Tiberius, to lead me, as well upon the account of the many excellent qualities I obſerved in his perſon, as alſo that I thought it much better, being between the Brothers, than alone with Tiberius; beſides that I cannot deny, but that I found ſomething in Druſus's diſcourſe, which in ſome meaſure took off the tediouſneſs I met with in that of his Brother, and conſequently was ſatisfied as to the good opinion which all the World had of him. He was in very good terms with Marcellus, as to the difference there had been between them concerning their loves to Julia; inſomuch, that he not only forbore all viſits to the Princeſs, but it was viſible in all his actions, that he had given over all thoughts of her, and ſought nothing with ſo much earneſtneſs as the friendſhip of Marcellus. Beſides, though he ſided as much as he could with his Brother, as in point of honour he was obliged to do, yet did he not preſs his intereſt very much to me, and knowing the averſion I had for his Brothers addreſſes, and the reſpects I had for thoſe of Coriolanus, he ſaid very little to me of his Brother, and ſpoke nothing to the diſadvantage of his Rival. 'Twas this day that he entertained me with abundance of things that were infinitely pleaſant, and his Brother maliciouſly putting him upon ſome diſcourſe concerning Julia, he ſpoke of her with ſo much modeſty and reſervedneſs, but withal with ſo much wit, that I had from that time a greater eſteem for him then I had had before.

After us came Antonia, led by Archelaus and Mithridates, but the Emperour having ſent for Archelaus, as having ſome buſineſs to communicate to him, Mithridates ſtayed alone with Antonia, to his unconceivable ſatisfaction. This was it he had ſought-out, of a long time, and what he could never find before; and accordingly being a perſon infinitely confident, he would needs make his advantage of it, attributing the ſilence he had for ſome time obſerved to want of opportunity. And yet all his confidence, though ſummoned together upon this occaſion, ſtuck not ſo cloſe to him, but that for ſome minutes he was at a loſſe what to do as to the deſign he had to diſcover his thoughts, and Antonia on the other ſide was ſo terrible upon all occaſions of that nature, that ſhe was able to make the moſt aſſured of their ſtrength, to tremble. However he took heart in his reſolution, and falling into diſcourſe about the departure of Archelaus; I never made it any queſtion, Madam, ſaid he to her, but that Archelaus entertains whatever orders come from Caeſar, with all the reſpect and compliance that may be; but for this laſt, I believe it hath been received by him, with a diſturbance equal to the ſatisfaction it hath bred in me. I cannot apprehend, replies Antonia, the cauſe of either his diſcontent or your joy, nor ſee in this accident any occaſion either of the one or other. For Archelaus, replies Mithridates, you cannot certainly but know how unkindly he takes it to be abſent from you, ſince you are not to be now acquainted with the paſſion he hath for you: and for Mithridates, you may well imagine what joy it is to him to have the honour to wait on you alone, when I have once told you that he is involved in the ſame chains with Archelaus.

Theſe words of Mithridates made Antonia bluſh for very indignation, though from ſome circumſtances ſhe was ſatisfied as to ſome part of that truth; but ſhe would needs pretend that ſhe underſtood not his meaning, and ſo ſeem the leſs incenſed againſt him, whereupon re-aſſuming the diſcourſe with an action full of diſdain, I know not, ſaid ſhe to him, what you mean either by the chains or paſſions of Archelaus, but am ſatisfied, that were he conſcious of any thing which I ſhould take amiſſe at his hands, the reſpects he hath for me are ſo great, that he would keep it from my knowledge. Ah Madam, replyed he, is it poſſible, that you who pretend ſo much to a real ſincerity, can ſo peremptorily affirm that the King of Cappadocia hath never entertained you with the affection he hath for you? If ever he did ſpeak to me of it, replies the Princeſs, it matters not, I gave no credit to what he ſaid, and that for me to do ſo, was the greateſt advantage he could ever hope from ſuch diſcourſe; for after all, when he had done what he could to perſwade me that he had an affection for me, I ſhould poſſibly have perſwaded him in my turn, that I ſhould be ſubject to a quite contrary paſſion for perſons, whoſe affections make them forget the reſpect they ought to obſerve. For matter of reſpect, replies the Prince of Comagenes, I muſt acknowledge, it ought to be had for you [Page] while life laſts, and that the leaſt violation thereof deſerves the ſevereſt puniſhment; but for a man to be ſo far from being awanting in point of reſpect, as that he onely preſumes to diſcover a love, which for the greateſt part conſiſts in reſpect it ſelf; does he deſerve thoſe lightnings and thunder-bolts which you caſt at the guilty? and muſt a man needs be expoſed to your indignation for telling you, that he hath an adoration for you, equal to what he hath for the gods, as he ſhould be to that of another perſon, whom he had done ſome affront to? The caſe is the very ſame, replies the Princeſſe very roundly, and in my opinion, there ſhould be no diſtinction made between ſuch adorations and affronts. How Madam, cries out Mithridates, it ſeems you allow no difference between the effects of Love, and thoſe of Hatred? When thoſe of Love are importunate and troubleſome, anſwers Antonia, I think them more inſupportable then thoſe of Hatred, and, ſuch is my humour, I ſhould ſooner pardon an affect of Hatred in my enemies, then an expreſſion of Love in thoſe that call themſelves my Friends. Ah Madam, replies the Prince with an action full of earneſtneſſe, if it be ſo, I ſhall adviſe the unfortunate Mithridates not to tell you till at the laſt gaſp, that he dies for you, and I ſhall beſeech you for the future to read in his eyes what you forbid him to declare with his tongue.

Mithridates had no ſooner pronounced theſe words, with a ſubmiſſive look on the ground, but Antonia caſting her eyes on him, with an action full of fierceneſſe; Mithridates, ſaid ſhe to him, I am now ſatisfied that you take me for........at which word making a ſudden ſtop, haply to correct what the haſtineſſe of her thought had almoſt forced into her mouth. No, no, ſaid the Prince, interrupting her, no Madam, I do not take you for Julia, for it was of her that you were going to ſpeak, and the gods are my witneſſes, that though truth it ſelf, and the paſſion I have had for that Princeſſe, might well oblige me to ſpeak advantagiouſly of her, yet muſt I acknowledge that I find no reſemblance between you. It was from my intention, replies Antonia, to ſay any thing of Julia: I conceave it an honour to be any way like her, and am perſwaded ſhe gives as little entertainment as I do, to ſuch diſcourſes as that, you have entertained me with: but whether that it be ſo or not, if I have deſerved this unhappy adventure for the pains I have taken to make you ſome anſwer on an unbeſeeming ſubject, meerly to avoid the like for the future, ſince I cannot take down your confidence, I ſhall deprive you of the occaſions, and you ſhall talk to me in another ſtile or never ſee me again.

Mithridates at theſe words, notwithſtanding his great confidence was ſomewhat at a loſſe, and knew not what anſwer to make her, when the incenſed Antonia having pronounced them: and walking a little faſter to overtake us, Siſter, Siſter, ſaid ſhe to me, ſtay for us, and give us leave to be of your company, and participate of your diſcourſe.

Theſe words falling from her ſomewhat diſorderly, were enough for me to gueſs at the truth; ſo that when ſhe was come up to us, I could not forbear looking on her with a certain ſmile, as if I underſtood by her countenance that ſhe was really angry. Coming to our ſide, Druſus, who was next her, very reſpectfully preſented her with the hand he had at liberty, and Antonia having with as much civility received it, we walked all five abreſt, after Octavia and Mecaenas, who were ſome few paces before us, and often ingaged in our diſcourſe. Tiberius and Druſus talked in a manner all the time, and though Mithridates was a perſon ſufficiently inclined to diſcourſe and mirth, yet came there not many words from him all the day after. I could not forbear ſmiling when ever I looked on Antonia, who was extreamly troubled at it. But what was moſt pleaſant of all, was, When we were gotten out of the ſpacious walk to go into others that were narrower, which lye next to the little Rivuletts, and wherein there cannot walk above three abreſt; for Druſus being in the middle of the five, and juſt between my Siſter and me, we were both deſirous to keep him; Antonia, to be exempted from the diſcourſe ſhe was ſo willing to avoid, and I, becauſe I would not be alone with Tiberius, and accordingly upon theſe ſeveral conſiderations we both drew Druſus with us at the ſame time, and to make him the more ſure to us, wrung him hard by the hand.

That action ſurprized him a little at firſt, as not being wont to be ſo treated by us, but a while after, being a perſon infinitely ingenious, he apprehended our meaning, and could not forbear laughing at it. He was a while in ſuſpence which ſide to take, telling us that he wiſhed himſelf the fate of Ariſtocles, with abundance of other things, very witty and pleaſant; but at laſt, he decided the controverſie, ſomewhat to my diſadvantage, for he left me, becauſe he would be alone with Antonia, but telling me withall very wittily, that he was a better Brother then for to deprive Tiberius any longer of my diſcourſe, and that he would wait upon Antonia, who had not the ſame engagements to Mithridates, as I had to his Brother. Mithridates bluſhed at this diſcourſe, and was forced though with much diſcontent, to accept of Druſus's company: but not long after, being come to a place where ſeveral walks croſſed one the other, we met Julia, Agrippina, and Marcia, with Marcellus, Domitius, Craſſus, and yong [Page] Ptolomey our Brother, and ſaw coming on the other ſide, the Emperor with Terentia, the Empreſs, Marcella and divers others, ſo that Caeſar having given order that all the Company ſhould rally, all met together at the end of one of the walks in a ſpacious vaulted Arbour, open on three ſides, and having at the three openings, three ſprings caſting up water higher than the roof of the Arbour. There it was that the muſick expected us, and that the moſt excellent voices that Rome could afford, joyned to all the Inſtruments requiſite to make a noble conſort, gave us a very delightful divertiſment. After the Muſick, which laſted not above an hour, all went a walking again, and walked till night; but this ſecond time, every one endeavored to avoid being of their Company whom they could not affect, ſo that Mithridates being deprived of the company of Antonia, who did all ſhe could to ſhun him, ſtayed with Druſus, Craſſus, young Ptolomy, and others, who came not neer the Ladies for all that day.

When the day began to diſ-lodge, and reſign its place to darkneſſe, we were all brought into a ſpacious Bower, ſo covered over with the boughs of trees whereof it was made, that the violent rayes of the Meridian Sun could hardly find any paſſage into it: but that night it had ſuch an exceſſe of light, that it might be ſaid it never knew a greater day, that is, that of a thouſand torches faſtened to a hundred ſumptuous branches ſparkling with gold and precious ſtones, which hanging down from the boughs of the Bower, produced the nobleſt effect in the World, and enlightned a magnificent Theatre that had been ſet up at one end of it, and upon which the ſucceſſors of the famous Roſcius entertained the Company for two hours.

The Comedy being ended, we went into another Bower, not far from the former, and enlightned after the ſame manner, where we were entertained with a magnificent collation; and that alſo over, the reſt of the night was ſpent in dancing. Archelaus danced with Antonia, whom Mithridates durſt not come neer all the night. Polemen danced with Marcella, and had a long diſcourſe with her, and our Brother Ptolomy, with the fair Mantia; but after a manner much different from that of the other. For Polemon having an extraordinary paſſion for Marcella, who, for her part was not any way moved thereat, and did not much mind the expreſſions of Polemon's affection, and Ptolomy naturally averſe from love, unleſſe it were that of his libetrty, was little moved at the beauty of Martia, though ſhe were ſo well furniſhed that way as to make an impreſſion on ſouls that were moſt inſenſible, and had naturally no averſion for Ptolomy, but lived with him by the directions of Octavia, as if they had been Brother and Siſter. For Domitius and Agrippina, their converſation was ful of freedom, and whereas the pretenſions of Domitius were generally countenanced and encouraged, and Agrippina a perſon of a diſpoſition eaſily ſatisfied, her affection accordingly met with few traverſes of fortune, and ſo her mind had little to ſtruggle withal. Marcellus and Julia were in the height of familiarity, in regard no man diſputed her with him, and that he himſelf had made his peace with her, as to the difference they had had together about the love of Druſus; and for my part, I had my hands full of Tiberius, who made all the advantage he could of the abſence of Coriolanus but the moſt pleaſant part of the ſtory was a diſpute raiſed by Cypaſſis, between Ovid and Horace, who had waited on her all that day, and who, upon a very nice and tickliſh queſtion, ſaid things worthy the admiration of all the World. The greateſt part of the night being thus ſpent, it was thought time to retire; whereupon the whole Company being diſpoſed into Chariots, every one went to, what was then moſt deſirable, Reſt.

I know Siſter I have not done well thus to digreſſe, or at leaſt there was no neceſſity I ſhould give you ſuch a particular deſcription of that dayes walking and entertainments, and it is ot unlikely you expected to hear of ſome extraordinary accident ſomé way relating to this Hiſtory. But this ſhort relation of the divertiſements of that day, (whereof I have given as brief an account as I could) may be thus far advantageous to you, as to make you better acquainted, as well with the perſons, as the little intrigues that then were in the Court of Auguſtus, and I have been ſo much the larger out of this conſideration, that it was this day that gave birth to ſome things which have ſince come to paſſe of very great conſequence. My Siſter Antonia and I had layn together for ſome few dayes before, and were extraordinary kind one to another, as being engaged in a friendſhip that allowed as little ſeparation as could poſſibly be. As we were undreſſing our ſelves that night, I fell into diſcourſe about what had happened between her and Mithridates, and though ſhe was extreamly loth to make me acquainted with it, yet at laſt not able to ſtand out againſt my perſecutions of her, ſhe gave me a punctual account of all the diſcourſe ſhe had had with him, as I have related it to you already, and diſcovered ſo much indignation in the recital thereof, that notwithſtanding the ſadneſſe which then lay heavy on my heart, I could not forbear laughing at it, andto torment her with diſcourſe about [Page] it. But the occaſion I laid hold of to do ſo, was yet more handſome: when as ſhe put off her cloaths, there fell, out of one of her ſleevs, a letter that had been hidden there, and which was no ſooner fallen to the ground, but I took it up, and having with a great curioſity looked on the ſuperſcription, I found written in a hand that was unknown to me. (To the fair Antonia.) I had no ſooner eyed that ſuperſcription, but preſenting it to her, and obliging her to read it, ſhe was extreamly at a loſſe, and perceiving her amazement to be ſo great as hindred her from ſpeaking, Siſter, ſaid I to her, you have not dealt freely with me, ſince that having acquainted me with the particularities of Mithridates's affection, you conceal from me that of another more fortunate Servant of yours, from whom you receive letters. Theſe words put her into a ſudden bluſh; but having ſoon after recovered her ſelf, Sister, replyed ſhe very ſoberly, I ſhall not vindicate my ſelf to you, and I think you know me better then to believe that I receive letters from any one. And yet you ſee, replyed I, that this is very truely directed to you, and that he that writ it, hath been ſo much afraid it ſhould miſcarry, that he would needs put your name in the ſuperſcription in very fair Characters. For that, replies Antonia, be it on the account of his diſcretion; but that he hath been ſo fortunate in his deſign, as that it ſhould be known it was directed to me, is all the ſatisfaction it will bring him, and aſſure your ſelf, I am ſatisfied with the bare ſuperſcription, and have no deſire to ſee any more of it. Not but that I am perſwaded it comes from Mithridates himſelf, who will needs accompliſh what he ſo confidently began, It being not ſo likely that Archelaus ſhould have any hand in it, ſince he talked with me all the evening, and that I cannot believe every day ſhould produce perſons guilty of ſuch an exceſſe of confidence. However it may be, ſaid I to her, if you are not reſolved to conceal it from me, you will give me leave to read it. You may as well let it alone, replies Antonia, but it would argue in me a diſtruſt of my own ſtrength, ſhould I forbid you to do it if you are ſo reſolved. I therefore opened the letter, and began to read aloud theſe words.

Since that in your judgment there is no diſtinction to be made between adorations and affronts, and that you think the effects of hatred more ſupportable than thoſe of love........

Now, Siſter, ſaye; Antonia interrupting me, was I not in the right, when I told you it came from Mithridates, and are they not his own words in the diſcourſe that paſt between us? So far, ſaid I to her, I agree with you that Mithridates is the Author of it; but let us ſee what follows, and comfort your ſelf ſo far, as that there is no new affront offered you in this letter, ſince it acquaints you with nothing but what you knew before. Antonia being of the ſame opinion, heard me with much more quietneſſe of thought then before, ſo that I began it again, and found in it theſe words.

SInce that in your judgement there is no diſtinction to be made between adorations and affronts, and that you think the eſſests of Hatred more ſupportable than thoſe of Love, thoſe who are deſtin'd to affront you, ſince they are only ſuch as are born to adore you, ought either to conceale the offence from you, or keep the offender out of your knowledg. For my part, faireſt Antonia, I am the greateſt of your Enemies, ſince that I am of all mankind the perſon that hath the greateſt affection for you, and I tell you that confidently, which I ſhould not without trembling, were I not unknown to you. You have ſeen and know the perſon, while yet you were ignorant of his paſſion; but now that the paſſion is diſcovered, it is but fit the perſon ſhould be concealed, that onely his Love may be expoſed to your indignation. And ſince it is onely Love that you hate, and not the perſons that are inclined to love you, if it be poſſible to engage the averſion you have for it, with ſuch good ſucceſſe as that you may be entreated to be more favourable to it, thoſe who are guilty of no other crime, will appear before you in a leſſe odious poſture, when their crime is pardoned, or at leaſt connived at by your indulgence. The moſt guilty of all thoſe that commit any offences of this nature againſt you, ſeeing himſelf reduced by your inflexible maxims, to a cruel neceſſity of either holding his peace, or concealing himſelf, ſtands in ſuſpence at the choice he is to make, which though it be, in appearance, fantaſtick, yet is in its conſequences rational enough, nay haply generous enough, ſince that he cannot be charged with any conſideration of his perſon, but only of his love, and that it is to induce you to bear with his Love, that he addreſſes himſelf to you, and not to engage you to any affection towards his perſon, which he conceals from you, and which he ſhall conceal, haply, as long as he lives. Pardon him this innocent ſurprize, which he intends your rigour, and let onely your Beauty engage againſt him, in a caſe wherein, to puniſh the raſhneſſe of his attempt, it wants not the aſſiſtance of your cruelty.

As ſoon as I had given over reading, I looked on Antonia, who at the ſame time caſt her eyes on my face, with certain diſcoveries of aſtoniſhment, not inferiour to what I was in my ſelf. In a word, we were both equally ſurprized, and whereas we inferred from the firſt words of the Letter that it came from Mithridates, we concluded from the ſequele, not onely the quite contrary, but were perſwaded withal, that the perſon who had writ [Page] it, had never made any expreſſion of his love to Antonia, and that in that Letter he took occaſion to make the firſt diſcoveries of it. 'Tis true we were ſomwhat diſtruſtful as to that opinion, when we reflected on the firſt words, which were the ſame ſhe had ſaid to Mithridates, and could not apprehend how they could come by chance ſo pat into the imagination of the Unknown Lover; but for all the reſt, it had ſo little relation or conſiſtency either with the humour, former proceeding of Mithridates, or the terms wherein he was with Antonia, that we were ſatisfied it muſt needs be ſom other, and one that either out of curioſity or concernment in the buſineſs, might have gotten behind the trees that were on both ſides the walk, wherin the diſcourſe had paſt, and liſtening attentively to what was ſaid, had heard ſom part of it.

Being agreed in this opinion as the moſt probable, we fell into diſcourſe upon the adventure; ſo far, that Antonia thought there was ſome thing in it ſo full of ſurpriſe, and ſo extraordinary, that ſhe could not be angry at it, as ſhe had been before at the confidence of Mithridates. We ſearched among all the men I have named to you the perſon we could with any likelihood ſuſpect; but though it was out of all queſtion that it was one of thoſe that had paſſed the day with us, yet after we had examined them all one after another, we could not faſten on any one whom we could charge with it. Divers of them had come neer Antonia, as well during the Comedy, as while they danced, and at the Collation; but of all thoſe that ſhe could remember had had any diſcourſe with her, there was not any whom we knew not to be otherwiſe engaged as to matter of affection, or to be much a wanting in point of ingenuity, to carry on ſuch a piece of gallantry. When we had diſcourſed almoſt to wearineſſe about it; Who it may be, it matters not, ſaies, Antonia, he puts himſelf to a great deal of trouble to no purpoſe, and if he deprive me of the object of my indignation, by concealing his perſon from me, he alſo deprives himſelf, continued ſhe laughing, of the acknowledgement I ſhould return his affection by not diſcovering himſelf. Ah Siſter, ſaid I to her, how well is this man acquainted with you, and how true is it, that if you were as ready to make acknowlegdments, as to be tranſported with indignation, he would have taken a courſe quite contrary to what he hath; but, be he what he will, I do not onely think him extreamly ingenious, but I beleive he may carry on his deſign very ſucceſſefully, and dare paſſe my word that you have a leſſe averſion for him then for Mithridates and others, who have been ſo confident as to diſcover their paſſions to you. I acknowledge no leſſe, replies Antonia, and am of your mind, that if I never know him while I live, I ſhall never while I live know whom I ought to hate. How ever it may be, replied I, tis out of all doubt, this man hath Underſtanding, and in that underſtanding ſomething that is great, and ſignifies very viſibly that he is a perſon of eminent quality, we ſhall know him when he ſhall think it fit........ And, I hope, added Antonia, interrupting me, that, if he be a man of his word, we ſhall never know him. In troth, replied I, my mind gives me, I ſhould be extreamly troubled at it, and muſt confeſſe this untroden way of proceding hath raiſed in me a more than ordinary curioſity. We ſhould have had abundance of other diſcourſe upon this adventure, but it was ſo late, or rather ſo neer day, that we were loth to ſit up any longer, ſo that going to bed a little after, we ſoon fell aſleep.

For ſome dayes enſuing, (though it might well be thought, that the misfortunes of my own life, being at that time ſuch as found matter of diſcontent enough, ſhould have leſt me but little curioſity) I made it my earneſt buſineſſe to find out whom that Letter ſhould come from, nay ſeemed to be much more concerned in the buſineſs than Antonia her ſelf, who looked on all theſe things with the greateſt indifference imaginable. And what much heightned my inquiſition, was, that me-thought the adventure argued ſomwhat ſo far beyond the ordinary way of proceeding, that contrary to my natural inclination, I was extreamly deſirous to ſee the iſſue of it. But all the little inquiries I made, proved ineffectual, for I never could come to the leaſt diſcovery of any thing; with ſo great circumſpection had that perſon managed all things in order to the deſign he had to continue ſtill unknown, though he omitted not any that might demonſtrate the earneſtneſs of his paſſion for Antonia.

In the mean time, Ptolomey our Brother (the only Brother Fortune had left us after the loſs of Alexander, who was gone to find you out in Armenia, and of whom we had not the leaſt account in the World) lived in Auguſtus's Court, after ſuch a rate as gave all that knew him occaſion to conceive very great hopes of him: but as to matter of inclinations the greateſt he ſeemed to have, were thoſe of his Liberty, nay, though he daily waited on the [...]reſt Ladies about Rome, and was extreamly well entertained by them, yet could it not be inferred from any action of his, that he had a particular devotion for any. He was a great Lover of Arms, Horſes, and all Exerciſes of the Body, and had a ſingular dexterity therein; but, to ſigh or pine for a Beauty, was a thing inconſiſtent with his humor, as being a [Page] perſon naturally inclined to be free and cheerful, and avoided as much as could be all diſtraction of thought. The vertuous Octavia, who ſtill perſiſted in the generous deſign ſhe had taken to make the beſt proviſion ſhe could for the children of Anthony, and imagined ſhe could not do it any way better then by bringing them into the family and allyance of Caeſar, being now out of all hopes to effect her deſires firſt in the perſon of Julius Antonius, and not long ſince in that of Alexander, who was looked on as loſt as well as our Elder Brother; conceived it might be brought to ſomething in Ptolomey, and wiſhed his inclination directed to Martia, a Lady courted by the greateſt perſons among the Romans, and, to ſpeak modeſtly of her, one that had very excellent parts. Ptolomy made no difficulty, to entertain that Princeſſe with all the civilities ſhe might expect from him, nay, diſcovered ſomewhat of particular affection for her, ſuitable to the good intentions of Octavia: but indeed his flames were come to no great height, though Martia were a perſon infinitely lovely, for having a freedom of acceſſe to her every day, his deportment was accordingly full of cheerfulneſſe and indifference. It was much otherwiſe with Martia, and though ſhe were of an exemplary vertue and modeſty, yet muſt it withal be acknowledged, that ſhe is ſubject to much tenderneſſe of mind, and having been brought up with Ptolomey, as with a perſon on whom her mother had caſt her eies with a deſign to make him her Husband, and lived familiarly with him as with Marcellus, that fraternal friendſhip, which, with the names of Brother and Siſter, Octavia would needs have continued among us, had made a greater impreſſion in her mind, then well ſtood with the ſerenity and quiet thereof, ſo far as that ſhe was no longer able to withſtand the lovely qualities of that Prince, which out of all doubt had wrought much more upon her inclinations, than hers had upon thoſe of Ptolomey I had, not without much diſ-ſatisfaction, taken notice of it my ſelf, and ſeveral times chid my Brother for his back wardneſs in his acknowledgements of the ſincere affection of Martia: but the young man, of an uncontrolled humour, would make ſome ſhift to put me off, telling me that he loved and honoured Martia, as he was obliged to do, and that he ſhould be well content to give her the greateſt aſſurances ſhe could expect of the devotion he had for her; but for melancholy, diſturbances of mind, and reſervedneſſe, he looked on them as the deſtroyers of his happineſſe, and making good what he ſaid in his actions, he was indeed very punctual in doing her all manner of civilities, and acknowledgements, nay ſo far as to expreſſe a more particular affection for her, than for any other. Yet was it obſervable withal, that it was don with a certain diſcovery of much freedom of mind, which argued in him ſuch a mediocrity of inclinations, as that he would not, to waite on her, abate any thing of his enjoyments, nor let ſlip any occaſion that offered it ſelf, to be among the Ladies, whoſe company could afford him ought of diverſion. Martia, who is of a very mild diſpoſition, endured this indifferent manner of behaviour a long time, without the leaſt diſcovery of any diſcontent thereat: but at laſt, looking on it as an evident expreſſion of his coldneſs and negligence, ſhe began to be troubled, inſomuch that the grief ſhe conceaved thereat, wrought ſome alteration both in her humour and countenance. All the World took notice of her ſadneſs; but the motive thereof was abſolutely unknown: and Martia, who made it her buſineſſe to conceal it what ſhe could, had haply ſmothered it to this day, if I had not caſually made the firſt diſcovery thereof.

During the time that her melancholy grew more and more prevalent upon her, taking occaſion to give her a viſit, and finding her alone, I entreated her of all love to acquaint me with the cauſe of her ſadneſs, which troubled not onely all that knew her, but my ſelf more particularly, who (as I was for many conſiderations obliged to do) had a more then ordinary affection for her. My careſſes were anſwered by Martia, after an indifferent and evaſive manner, yet ſuch as betrayed much grief and reſentment. Very loath ſhe ſeemed to be to give me any ſatisfactory anſwer, and would ſay no more then that ſhe knew not any cauſe whence her ſadneſs ſhould proceed, and that it muſt be derived from her temperament or ſome indiſpoſition of Body. But I, not ſatisfied with this anſwer, reproached her with a want of ſincerity, and was preſſing her to diſcover her mind more freely to a perſon whom ſhe might truſt with any thing, when Ptolomey comes into the Chamber. His firſt appearance wrought ſuch an alteration in her, that her colour changed ſeveral times of a ſudden; and having caſually caſt my eyes on her countenance, I could not but immediately take notice of the alterations which my Brother's coming in had wrought therein. From this diſcovery I might well gueſſe at ſome part of the buſineſſe, and was in a manner perſwaded that Ptolomey had contributed much to the change of that Princeſſe's diſpoſition.

This reflection made me take more particular notice of her deportment then I had done before, and I obſerved, that while Ptolomey ſtayed with us, ſhe was at ſuch a loſſe, that [Page] ſhe found it ſome difficulty to ſpeak. His viſit was indeed but very ſhort, for having ſtayed about a quarter of an hour with us, he told us, we were too ſad for his company, and that he would go to Sabina's, where Virginia, Hortenſia, Telavia, and ſeveral other Ladies were met, and where he hoped to find more diverſion. Whereupon going out of the room, he left Martia ſo much troubled both at his words, and manner of departure, that the moſt diſ-obſervant perſon in the World might have perceived the diſturbance of her thoughts, by the trouble it raiſed in her countenance. I muſt confeſſe I was my ſelf much ſurprized at Ptolomey's deportment, and angry with him for it, and havingwithal obſerved Martia's affliction thereat, I was ſo much the more earneſt to look further into the buſineſs, out of the deſire I had to ſerve & oblige her, if it lay in my power. To which effect reiterating the careſſes and intreaties to her ſome few minutes before, I conjured her by all the friendſhip that was between us, not to conceal from me any longer what her heart was ſo much burthened with, aſſuring her that that curioſity in me proceeded not from any thing but the deſires I had to ſerve her in that conjuncture, proportionably to the affection I had for her. But I could not get a word from her, and inſtead of ſome anſwer, there fell from her eyes ſome few tears which ſhe could notpoſſibly keep in any longer, and which ſhe would have concealed from me by turning her head to the other ſide. That diſcovery raiſed in me all the compaſſion I could conceave at ſuch an accident, and thereupon putting my cheek to hers, with an action that argued the tenderneſs I had for her, What Siſter, ſaid I to her, can you be ſo cruel as to conceal from me the cauſe of a grief wherein I concern my ſelf ſo much or have I ſo poorly deſerved your affection, that you have ſo little confidence of mine? I durſt truſt my life in your hands, replies Martia, nay any thing elſe that I thought more precious; But why will you engage me into a diſcourſe, whence you will infer nothing but my fondneſſe and extravagance? Or if you have any opinion of my prudence, why will you not rather adviſe me to do all that lies in my power to preſerve it? I am ſo well ſatisfied as to that particular, replyed I, that I ſhall never conceave otherwiſe of you; and that is the reaſon I am ſo importunate with you, as knowing, that I ſhall not underſtand any thing from you, which muſt not confirm me in the conſidence I have thereof. It argues the greatneſſe of my obligations to you, replyed the Princeſſe, but be what will the iſſue of it, I cannot have the courage to acquaint you with my weakneſſe, and I think I ſatisfie the duty of our mutual friendſhip when I promiſe you to acknowledge it, if you gueſſe the cauſe thereof. Since you afford me that freedom, ſaid I to her, and conſequently give me ſome ground to believe you will approve of that my diſccourſe, May I not ask you, whether the young Prince, who now left the room, be not in ſome meaſure the occaſion of your melancholy, and whether his being awanting in the ſervice he owes you may be ſome cauſe of your being diſſatisfied with him?

Upon theſe words, Martia, being not any longer able to ſmother the confuſion ſhe was in, nor the bluſhes that ſpread through her countenance, leaned her ſelf againſt my ſhoulder, and wringing one of my hands between both her own, with the greateſt diſcovery of paſſion that could be, Siſter, ſaid ſhe to me, with much difficulty, I am not worthy the ſervices of Ptolomey; nay it is not unlikely he conceaves it ſo, and by his deportment towards me, you may eaſily judge, that I am not to flatter my ſelf with any great hopes of him. I muſt confeſſe that, having entertained the firſt addreſſes of his affection, by the commands of thoſe who have the diſpoſal of my inclinations, and that having poſſibly been too implicitely dutiful to Octavia, I cannot quit the hopes I had conceaved thereof, without ſome affliction, and this is the confuſion, this is the fondneſſe. which I neither durſt, nor ought to have diſcovered, but the reliance I have on your friendſhip per ſwades me, that you will not let it go any further, nay, that you will conceale it even from Ptolomey him ſelf, who obliges me not to this tenderneſs for him, while he hath ſo little for me.

Theſe words, falling from her with that mildneſſe which is abſolutely natural in her, gave my heart a more then ordinary aſſault, whereupon embracing her with a certain exceſſe of affection; Siſter, ſaid I to her, Ptolomey is happy, inſinitely beyond his deſerts, if I may meaſure his happineſſe by theſe diſcoveries of your affection towards him; nay I am confident, that had he but the knowledg thereof, he would caſt himſelf at your feet, begging your pardon for all the faults, which through the inconſiderate ſallies of youth, he may have committed againſt you. He were unworthy all countenance of fortune, if he entertain not this as the greateſt which Heaven could favour him with: but I am to aſſure you, as I have had it thouſands of times from his own mouth, and ſee it in his heart, that he hath for you the greateſt ſentiments of paſſion and reſpect he can have, and if that he be awanting in the demonſtrations he ought to give you thereof, it is to be attributed to the impetuoſity of his greener years, which time will ſo ſettle, as that you will be the onely object of his devotions for all the reſt of his life. I ſhall not acquaint him with any thing of what you have diſcovered to me, but as from my ſelf make him ſenſible of his omiſſions of duty, and I [Page] dare promiſe you to bring him at your feet, as penitent and as reformed in matter of inclination as he ought to be, and your vertue deſervs. With theſe words, and what elſe I ſaid to her, I appeaſed Martia, and further repreſenting to her, that Ptolomey deſerved not ſo great expreſons of her good will, and that it was but fitting he ſhould not be acquainted therewith, leſt it made him too inſolent, I by degrees ſo laid that mild nature, that I brought her to a reſolution of not grieving any longer after that manner, and that ſhe would reaſſume her former freedom and pleaſantneſſe of converſation.

In the mean time, give me leave to acquaint you with the adventure, which the ſame day happened to Ptolomey, and prepare your ſelf to hear a very ſtrange accident. He went to Sabina's, as he told us he would, where a great many Ladies met, and among others, beſides thoſe he had named to us, Helvidia, Sulpicia, Emilia, (whom I made mention of in the adventures of Julius Antonius, & who was ſome years ſince married to Scipio) and with her that inexorable Tullia, who had been the cauſe of the loſſe of our Elder Brother. After the death of Caecinna, and the deplorable accident I have already related to you, ſhe retired to Tuſculum, where ſhe continued ſix years, without ever coming once to Rome; during which time Cicero, her Brother, had made his abode in Africk, where he was Proconſul; but being not long before returned to Rome, he had brought his Siſter with him, which to effect he had uſed all the authority he had over her, otherwiſe ſhe had ſtill continued her ſolitude. 'T was not above three dayes before that ſhe came to Rome, where ſhe was thought as beautiful as when ſhe left it, though ſhe were then about three or four and twenty years of age, and had a ſufficient meaſure of affliction to cauſe ſome alteration in her beauty. Her dreſſe was not after the exactneſſe of the mode, yet neat, and there was in her countenance ſuch a conjunction of ſweetneſſe and majeſty, that Ptolomey, who had never ſeen her before, immediately took notice of her more than of any of the reſt. At his coming in, the company was gotten into a long Gallery, where they were looking on the pieces that were hanged about it, yet ſo as they were divided into parties, according to the difference of pictures more or leſſe inviting them. Ptolomey was not expected in this company, and if Sabina had had any notice of his coming, ſhe would not have had Tullia there, though ſhe were of her moſt intimate acquaintance: but he being of a quality that won him a welcom-reception every where, and that the excellencies of his perſon recommended him no leſſe then the rank he was of, he was very kindly entertained, ſo far as that ſome part of the company came about him at his entrance into the room. Being a perſon of a majeſtick look, a noble carriage of body, and a deportment infinitely taking. Tullia immediately obſerved him, not without ſurpriſe, and ſhe viewed him with ſuch a look as diſcovered, that, notwithſtanding his being Anthony's Son, he ſeemed ſuch to her, as could not raiſe her averſion. Now ſhe being the onely perſon in the company to whom he was unknown, ſhe aſked one that ſtood next her, what his name was; which ſhe had no ſooner heard, but there roſe ſuch a tempeſt in her countenance, that the alteration happening therein was obſerved by all thoſe that looked on her. She was once in a thought to leave the company, whereupon coming up to Emilia; and whiſpering her in the ear with ſome diſturbance, What, ſaid ſhe to her, can the World afford me no place of refuge againſt the Children of Anthony? Emilia, who was troubled at the accident, made her no immediate anſwer; but Sabina, as Lady of the Houſe, coming neer her to make excuſes for what was happened, and to let her know that ſhe was as much ſurprized at Ptolomey's arrival, as ſhe was, told her withal, that he was a perſon of ſuch quality, as not to be forced out of the houſe. Whereupon Emilia, having ſomewhat recovered her ſelf, intreated her not to make any diſturbance in the company, and to remember her ſelf that the too publick diſcoveries ſhe had made of her averſion for the children of Anthony had produced effects but too too deplorable; that ſhe might ſtay in the room, yet not engage her ſelf into any particular converſation with Ptolomey, and from that day avoid all opportunities of meeting with him; that ſhe would undertake, that Ptolomey ſhould not endeavour any acquaintance with her, and that ſhe knew ſo much of his humour, as raiſed in her a confidence that he would not be guilty of thoſe importunities towards her, which his Brother had been. Sabina added her intreaties to thoſe of Emilia, and both together prevailed ſo far with Tullia, that they perſwaded her to ſtay with them as long as the reſt did.

In the mean time, Ptolomey, who, upon the firſt ſight, had taken notice of Tullia's beauty, and had further obſerved ſome part of the trouble which his preſence had raiſed in her, and ſome thing of what had paſſed in that part of the Gallery where ſhe had retired, being in ſome impatience to know the name of that beautiful perſon, asked it of Albinus, who, making no difficulty, to give him an account of her, filled him with aſtoniſhment. He retreated ſome few paces, as ſomewhat amazed, and looking on her more attentively [Page] than before; What, ſaid he, is this the ſame inexorable Tullia, that terrible Beauty, by whoſe means we have loſt our Brother? At theſe words he ſtopped, running over in his mind thouſands of things which preſented themſelves confuſedly to his imagination. The relation had been made of the inſupportable treatments which our Brother had receaved from her, and the ſad effects they had produced, raiſed in him ſuch bitter reſentments againſt her as made him abhor her as an over-cruel enemy; And though he were not ignorant of the reaſon ſhe had to defie all communication with our houſe, yet was it his judgement, as well as of a many others, that ſhe was exceſſively violent againſt a Prince, that had given her ſo great aſſurances of his love, and who, as to his Perſon, was very amiable and much reſpected. He had often wiſhed a meeting with her, to ſee, as he would ſay himſelf, what making that terrible perſon was of, and to try, whether his ſoul were ſo immalleable, and conſequently not able to reſiſt the influences of her beauty better then that of Julius Antonius did. But Tullia being not returned to Rome, and that there was no expectation of her coming thither, he had quitted all hopes of it, nay, loſt all remembrance of her. At laſt, having recovered himſelf out of the firſt aſtoniſhment he had conceaved at the rencounter, he fortified his heart with more fierceneſſe then ordinary, ſummoning all his indignation, to avoid a fate like that of his Brothers. But he ſtood not in any need of that aſſiſtance, for, whether it proceeded from the prejudice he had againſt her, or from a certain Antipathy, he was not guilty of the leaſt inclination for her, and accordingly looking on her with a ſcornful ſmile; Arme thy ſelf, ſaid he to himſelf, with all the charms of imperious beauty, thou ſhalt not treat me as thou didſt my Brother. He was at firſt in a mind to be gone, as being unwilling that his preſence ſhould cauſe any diſtraction in a company whereto he had not any invitation; but not long after perceaving, that all were ſatisfied with his being there, and that Sabina her ſelf was not troubled at it, he reſolved to ſtay, as thinking it no diſcretion to deprive himſelf of his enjoyments, to do the enemy of our houſe a pleaſure, and being not much troubled at the ſpight he thought he did her by his ſtay.

Being a perſon infinitely maſter of himſelf, he immediately reaſſumed his ordinary pleaſantneſſe, and while the converſation laſted, there fell from him the moſt ingenious things he had ſaid in his life, and that with ſuch a grace, that all the company admired him. Even Tullia her ſelf was as attentive as any, could not forbear looking on him, and ſound, to her grief, that her indignation was not ſo violent, as ſhe had wiſhed it might have been. They ſpent the time in ſeveral recreations, they danced, they had a collation; and as Ptolomey was the moſt ſportive, the moſt pleaſant, and, out of all doubt, the handſomeſt perſon in the company, ſo did he accordingly, in the dancing, and all the other entertainments, draw the eyes and ears of the preſent after him. He ſung, he danced with abundance of grace, nay, he would needs that day make the greateſt oſtentation he could of himſelf, purpoſely to put his enemy out of countenance, and to let her know that the children of Anthony, were not ſo contemptible as ſhe would by her example have perſwaded the World. His intention as to ſome part proved effectual, as to the reſt, it produced effects much different from thoſe which he expected it ſhould. He ſpoke to all the Ladies that were preſent, ſeveral times, Tullia onely excepted, whom yet he treated not with any incivility, or did any action that might diſoblige her, as well out of a reſpect for her ſex, as upon Sabina's account, thinking it enough to be at ſome diſtance from her, as it were to make ſhew of reſpect, and the fear he was in to diſpleaſe her. He looked on her often, and he obſerved her eyes were in a manner alwayes faſtened on his countenance. He at firſt conceaved her looks to be ſuch as proceeded from indignation, but afterwards he was ſatisfied there was nothing of hoſtility in them, and that her eyes darted no more rigour on him, then any other of the company. That obſervation made him the more ſelf-conceited, inſomuch, that having that day reſolved to be confident even to a degree of inſolence, whiſpering Lentulus, who ſtood by him, in the ear, yet without turning his eyes towards Tullia, whom he would by no means offend; Pray give me your opinion, ſaid he to him, with a pleaſant kind of preſumption, do not you perceave, that that cruel enemy of ours, who treated our elder Brother with ſuch rigour, honours us with her looks? I have taken notice of it, as well as your ſelf, ſaies Lentulus to him, and you would think it very ſtrange, if, inſtead of the averſion ſhe hath for your houſe, ſhe ſhould haue a contrary paſſion for you. I ſhould indeed be extreamly aſtoniſhed at it, replies Ptolomey, but if it ſhould be the pleaſure of the gods that ſuch a thing ſhould come to paſſe, I proteſt to you I ſhould revenge my Brother. How, added Lentulus, taking him to the window, that they might not be heard, would you behave your ſelf barbarouſly and inflexibly towards a Beauty that had an affection for you, and would act the part of Tullia towards her, if ſhe acted towards you that of Julius Antonius? I have not hitherto, replyed my Brother, been any wayes in a condition to exerciſe my cruelty, and [Page] when things ſhall come to the paſſe that you ſpeak of, I ſhall not be guilty of thoſe ſcorns and incivilities towards Tullia, which ſhe was towards my Brother, becauſe it is impoſſible I ſhould ever be exempted from that reſpect which I owe her Sex. But I would have her to know, that that deſtiny, rather then his own reaſon, which forced my Brother into the extremities of blindneſs and extravagance, hath not the ſame influence on me, and that there can but little love be expected from me for a perſon guilty of ſo much averſion for an innocent Prince, and one ſo eminent as Julius Antonius was.

While Ptolomey broke forth into theſe expreſſions, and chafed himſelf into exaſperation by the ſight of that female enemy of his, there paſſed things of a quite different nature in the ſoul of Tullia; inſomuch that though that Beauty did all ſhe could to heighten her deteſtation againſt Ptolomey, yet that paſſion, diſarmed of its main ſtrength, was ſo far from contributing any thing thereto, that it ſeemed of no force at all, and whether it were that ſhe ſaw in the perſon of Ptolomey, (ſon to Cleopatra, and not to Fulvia, who had been Cicero's implacable enemy, and much more the occaſion of his death than Anthony) but one half of its object, or that ſhe ſubmitted to ſome unknown power, ſhe refuſed to obey in that emergency, and felt her ſelf diſpoſed of all that before had kept up her ſpirit with ſo much conſtany. In a word, to ſpeak of her modeſty, Fulvia could not hate Ptolomey, though poſſibly ſhe was not free from a deſire to do it, ſhe harkened to him, and looked on him as favourably as on others that were preſent, ſhe was one of the laſt that withdrew; and when the Company was diſſolved, ſhe did not expreſſe the leaſt diſſatisfaction at that meeting, nor betrayed by any action or look, the leaſt averſion for the perſon of Ptolomey.

In the mean time, I, having left Martia; retired into my own Chamber, where I was no ſooner got, but Antonia comes in, and coming to me with a countenance divided between a deſire of laughing, and ſome inclination to be angry; Siſter, ſaid ſhe to me, I have ſomewhat to make you merry withal, and ſince you find ſo much diverſion in an adventure I take but little pleaſure in, I love you too well to conceal any circumſtance from you, which may add any thing to your ſatisfaction. I have ſpent this whole day at the Empreſſe's, where were all the moſt eminent about the Court, five or ſix onely excepted that were at Sabina's, and this evening as I came away, I found a Letter in my hand-kerchief, and cannot imagine by what means it ſhould come thither without my knowledge; and ſince I think it out of all queſtion that it comes from the ſame unknown perſon you wot of, I thought fit to bring it away with me, that you might have the full ſatisfaction of it. Having with theſe words put it into my hands, I took it without making her any reply, and having opened it, ſound therein theſe words.

To the fair ANTONIA.

I Have ſeen you this day, and found you brighter and more beautiful than the ſtar from which we derive our light, and have participated of the excellencies of your converſation. You have ſeen me, you have looked on me favourably, nay, ſuch was your goodneſs you have given me leave to entertain you with as much freedom as any of thoſe that were preſent, nay, what is yet more; there were ſome not ſo well treated as my ſelf, and whoſe condition I have been far from envying, as to any thing hath happened this day. Hence you may ſee, faireſt Antonia, what advantages I make of the reſolution I have taken to conceal from you the name of your enemy. Had you known me to be that criminel that durst preſume to adore you, and ſticks not to tell you ſo, I ſhould have been thruſt away with as much contempt as Mitaridates, and have been as diſcontented as Archelaus, whoſe fortune hath not been much better. But in regard you could not either in my countenance, or yet in my deſignes perceive the leaſt diſcovery of what I have in my heart, you have looked on me, and treated me as an innocent perſon, though I really were the moſt guilty of all the company. See then, incomparable Princeſſe, whether I am any wayes to be blamed, for putting this trick upon you, and pardon it me, ſince that, of all thoſe that ever were done, it is the moſt innocent.

No queſtion Siſter but it is, ſaid I, having read out the letter, and delivering it to her; he deſerves to be pardoned for there never was any thing of ſurpriſe or circumvention more excuſable than this. That then is your judgement, replies Antonia, but for my part, I am not abſolutely of the ſame, and there is haply in this artifice much more malice and deſigny on can ſuſpect there may be in it; I can ſee nothing but abundance of reſpect and care to avoid the occaſions of diſpleaſing you. But Siſter, added I, can you not ſuſpect any one of all thoſe you have ſeen to day? The number was ſo great, replies Antonia, that I know not on whom particularly to fix my thoughts, for there were preſent Agrippina, Mecaenas, Marcellus, Domitius, Tiberius, Druſus, Craſſus, Aemilianus, Cinna, Cepio, Pollio, Flavianus, Servilius, Polemon, Archelaus, Mithridates, Varus; and, beſides theſe, all of the moſt eminent quality in Auguſtus's [Page] Court, ſo that among ſo many, it were impoſſible for me to make any certain judgement.

Our diſcourſe had been longer upon this ſubject, had not Ptolomey come into the room, and put us from what we were then upon, with what he had to ſay of another accident had happened to him. For he had no ſooner ſet his foot in the Chamber, but crying out to me, as it were in a tranſport of joy, I have ſeen her, Siſter, ſaid he to me, I have ſeen that terrrible one, I have ſeen that inexorable Beauty, and thanks be to the gods, ſhe hath done me no hurt. Theſe words, uttered by him with a certain precipitation, gave me not any light to gueſſe at the adventure had happened to him, nor was it likely I ſhould have imagined any thing neer it; but Antonia having asked him what it might be, he related to us how he had met with the cruel Tullia, at Sabina's, how he had paſſed away the whole day with her, and in a word, gave us a particular account of that meeting, even to the leaſt circumſtances. I was extreamly troubled at the relation, to ſee that inflexible beauty, as it were newly reviving, by whoſe means we had loſt our Brother, and was afraid ſome unfortunate accident would have been the effect of her return, which I had no ſooner diſcovered to Ptolomey, but he made thouſands of proteſtations to me, accompanyed with oaths that there was not any woman in the World which he ſhould not affect rather than Tullia, though he could not deny but that he thought her very handſome, & was perſwaded ſhe had abundance of worth in her, I was over-joy'd at thoſe aſſurances; as well becauſe I could not by any means affect Tullia, after the loſſe of a Brother, ſuch as ſhe had forced away from us, as becauſe I was deſirous that Ptolomey ſhould have been at the ſervice of Martia, not only for the extraordinary perfections of that Princeſſe, the affection ſhe had for him, and the reſpects I had for her, but alſo out of a conſideration of the advantages of Fortune which muſt needs have followed upon that alliance, ſuch as he had all the reaſon in the World to embrace. From that day I took occaſion to diſcover my thoughts more and more to him, and to repreſent to him what obligations he had to Martia, Octavia, and her ſelf; and, ſeconded by Antonia, I made him ſo ſenſible of all things, that, though he was not much ſubject to make over-ſerious reflections on things, yet he promiſed us to devote himſelf abſolutely to Martia, for whom he had an infinite eſteem and affection, and whom he would never give any occaſion to diſtruſt his conſtancy: inſomuch, that giving her a viſit that very night, he made thouſands of proteſtations of his fidelity to her, and that with circumſtances ſo full of ardor and obligation, that ſhe was extreamly ſatisfied therewith.

The very ſame night, the unknown ſervant of Antonia entertained her with a Serenade, conſiſting of certain inſtruments, and the beſt voices in the World. But, we two lying together, Antonia ſaid it might be as well intended for me as for her, and that among the voices ſhe knew ſome to be of the Emperours Muſick, whom none but Tiberius could employ; but it was long ſince Tiberius and I had expreſſed our ſelves one to another by Serenades, ſo that Antonia was at laſt perſwaded to the contrary, when, after a Dialogue which was ſung in ſeveral parts, the whole Muſick joyned together to ſing theſe words which we heard diſtinctly, and which I could not but remember, as having been ſung three or four times over.

T' expreſſe his Love, the Lover is

Unknown, t' appeaſe an angry Fair,

Can you not pardon him that dyes

A crime of Love for to repair?

There needed but theſe words to take away all conteſtation between Antonia and my ſelf, inſomuch, that ſince it was out of her power to remedy it, ſhe reſolved, though not without much trouble, to endure the perſecution. I could not forbear laughing at the diſturbance ſhe was in, and no queſtion but I might have found a great pleaſure in the adventure, had my thoughts been ſubject to a certain innocent miſchievouſneſſe, wherein perſons of our age find themſelves no ſmall diverſion. But, beſides that I have a natural diſ-inclination to any ſuch thing, the misfortunes of my life have abated very much of my cheerful diſpoſition; and if it might be thought that I had at that time ſome favourable intervals upon the news which came to Rome of the great ſucceſſes of Coriolanus, who with his ſword opened himſelf a way to reaſcend the throne of his Anceſtors. I became on the other ſide more and more ſuſpected at the Court, and it was already threatned I ſhould be ſecured, as indeed I was, not long after, as I have related to you already.

There were already five or ſix dayes paſt ſince there was a general expectation in Rome of a divertiſement which the Emperour was to have upon the Tiber in one of the faireſt nights of the Summer, to expreſſe the love he bore Terentia, as it was reported, where by the means of certain artificial fires of the invention of the Greeks there was made, in above [Page] a hundred ſeveral figures, a new day upon the Tiber, wherein, becauſe it is not of it ſelf broad enough for ſuch a kind of divertiſement, the Emperour hath cauſed a new channel to be made below the City, which is ſix times broader and deeper than the ordinary current: ſo that with that light multiplyed by that of a thouſand torches, diſpoſed along the banks on both ſides, there was ſeen a little ſea-fight. wherein a great number of ſmall boats, made after the manner of men of War, and all covered over with artificial fires, croſſing and engaging one the other, according to the order agreed on before, entertained the Spectators with one of the moſt delightful ſights in the World. The pleaſure of the eye was ſeconded by that which was provided for the ear by the ſound of thouſands of war-inſtruments, which raiſed an echo from the banks of the River for above a hundred Stadia about, and which inſtead of a confuſed noiſe, made an harmonious ſound with much art, which, ſmiting the ear, inſpired the moſt vigilant with a certain joy, and raiſed the ſpirits of the moſt dull. And whereas the boats that are up and down the Tiber are very little, eſpecially in the ordinary channel, and that there was requiſite a vaſt number of them to receive thoſe perſons that would participate of the divertiſement, people were forced to divide themſelves into ſmall parties, and for the moſt part there went but five or ſix perſons in every boat. This was it that gave occaſion and birth to a thouſand deſignes of gallantry, and obliged the young Romans to prepare boats for the Ladies they were ſervants to, the moſt ſumptuous could be made for the time. Tiberius had provided for me a very magnificent one, and Archelaus another for Antonia, with abundance of intreaties that ſhe would vouchſafe to accept of it; but we, having no inclination to engage our ſelves into the company of ſuch perſons, had reſolved before hand to take a boat for Antonia, Martia, and ſome others of our own ſex, under the conduct of Ptolomey, who had taken that charge upon him, and ſhould have waited upon us.

But while we were hot upon this reſolution, comes a perſon of a goodly preſence to ſpeak with Antonia, and to acquaint her that the Empreſſe had provided a boat for her and ſuch of her Friends as ſhe ſhould be pleaſed to take along with her, and had ſent him to conduct them to it; and to take care for all things requiſite, during the time of that nights divertiſement. Though Antonia knew not that Officer of the Empreſſe's, yet thought ſhe that ſhe could not with civility refuſe what was proffered, and knowing her to be naturally imperious, ſhe was the more affraid it might diſpleaſe her, if ſhe made any difficulty to accept of it. Whereupon turning towards me, as it were, to ask my advice, and perceiving my complyance with her intentions, ſhe returned the man an anſwer to this effect, That the Empreſſe did her too great an honour, but that ſince it was her pleaſure ſo to diſpoſe of her, ſhe received that favour with the ſame reſpects which ſhe ought to have for all thoſe that proceeded from her goodneſſe; at which words Martia and Ptolomey coming into the room, and having confirmed her in that reſolution, deſired to be of our company, and we took alſo along Sulpicia and Hortenſia, who were come to give us a viſit. All the reſt of the houſe had diſpoſed of themſelves as they thought fit; Marcellus had prepared a boat for Julia, & waited on her; Domitius had done the like for Agrippina, and Agrippa for Marcella. Octavia ſtirred not out of her Chamber, where I would have gladly kept her company, had ſhe given me leave to do it. We went along with that Officer down to the river-ſide through the Garden, and at the door the boat waited for us, which we got into without being able to take notice of the ſumptuouſneſs of it, by reaſon of the obſcurity of the place, which was not yet enlightned. But we were ſcarce got in, ere the torches were all lighted of an inſtant, inſomuch that we were not a little ſurpriſed as well at the ſuddenneſs of the light, as the objects that preſented themſelves to our ſight, which certainly were the moſt delightful that can be imagined.

The boat was in the form of a little Galley compaſſed about by a row of Pilaſters, which ſeemed to be of gold, but was indeed of wood guilt; without which hung out a hundred arms gilt as the row of Pilaſters, which ſuſtained a hundred great torches of virgin-wax, whereby the darkneſſe of the night was removed to the diſtance of many ſtadia. The oars ſeemed to be of gold proportionably to all the reſt, and the Rowers were twelve little Cupidswinged, armed with arrows and quiver, and covered with cloath of gold in thoſe parts of their bodyes where it was not requiſite they ſhould be naked. At the extremity of the ſtern grew up a golden tree, of the height of an ordinary maſt, having at the top the form of a Scuttle, compaſſed about by a row of golden Pilaſters and twelve arms proportionable to thoſe below, wherein were twelve torches, and in the midſt of all that ſight was a Heart hanging down, which ſeemed to be all on fire, and out of which, by ſome ſtrange artifice there viſibly iſſued flames aſcending up towards the ſtars, and made more light than all the torches. In the diſtances which were between the torches were hung up twelve Streamers, which were toſt up and down by the flames, and the ſmoke a thouſand ſeveral [Page] wayes, and in which by reaſon of the greatneſſe of the light, there might be diſtinctly ſeen double A. A [...]s with other Characters, expreſſing ſeveral waies the word ANTONIA. The ſame Letters, and the ſame Characters were diſpoſed up and down all over the boat, as alſo upon the Pilaſters, the oars and the maſt, and it was ſo lightſom every where, that the leaſt things could not be more diſtinctly diſcerned than they were at that time.

But if we were ſo much ſurprized by what we were entertained with, on the outſide of the boat, we could not but be ſo much the more, when we were brought into the chamber that was within it, where we had no ſooner ſet foot, but our ſight was dazled with the luſtre of the gold and other embeliſhments, wherewith it ſparkled again. Where ever there was any gold to be beſtowed, it was with the greateſt profuſion imaginable; and where there was any neceſſity to heighten the richneſs of the matter, by the perfection of art, all was done with admirable dexterity, but with this every where obſervable, that the Characters of ANTONIA were ſcattered up and down all places. The ground work and the ſeeling had the ſame, and the hangings, the chaires and the cuſhions were of sky-coloured Velvet, intermingled with flames of gold in embrodery, as alſo burning Hearts, Characters of Antonia, and the firſt letters of her name. This little Chamber was admirably enlightned, and perfumed with the moſt delightfull ſents that Arabia could afford: and what was yet a greater convenience, (which was, that we might without ſtiring out of the Chamber, participate of that nights divertiſement, and might be ſeen by all thoſe that were upon the Tiber) that part of it which was covered by the hangings, was onely of glaſſe, ſo that as ſoon as thoſe, which were made curtain-wiſe for that purpoſe, were drawn, the river lay open to our ſights of all ſides, the Chamber it ſelf was viſible to all that were in the boats, and the light that was ſcattered by ſo vaſt a number of torches as were diſpoſed about our Galley, and which enlightned the Chamber falling upon the glaſſe, as well without as within, made ſuch a fire on the river, as ſound light for all the other boats, and ſeized with aſtoniſhment all thoſe that ſaw it.

You are not I believe, Siſter, much in doubt whether we were much ſurpriſed or not, when we found our ſelves in that little enchanted veſſel, and you would be ſoon perſwaded that we had been deceaved, and that it was not to the Empreſſe that we were obliged for that magnificent lodging. Antonia looked on me, not knowing what to think of thoſe things, and I could eaſily perceive in her countenance that ſhe was to ſeek as to all reſolution, and that ſhe was vext to the heart at the trick had been put upon her She looked all about for that Officer of Livia, but he was vaniſhed as ſoon as they were gotten into the boat, ſo that there was onely the Cupids that rowed, left for her to wreak her indignation upon.

In the mean time, which way ſoever ſhe looked, ſhe met with her own Characters and the Letters of her name ſcattered up and down amongſt the burning hearts, and what ſhe was moſt of all troubled at, was, that the very ſame Characters were expoſed in the ſtreamers at the top-maſt, fluttering as it were amidſt the flames of that burning Heart, and, by reaſon of the great light whereby they were encompaſſed, were viſible to all that were upon the River. The vexation it was to her to ſee her ſelf engaged with that paſſion which ſhe had ſo much averſion for, had put her out of patience, if Ptolomy, Martia, and my ſelf had not laughed her into a good humour, and told her, that if the ſame thing had happened to us, we had entertained the adventure with abundance of enjoyments, By this means did we make a ſhift to diſpel the clouds of her melancholy, and diſturbance, and conſidered at leſure all thoſe rarities which we could not have diſcerned at firſt ſight.

But this was not our employment alone, for this great fire, and that admirable object which it diſcovered, had hardly appeared on the waves of Tiber, but all the boats left the places they had taken up, to come neerer to that which they wondred at ſo much at a diſtance. The Torches, the Hearts, the Streamers which were, from the top of the maſt, remarkable on all ſides, immediately drew all the World to it; inſomuch that the Emperour himſelf, ſurpriſed at this ſight as well as others, cauſed his own boat to approach it. At firſt the report went from one to another that it was Antonia's Galley, ſo that all coming as neer as they could to Antonia's Galley, there could hardly be any thing elſe heard on the water, but Antonia's Galley, and the greateſt part were reſolved onely to follow it not minding much the other divertiſements, for which they were aſſembled. The Emperour, Livia, Marcella, Julia, Agrippa, and all the moſt conſiderable perſons having compaſſed it about not without aſtoniſhment, Auguſtus asked who had beſtowed that magnificent Galley on Antonia? To which the Princeſſe not knowing what to imagine could onely ſay that ſhe had receaved it from the liberality of the Empreſſe. Livia began to deny that ſhe had made her any ſuch preſent, which the Emperour hearing, told her ſhe needed [Page] not take ſuch pains to vindicate her ſelf, and that it was apparent from all ſigns and circumſtances that that exceſſe of gallantry and magnificence proceeded from the invention and prodigality of ſome Lover. But while all theſe eminent perſons were aſſembled about the Galley, ſix of the Cupids, who were the Rowers, coming into the Chamber, drew the hangings, and diſcovering through the tranſparent walls thereof what was within the Chamber, filled all that were preſent with a new aſtoniſhment, and all the places about with a new light, which both neer and at a diſtance was the moſt delightful thing that could be ſeen.

I ſhall not trouble you with any further particulars of that nights entertainment, the deſcription I have already made thereof having been haply too long, and therefore ſhall onely tell you, that, when all had ſufficiently admired Antonia's Galley, and had ſpent a long time in talking of it, had almoſt tyred themſelves in gueſſing at the Authour of ſo ſumptuous an invention, and had celebrated this ſight beyond thoſe that were to ſucceed it, they all advanced towards the place where they were to be entertained with the ſea-fight, and the artificial fires, doing our Galley the honour to follow it, as if it had been the Leader of them, the lights of all the others being as much darkened by ours as the ſmaller ſtars are by the raies of that bright Torch whence we derive our day. I ſhall not give you any deſcription of that nights divertiſements, which it muſt be confeſſed were not unworthy Caeſar's magnificence; but ſhall onely tell you, that when all was over, and that it was thought time for all to retire, Julia coming into our Galley, together with Marcellus, Agrippina, Domitius, Marcella, and Agrippa, (for Tiberius, ſeeing that I had refuſed the boat he had prepared for me, thought fit upon point of reſentment to continue ſtill in Caeſar's, and accordingly never came neer us) and having ſeated themſelves about the Chamber upon chairs, the floor or planks that were under them immediately opened, and we, frightned at it, began to cry out, for fear the boat ſhould ſinck, when there riſes up from below a table covered with as magnificent a Collation as ever could have been ſerved among the Romans, not excepting the ſumptuous entertainments of Lucullus; nay, ſuch it was, that Agrippa and Marcellus, who were not wont to wonder at great things, were aſtoniſhed at the magnificence and the neatneſſe of it. In a word, what ever came to Rome from forreign and remote Nations that were moſt rare and exquiſite, was there, and that heightned admirably by art: but, what moſt troubled Antonia, was, that what modes or forms ſoever the ſervices were of, or what figure ſo ever they were diſpoſed into, (wherein there had been more than ordinary care taken) the Characters of Antonia were ſcattered up and down amongſt the burning Hearts, after the ſame manner as they had been all about the Veſſel. This ſtirred up their curioſity afreſh, to find out who this ſervant of Antonia might be, inſomuch that Marcellus having acquainted Agrippa with what he had received from us, they ſought and gueſſed a long time, but after all could not fix on any perſon whom they could with any probability affirm to be the man. But I ſhall trouble you with no more as to that: we made an end of our Collation, we went away with the reſt of the Company, and retired with matter enough for diſcourſe as to that adventure, but what was moſt pleaſant of all, was, that, abating the trouble which Antonia conceived the reat, we undreſſed our ſelves, ſhe found another Letter in one of her ſleeves, though ſhe thought ſhe had made ſufficient proviſion againſt any ſuch thing. I was haſty enough to read it, and found the words of it to be theſe.

To the Princeſſe ANTONIA.

YOu ſee then, faireſt Princeſſe, how much I am obliged to artifice, and how I effect that by ſtratagem, which I ſhould never compaſſe by open hoſtility. You have granted the Unknown Lover, what you had denyed Kings that were profeſſed Lovers; and though he be obliged for this good Fortune to the name of Livia, for which you have had ſo much reſpect, yet is he much more engaged for it to his own induſtry, and the confidence he had to effect his deſign. You will pardon me that I have entertained you in ſo poor a place, ſince I acknowledge I cannot conceave any noble enough to receave you, and cannot wiſh you any other then that Heart which you ſaw burning this day in the publick Sacrifice I have made thereof to you. In a word, my Fortune, whatever it may be, hath been envyed this day by all that is great and eminent in the Empire, whence I derive a certain hope that it will one day be envyed by all that ſhall think themſelves the moſt fortunate in the World.

I cannot, ſaid I, having made an end of reading the letter, but acknowledge, that this man, what ever he may be, is an extraordinary Gallant, a great wit, and inexpreſſibly magnificent. I grant you all that, replyed Antonia, but you muſt acknowledge withall, that there [Page] is a certain ſpice of extravagance in his deſign, and that all the pains he takes will amount to nothing. That I cannot tell you, replyed I, nay methinks I already perceave he hath effected ſome part of his intentions, for in that he hath declared to you at the beginning, that there is no other reaſon of his recourſe to this artifice, then to induce you to endure the name of Love, and to reconcile you to that paſſion, which you avoid as a Monſter, becauſe you are not acquainted with it, you muſt needs acknowledge that he hath already prevailed with you, to endure, not onely the diſcourſe, but all the expreſſions of it, much beyond what you had ſuffered in all your life before, and, in a word, that you have held a greater correſpondence with love, ſince you firſt entertained the addreſſes of this one Unknown Servant than you did upon thoſe of all the reſt put together. Ah Siſter, replies Antonia very roundly, what inclinations do I derive from what you ſay to hate him the more! and yet how true is that which you have obſerved, and I muſt with ſhame acknowledge it to be ſuch! But if it be poſſible, I will remedy it one way or other. What remedy can you think of, ſaid I to her, while you are kept in this ignorance? This man is haply of ſuch a nature, that he will not diſcover himſelf while he lives, and though we may very well from the tranſcendency of his thoughts and attempts, infer the greatneſſe of his birth, yet may it not poſſibly be ſuch, as may furniſh him with confidence enough to declare himſelf. Since we are fallen into this diſcourſe, Siſter, ſaies Antonia, I am to acquaint you, that not many dayes ſince I found, in one of my Gloves, another Letter which I purpoſely forbore to ſhew you by reaſon of ſome diſcontent that you were in that day concerning Tiberius; but kept it nevertheleſs, that it might be communicated to you, for you know that I mind them only in order to your diverſion. No, ſaid I to her ſmiling, tis becauſe you would have me no farther acquainted with your ſecrets; at which words perceaving ſhe had found the Letter, I took it from her, and read out of it theſe words.

To the Princeſſe ANTONIA.

THough my name ought to be concealed from my Princeſſe, till ſuch time as ſhe hath pardoned me the injury I have done her to prevent all ſuſpicions that may be conceived againſt an unknown perſon, yet is it lawful for me to let her know (and I ought to do it in order to my juſtification, though it may be with ſome prejudice to my modeſty and reſervedneſſe) that my perſon is not diſliked by thoſe whom I have addreſſed my ſelf to, that I am not without ſome eſteem, or without ſome name in the World, and that my birth and fortune are ſuch, as whence I may well derive an encouragement to ſerve her. In fine, my love is that which ſhe might moſt diſapprove in me, after the proteſtation ſhe hath made her ſelf, that the perſon was not hateful; and from this defect it is that I hope for greater advantages then I can expect from either birth or fortunes.

This letter furniſhed us with more matter of diſcourſe and imagination then all the reſt; but at laſt, having done all we could, we reſolved not to trouble our ſelves any further, and to expect with patience what might be the conſequences of that adventure. Ptolomey, to whom I had given one of the letters, had made it his buſineſſe to enquire all about, whether there were any ſuch hand among thoſe perſons of quality, and never could meet with any that came neer it, Marcellus had done the like, but to as little purpoſe. All that paſſed before had made no great noiſe, but the Galley occaſioned abundance of diſcourſe, inſomuch that for many dayes after, the talk of all Companies was of the magnificent Galley of Antonia. The King of Cappadocia taking occaſion to make a modeſt complaint to her upon her refuſal of the boat which he had provided for her, told her ſhe had very much reaſon to ſlight that, when ſhe expected another that was ſo magnificent. But Antonia ſatisfied him as much as lay in her power, telling him that it was not for its ſumptuouſneſle that ſhe had preferred that Galley before his boat, nor yet out of any other conſideration, than that it had been proffered her in the Empreſſe's name, from whom ſhe neither could nor ought to have refuſed it. Archelaus, a Prince of a diſpoſition eaſie to be pleaſed, was ſatisfied with that anſwer; but could do no leſſe withal then conceave abundance of jeal ouſie againſt that Unknown Lover, whoſe preſents were preferred before his and reſolved to do all that lay in his power to diſcover him. Mithridates was as earneſt in the ſame deſign as the other, and though he had been ſlighted by Antonia in ſuch a manner, that, notwithſtanding his great confidence, he durſt hardly open his lips before her, to entertain her with any thing of his love, after the diſcovery he had once made to her thereof; yet was not his paſſion quite ſmothered, nor his jealouſie inferiour to that of Archelaus. Being therefore both unfortunate, and their loves encouraged by little hope, jealouſie had not produced in them its ordinary effect amongſt Rivals, and had left in them [Page] friendſhip enough to viſit one the other, and to communicate part of what they thought one to another; ſo that having mutually acquainted one another with the deſires they had to diſcover who that Unknown Lover might be, who had made ſuch ſignal demonſtrations of his gallantry towards Antonia, they reſolved to joyne their endeavours to that purpoſe, and not to leave any thing unattempted to find out the truth.

Many dayes paſt ere any one came wherein they could diſcover any thing, though they had their ſpies in all places, and often-times took occaſion to walk themſelves in the night about Octavia's Palace, out of ſome hopes they might meet with him, not doubting but that he might have ſome haunt thereabouts, eſpecially at the time that he was wont to entertain her with Screnades, which he had done ſeveral times. At laſt, after abundance of fruitleſs enquiry, fortune would needs have it, that, one of thoſe nights wherein they were both together on horſeback, without any other company then that of certain ſlaves, who were aſoot, coming into the ſtreet into which our Chamber looked, they heard the ſound of certain inſtruments and voices, making an excellent conſort almoſt under our window. They made no queſtion but they had met with what they ſought after, as knowing that Tiberius had given over entertaining me with ſerenades, that ſince the departure of Coriolanus, there was not any perſon in Rome that had diſcovered any inclinations for me, and that the lodgmgs of Agrippina, Marcella, and Martia, were in another part of the Palace at a good diſtance from that; beſides that, they alſo knew that the Unknown Lover had given divers others before, and that, having not the liberty to expreſs himſelf as others did, he took occaſion to diſcover his intentions by demonſtrations of gallantry of that nature.

The two amorous Princes, not doubting but that they were in the right, reſolved not to let ſlip the opportunity they now had to be informed of what they were ſo deſirous to know, and to attempt any thing rather than not to effect their deſign. They cauſed no torches to be brought with them, not onely out of a deſire to avoid being diſcovered, but indeed that it was but too light for their deſigne, and that the Moon being then in her full, any thing in the ſtreets was eaſily diſcernable. Being thus light, they were no ſooner come into our ſtreet, but they perceive a man on Horſeback, who leaving the place where he was, as ſoon as they came in ſight, went to the muſick, and bid them give over and diſperſe themſelves as ſoon as they could. From this action the two Princes immediately inferred that it muſt infallibly be the Unknown Lover; and being abſolutely reſolved to make all the advantages they could of that accident, they came on further into the ſtreet, and paſſed under our windows, where they could neither hear nor find any body. They made a little halt to liſten, and, whereas the man they had ſeen on horſeback could not conceale himſelf as they could that were on foot, and that the horſe muſt needs make a great noiſe going upon the ſtones, they could eaſily both hear and ſee him at a certain diſtance before, endeavouring what he could to get away. They on the other ſide as carefully purſued him, and paſſed through many ſtreets, following him ſtill by the noiſe, and ſeeing him before them. The Unknown, perceiving their reſolution to follow him, put on ſomewhat faſter, and made towards the moſt ſolitary ſtreets, ſo to get out of their ſight: but that ſtood him in no ſtead, for they followed him every where, with ſo much obſtinacy, that they gave him at laſt ſome ground to imagine, that it would be a hard matter for him to get off. At length, having forced him into a ſtreet, at the other end whereof he ſaw ſeveral Torches and Chariots that might hinder his further paſſage, he made a ſtand, and, turning toward thoſe that purſued him, took one ſide of the ſtreet, as it were to give them the way. But they rid up to him, and Mithridates, oppoſing the deſigne he had to make an eſcape, Do not hope, ſaid he to him, to get hence, or to avoid us, if thou doſt not diſcover thy ſelf; and therefore tell us who thou art, if thou wouldſt have thy paſſage free to be gone.

The Unknown perſon retreated ſome few paces at this action of Mithridates, and having reflected a little on what he had to do, he ſet ſpurs to his horſe, and quick as lightning fell in between the two Princes, who were very near one the other, and ruſhing on Mithridates, who was on his left hand, with all the violence he could both of himſelf and his horſe, (which was one of the beſt in the World) and at the ſame time as he paſſed by, laying hold with his right hand on Archelaus's bridle, he, with the ſhock of his horſe, overthrew Mithridates horſe and man to the ground; and, with that he gave Archelaus's at the ſame time, made him ſtand upright, in ſuch manner, that the Prince falling backwards, and holding ſtill faſt by the bridle, overturned the horſe upon himſelf.

Their fall proved ſhrewd enough, and their condition ſuch, that they found it no ſmall difficulty to get up again, eſpecially ſeeing that they were not attended by any, and that the ſlaves they had brought with them, being on foot, had loſt them in the ſeveral turnings [Page] they had made. At laſt, they made a ſhift to riſe, not a little bruiſed, and, going with ſome difficulty, approached one another with no ſmall confuſion. For, all conſidered, they were not ſo much troubled at the fall they had received, or the hurt occaſioned thereby, as that they had been ſo treated by a ſingle perſon, and one they had forced to that action by their own unſatisfied purſuit. They ſtood a while looking one upon the other, as not being able to find out terms fit to expreſs what their hearts were burthened with; but at length, Mithridates, as being the moſt eager and impatient, was the firſt that ſpoke, and expreſſed the reſentment he had of that adventure in words full of fire, and viſible demonſtrations of his fury. Archelaus endured that unfortunate encounter with more moderation, and told Mithridates that there was no more happened to them then what they had deſerved, and that ordinarily there was no other ſatisfaction to be given to curioſities that were ſo neer a kin to indiſcretion.

At laſt they with much ado got up on horſeback, and returned to their lodgings, where having gotten into their beds, they were forced to keep them for ſome dayes. Mithridates, for his part, extremely troubled at the adventure, was deſirous to conceal it; but Archelaus, being a perſon more inclined to ſincerity and freedom, and whoſe proceedings, in the affection he bore to Antonia, were more clear, made no difficulty to acquaint all thoſe that came to viſit him with the truth of the buſineſs, ſo that the very next day, it was generally known, and was become the ſubject of all mens talk. We ſoon underſtood it from Tiberius and Ptolomy; and the perpetual diſcourſes, which all entertained Antonia with about it, added very much to the diſquiet ſhe was in before. But what troubled Mithridates more than all the reſt, was a Letter that was brought to Archelaus, and which Archelaus ſent him, as ſoon as he had peruſed it himſelf, as having been directed to both, whereof the words were theſe.

To KING ARCHELAUS and PRINCE MITHRIDATES.

I Am much troubled at the ſmall misfortune that hath be fallen you, though, out of a deſire of your own ſatisfaction, you were your ſelves the occaſions of it; and ſince I am no enemy of yours, though I have done ſome hurt, I ſhould have wiſhed your curioſity a ſlighter puniſhment had you left it to my choice. You may hence learn to beware how you hereafter purſue, with ſo much violence, thoſe that would avoid you, and remember that you are to make a bridge of gold for a retreating enemy. If you are chargeable with no crime but curioſity, disburthen your ſelves of it, as being a vice whereof you will find the inconveniences to be far greater than the advantages; but if you are withal guilty of Jealouſie, learn, that Jealouſie is a ſelf-diſturbing paſſion, whereof the effects are ever dangerous, and elude the expectation. Beſides it is not much for your reputation to be jealous of a perſon that's unknown to you; and did you know me, you would haply find, that I am too much below you to do you any prejudice. In a word, whatever I may be, aſſure your ſelves I wiſh you no other hurt than that you may ſee me more fortunate than your ſelves in the ſervice of ANTONIA, and this declaration of mine conſidered, I ſhall entreat you not to take it amiſs, if you ſee me among thoſe that come to viſit you.

This Letter had been delivered to one of Archelaus's Officers, by a man that as ſoon as he had done, was vaniſhed, and could not be ſeen after; as having gone his wayes without being obſerved by any one, ſo that the two Princes were ſtill in the ſame ignorance they were in before. They were both very much netled at it, though in a different meaſure, according to their ſeveral diſpoſitions, and if Archelaus was more moderate than Mithridates, yet was he not leſs moved at the ſatyrical ſtile of his Rival. The laſt words of the Letter were thoſe that troubled them moſt, and they thought that fantanſtick circumſtance of their adventure the moſt indigeſtible of any, that among their Friends that came daily to give them their viſits, they were to expect him that had put them into the condition they were in, and who haply might prove him, they thought the moſt endeared, and could the leaſt ſuſpect. This reflection made them look on all that came to ſee them with a certain diſtruſt, and taking it for granted that their Rival was of that number, they ſought him among them without any diſtinction, and that poſſibly ſometimes where they were the moſt unlikely to find him. They fell into diſcourſe with all thoſe that came to them upon that accident, and obſerved their countenances while they talked to ſee what inferences they might draw thence, but all proved ineffectual. For Archelaus and Mithridates being perſons that for their rank, their vertue, and the reſpects which the Emperour had for them, were very conſiderable among the Romans, there were few among the Families that were moſt Illuſtrious that came not to viſit them, ſo that a [Page] midſt ſo great a number, they made fruitleſſe inquiſitions for that which in a leſſer they might poſſibly have diſcovered. Archelaus hath told me ſince that he was never at ſuch a loſſe in all his life, and that, fearing he might ſee the face of his Rival in all thoſe that came neer him, his thoughts were in ſuch a a diſtraction, that for ſome minutes he could not make any return to their civilities: and for Mithridates, he looked on all as enemies, though his reſentment was directed to one ſingle indeterminate perſon. A few dayes recovered them of the hurt they had by the fall, and with the pain, they forgot part of the affliction they had conceaved thereat, their thoughts being now taken up, (as were thoſe of all the moſt conſiderable perſons about Rome) with preparations for the ſolemnity which was celebrated every year on the day of Auguſtus's birth, on which the people were divertiſed by all ſorts of exerciſes and ſhews, and at which time, the more to honour the Emperour, the Romans out-vyed one another in point of gallantry and magnificence towards the Ladies.

In the mean time Ptolomey, whoſe inclinations for Martia were not ſo violent as to deprive him of the divertiſements he was addicted to, among other deſignes of pleaſure, wherein he was every day engaged, went one day with many other perſons to walk in the ſame Garden of Lucullus's, whereof I have given you ſo large an account already. Having ſlipped away from his Company, to enjoy more privately that of young Lentulus, whoſe humour, of all his friends, he found the moſt conſonant to his own, and deſirous to diſcourſe with him about divers things which they mutually communicated one to another, they ſought out the moſt ſolitary walks, as being reſolved not to joyn their company for ſome time. As they paſſed through one of the moſt remote from all company, they perceaved, at a good diſtance from them, two Women, who ſeemed to them to be of a very goodly preſence, and though they were alone, yet the ſumptuouſneſſe of their habit, which they could perceive glittering, eaſily argued them to be perſons of quality, who ſeeking ſolitude as they did, had left their attendants in ſome other part of the garden. Theſe women were coming towards them: but as ſoon as they had eyed them at ſuch a diſtance as it was impoſſible for them to know one another, they turned aſide into another walk, and continued their ſolitude. Theſe two young men, having a more than ordinary curioſity, and whoſe thoughts were employed in their pleaſures whereever they were to be had, were ſuddenly poſſeſſed with certain deſires to know who thoſe two women might be; and their ſhunning of them adding to their inquiſitiveneſſe, they reſolved to follow them, and, if poſſible, to know who they were. To that end they went into the ſame walk where they were, and had ſoon overtaken them, if the Ladies, having perceaved them, had not avoided meeting with them, by turning aſide, and paſſing over one of the Bridges, to get into ſome of the little Iſles that are made ſuch by the Rivulets, and wherein there are in ſeveral places green Arbours, made of the boughs of trees twiſted together ſo thick, that when the Sun darts down his moſt perpendicular rayes, they can hardly find a paſſage through them.

Having obſerved the way they intended to take, and ſatisfied of the deſign they had to avoid all company, they bethought them that without an exceſſe of indiſcretion, they could not be ſo troubleſome as to follow them any longer. But they on the other ſide having reſolved, out of a curioſity natural to young people, to have a ſight of them, and that the goodlines of their perſons had very much advanced their deſires of it, took notice of the way they took, with a deſign to meet them by other turnings, which they were not unacquainted with, which yet they might have done without any bodies perceiving what game they were in chace of. Accordingly, having traced them through divers trees that lay between both, they at laſt ſaw them go in to one of the little Iſles, and made no queſtion but they would go and reſt themſelves in one of the Arbours. They thought it their beſt courſe to give them the time to do ſo, and ſo having taken a good walk, they made towards the Iſle by other wayes, and paſſed over another bridge than that by which the women had gone in. They were no ſooner got in, but coming behind one of the Arbours, on a certain ſide at which they could not be diſcovered, they heard the voice of a woman ſinging in the Arbour and, making a halt, to give her the greater attention, they found her admirable, not onely as to the voice, but alſo as to the skill whereby it was not a little heightened. They at firſt heard her at ſome diſtance, out of a fear of making any noiſe to interrupt her; but afterwards perceaving that they had much adoe to hear the words, and confident withal, that if the noiſe did not diſcover them, they might go quite to the Arbour, without any danger of being ſeen, by reaſon of the thickneſſe of the branches and leaves which admitted not any paſſage for the ſight, they went as ſoftly as poſſibly they could, and came to the Arbour time enough to hear theſe words, which were the laſt that were ſung.

[Page]

He's now (alas?) orecome that would not own.

But ſtill defied Love's charms and pow'r;

O may my eyes my heart's dear loſſe bemoan,

And let their tears its ſhame devour,

That ſlave-like yields to paſſion.

The Lady concluded her ſong with a deep ſigh: and her companion, who had hearkened to her with great attention, had no ſooner perceived that ſhe had made an end, but addreſſing her ſelf to her, and ſpeaking loud enough to be diſtinctly heard by the two Eveſdroppers that were without the Arbour; But is it poſſible, ſaid ſhe to her, and muſt I believe it, my deareſt Tullia, that, that god, who, as tis generally conceaved, directs and diſpoſes of the amorous paſſion, ſhould take ſuch extraordinary vengeance on you and that to puniſh you for the Cruelty which you ſometimes exerciſed, not without injuſtice, upon a Prince that adored you, he ſhould infuſe into you a kindneſſe, nay, if I may preſume to ſay it, inſpire you with a love for a Prince that does not ſo much as think on you, and one, that, though born of the ſame blood, yet, hath not any thing of thoſe inclinations towards you which his Brother had?

Theſe words were no ſooner heard by Ptolomey and Lentulus, but they withal perceived, by the voice, that it was Emilia that ſpoke them, and could not be ignorant, having heard her name pronounced, that they were addreſſed to Tullia. They were both equally ſurpriſed thereat, and Lentulus looking on my Brother with eyes, wherein were viſible not onely his aſtoniſhment, but all that he would have ſaid upon ſo unexpected an adventure, had they been in a place where they might have diſcourſed without any fear of being diſcovered, graſped him by the arm, as if by that action, and other geſtures, he conjured him from making any noiſe, and to hear attentively as well as himſelf, a diſcourſe, wherein, if he were not miſtaken, he thought himſelf very much concerned. Ptolomey was willing enough to comply with his deſires, ſo that, continuing in the ſame poſture they were in before, they heard Emilia reaſſuming the diſcourſe; Speak, my deareſt Tullia, ſaid ſhe, and ſince I am the onely perſon in the World whom you think fit to entruſt with a ſecret that is ſo neer your heart, eaſe your ſpirits as much as you can, by acquainting me with what you would conceal from all but Emilia. We are now where all things favour our deſigne, ſo far that the Sun it ſelf, did he ſhine, could not participate of the ſecret that is between us, and all things promote the ſolitude we ſeek. Do your ſelf therefore no further violence, my deareſt friend, and open to me that heart, which being heretofore hard and impenetrable to all love and compaſſion, does now ſubmit to the ſame paſſion againſt which it was armed with ſo much rigour.

While Emilia was ſpeaking in this manner, Lentulus had found a way, by turning the leaves aſide, to make a little paſſage for his ſight, and as good fortune would have it, he could through that little place direct it juſt upon Tullia's face. By this happy means had he the opportunity to ſee the face of that Beauty, leaning on the ſhoulder of Emilia, bathed with certain tears, which iſſuing out of her fair eyes, ran down along her cheeks, and dropped into her boſom. With one of her arms ſhe embraced Emilia, in the other hand ſhe held a hand-kerchief, wherewith ſhe wiped the tears which ſhe could not forbear ſhedding. Her hair was in a looſe and negligent poſture, and all her geſtures ſpoke a certain remiſſeneſs but all that negligence, all that languiſhing did but heighten her ordinary beauty, inſomuch that there ſeemed to Lentulus to be much more luſtre and divinity in it than he had ever obſerved before.

He further perceived that after ſhe had with ſome difficulty prevailed with her ſelf to comply with the ſollicitations of Emilia, aſſuming the diſcourſe with an action wherein were eaſily remarkable all the expreſſions of ſadneſſe and confuſion: Why will you oblige me, ſaid ſhe to her, to repeat to you what my eyes, what my heart, what my mouth have already acquainted you with? Are you ſo much in love with my grief, as to be delighted with the unhappy demonſtrations I give you of it? Or would you have me, out of a reflection upon ſo many acknowledgements as I have made of my unhappineſs, weakneſſe and cowardice, to dye for ſhame and confuſion before you? If it muſt be ſo, my deareſt Emilia, I am content, and ſince you are, and ever ſhall be, while I have a minute to breathe, the onely perſon to whom I ſhall diſcover my misfortune, I am willing my moſt ſecret imaginations ſhould paſſe out of my heart into yours, and wiſh you may be moved with pitty for the miſery which my inflexible deſtiny hath forced me into. I ſay, my deſtiny, Emilia, for it is that onely that I can juſtly charge with all the misfortunes I am fallen into. Do not imagine it any effect of the celeſtial vengeance upon me for the rigour I expreſſed towars Julius Antonius. Though I have contribted very much to his abſence, and am charged as the occaſion of it, yet have I not been troubled with the leaſt remorſe for any deportments of mine towards him. Being Cicero's Daughter, I [Page] could not upon the firſt addreſſes of his affection to me, be obliged to entertain any ſuch thing from him; and reflecting on the death of Cecinna, whom, being to be my Husband within three daies, he killed in my ſight, upon my account; I was certainly diſpenſed from whatever the expreſſions of his love might require of me in his favour. And yet, the powers of Heaven are my Witneſſes that I never hated him, that I never wiſhed him any ill fortune, that I have acknowledged his great worth, and that I do at this day confeſs, notwithſtanding my preſent ſentiments, that he is as great as to point of merit, and as amiable as to his perſon as Ptolomey is himſelf. So that there is no ground to imagine that the gods ſhould inſlict all this as a puniſhment of my cruelty; but that it proceeds meerly from my deſtiny which in this emergency acts againſt me, as it hath done through all the misfortunes that have happened to our houſe.

But my deareſt Tullia (replied Emilia) ſince you would not be flattered in your paſſion, may it not be repreſented to you, that the ſame reaſons which you alledged againſt the love and merits of Julius Antonius, before he became an impardonable criminal by the death of Cecinna, might with much more ground be urged againſt the affection which you have conceived for his Brother; ſince that, not being obliged to him for any the leaſt demonſtration of love, you cannot but look on him as the Son of Anthony, which he is, you know, no leſs than his Brother? I am, no queſtion, replyed Tullia, obliged by the ſame reaſons to do the one as the other, at leaſt in ſome part, (for yet I might tell you, did I ſtand upon my juſtification; that Ptolomey is not by his birth ſuch a criminal to us as his Brother was, ſince that he is Son to Queen Cleopatra, who contributed nothing to the death of Cicero, and not to Fulvia, who alone engaged Anthony in that deſign, and exerciſed her cruelty upon the body of my Father, even after death, by a many abominable indignities) but ſuch was my misfortune, that I could not make uſe of them, and I need not tell you, that in thoſe of this nature, the aſſiſtances of reaſon are not always infallible. You may further argue, that I have hardly ſeen Ptolomey above once; that he is a Prince younger than my ſelf, by five or ſix years; and a perſon that neither does, nor haply will love me while he lives. All the anſwer I have to make to theſe Objections, is, That my misfortunes are ſo much the more to be bemoaned, and that the rather, out of a conſideration that I have not contributed any thing thereto my ſelf, and have endured this violence to tyrannize over my heart, without the leaſt complyance of my will. Pitty me then, if you pleaſe, Emilia, and charge me not with an offence which I ſee no reaſon I ſhould take upon me. Tis not in the power of either Vertue, or the Study of Philoſophy to make us uncapable of paſſions, but onely teach us how to ſtruggle with them; and if they have not been able to make good the little garriſon of my heart againſt the aſſaults of that which now diſturbs my quiet; they will ſo weaken it, as that it ſhall not produce therein any effects that may ſtain my reputation at the preſent, or my memory hereafter. I have been able to look on the Son of Anthony, but it ſeems under an unhappy conſtellation which made me indeed but too ſenſible of what I thought amiable in his perſon: I have been able to preſerve the remembrance of it too dearly for my own quiet; I cannot think of him without tenderneſs, I can ſpeak of him with delight, I can communicate my ſufferings to you, I can ſigh, and, as you ſee, weep and bewayle, this ſad exchange of my condition. But this, Emilia, is all that this deſtructive paſſion can work in my ſoul, ſo that all the tempeſts it is able to raiſe there, ſhall not eclipſe thoſe lights of wiſdom, which it is not in the power of any blindneſs to extinguiſh. I can pine away, yet conceale from all the World, Emilia only excepted, the reaſon why I do ſo; and if I muſt endure, even to death it ſelf, I can eaſily do it, not onely rather than open my lips, but rather than become guilty of a wiſh that ſhould any way ſtain my reputation, or caſt a blemiſh on the former part of my life.

But, when all is done, replies Emilia, to ſpeak ſincerely, could you not wiſh that Ptolomey loved you, or can you with all your Wiſdom and Philoſophy, oppoſe ſuch a wiſh? To this Tullia could not for ſome minutes make any poſitive anſwer; but having a little after ſhaken off that ſuſpence, and reaſſuming the diſcourſe with a certain bluſh, wherewith Lentulus could perceive her face all covered; The deſire of being loved, ſaid ſhe, by that which one loves, is a thing ſo natural in us, that I durſt not tell you, that I did not wiſh my ſelf loved by Ptolomy; but you are withal to aſſure your ſelf, that this wiſh is ſo innocent as not to injure my vertue: nay I muſt adde thus much, that though it ſhould prove effectual, yet would not my condition be any thing the more fortunate, and that Ptolomey himſelf, though he ſhould love me, ſhould not know while he lived that I ever had any affection for him. I ſhould avoid him as an enemy, though he were dearer to me than my own life; nay though it ſhoúld coſt me this very life, I ſhould keep, to the laſt gaſp, from the knowledge of all the earth, thoſe ſentiments which have broke forth to that of all the Romans.

But what is then your meaning, replyed Emilia, what courſe do you intend to take, in order to your own quiet? To dye, anſwered the Daughter of Cicero, to dye, my deareſt Emilia, if occaſion require; and I am very much unknown to you, if you imagine, that I think my [Page] life ſo conſiderable as not to ſacrifice it to preſerve my reputation. But I ſhall do what lies in my power to ſtruggle with this enemy that hath poſſeſſed himſelf of my heart, and if the ſtrength and aſſiſtances of heaven, which I daily implore, prove ſuch as that I may not gain the victory, you ſhall find, Emilia, whether I have not learned to dye, rather then be guilty of faults which might make you bluſh for my ſake. I have acquainted you with the ſecret of my heart, becauſe there hath not been any tranſaction there which you have not known; but did I imagine it ſhould come to the knowledge of any other perſon in the World beſides your ſelf, I ſhould think one hour along time to ſurvive the ſhame I ſhould conceive thereat, and you ſhould beſtow on my death thoſe tears, which compaſſion obliges you to ſhed, to accompany thoſe which my unhappineſs forces from me.

As ſhe made an end of theſe words, ſhe could keep in no longer thoſe ſhowers of tears which fell down from her eies in abundance; which yet hindred not, but that Lentulus, who looked on her with attention, or rather with tranſportation, thought her ſo beautiful in that condition, and was ſo much moved at her diſcourſes, the grace wherewith ſhe delivered them, and the fortune that obliged her thereto, that pitty, which had by degrees taken place in his heart, was of a ſudden changed into a violent paſſion. For though he had ſeen Tullia ſeveral times before, yet did it not raiſe in him any inclinations for her, other than what her merit might raiſe in all that knew her; but now in this little inter [...]el, wherein grief appeared ſo amiable in her countenance, he became her abſolutely devoted vaſſal, and in love with her after ſuch a manner, that he had not the leaſt ſtrength to oppoſe it, and was not able to hear the reaſon which ſhould have diſſwaded him from loving a perſon whoſe affections were otherwiſe diſpoſed of, and one from whom, either upon occaſion of that diſcovery, or out of any conſideration of her own humour, he was in all probability never to expect any thing. In a word, Love here knew no degrees, but as ſoon as he could be ſaid to love, he might be ſaid to do it violently, inſomuch, that ſympathizing with her in the affection wherein he ſaw her involved, he participated thereof ſo far, that, when he turned toward Ptolomy, my Brother perceived his eyes were red and big with tears. For his part, he had not been at all moved, either at Tullia's words, or the diſcoveries of her affection, whether it proceeded from the reſentment he had in heart againſt that Lady, or that naturally he had a ſoul not over-ſuſceptible of love, or that all the affection it was capable of, was already devoted to Marcia, a Princeſs of excellent beauty, and one to whom he ought abundance of obligations. He was already deſirous to remove from that place, when Lentulus, fearing they might be ſurpriſed, and perceiving by the diſcourſe of Tullia, that it would trouble her infinitely if ſhe ſhould diſcover that Ptolomey had heard her, took him by the arm and carryed him away. They went thence as ſoftly as they had come thither, and made ſo little noiſe, that they were not perceived or heard. They went out of the little Iſle, and walked a good while ere they ſpoke one to another. Ptolomy know not what to ſay of that adventure, ſo much was he ſurprized at the ſtrangeneſs of it; and Lentulus, whoſe ſoul was wounded by what he had ſeen, and whoſe ſpirits were in ſome diſorder, by reaſon of his newly-conceived paſſion, could not think of words whereby to expreſs himſelf, and was content only to look on Ptolomey, in whom he could not perceive the leaſt alteration upon that accident, and knew not, whether he ſhould, out of conſiderations of compaſſion, adviſe him to love Tullia; or out of thoſe of his own love and intereſt, entertain him with the ſentiments he had for her himſelf. At laſt, having taken ſome few turns; they were juſt falling into ſome diſcourſe, when coming to the end of a walk, that abutted upon that wherein they were, they met full-but with the two Ladies, who had left the Arbour in a manner as ſoon as they had, and without the leaſt fear that they had been over-heard by any one, had reaſſumed their walk. They were all very much ſurpriſed at that meeting, and particularly Tullia, as being the leaſt prepared for it, and the moſt concerned in it. Her eyes were ſtill red with weeping, which Lentulus perceiving, and conſequently the condition ſhe was in, could not look on her without a certain trouble and diſturbance.

They were ſo neer one another, that it was impoſſible to paſs by without ſalutes; and Lentulus, ſubmitting to the Aſcendent which now began to govern him, could not follow Ptolomey, who after a ſalute full of reſpect turned aſide. Emilia, who took notice of his carriage, not conſulting at this time ſo much decorum, as minding the friendſhip ſhe had for Tullia, called him, and having obliged him to turn back; What now, Ptolomey, ſaid ſhe to him, do you ſhun the Ladies? No Madam, replyed he, but it is not fit that the Son of Anthony ſhould come near the daughter of Cicero. Enmities, replyed Emilia, ſhould not be eternal; and I ſhall not be friends with Tullia, if ſhe make no diſtinction between the Children of Cleopatra, and thoſe of Fulvia, who alone wrought all the unhappineſs of their houſe. Both the one and the other are equally guilty by their birth, replies Ptolomey; nay though they [Page] were innocent enough to deſerve that Tullia ſhould wiſh them no hurt, they cannot be ſo far ſuch as to hope for any of her converſation.

This fierce young man not guilty of that tenderneſs he was, in civility, obliged to, would needs, out of an affected malice, repeat the ſame words to Tullia, which ſhe had ſometimes ſaid to his Brother, as he had heard it related; ſo that after this laſt complement he went away, and would have no further diſcourſe with Emilia. In the mean time Tullia had not ſpoken at all, though Lentulus had come to her, but had faſtned her eyes on the ground, as being in ſome doubt whether ſhe ſhould approve the proceeding of Emilia, whoſe intention ſeemed good to her, but her action indiſcreet enough. So that her courage, and the affection ſhe had for my Brother, raiſed no ſmall diſtraction within her; but when ſhe heard thoſe laſt words, and ſaw him go away with ſo much diſdain, her face was of a ſudden deprived of all colour, and grief and vexation preſſed upon her heart in ſuch manner, that after ſhe had, with ſome precipitation, ſaid to Emilia, that ſhe was not well and was not able to ſtand, ſhe fell into a ſwound in her arms. Lentulus, whoſe eye was but too much upon her, ran to her; and though her misfortune touched him to the very heart, yet was it ſome joy to him to have her in his arms, while Emillia ſate down on the graſſe, and with the aſſiſtance of Lentulus, layed Tullia by her, and took her head upon her lap. Ptolemey, who had not had the time to go far thence, turned about at the cry which Emilia gave, and ſeeing, though confuſedly, what they were doing, he ſuſpected what the buſineſſe might be; though, it is poſſible, he might not think himſelf abſolutely the cauſe of that accident. However, though he was not ſubject to much love, yet would he not be a wanting in point of civility, and conſequently as to that aſſiſtance which he thought due to her ſex; ſo that when, being come neer, he ſaw her in a ſwound, Emilia looſning her garments, and Lentulus in ſuch amazement, that he knew not what to do; he ran to the next rivulet, and, having taken up ſome water in both his hands, he brought it, and caſt it on Tullia's face. Whereupon ſhe immediately opened her eyes, and that, time enough to ſee the action of Ptolomey, and to perceave that it was from him that ſhe received that aſſiſtance. I know not whether the joy or the confuſion ſhe conceaved thereat were the greater; but being well furniſhed, both as to courage and reſervedneſſe, ſhe betrayed not her thoughts of it, and giving my Brother a look ſuitable to the different paſſions ſhe was then engaged with; I receave this kindneſſe from you, ſaid ſhe to him, in requital for what I did your Brother in the like conditions; but it is enough for an enemy, and you are too too tender of the concernments of your houſe to do me any more.

With theſe words ſhe turned gently towards Emilia, and ſpoke to her ſoftly, to entreat them to depart: to which end Emilia making ſigns to them, they went their wayes, but, after ſeveral manners; Ptolomcy with ſuch indifference, as if he had not been any way concerned in the adventure, and Lentulus ſo moved, and ſo diſtracted in his thoughts, that he hardly knew what he did. Being come ſome paces thence, they met with the women that belonged to Emilia and Tullia, whom their Miſtreſſes had left behind, that they might walk alone, and having acquainted them with the accident that had happened, they obliged them to go to their Miſtreſſes.

When they were gotten a good diſtance from that place, Ptolomey, who walked after his ordinary poſture of freedom and cheerfulneſſe, obſerving the diſturbance Lentulus was in, as well by his ſilence as by the ſeveral expreſſions thereof that were viſible in his countenance; Is it poſſible, ſaid he to him, that you are ſo much troubled at this adventure as you ſeem to be? But is it poſſible, replies Lentulus, that you can be ſo little as your face and actions diſcover you to be? I aſſure you for my part, ſaies Ptolomey, that I am not troubled a jot at it, and that I look on this adventure as if it had happened to any other body. How, continued Lentulus, hath neither what you heard from the mouth of Tullia, of the love ſhe hath for you, nor yet what you have ſeen of the effects of your diſdain on her ſpirit, raiſed no trouble or alteration in you? Not a jot, replies Ptolomey. And beſides the averſion I had for that Lady, I am not much taken with what is beſtowed on me upon ſuch occaſions, if it hath not coſt me ſomething before, ſo that I ſhall not make any advantage of this adventure; and all that I ſhall do for Tullia that ſpeaks any thing of obligation, is, that I ſhall not divulge it, and that I do, I do upon the account of diſcretion and her ſex. So that it ſeems, ſaies Lentulus, you do not love her, nor feel any inclination to do it? I do not only not love her now, anſwers Ptolomey, but I proteſt to you, I never ſhall love her, If it be ſo, replies Lentulus, I am ſome what leſſe unhappy then I thought my ſelf, that I am fallen into a paſſion which I ſhould have wraſtled with while I lived, had it been any way prejudicial to our friendſhip. And ſince you are the deareſt of my Friends, I ſhall make no difficulty to tell you, that being come with you into this garden, as free as your ſelf from any love I had for Tullia, I am now fallen infinitely in love with her, to ſo high a degree, that it is impoſſible your brother could be more.

[Page] Theſe words made Ptolomey look on Lentulus ſomewhat amazedly, as if he could hardly imagine his diſcourſe to be ſerious: How, ſaid he, is it poſſible, Lentulus, that in ſo ſhort a time, and by ſo ſtrange an accident, you ſhould fall in love with Tullia? So deeply, replies Lentulus, that all the words I can uſe are not able to expreſſe it: and I thought Tullia ſo beautiful in her grief, and ſo amiable in her ſinging and diſcourſe, that my ſoul is beſtowed on her without ever conſulting my will; I ſay beſtowed, and that in ſuch a manner, that I am not in the leaſt hope ever to retrive it out of her power. I know I put my ſelf to strange extremities; and that, attempting to ſerve a Lady, prevented by a ſtrong paſſion for you, and one that hath ſtudyed conſtancy and reſolution, ſuch as Tullia is; I embarque for a voyage wherein I am ſure to meet with many ſtorms: but when all is done, it is the pleaſure of my deſtiny it ſhould be ſo, and it is not in my power to oppoſe it.

Lentulus went on with abundance of diſcourſe to the ſame effect, which the length of this relation obliges me to forbear repeating to you, though it put Ptolomey into ſuch an aſtoniſhment at the fantaſtick adventure, that he could hardly imagine it to be real. He entreated him, ſince he was not reſolved to affect that Lady, never to ſpeak ill of her, nor let the World know what he did concerning her paſſion, which haply the account and acknowledgement he made thereof, might in time oblige her to forget. My Brother promiſed never to ſpeak of it while he lived to any one but to me, from whom he was not able to conceal any thing, and engaged for me that I ſhould not ſuffer that ſecret to take any further aire. Accordingly, he failed not to come that very night, to give me an account of all that happened to him, conjuring me to ſecrecy, and I could not but be amazed as well at his relation of tee love of Tullia, as that of Lentulus, whoſe misfortune I much bemoaned, becauſe he was a perſon of a moſt illuſtrious birth, and very recommendable among the Romans for his many excellent endowments. I had alſo ſome compaſſion for Tullia, though I had no reaſon to love her, and I blamed Ptolomey for the inflexibility of his heart; but having great reſpects for Martia, and looking on that allyance as moſt advantageous for my Brother and all our houſe, I was very glad not to ſee him engaged in any other affections that might have diverted him from her. He on the the other ſide viſited her oftner than he had done before, continuing and adding to the demonſtrations of his affection; but with this remark, that he did all things with greater indifference and freedom of ſpirit then ſhe could have deſired, and in ſuch a manner, that his love hindred him not from minding his ordinary divertiſements, or diſcovering the averſion he had for marriage. However, he provided againſt the day of Auguſtus's his birth, to do for her what all other young Romans did for the Ladies they ſerved; and would come into the exerciſes, with the Livery, and all other demonſtrations of the engagement he lay under to ſerve her. Lentulus did the like for Tullia, but he underſtood that ſhe was not well, and was not likely to be preſent at the Solemnity. You may ſome other time have an account of what hath paſt in the loves of Lentulus and Tullia, poſſibly not unworthy your attention; but beſides that there is not much come to my knowledge, they are not the ſubject of my preſent diſcourſe, and my relation is ſo long without it, that I doubt not but you will excuſe me, if I ſay not any thing thereof.

At length, the day deſtined for the celebration of the Solemnity, and the honour of Auguſtus's birth, being come, the whole Court, all the Nobility, and the people ran to the Sights. I ſhall ſay nothing to you of the duels fought by the Gladiators, and the fighting of ſavage beaſts, which were the divertiſements of the people for the morning. The reſt of the day was ſpent in things of greater magnificence, ſuch as wherein the Roman Nobility diſcovered their greateſt pomp and gallantry; and yet I ſhall give you but a ſhort deſcription of it, and that out of a neceſſity that lyes upon me to make mention thereof in my relation. There was no place within Rome able to contain the vaſt number of people that were to be preſent at the ſhews, and that of the perſons that were to celebrate them. The Emperour therefore, had, without the gates of the City, in a fair Plain upon the Tiber ſide, cauſed a vaſt tract of ground to be rail'd in, having left two ſides free for the people, which were bordered with an Amphitheatre of ſeveral ſteps, on which an infinit number of people might be diſpoſed. He had cauſed to be raiſed over againſt the entrance certain Scaffolds covered over with rich tapiſtry, for the Ladies, the Senate, and ſuch other perſons as were deſtined for thoſe places. On the fourth ſide were diſpoſed part of the Emperours Guard, whoſe employment it was to open the railes at the entrance of the Chariots, the horſes and people that were to come in, and all that ſide was wholly taken up by ſuch as were requiſite for that office, to avoid all confuſion & diſturbance. The place was ſpacious enough for the longeſt races of either horſe or Chariots, and of ſuch an extent, as, it was ſaid, that it was ſufficient for the encamping of an army.

The firſt ſight was to be that of the Chariots, which was followed by Horſe-races, and [Page] after that was a combat on horſeback, between two parties with edgeleſs weapons, which the Romans call Troy, and they ſay was invented by Aſcanius, the Son of Aeneas, at his arrival into Italy. All the Chariots paſſed one after another, took divers turns about the place along the railes, and after they had been ſeen by the Emperour, the Ladies, and the people, when the ſignal of the races was given, they were all diſpoſed according to the order they had obſerved in coming in, at that end of the place which was oppoſite to our Scaffold, in expectation of the laſt ſignal at which they were to ſet forward. They had all four horſes a-breaſt, open before, with one only place behind, for the Maſter of the Chariot, wherein he ſate armed all over, having on, a head-piece, the viſour down, with a Buckler on his left arm, and two Javelins in his right hand; and the Chariots, the ſlaves that followed them, the cloaths that covered the horſes, and all the Equipage wore the Livery of the Ladies, as far as they were known. Upon theſe occaſions was it particularly that the young Romans outvy'd one another to diſcover their inclinations; at leaſt thoſe who had no deſign to keep them ſecret, and to that end was there a great diſtance between the Chariots as they paſſed by, that people might the better obſerve the attendance of every Chariot in particular, and that without any confuſion.

The firſt that appeared was that of Marcellus, all glittering with gold and magnificent workmanſhip; his attendance was noble and full of pomp, and about his perſon, and in all his Equipage he wore the Livery of Julia. That of Tiberius came next, not inferiour in point of magnificence to that of Marcellus, with my characters and colours. That of Domitius followed him, with thoſe demonſtrations which argued the affection he had for Agrippina. After that came Archelaus with the colours of Antonia. Next came young Ptolomey, very neat and gallant in his Equipage, wearing the colours of Martia. Prince Polemon followed him with thoſe of Marcella; and Mithridates, who came after him, made no difficulty to have alſo thoſe of Antonia. The next was Craſſus, with a Livery which none could gueſſc whom it was for, and whence it was to be inferred, that his intention was, not to have it known. Then came Lentulus with that of Tullia, and then Albinus, Aemilianus, Cinna, Cepio, and a many others of the moſt Illuſtrious Romans, to the number of fifty, it being the Emperour's pleaſure there ſhould be no more to avoid the confuſion that might have enſued. Though Agrippa was not of an age that made him incapable of theſe exerciſes, yet would not the Emperour have him engaged therein, but took him and Mecoenas for company's ſake, to judge of the races, and to order the diſtribution of the prizes. And though all the Maſters of Chariots had the viſours of their head-pieces down, and were in ſuch a poſture, as if they had been ready to fight, yet were they known as they paſſed by, as well by the perſons that were of their attendance, as by divers other marks, ſo that it was in us to judge of the magnificence and graceful carriage of them, which we did, and gave our opinions thereof very freely.

This great number of Chariots, (which certainly was the nobleſt ſight in the World) had gone round about the place, and it was thought there would not come any more, when the Liſts being opened again, the place echoed with the noiſe of twelve Trumpets which appeared at the entrance, and began to march a good diſtance after the laſt of the Chariots that had paſſed before. They were mounted on twelve excellent horſes, and their long coats were of a sky-coloured ſtuff, which was the colour of Antonia, all covered over with enflamed hearts, and the characters of Antonia, in embroidery of gold; but the nobleſt and moſt ſumptuous embroidery that ever had been ſeen at Rome. The flags which hung at their Trumpets were full of the ſame characters. After the Trumpets, came one after another twenty horſes, led every one by two ſlaves, who held them in on both ſides by two ſcarfes of the colour and embrodery afore-mentioned. The horſes were of the beſt kind of Gennets, and the proudeſt in their paces that ever were ſeen; they had in their heads, which they liſted up with a certain Pride, great pennaches of the aforeſaid colour, and their mains and tayles tyed up with ribands of gold and sky-colour. The bits of their bridles were enamell'd with gold, and embelliſhed with precious ſtones, and they were covered with sky-coloured cloaths hanging down to the ground, and enriched with the ſame embroidery of gold, and the ſame characters of Antonia. The cloaths of the ſlaves were of the ſame ſtuff, and had the ſame trimming. After theſe came fifty others cloathed after the ſame manner, without any difference, and went on both ſides the chariot which immediately followed the twenty horſes.

The Chariot had in it four horſes white as the very ſnow, done with ribands, and harneſſed as the former. It ſeemed to be all of gold, mixt with sky-colour at certain diſtances, with double A. A's, burning hearts, darts, chains, and other emblems of love and ſervitude. The two ſides had the form of two Lyons, that ſeemed to have ſubmitted to the yoke, upheld the ſeat, and ſerved for a leaning place on both ſides. And behind there was a Cupid [Page] made of the height of a man, where of the figure was ſomewhat greater than ordinary, which reſting onely on one foot behind, ſtretched himſelf out as it were to fly, and, having the wings ſpread, covered there with the perſon that was in the ſeat, and ſeemed to have been put there purpoſely againſt the injuries of the weather, and as it were a covering for the Chariot. The ſculpture of that Cupid was admirable, his face as handſome as the beſt Gravers could have made it, and his wings glittering with gold and precious ſtones, which ſhined in ſeveral places. In one hand he carried a Heart upon the top of one of his arrows, and in the other a little flag of sky-coloured ſilk, wherein between two chains, and other marks of ſlavery, might be ſeen theſe verſes written in letters of gold:

I like a captive pine and ſigh;

Yet place a glory in my woes:

I'd rather own this ſlavery,

Than of the Univerſe diſpoſe.

All the reſt of the Chariot was open, ſo that it was eaſie to ſee how the perſon was accommodated that was within it. He had on a cuirats and a head-piece of gold, enamell'd with sky-colour, and enriched, in ſeveral places, with ſtones of a great value. The head-piece was covered over with a many plumes of blew feathers, which both backwards, and on both ſides hung down to his Shoulders. But in the enamel, as well of the head-piece as the cuirats, might be obſerved every where the characters of Antonia; and the ſleeves and the lower part of his under-garment, which came down ſomewhat below his knee, being interwoven with gold and blew ſilk, were full of the ſame characters, with an excellent imbroidery of gold, and his buskins interlaced with gold and blew, adorned with rich buckles and precious ſtones. Nor was there any want of them, about the ſword he had by his ſide. He had in his right hand two Javelins, with the points guilt with gold, and in the left, a Buckler of the ſame mettal, with the edges enamel'd ſuitably to the reſt of his Armes, and enriched in the middle with the picture of the fair Antonia, done ſo like her, that it was immediately concluded to be the work of the moſt excellent Painters of Italy.

I thought it not amiſs to give you this ſhort deſcription of him, for that indeed we ſpent more time in looking upon him, then we had done on all elſe that was to be ſeen, though it muſt needs be acknowledged there was no want of ſtate or magnificence any where. But in regard that all the reſt were known, and that there was no means to diſcover this laſt, either by the perſons of his Attendance, or by any other mark, he drew after him, not only the aſtoniſhment and acclamations of the people, but alſo the curioſity of all others. And yet though it was impoſſible to know either his face or name, yet from ſome other circumſtances, that were publick and remarkable enough, it was generally concluded that it could be no other than the unknown Servant of Antonia, who ſome daies before had beſtowed on her the magnificent Galley, who had overthrown Archelaus and Mithridates, and of whom, under the name of the Unknown Lover, there were ſuch ſtrange reports ſpread up and down Rome and elſewhere. It immediately ran from mouth to mouth among the Spectators, and all the diſcourſe was concerning Antonia's ſervant, inſomuch that Archelaus and Mithridates perceiving it, conceived not a little trouble and envy thereat, and could not for a certain time recover themſelves out of that diſturbance of thoughts which that ſight had cauſed in them.

Antonia and my ſelf were not far from the Emperour, ſo that over-hearing all the diſcourſe which fell not only from Caeſar, but all thoſe that were about him, upon occaſion of this accident, there ſpread ſuch a redneſs over Antonia's face, as could not be gotten off for almoſt all that day. And though I was not thereupon thrifty of my diſcourſe to her, and earneſtly entreated her to communicate her thoughts to me upon that emergency, yet was it a long time ere ſhe would ſo much as open her mouth to make me any anſwer. Siſter, ſaid I to her, was it not ſhrewdly gueſſed of me ſome daies ſince, that your unknown Servant was a perſon admirable as to point of invention and magnificence, and do you not find that in whatever he undertakes, he eclipſes all that is done by others? In troth, I cannot forbear ſpeaking for him, and to tell you, that I have conceived an extraordinary good opinion of him. Antonia was in ſome uncertainty, whether ſhe ſhould diſcover her diſpleaſure at the adventure, or make her diverſion of it as others did: but what thoughts ſoever her diſturbance might inſpire her with, yet could ſhe not but entertain in her ſoul a certain joy at the advantages of a perſon that loved her, though he did it contrary to her intentions, and the reputation he acquired, whether ſhe would or no, for his gallantry and magnificence.

[Page] But not long after, ſhe had much more reaſon, for in fine, Siſter, (not to tyre you with a relation of all that paſſed that day, which it were impoſſible to relate to you fully) I ſhall think it enough to tell you, that this unknown perſon having provided all things for that day, with all the care and prudence imaginable, and furniſhed himſelf with the beſt and fleeteſt horſes that could be had, carryed away all the prizes, as well for the horſe-races as the Chariots, leaving behind him at a diſtance all that ran with him, and in that combat on horſeback called Troy, he behaved himſelf with ſo much addreſs and vigour, and did all things with ſuch an admirable grace, that he alone drew after him the general acclamations of the Spectators. In fine, he was by the Emperour himſelf declared Conquerour, how partial ſo ever he might be for Marcellus, and received the prizes, which he came and laid at the feet of Antonia, bending the knee, and bowing to her with a ſubmiſſion that ſpoke him her ſlave. Antonia bluſhing for ſhame and vexation, though haply ſhe was not much diſſatisfied at the adventure, did, by the commandment of Octavia, receive them, and immediately after, the Unknown Lover mounting one of the beſt of his horſes, rid him before us with ſuch a grace, and ſeemed to us to be of ſuch a noble preſence, and ſo well to become the bow of the ſaddle, that we could not forbear admiring him. A while after, he went in among the reſt, and, taking his time, and making his advantage of the diſorder and confuſion they were in, he went out of the Liſts, and got away with as much ſpeed as could be. His Chariot and Equipage were gone along before, for he had given order, that as ſoon as the Chariot-races were over, all ſhould withdraw, while the people were taken up with the other exerciſes, wherein he was to make uſe of no more than the horſe he rode on.

By this precaution had he taken a courſe, that thoſe who were not concerned in his affairs, ſhould not follow the perſons that were of his attendance in order to diſcover him, as it might have been the deſign of divers. But as he retired himſelf, how circumſpect ſoever he might be, he could not eſcape the eyes of the jealous Mithridates, who fully ſatisfied it could be no other than the ſame Rival that had caſt him to the ground, took a reſolution to follow him to the worlds end, and never to leave him till he had diſcovered who he was, or that the other had made him ſatisfaction for the injurie he had received from him. He went out of the liſts ſoon after him, and perceiving he made all the ſpeed he could away, he followed him at a diſtance towards certain houſes, whither he ſaw he intended, and are diſtant from the City about fifty or ſixty ſtadia. Archelaus, perceiving that Mithridates was gone, preſently imagined the occaſion of his departure, and it being no leſs his concernment than the others to be acquainted with his Rival, would needs follow him, and took his courſe that way which he was told he had taken.

In the mean time Mithridates was gotten far enough before, and having obſerved that his unknown Rival turned towards a little Wood on the left hand, he made after him with all the ſpeed he could; and reached it in a manner as ſoon as the other. It was with no ſmall difficulty that he overtook him, nor indeed had he done it, had his Rival ſuſpected any thing of his deſign; but ere he perceived any ſuch thing, he was gotten ſo neer him, that all he could do was to pull down the viſour of his head-piece, which he had raiſed up to take a little more air, and he did it time enough to prevent Mithridates from knowing him. Having ſo done, he would have kept on his way, but Mithridates made a ſhift to get before him through the trees, and oppoſing his paſſage; Hope not (ſaid he to him) to get away this time again, till I have known thee, and poſſibly till thou haſt made me ſatisfaction for the many injuries thou haſt done me. The Unknown Lover, troubled at this rencounter, was in ſuſpence for ſome minutes what anſwer to make him, but at laſt, perceiving what extremity he was reduced to, and thinking that, beſides the care he ſhould take to diſguiſe his voice, the head-piece would contribute ſo much thereto, as to make him undiſcernable by the other. Mithridates (ſaid he to him) thou haſt little reaſon to be ſo obſtinate in purſuing a man that is not thy enemy, but may become ſuch through thy importunate perſecution of him. If thou art my friend (replies Mithridates) thou ſhouldſt not concealthy ſelf from me, and if thou art not, I little fear thy diſpleaſure, after the diſgraces I am fallen into by thy means.

As he uttered theſe words, he oppoſed his paſſage more than before, and held up againſt him the point of a Javelin he had in his hand. The Unknown Lover would have avoided fighting without diſcovering himſelf, but perceiving it impoſſible to do it; Thou wilt haply have occaſion to remember (ſaid he to him) what violence thou doſt force me to, and if thou receive any inconvenience thereby, thou haſt no body to blame but thy ſelf. With theſe words they charged one another at the ſame time, and having broken their Javelins on their Bucklers, upon which they received them, they drew their ſwords, and many blows were dealt on both ſides. But my little experience in matter of Combats, permits me not to give you all the particulars, and therefore ſhall only tell you, that the Unknown [Page] Lover finding in one paſſe, Mithridates's horſe in ſomewhat an unſettled poſture, ran his own a-breaſt upon him, and ſo overturned both him and his maſter to the ground.

The Unknown Lover thought himſelf freed by the fall of Mithridates, and would accordingly have kept on his way, when there coming before him Archelaus; Stay, cryed he to him, having ſeen Mithridates fall, thou haſt done but half thy work, unleſſe thou conceive me leſſe concerned to know thee then Mithridates. This ſecond ſtoppage put the Unknown Lover out of all patience, though he very much eſteemed the perſon of Archelaus, and ſeeing divers others coming from the City, he conceived he had but little time to loſe, and accordingly without any further conſultation, he fell upon Archelaus, who anſwered him with blows as to weight, not much inferior to thoſe he dealt himſelf. They fought for a good while on equal termes; but at laſt, the Unknown Lover perceiving the perſons, he had ſeen before, coming neerer and neerer, runs to Archelaus, and laying hold of him, he put on his horſe, which was one of the beſt in the World, to force him out of the ſadle, and ſo free himſelf by his fall, as he had done before by that of Mithridates. And certainly, he put ſo much ſtrength to it, that he did what he deſired in ſome part, and drew Archelaus out of the ſadle upon the crupper, whence he ſlipped down to the ground: but Archelaus, having, as he fell, gotten hold of the other by the head piece, held him with ſuch force, that he broke the chin-pieces of it, and taking it with him, his enemie's head was naked and diſarmed. Upon which Marcellus, Ptolomy, Craſſus, and divers others being come into the place, ran to the two Combatants, and in the ſight of all thoſe perſons, as alſo of Archelaus and Mithridates, who were gotten up, the face of the unknown Lover was ſeen, and known to be Druſus, Son of Livia, and Brother to Tiberius.

The aſtoniſhment of the two Princes that had been worſted by him, of Marcellus, Ptolomey and the reſt, wars not ordinary, when they found Druſus to be the Unknown Lover of Antonia, who had ſerved her, without diſcovering himſelf, with ſo much gallantry and good-liking: and if Archelaus and Mithridates were troubled that they had met with ſo powerful a Rival; they were in ſome meaſure comforted as to their diſgrace, becauſe it happened by the hands of a Prince, whoſe valour was known to all the World.

Druſus was in a little trouble and diſorder to ſee himſelf diſcovered, as thinking he had not come to that point that he ſhould have done ere he had been known; but perceiving the misfortune to be incapable of any remedy, he generouſly reſolved to endure it, and turning towards Prince Marcellus and Ptolomey, who ſtood neer him: Moſt Illuſtrious Princes, ſaid he to them, I crave your pardon for the ſurprize and ſtratagems I have uſed towards the Princeſſe your Siſter, and the offence I have committed againſt you by ſerving her without your knowledge. Had I thought my ſelf worthy that glory, I ſhould not have had any recourſe to artifice; but how mean ſoever I may be as to point of merit, I cannot but hope from the goodneſſe of Prince Marcellus, for whoſe ſake I cheerfully quitted all the pretentions I had for Julia, that he will grant me, out of an exceſſe of favour, that which I durſt not preſume to deſire of him, before I had in ſome ſort obliged him to love me, by the ſervices it was in my thoughts to do him. And from Prince Ptolomey, a perſon I have ever infinitely eſteemed, I do expect, he ſhould not oppoſe me in the deſign I have, abſolutely to ſacrifice my whole life to the ſervice of the Princeſſe his Siſter.

To this effect was the diſcourſe of Druſus, which when he had done, he expected the anſwer of the two Princes with that confidence, which he might well derive from the friendſhip they had expreſſed towards him for ſome time before. Tis true, Druſus was a Prince of ſo great merit, that he was infinitely eſteemed by all that were of his acquaintance; and from the time that Marcellus was reconciled with him after the duel they had fought for Julia, having diſcovered his excellent endowments, as well in his converſation, as the earneſtneſſe he obſerved in Druſus to purchaſe his affection, he had conceaved more reſpect and friendſhip towards him than any other among the Romans, and preferred no man before him in his inclinations, but only Coriolanus. On the other ſide, Druſus's Fortunes were ſo conſiderable by reaſon of the authority of Livia, and the intereſt his own worth had juſtly gained him with Caeſar, that neither Marcellus, nor Ptolomey, nor any of the other Friends of Antonia could wiſh her a match that were more advantageous. They accordingly ſtudied not long for the anſwer they were to make him, and Marcellus ſpeaking for both, out of a confidence that what he ſaid ſhould be confirmed: Prince, ſaid he to Druſus, we have ſome reaſon to be diſpleaſed with you; but it is onely for the little relyance you have had in our friendſhip, and the eſteem we have for you. But that you ſhall hear more of another time; and therefore in the interim, ſince you have thought Antonia worthy your affections, I ſhall tell you that I think her happy, and very much honoured in the inclinations you have for her; that I queſtion not but that Caeſar, Octavia, Alexander, (whereever he may be,) and Ptolomey are of the ſame mind, and that, for my part, if in the deſign [Page] you have upon her, you need the aſſiſtances of a Brother that hath ſome power with her, I proffer you all you can deſire or expect from me, as being one that endeavours nothing ſo much as the acquiſition of your friendſhip, and next to that, the continuance of it while he lives.

What Ptolomey ſaid to Druſus, was to the ſame effect, whereat this Prince was ſo much ſatisfied, that he could not expreſſe his joy without a certain confuſion. After he had diſcovered his reſentments thereof to both, as much as he poſſibly could, he comes to Archelaus and Mithridates, and made his excuſes to them, as to what was paſt, in the moſt obliging manner that could be. Theſe two Princes felt ſo much grief within, that they could not think of any conſolation, but not ſo much for the diſgrace of their falls, as for that their ill fortune had raiſed them ſo dreadful a Rival, and the words they had heard from Marcellus and Ptolomey, from which, together with the confidence they were in, that Auguſtus and Octavia would declare for Druſus, they could not but infer that the little hope which they had conceived in the courſe of their affections, would come to nothing▪ But however they were burthened with grief, they received the civilities of Druſus as they ought, and on their ſide craved his pardon for their indiſcretion, and whatever they attempted againſt him, while they knew him not.

I ſee, Siſter, you are deſirous I ſhould contract this relation, ſince it is indeed of an exceſſive length, and therefore, I ſhall onely tell you, without inſiſting too much on particulars, that, notwithſtanding all the reſiſtance that Druſus made thereto, Marcellus and Ptolomey would needs have him, immediately, and in that very poſture, preſented to Antonia, and that Druſus having oppoſed it for ſome time out of fear to diſpleaſe her, at laſt was prevailed with to come along with them, and followed them to the City, and ſo to the Emperours Court, where all the moſt eminent perſons about it were aſſembled, and diſcourſing of the Unknown Lover of Antonia. They were yet ſpeaking of him when Marcellus comes into the room, leading in Druſus by the hand; and it was before this Illuſtrious Aſſembly, that Marcellus, having preſented him to the Emperour, and Octavia, brought him to Antonia, and, having diſcovered him to her for the Unknown Lover, who had given her ſuch gallant-like expreſſions of his love, and that in ſo extraordinary a manner, entreated her to entertain him, as a Prince that had devoted himſelf to her ſervice, and whoſe inclinations for her were an honour to all their houſe. The whole Aſſembly was nothing but applauſes and acclamations at the ſight and diſcovery of Druſus; and being a perſon generally beloved, all were glad to hear that it was he who had done ſuch noble things for Antonia, and cryed out they were worthy one another, and that it was a couple the beſt matched of any in the World. The Emperour conceived an extraordinary joy at it, Livia was well pleaſed with the good choice her ſon had made, and the Emperour and ſhe together, joyning with Marcellus, (having performed the firſt civility to Octavia) addreſſed themſelves to Antonia, intreating her to entertain Druſus into her ſervice, and give him leave, by open hoſtility, to take in that heart which he would have ſurprized by ſtratagem.

Antonia, ſome what troubled at the adventure, found it ſome difficulty to recover her ſelf out of the diſorder ſhe was in; and though it be certain that it was ſome joy to her to ſee the unknown Lover changed into Druſus, who was the perſon of all the Romans, into whom ſhe had moſt reaſon to wiſh him changed, yet was ſhe ſtill vexed at the artifice he had uſed toward her, and could not of a ſudden overcome the reſentment which was riſen thereof in her mind. However ſhe had a command over her ordinary moderation, and, having raiſed Druſus, who was on his knees before her, ſhe onely told him that there was a conſonancy between her will and thoſe of the perſons to whom her birth had made her ſubject; and that, (I mean her moderation) ſhe made uſe of not only for that day, but was the ſame for a many that followed; inſomuch that Druſus hath found it true, that all the demonſtrations of love that may be have no influence on her ſpirit, and amount to no more than the complyance ſhe had for the diſpoſal of Octavia. He was at laſt received into her ſervice with the joy and acclamations of all, inſomuch, that Antonia, having ſince had a greater acquaintance with his excellent endowments (if ſhe were incapable of Love) hath at leaſt ſubmitted to the commands laid on her by Octavia and Caeſar in his behalf, and hath ſatisfyed him, by expreſſions worthy his ſolid vertue, and of the eſteem ſhe hath for him. And ſo it hath continued ever ſince, by the happy meeting of theſe two complyant dispoſitions, who are not ſubject to any trouble, becauſe not to the weakneſſe of a many others, ſo that it is out of all queſtion that the Emperour will have them marryed at the ſame time that the nuptialls of Marcellus and Julia ſhall be ſolemniſed.

Druſus hath told us ſince how that he had heard from Mithridates's own mouth, the diſcourſe that had paſſed between him and Antonia, when they walked together, upon [Page] which he grounded his firſt letter, as alſo what courſe he had taken to conceal himſelf from all the World, as well that day that he beſtowed on her the magnificent Galley, as that of the publick ſhewes, before which, ſome few dayes he had pretended affairs of conſequence in the Country, becauſe there ſhould be no notice taken of his abſence, at an Aſſembly, wherein he ſhould in all likelihood be one of the firſt. Some few dayes after, Archelaus, overcome with grief, went to eaſe himſelf of it in the war, whither he was called to aſſiſt the Ki [...]g of the Medes, his kinſman, againſt the Parthians, and wherein, as they ſay, he hath gained abundance of reputation. Mithridates was in the ſame poſture, uncapable of any conſolation, though his love had not made ſo much noiſe as the others: but to ſatisfie him in ſome ſort, the Emperour having the Crowns of Pontus and Comagenes, where there had happened very great revolutions, to d [...]ſpoſe of; beſtowed that of Pontus on Polemon, and that of Comagenes on Mithridates, and ſent them to take poſſeſſion thereof.

Ptolomey, according to his ordinary way of courtſhip, continued his addreſſes to Marcia, that is, with little earneſtneſs, and much eſteem and reſpect, but diſcovering little inclination to marriage. He never minded Tullia, who in requital was very violently courted by Lentulus, but I ſhall not give you any account of their loves, becauſe they relate not much to the ſubject of my diſcourſe, though they may be ſaid to be ſome conſequences thereof. I have already given you an account of all that happened to my ſelf at that time, as well as to the news I received of the infidelity of Coriolanus, the departure of Marcellus and Tiberius, and the Emperour's voyage, wherein we accompanied him; ſo that you are fully acquainted with the affairs of our houſe; and the better to ſatisfie and entertain you therewith, I think, and that truely, that I have ſpoken more in three dayes, than I had done all my life before.

Thus did the fair Princeſs Cleopatra put a Period to her long relation, which to do, ſhe had done a more than ordinary violence to her diſpoſition, and Artemiſa had heard her with an attention, which had ſuſpended in her mind the memory of her misfortunes.

The End of the Second Book

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA; OR, Loves Maſter-piece. Part. IX.
Lib. III.

[Page]

ARGUMENT.

Megacles diſcourſes with the unknown perſon, whoſe life he had ſaved, about the conſtancy and inconſtancy of Fortune; Cleopatra and Artemiſa, of the fidelity and infidelity of Coriolanus. The King of Armenia viſits Cleopatra with a great dal of Courtſhip and perſonated Affection. She, abhorring him for his cruelties, and having reſolved to be Coriolanus's, ſlights him, and looks on his addreſſes as the pure effects of inſinuation and ſycophancy. However he forbears force, becauſe far from his own Kingdom, whither he would make all the haſte he could, but is prevented by contrary winds. Zendorus the Pirate entertains Artaxus with the Hiſtory of his Life. He marries Eliſena, a beautiful Lady of Armenia, and not long after grows jealous of her, through the means of one Cleontes, a young man, with whom ſhe was over-familiar. His jealouſie ſtill increaſing, Cleontes is by Eliſena deſired to depart the Court. The day before his departure, he and Eliſena taking their laſt leaves, in an Arbour, are ſurprized by Zenodorus, who tranſported with rage and jealouſie, immediately kills Eliſena in the midſt of their embraces. Cleontes gets away, but afterwards hearing of the death of Eliſena, offers himſelf to Artaxus's ſword, who runs him through. As he lay dying, he diſcovers his neck and breaſt, and is found to be a Woman, Arteſia, of neer kin to Phraates, King of the Parthians, to avoid whoſe addreſſes ſhe had diſguiſed her ſelf. Phraates, to revenge her death comes with an Army, and drives Zenodorus out of his Tetrarchy, which is afterward begged of Auguſtus by Herod. Zenodorus having loſt all, ſeizes ſome few ſhips, and turns Pirate. He follows Piracy with great ſucceſs for ten years, at laſt takes Candace, Queen of Aethiopia, whom he falls in love with; but ſhe, firing his ſhips, and caſting her ſelf over-board, eſcapes. Loſing her, he takes Eliſa, ſole Heireſs of the King of Parthia, but going aſhore to ſeek out Candace, he loſes both Eliſa and all his ſhips, hath moſt of his men killed, and is himſelf wounded. He is met with in a Country-mans houſe, under the Surgeons hands, by Ariſtus, and by him brought along with the men he had left to the King of Armenia.

WHile the two Princeſſes were thus engaged in diſcourſe, Megacles, whoſe care was equally divided, between that of having them in ſafe cuſtody, to obey the commands laid upon him by his Maſter, and that of affording them the beſt attendance he could, to ſatisfie in ſome ſort his own inclinations, which were ever directed to vertue, omitted nothing of what he thought might be expected from him in order to either of theſe Obligations. And whereas on the one ſide it was ſome diſſatisfaction to him to be employed to ſecure them, out of the fear he was in to incenſe a Prince who was not wont to pardon any thing; ſo on the other, he with no leſs joy laid hold on thoſe occaſions which preſented themſelves, to diſcover unto them the repugnance which he ſtruggled with to diſpleaſe them. Being therefore obliged not to part from the ſhip, he [Page] had ſent Ariſtus betimes in the morning to ſee what news he could learn of the King of Armenia, and this man being returned, had brought him word, that the King would infallibly come aboard the Veſſel that very day: and that though he were in ſuch a poſture as to point of health, that he could not well undertake ſuch a Voyage without ſome danger, yet had he abſolutely reſolved to venture it, out of the great deſire he had to ſee Cleopatra, and the fear he was in of loſing ſo noble a prize.

Megacles, having received this intelligence for certain, began to diſpoſe all things in the Veſſel in order to his entertainment; and having underſtood that the Princeſſes were deſirous to be alone, he, out of the great reſpect he had for them, would not ſo much as come neer their Chamber, and was content only to give notice to one of the women that belonged to Cleopatra, that he deſired that notice might be ſent him, when the Princeſſes were pleaſed that he ſhould waite upon them, and when they would have anything brought to dinner. That done, calling to mind the Unknown Perſon, whom the day before he had reſcued from the devouring waves, and of whom he had conceived a marvailous good opinion, he would needs give him a viſit, and being come into the Chamber, where he had left him abed, he found that he made a ſhift to get on his cloaths; but that afterwards, being much troubled with the great quantity of ſalt-water he had drunk, he had been forced to caſt himſelf again on the bed they had aſſigned him. Megacles, as ſoon as he came in, cauſed a little window to be ſet open to give a little more light to the Chamber, and having by that advantage of light made freſh obſervations of the good countenance and handſomeneſs of the Unknown, he was now much more ſurprized at him than the day before, and could not look on him, but with a certain admiration. The other, who with much ado knew him again, and reflected on the aſſiſtance he had received from him, as alſo on the converſation they had had together, and the more than ordinary pains and earneſtneſs he had expreſſed in the ſaving of his life, entertained him with abundance of kindneſs, and gave him ſome occaſion to ſee through the clouds of his melancholy, that though he had little love for the good office he had done him, yet had he abundance of acknowledgment for his good intentions. Adde to that, that all his behaviour, all his geſture, nay indeed all things ſeemed to be ſo great, as if there had been in him a conjunction of ſweetneſs and modeſty with a noble and majeſtick aire, that, notwithſtanding all his ill fortune, Megacles felt in himſelf abundance of inclinations to reſpect him, as he would do the perſon of Artaxas himſelf. After he had ſate down by him, that he had felt his pulſe, and had deſired of him ſome account of his health, the unknown perſon aſſuming the diſcourſe with a ſigh, which by its depth ſeemed to have come from the bottom of his heart; My health (ſaid he to him) is but in too good a poſture compared to that of my Fortune; but whatever it may be, you ſee that I do not any way oppoſe the return of it, and that I have kept the promiſe I had made you not to attempt anything againſt my life, while I ſhall be in your power. And for that very reaſon, replies Megacles, you ſhall continue in it as long as I can poſſibly keep you, and I ſhould find it no ſmall difficulty to ſuffer you to leave us, if I had the leaſt imagination that you for ſook us, to go and ſeek out death. When I conſider what poſture my life is reduced to, replyed the Unknown, I think death to be the only happineſs I either can, or ought to hope; and yet ſince I have had that of ſeeing you, having made ſome reflections on the things you told me yeſterday, on the ſtrange manner whereby I was delivered out of the very jaws of death, contrary to all probability, and other circumſtances of my misfortunes, I concluded, that I ought not to put a Period to my own life, before I had done all that lay in my power to ſerve a perſon on whom I had beſtowed it; ſince that in all likelihood ſhe ſtands in need of it, and that it is not impoſſible but that by ſome one of thoſe extraordinary accidents that happen to me, but ſhe may yet receive it. Out of this conſideration, and upon the account of this Obligation, rather than out of any hope, or remainder of love that I have for my life, had I taken my cloaths, and would have begged your leave to be gone; but, to deal truely with you, the body was not able to follow the motions of the ſpirit, and perceiving that all the ſtrength I could muſter was hardly able to bear me up, and conſequently far from putting that in execution which I had intended, I was forced to lye down again, till ſuch time as I ſhall have recovered it a little better, as I poſſibly may ere this day be quite paſſed. The Gods have the praiſe of this good reſolution, replyed Megacles, and I ſhall think my ſelf obliged to give them thanks while I live, for the opportunity they have furniſht me with to prevent the effects of your deſpaire, ſince that by this very demurre we have made to it, we may haply have abſolutely diverted and diſmiſſed it. Alas, alas, replyed the afflicted perſon, with a ſigh, how little acquaintance have you with my Fortune! And how far would you be from that opinion, had you but once an account of my misfortune! I ſhall know them when you ſhall think good, replyed Megacles; but I ſhall not deſire it of you, till ſuch time as your own inclination ſhall inſpire you to give it me: for, the little time I have [Page] known you conſidered, I have conceived ſuch a reſpect for you, as permits me not to deal with you as I haply ſhould with ordinary perſons. That compaſſionate ſentiment, which you have for the miſerable, replyed the Unknown, you rather derive from your own vertue, than any thing you might have obſerved in my perſon, which is only the mark of Heavens Indignation, and a ball continually toſſed and bandyed by the inconſtancies of Fortune. And therefore aſſure your ſelf, that the opinion I have conceived, and the reſentment I have, of this compaſſion you expreſs toward me, ſhould, no doubt, prevaile with me to make a diſcovery of my ſelf to you, rather than to any other perſon, if I might thereby convinoe you of the eſteem I have for you, and were I not obliged to ſecrecy out of other conſiderations then what concern my ſelf, You may judge of the truth I now tell you, by the poſture wherein you have ſeen me, and I doubt not but you are ſatisfied that he who contemns his life, as I have done, hath nothing to fear, as to himſelf, that might hinder him to diſcover himſelf. Till ſuch time then that I am at that liberty, I ſhall only tell you, that whatever incenſed Heaven, and the indeprecable deſtinies may have ever executed that were moſt in ſupportable, on a great number of miſerable perſons, is fallen in ſuch manner on me alone, that neither the times of our Fathers, nor yet our own, could ever afford ſuch another example. And whereas you have ſeen divers perſons become unfortunate through the loſs of dignities, friends, eſtates, the affection, nay, and the perſons too of all that they could love in this World, you have in me a draught of all theſe, but a draught a thouſand times greater than your imagination can repreſent it to you.

I have ever been of opinion, replyed Megacles, that your misfortunes were indeed extraordinary, and your ſoul hath appeared to me ſo great in the expreſſions I have ſeen thereof, that I immediately inferred it impoſſible as to ordinary ones. And yet I ſhall preſume to tell you that in the courſe of the World there have been ſeen revolutions ſtrange enough to raiſe up and encourage the moſt cruſhed hopes, and that ſeveral perſons out of the moſt dreadful abyſſes of misfortunes, have as it were in an inſtant flown up to the higheſt pitch of happineſs and glory. Who could have promiſed Marius in the midſt of his miſeries, that glorious change that happened in his condition? and who could have put him into ſuch a hope, as that out of the fenne where he had hid himſelf for the ſafety of his life, and out of the dungeon, wherein he had been expoſed to the mercy of thoſe that were ſent to murder him, he ſhould, within a few daies after, enter Rome in triumph, and be raiſed up to the ſame heighth of greatneſs whence be had before been caſt down?

You find it no ſmal difficulty, replied the Unknown perſon, to meet in all our ages but with this one example, to prove the poſſibility of mans▪return from misfortune to loſt felicities; but you may eaſily find an infinite number to demonſtrate how eaſie it is to fall from thrones into chains, and from ſame and happineſs into ſhame and miſery. So many Kings in Rome, drawn after Chariots, loaden with chains, and diſpoſed into priſons, and among the Romans themſelves, the great Pompey, and the deplorable Anthony, furniſh us with examples of it ſufficiently dreadful. A man may endeavour to ſtruggle with Fortune by the aſſiſtance of vertue and a great courage, but not expect the return of her favours, when ſhe hath once withdrawn them by her inconſtancy: for this envious goddeſs is much more inclined, and ſubject to pull down what ſhe had once built up, than to raiſe up what ſhe had once brought to ruin. Beſides, there are ſome happineſſes, and ſome misfortunes in our lives that have no dependance on Fortune, and wherein ſhe is very little concerned: and where as ſhe hath no power over mens inclinations, it were in vain for thoſe, whoſe greateſt happineſs ſhould conſiſt in the loſs of an affection, which they thought extreamly precious, to expect the return of it from Fortune, and it were fruitleſs for them any way to rely on her aſſiſtance. Sylla, who ſeemed to have made an allyance with her, and who might well attribute more to her indulgence then he could have done to his own vertue, enjoyed the continuance of her favours to the end with a more than ordinary conſtancy; and that Greek Captain, whom ſhe in his dreams, preſented with Cities beſieged in nets, acknowledged her ever for an aſſiſtant goddeſs. But neither of theſe two great examples ever ſought any other happineſs, or feared any other misfortunes then thoſe which are deriveable from her Empire, and ſhe might well be their principal divinity, ſince ſhe diſpoſed of all thoſe things that could raiſe in them either fears or deſires, and conſequently could make them either fortunate or unfortunate: but for my part, who, with all ſhe could take from me, have loſt what ſhe cannot reſtore me to, alas, To what god can I addreſs my ſelf? Or where ſhall I find either aſſiſtance or compaſſion, when both Heaven and Earth have conſpired againſt me?

Theſe words fell from him with ſuch an expreſſion of ſadneſs, and yet he had uttered them with ſuch a grace, and in ſo obliging a manner, that Megacles had not only all the pitty that could be for him, but alſo all the admiration. He therefore omitted nothing of what he could ſay to him, that he thought might give him any comfort, and having, before he would ſtir out of the place, cauſed victuals to be brought in, he would not leave [Page] him till he had eaten ſomething. Which done, out of a fear he might be troubleſome to him, and a conſideration that reſt would do him much good, he left him, and went about thoſe things which his charge obliged him to look after, and particularly to take order for the bringing of victuals and other neceſſaries from Alexandria in order to their voyage, wherein he was to be ſo circumſpect as that the veſſel might not come thereby into any danger of being diſcovered. In theſe imployments and ſome other which he had had, the morning and better part of the day was ſpent; ſo that at laſt perceiving it was very late, and that the Princeſſes had not called for any thing, he went to their chamber-door, and ſent to entreat them that they would be pleaſed ſomething might be brought them to dinner. It was much about the time that the fair Cleopatra had made an end of her long relation; inſomuch that upon the ſollicitation of Megacles and their Women, they gave way that ſomewhat ſhould be brought them in, and took a little nouriſhment.

About the end of their repaſt, the Princeſſe Cleopatra, who ſeemed to have ſlumbered her ſelf into a deep recollection, gave a ſudden ſtart, and was as it were in a great trouble and diſturbance; but a little after recovering her ſelf, and fetching a ſigh from the bottom of her heart; Good God, Siſter, ſaid ſhe to Artemiſa, how true is that which I told you this morning concerning the force of our imagination, and how certain is it that the remembrance which I ſtill have in my ſoul of the unfaithful and unfortunate Son of Juba, hath imprinted ſuch ſtrong idaea's of him in my mind, that if his countenance appears not to my eyes, his voice I am ſure ſ [...]ites my ears! Even at that very moment that you might have obſerved ſome alteration in my countenance, I thought I had heard him diſtinctly very neer me, and ſeveral times this day, during the time of the diſcourſe I have entertained you with, this ſame deluded imagination of mine brought that ſound to my ears, and had almoſt put me out in my relation. I could not have believed that for an unfaithful perſon there ſhould have remained ſuch ſtrong impreſſions in my mind, but alas, how unconſtant ſoever he may have been, he is haply dead for my ſake, and by the bloud he hath ſhed by defending us againſt the Barbarians, he hath haply expiated part of the offence he hath committed againſt us.

Introth, Siſter, replyed Artemiſa, whether he hath loſt his life in our cauſe and aſſiſtance, or that it hath been the pleaſure of the gods to preſerve him, as it is not impoſſible but it may be ſo, I cannot for my part, imagine he ſhould be unconſtant: and what hath appeared to me in order to his juſtification, hath had ſuch an influence over my belief, that I am ſtill of the ſame mind, and cannot forbear telling you, that I think him very innocent. Might it pleaſe the gods he were ſuch, replyed the afflicted Princeſſe, and were it the pleaſure of the ſame Gods that I had purchaſed the innocence you attribute to him, with the beſt part of my blood. But having pauſed a while, O vaineſt of wiſhes, continued ſhe, the pure effect of the tenderneſſe of my own heart! What advantage can I derive to my ſelf from his innocence? If he were deſtined to dye, ſhould it not be ſome ſatisfaction to me that his infidelity hath happened before his death, that ſo I might be capable of a comfort which I ſhould never have hearkened unto, had he dyed conſtant? And if on the other ſide he be living, when I conſider the wretchedneſs of my misfortune, and the captivity I now am in, which haply will never ſuffer me to ſee him again, am I not much leſſe unfortunate in that I have only my own miſeries to bewayle, than if, it being ſuppoſed he were conſtant to me, I ſhould be obliged to have areſentment of his as much as if they were my own? And yet all this notwithſtanding, concluded ſhe with a ſigh, (proceeding either from weakneſſe, or that ſhe had ſome reaſon for it) I cannot repent me of my wiſh, and I ſhould be glad, though haply it might coſt me my life, he were not unconſtant to me.

I am very much of your mind as to that point, replied Artemiſa, and accordingly make it out of all queſtion, that of all the miſeries which it is in the power of Fortune to force upon us, there are not any but are more ſupportable to a heart ſenſible of a tender affection, than thoſe that proceed from that very affection, as being ſuch as are all directly levelled againſt the ſame heart that is wounded by them. There are in our ſoules ſeveral degrees of tenderneſſe, for they are not equally ſenſible of the happineſſes and unhapineſſes of this nature as of thoſe that proceed from other cauſes; nay I dare affirm, that while they have this impreſſion, they have no other conſideration of theſe later, than that they were aſſiſtances or obſtacles to thoſe which we look on as purely real and eſſential. Which granted, I can without any difficulty believe, that amidſt all the misfortunes which the juſt indignation of heaven may ſend upon us, the unconſtancy and infidelity of the perſon beloved, is the most indigestible, and most grievous and inſupportable, and, by a certain violence of aſſault, ſtorms that strength of mind which might poſſibly hold out againſt all other unhappineſſes. And you muſt on the contrary acknowledge, that amidſt all the miſeries through which our inexorable deſtinies will needs force us, the faith and constancy of the perſon we love, raiſes up our ſpirits into ſuch a height of conſolation and enjoyment of our ſelves, that during ſuch time as we make a strong reflection thereupon, [Page] we are almoſt in an apathy as to all the reſt, all our ſenſibility being taken up by the other.

‘Ah, Siſter, replies Cleopatra, fixing her eyes on Artemiſa, with a languiſhing, but withall an amiable look, how true is all you have ſaid, and conſequently how have you fully convinced me, that I am the moſt unfortunate perſon in the World, and that you are not unhappy at all, ſince that being expoſed to all thoſe misfortunes, which you have mentioned, and particularly to that which you acknowledge to be moſt inſupportable. I am deprived of that dear conſolation which might in ſome ſort alleviate them, and which the gods have been pleaſed to leave you. I muſt indeed confeſſe, replied Artemiſa, that I ſhall never think my ſelf abſolutely miſerable while my Alexander is conſtant to me: but I hope you are in the ſame degree of happineſſe, and cannot forbear telling you over and over, that I find more reaſon and probability in the circumſtances that make for Coriolanus, then in thoſe that make againſt him. And you ought to give me ſo much the more credit, Siſter, for that I ſpeak on the behalf of truth contrary to my own intereſt, and againſt my own quiet. Your intereſt, Siſter, ſayes Cleopatra to her, and what intereſt have you I pray in the fidelity of Coriolanus, other then what our friendſhip obliges you to have? I am ſo much concerned in it, replies Artemiſa, that Coriolanus is not much more himſelf. And this you might eaſily have imagined, though I have not ſpoken any thing to you thereof, ſince it is apparent enough, that, if, according to the preſumption you have of the inconſtancy of Coriolanus, you ſhould once baniſh him your heart, the King my Brother, whoſe priſoners we are, and who loves you well enough as you have had ſufficient tryall, might conceive a little more hope from your neglect and oblivion of Coriolanus, then if you ſtill afforded him a place in your affections. And if that alteration ſhould once happen, what fortune were comparably to mine, ſince I might hope to be two ſeveral wayes your Siſter, and to poſſeſſe my Alexander without any danger, and that with my Brothers conſent? And yet you ſee▪ Siſter, that this intereſt could not prevaile with me to ſpeak contrary to what ſeemed to me to be truth, and the innocency of of Corilanus; and all the fortune might happen to me ſhould it be otherwiſe, could not force me to diſguiſe my thoughts or betray the affection I have for you.’

‘Your deportment in this buſineſſe, replied the Daughter of Anthony, ſpeaks you a Princeſſe nobly born, full of goodneſſe and vertue, and I conceive my ſelf obliged to you for this particular demonſtration of your friendſhip, much more then for all the others you might have given me. But ſince you have thought fit to make this overture to me of your ſelf give me leave, Siſter, to entreat you, by whatever is deareſt to your thoughts, to perſevere in that good intention, and I beſeech you, by all the good inclnations you have for me, never to aggravate the miſeries of my captivite by ſuch diſcourſes as haply the King your Brother will oblige you to entertain me with on his behalf. I ſhall not tell you, that, by his horrid cruelties as well towards my Brother as your ſelf, he hath rendred himſelf unworthy, both of the affection he expects from me, and the aſſi [...]tance which he hopes you may afford him. Nor ſhall I adde to that; as I very well might, how that by the ſame cruelty, whereof I have been acquainted with the abom [...]nable circumſtances, both from the relations of Alexander and your own, he hath raiſed in my heart the greateſt horrour that may be for him, whence it comes that I look on him rather as a Tyger than a great King. But I ſhall not ſtick to tell you plainly, that, though his life were not ſtained with any baſe or reproachable action, though his manners and diſpoſition wanted not that mildneſſe and affability I ſhould require, though his perſon were more than ordinary amiable, and that to his ſingle Crown he could adde the Roman Empire, he ſhould never have any part in this heart, which I have once beſtowed, and never can do a ſecond time. Coriolanus hath had the firſt ſpoiles of it, and ſhall carry them with him to the grave; whether he be living or dead, conſtant or inconſtant he onely ſhall have that advantage. And if, by his infidelity, I am diſpenſed from the affection which I ought to have continued to the very laſt gaſp, had he perſevered in his; oram, by his death, diſengaged, as to him, of a friendſhip, which it is needleſs to obſerve towards the ſhades, there is nothing can diſengage me from my ſelf, that is, from what I impoſed upon my ſelf, when I firſt ſubmitted to that innocent affection, and conſequently, nothing can ſet my ſoul at liberty in order to a ſecond choice, or into a condition to entertain any new impreſſion of love. Tis enough that the great Clcopatra hath once given way to love and been taken with the great perfections of the moſt amiable amongmen; but the juſtification which I might find for my former weakneſſes, would not haply be accepted for the latter. Expect not therefore from me, my deareſt Siſter, what I could not obtain of my ſelf, for my ſelf, though I ſhould pretend a greater intereſt it [Page] ſhould be ſo, than that which you repreſent, and imagine that there cannot be any felicity hoped from an affection contracted by ſuch extraordinary ways. To do you what ſervice I can with the King your Brother, and to oblige him to treat you with more civility, I ſhall conceal part of my reſentments, and the averſion I have for him; and therefore you ought to be ſatisfied with me, when you ſhall ſee me do that for you which I ſhould never endure to do one minute for my ſelf, and conſider the violence I do my ſelf for your ſake, as no ſlight demonſtration of my Friendſhip.’

Artemiſa gave Cleopatra many thanks for the promiſe ſhe had made her to force her inclinations upon her account, and begged her pardon for what ſhe had ſaid concerning her own concernments, and, in requital, made a proteſtation to her, that ſhe would never ſpeak to her more on the behalf of the King her Brother, and that ſhe had too great an eſteem for thoſe reſolutions of fidelity and conſtancy which ſhe had taken, ever to be guilty of any deſign to oppoſe them.

Thus were they engaged in diſcourſe, when of a ſudden they heard a very great noiſe in the ſhip, and not long after, that it was upon occaſion of the Kings coming into it. What lectures ſoever they might have read one to another of conſtancy, they both grew pale, and were a little ſtartled at this news, and looking one upon the other without ſpeaking, they were at a loſs as to all reſolution; yet ſo as that there might be ſome difference in their thoughts, and if the ſoul of Cleopatra was burthened with a more lively grief, that of Artemiſa was ſubject to more fear. At laſt, Cleopatra, whoſe courage was greater than that of Artemiſa, was the firſt that brake forth into any reſolution, and looking on Artemiſa with a countenance that ſpoke ſomething of more confidence; Siſter, ſaid ſhe to her, Let us rely on the aſſiſtance of Heaven in our misfortune, and in the mean time ſummon together all our vertue, and let us not forget the reſolution we have taken.

Artemiſa had not the power to make her any anſwer, nor indeed had ſhe time: for immediately thereupon their chamber-door being opened, the firſt thing they ſaw was the dreadful countenance of the King of Armenia. He was ſomewhat of a pale complexion, and lean'd, as he came along, upon one of his men; but his paleneſs was diſpelled at the ſight of that object by which he was enflamed, and he made a ſhift to forget all his weakneſs to get near Cleopatra, who at firſt coming in was riſen from the place where ſhe fate.

Artaxus ſaluted her with abundance of reſpect, and Cleopatra, who was glad to continue him in that humour, and loath to force him to thoſe extremities, which ſhe might juſtly fear from a man ſo violent, returned him, though with a ſad and ſerious countenance, what was due to his quality from a Princeſs of hers. Before he ſpoke to Cleopatra, he caſt his eyes on Artemiſa, who trembling for fear, had her eyes fixed on the ground, not having the confidence to look him in the face. The fear and confuſion he perceived her to be in, added not a little to his joy; but however, he thought fit to ſpeak to Cleopatra, before he addreſſed himſelf to the other, and looking on her with a countenance wherein he endeavoured to moderate ſome part of his natural fierceneſs, and to take off ſomewhat of that which was moſt dreadful in him; ‘Madam, ſaid he to her, my love forces me to waite on you, though the juſtice of the gods hath made you mine to be diſpoſed as I pleaſe; even in the late accident you might have taken notice of ſo much, and you ought to forget your own reſentments of it, out of a conſideration of the blood I have loſt to preſerve you. I ſhall never believe, anſwered Cleopatra, that it is to be attributed to the juſtice of the gods, that a free perſon, and one of my birth, ſhould become your Priſoner, without any war, and contrary to the Laws of all Nations. You might have obſerved no leſs your ſelf in this very adventure, where it hath coſt you ſo much blood, and it is impoſſible they ſhould approve the unjuſt violence you do me, if they are, as it is believed, the aſſertors and patrons of Juſtice and Innocence. What violence, replies Artaxus, can he be ſaid to do you who caſts himſelf at your feet? Or wherein does he violate the Law of Nations, when he gives you a full right and abſolute power over both his Heart and his Crown? Do you imagine that this injuſtice is of the ſame kind with thoſe which the gods puniſh, and are you not afraid to incenſe them your ſelf, by entertaining ſo much averſion and animoſity againſt a King that adores you, and is ready to dye at your feet?’

Having ſaid theſe words, he turned towards Artemiſa, and looking on her with a little more mildneſs than ordinary, by reaſon of the preſence of Cleopatra, whom he knew to have a horrour for his cruelties: ‘Well, Artemiſa, ſaid he to her, you ſee after what manner Heaven hath proſpered your deſignes, and how it hath approved that the Daughter of Artabaſus ſhould forſake her Brother and her King, to run away with the Son of Anthony. My Lord, replies Artemiſa, endeavouring to recover her ſelf a little, though my affection was, I muſt confeſs, very great towards Alexander, yet was it not ſuch as ſhould [Page] have obliged me to forſake you to follow him, could I have taken any other courſe to have ſaved his life, which you would have taken from him, and he ſhould have loſt for my ſake. This makes nothing for your juſtification, replies Artaxus; but you do not ſtand much in need of any, having ſound ſuch a ſanctuary in the Princeſs Cleopatra. The power ſhe hath over me diſarms the indignation I have againſt you, and I have no hatred for Alexander ſince I adore Cleopatra. In a word, your deſtiny is in her hands, and I ſhall not only pardon you the offence you have committed againſt me, but I ſhall further conſent to your marriage with Alexander, if Cleopatra will be but mine.’

‘It is not impoſſible, replies Cleopatra, not ſtaying for any anſwer from Artemiſa, but that we may find other means to get out of your power; and if they [...]aile us, we will follow thoſe reſolutions which the gods and our own courage ſhall inſpire us with. In the mean time, be not flattered with ſo fond a hope, as that Caeſar ſhould tamely ſuffer you, in his own dominions, and almoſt in his arms, to carry away a Princeſs that is one of his houſe, and under his protection; but on the contrary, aſſure your ſelf, that by ſuch a contempt of his authority you may ſtirr up ſuch a fire as may ſet your Kingdom all into a flame.’

‘Caeſar, I queſtion not, replies Artaxus, will remember, that my Father hath alwayes ſerved him, and dyed in his cauſe, through the cruelty of your Father, who was his implacable enemy. I my ſelf, in my younger years, have drawn my ſword on his ſide againſt▪ Anthony, and if the children of his enemies are not more conſiderable to him than thoſe of his Friends and Allies, he will not think there is more injuſtice in the carrying away of Cleopatra, than in that of Artemiſa. Artemiſa hath not been carryed away, replies Cleopatra, ſhe hath only fled away from your wrath, after ſhe had ſaved my Brothers life▪ It was her obligation to preſerve it, becauſe it was for her ſake that he had expoſed it to that ignominious death, which you had intended he ſhould ſuffer. And ſo after ſhe had thus acquitted her ſelf towards a Prince who was not unworthy of her, ſhe was content to follow him, and participate of his fortune in order to the ſafety of her life, which ſhe could not hope to have ſecure with you, after thoſe examples of cruelty which ſhe had ſo freſh in her memory.’

‘Well, Madam, replyed the King of Armenia, whether Alexander carryed away Artemiſa, or Artemiſa carryed away Alexander, it matters not; this is certain, that I received the affront, in the very heart of my dominions; and that a Prince of the quality of Alexander had no ground in the World to go and remain incognito in the Court of a King, whom he knew to be his enemy, whether it were to gain the affections of his Siſter, or out of any other deſign which he might have had; and that there is not any Prince in the World, by whom he had not been ill treated upon ſuch an account. But though this reaſon, and the others I have already alledged of the intereſts and the ſervices of our houſe, ſhould amount to nothing with Caeſar, I am now to appeal to another power than his, and ſince I have ſubmitted my ſelf to yours, I ſtand in greater fear of your indignation than Auguſtus's.’

This he ſeconded with ſome other diſcourſe, after which, he deſired leave of her to ſit down, by reaſon of his wounds which had weakened him very much, and were not a little troubleſome to him. Cleopatra laughed in her ſleeve at this pretended reſpect, and yet was not a little pleaſed to keep him in that humour, out of a fear he might break forth into diſorder, and accordingly not much care what violences he put in execution. Nor indeed was the deſign of Artaxus any other; it being impoſſible that his fierce and cruel nature ſhould ſpend it ſelf long in fruitleſſe complyances! But he thought it his beſt courſe to diſſemble, while he was yet in a condition to fear all things, and out of that conſideration would not make uſe of his power, till ſuch time as he were come into his own Kingdom. In the interim, he had reſolved to do all that lay in his power to humour Cleopatra, and omitted no humble ſubmiſſions, to make her forget, if poſſible, the averſion ſhe had conceived againſt him. He would needs have the ſhip hoiſe up ſaile at that very inſtant, though his Chirurgion had made it appeare to him, that the ſea was prejudicial to his wounds, and indeed on the other ſide ſome reaſon to fear he might be ſurprized upon that coaſt, by thoſe that were ſent out in queſt of Cleopatra. He conceived, and that not without probability, that he had not eſcaped ſo long, had it not been for the little likely-hood there was that thoſe who had carryed away Cleopatra, ſhould ſtay ſo neer Alexandria. And indeed it was out of that very conſideration that thoſe who went in their purſuit, as well by ſea as by land, had gone the farther from the place where the fact was done. Beſides, the veſſel was ſo hidden by a Rock, which in a manner covered it, that on the land-ſide it could not any way be ſeen; and to prevent all ſuſpicion [Page] from the ſea of its being that veſſel wherein were the Princeſſes, order had been taken, that neither they nor any belonging to them, ſhould at any time appear upon the deck.

With this precaution, and theſe favourable circumſtances, Artaxus, not conceiving himſelf ſecure, would needs have been gone thence at that inſtant, when a wind, contrary to his deſigns, and conſonant to the wiſhes of the Princeſſes riſes at the ſame time; but a wind ſo contrary to the courſe they were to take, that it was thought impoſſible to get out of the river, while it blew with the ſame violence it had begun, nay there was ſome fear, that if they went out of the place where they were, wherever they had caſt anchor, it could not be ſo private as the other. The King of Armenia, exaſperated at this, railed at the gods and fortune for this misfortune, but after he had tormented himſelf for ſome time to no purpoſe, he was forced to give way, and to ſuffer the remainder of the day and the night following to paſſe away in expectation of a change. In the mean time he was retired into a little chamber which they made a ſhift to dreſſe him up in the veſſel, where he thought fit to take his reſt for ſome time and have his wounds dreſſed.

The two Princeſſes had ſoon notice of this favourable change of the wind, by Camilla, who had heard it from Megacles, and this wench, who was indeed very much eſteemed by her Miſtreſſe as well for ner vertue, as her many excellent qualities, after ſhe had told them the news with a countenance full of joy and cheerfulneſſe, Madam, ſaid ſhe to her, let us not deſpaire of Heavens aſſiſtance, and ſince it begins to declare it ſelf for us, let us believe that its aſſiſtance will prove abſolute and effectual, and that it will never for ſake ſuch great and vertuous Princeſſes in ſuch a misfortune as you are in. I am very much inclined to hope it, my dear wench, replies the Princeſſe, and we ought to joyne our prayers together, to beſeech the gods to direct thoſe to the place where we are, who in all probability run up and down to our reſcue. There is no doubt to be made, added the fair Artemiſa, but that Alexander will ſearch the World over in our purſuit; but he goes far enough to find us whi [...]e we are ſo neer the place where he loſt us; tis ſo much the more our unhappineſſes, and it will never be believed that thoſe who carryed us away ſhould make a ſtay at the gates of Alexandria. I am of your mind, replies Cleopatra, but theſe reflections avail us nothing, and all that lies upus to do, is, to expect with patience what it ſhall pleaſe the ſoveraign diſpoſers of our deſtinies to do with us.

While they were diſcourſing thus in their Chamber, Artaxas kept ſilence in his, unleſſe it were when that from his bed he gave orders for his voyage. Megacles gave him an account of that admirable unknown perſon whom he had relieved, and had diſpoſed into his bed, and ſpoke of him in ſuch manner as raiſed in the King a deſire to ſee him, upon the extraordinary relation which the other had made concerning him. But in regard that Megacles told him, that he was too weak and too much caſt down to be brought before him, in a time that he ſhuned the light, and hated life it ſelf, he reſolved to give him a viſit in the place where he was, after he had taken an houres reſt on his bed.

Thus was he employed, when he ſees coming in to him, Ariſtus, and with him ſeven or eight men ſufficiently well armed, with fierce and ſavage countenances, and, in the head of them, he who ſeemed to be their chief, and had as little kindneſs in his looks as any of them, though he were very pale, and ſeemed to have laien in lately of ſome great ſickneſſe. The King at firſt ſight could not call the man to mind, not onely by reaſon of the alteration wrought in him by his ſickneſſe, as the change which ten ar twelve years had made in his countenance, it being ſo long ſince he had ſeen him. But Aristus, aſſuming the diſcourſe, and preſenting him to the King, This my Lord, ſaid he to him, is the famous Zenodorus, whom you have ſometimes ſeen in your own Court and in your Armies, before the accidents that have happened to him, had obliged him to coast up and down the ſeas where he hath made himſelf ſo dreadful. I have met him again by a very strange chance, and in regard that I knew your Majesty hath had a great esteem for him, and conceiving that his ſervices and thoſe of the men that accompany him, (perſons much better acquainted with theſe ſeas than any of your ſubjects) might prove advantageous to you in the condition you are now in, I though fit to bring him along with me, out of a confidence that your Majesty would take it well at my hands.

With theſe words Zenodorus continuing the diſcourſe, made himſelf fully known to the King, and Artaxas, who had not onely ſeen him many years before both in his own Court, and alſo in the King his Fathers, but had alſo a particular eſteem for him, and, at his coming to the Crown, had aſſiſted him in his [Page] marriage with one of the handſomeſt Ladies in all Armenia, called him to mind very well; and having entertained him with much kindneſſe, he aſſured him of his joy to ſee him again, and of his aſſiſtances as far as he were able, upon what account ſoever he might deſire them. Zenodorus returned him thanks with much reſpect, and proffered to ſerve him in his own perſon, and promiſed the ſervices of thoſe men that accompanied him with all fidelity. Artaxus, diſcovering his weakneſs by the paleneſs of his countenance, and having known him to be a perſon of a conſiderable rank, cauſed him to ſit down, and after ſome words expreſſing the reſpects he had for him; ‘Zenodorus, ſaid he to him, if you are aſtoniſhed to ſee me upon this coaſt, and in the poſture wherein you find me, I am no leſſe my ſelf to meet you in that condition wherein you appear to me. About the time of your departure from Armenia, while yet I was but young I heard thouſands of ſtories of you, and have underſtood ſince, that for theſe eight or ten years you have ſcowred the ſeas with ſeveral conſiderable ſhips of war, have taken many prizes, fought divers memorable fights, and grew dreadful beyond all the Pirates that ſound ſo much trouble to the Great Pompey.’

‘Tis very true, my Lord, replyed the Pirate, that I have done part of what you ſay, and that I have been feared as well on the main ſea, as in that where we now are. I was, not many dayes ſince, the richeſt of all the Pirates, and had gotten together riches enough, to forget all reſentment for what had been taken away from me to beſtow on Herod; but Fortune hath eaſed me of a great part of them. The late tempeſt, which lay ſo heavy on this ſea, diſperſed ſome part of my ſhips, the reſt have been taken by the Praetor of Egypt, and I have received my ſelf upon this coaſt, a thruſt through the body, which left little hopes of life behind it, and yet I have with much ado recovered it, and by a miraculous aſſiſtance am brought into the condition wherein you now ſee me. What you tell me, replyed the King of Armenia, I am not only aſtoniſhed, but much troubled at, and if ever we come into Armenia again, I will furniſh you with thoſe ſupplies which you ſhall conceive neceſſary to reſtore your fortune to the poſture it was in before. But in regard I have heard a many ſtrange and wonderful things of you, and that without any order or dependency, I ſhould be very glad to underſtand from your ſelf the accidents of your life, ſuch as are of greateſt conſequence, as may beſt ſuit with a ſhort diſcourſe, if it may be done without any inconvenience to you. I ſhall be no leſſe ſatisfied, my Lord, replyed Zenodorus, to give your Majeſty that demonſtration of my obedience and reſpects, and notwithſtanding the paleneſſe which is ſo viſible in my face, and proceeds meerly from the quantity of blood which I have loſt, I feel no inconvenience that ſhall hinder me from giving you a relation of my adventures, which were not haply worth your Majeſty's attention, were it not for one accident, which, being very remarkable, hath accordingly made no ſmall noiſe in the World.’ With theſe words he came ſomewhat neerer the bed, and ſate in the place where the King had commanded him, and having cauſed his men to leave the room, Megacles received them, and lodged them with the others that were in the veſſel; ſo that having, by a little reſt, and ſome minutes of ſilence, prepared himſelf for the diſcourſe he was to make, he began it in theſe terms.

THE HISTORY Of the Pirate ZENODORUS.

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I Shall not be ſo diſ-ingenuous as to deny, that in the life I have led for theſe eight or ten years, I have been forced to do many actions full of impiety, injuſtice, and cruelty; that I have violated all manner of laws, and committed all manner of crimes: nay, that by the conſtant practice of them, I have contracted ſuch a habit of evil, as I ſhall haply find it no ſmall difficulty to reform my ſelf of. But I would withal, if poſſible, gladly perſwade your Majeſty, that a great part of the miſchievous inclinations which are grown ſo powerful within me, are rather the conſequences of my croſs Fortune than the effects of my own nature, and that, if the misfortunes that have happened to me ſince my departure from Armenia, had not exaſperated my diſpoſition, and corrupted my manners, I ſhould, as I had been born with great inclinations to vertue, have continued in the ſame eſteem and reputation that I was in when your Majeſty was pleaſed to honour me with more than ordinary ſavours and kindneſſes. I ſhall contract the diſcourſe of my misfortunes as much as I can, as well becauſe I am unwilling to abuſe your attention, as that conſidering the condition your Majeſty is in, it were very unſeaſonable for me to ſpin out any over-tedious relation.

Your Majeſty hath heretofore underſtood that I was born in the Frontieres of Judaea, where the Fortunes of my Father were ſuch, that through the affluence thereof he had the means to purchaſe the eſtate of Liſanias, which was a ſmall portion of that Country endued with ſoveraign power, and without appeal to any other Monark than the emperour. Liſanias had poſſeſſed it as ſuch for a long time; but at laſt, having, for certain weighty conſiderations, exchanged it for ſome other eſtate which my Father had, and ſome monies he had gotten together in the ſeveral employments he had gone through in the wars, my Father became the peaceable Lord of it, and I by that means came into a rank which rendred me the more conſiderable among my neighbours. I ſpent the firſt ſallyes of my youth in the Armies, and through the natural inclination I ever had to the wars, I gained therein ſome reputation. I was in that of Anthony againſt the Parthians; and being not meerly a Souldier of Fortune, and minding Factions, I followed the Children of Pompey, againſt Auguſtus Caeſar: and among other ſervices, I was at that famous Sea-ſight that happened between Menas and Menecrates. That war receiving a Period by the ruine of young Pompey, I ſought out new employments elſewhere, viſited the Courts of divers Kings, and at laſt came to yours. You were then but about 15 or 16 years of age, and it was not long after the taking of the King your Father. He honoured me very much with his kindneſſes; but he being ſhortly after taken by Anthony, I had, in thoſe attempts which, young as you then were, you made to procure his liberty, and afterwards to revenge his death, the honour to follow you, in a very conſiderable employme [...] in your Cavalry; and I was ſo happy as to have it from your own mouth, that you were ſatisfied with my ſervices, and accordingly received thoſe preſents, and acknowledgement from your liberality which I have had reaſon to celebrate ever ſince.

But beſides the inclinations I immediately conceived for a valiant and a grateful Pr [...]nce which engaged my ſtay in your Court longer than in all the reſt, another thing that detained me there was the beauty of Eliſena. I ſhall not need tell your Majeſty, who remembers it [...]ell, as having ſeen her, that that Lady was one of the greateſt ornaments of your Court, that by her birth ſhe was one of the moſt con [...]iderable, and that in poin [...] of beauty and deſert, there was none comparable to her. A man cannot well imagine an [...] [Page] thing more amiable, or more excellent than her face, but the advantages of her mind were no leſs admirable, and the reputation of her vertue was generally known through the whole Court of Armenia. Thouſands of perſons ſighed for that beauty; of which number, I had no ſooner ſeen her, but I became one. My love encreaſed from day to day, till at laſt, that paſſion became as violent in my ſoul, as ever it had been in any, though the moſt poſſeſſed by it. I entertained her with all the demonſtrations I could of it, with reſpect, earneſtneſs and aſſiduity; but ſhe ſeemed to be little moved thereat, and diſcovered very little reſentment for all thoſe expreſſions of love which ſhe received from all the reſt who made their addreſſes to her. She was endued with a vertue which nothing could ſhake, and was ſubject to a modeſt kind of ſeverity, which was proof againſt all paſſion. Her inflexibility at that time drew daily complaints from my mouth, and ſighs from my breaſt; but if I was troubled at the ſmall ſucceſs of my own ſufferings, I had ſtill this comfort left me, that the Fortune of my Rivals was in no better a poſture than my own, and that ſhe ſeemed not to incline to any choice, other than that which ſhe ſhould be adviſed to by thoſe to whom ſhe ought her birth.

But, to be ſhort, my Lord, (why ſhould I abuſe your patience, by acquainting you with things that you know?) your Majeſty was pleaſed to employ your authority on my behalf, you ſpoke your ſelf for me both to Eliſena and her Friends. Inſomuch, that about the ſame time, news being come that my Father was departed this life, and that I was abſolute Lord of that little eſtate which he had dyed poſſeſſed of as a ſoveraign Prince, your Majeſty was pleaſed to further my intereſts, made appear the advantage of my allyance, and, to the confuſion of all my Rivals, though they were your own ſubjects, I carryed away the fair Eliſena and married her. The Nuptials were ſolemnly celebrated in Artaxata, and I had gotten into my poſſeſſion that beauty for whom I had ſuffered ſo much, and in the poſſeſſion whereof I found much more ſweetneſs than I had imagined to my ſelf. Alaſs! can I reflect on theſe things without dying, and, though my mind be grown brawny by reaſon of the accidents I have run through, and the barbarous employments wherein I have ſpent my life, Can I reſiſt the reſentment they ſhould produce in me? I became poſſeſſor of Eliſena, and with her of all the excellencies both of body and mind, that can be wiſhed in one ſingle perſon. Nay, what is contrary to what ordinarily happens, the poſſeſſion encreaſed my love, and through the more particular knowledg that I had of my Eliſena, I diſcovered a many excellent qualities which I had not obſerved before in their full luſtre. After I had made ſome ſtay in Armenia, I took leave of your Majeſty, I departed, and carryed away my deareſt Eliſena, that ſhe might take poſſeſſion with me of that little eſtate which my Father had left behind him. I was there received as their ſoveraign, and began to lead the moſt pleaſant and delightful life that could be imagined. Thus far, my Lord, hath my life been known to you, thus far was it innoce [...]t.

Now may your Majeſty be pleaſed to underſtand what hath happened to me ſince, and to have ſo much goodneſs for me as to charge my adverſe Fortune with ſome part of my crimes. In my little retirement with my Eliſena, I knew not what meant the [...]ſt diſturbance from abroad, and enjoyed all imaginable felicity at home. My government, though of no great extent, was ſuch as I was content with, and though it were envyed by Herod, who was too powerful a neighbour for me, yet with the aſſiſtance and protection of ſome others, I could make a ſhift to maintain my own, the love I had for Eliſena having had ſuch an influence over me, that I had given over all thoughts of the wars, to which I had before ſacrificed all my inclinations. My amiable Eliſena, though ſhe had marryed me purely out of the compliance ſhe had for the commands of her Friends, yet had ever after ſo much accommodated her affections to her dutie, that ſhe had an extraordinary love for me, aſſoon as ſhe was convinced that ſhe ought to love me. Accordingly might it in a manner be ſaid that we were inſeparable, for that at all hours of the day, whether we ſtayed in the chamber, or w [...]nt a walking, or a hunting, whither I carryed her ſometimes, and in all manner of divertiſem [...]nts, Zenodorus was never ſeen without his Eliſena. Heaven it ſelf, I fear me, envyed our felicity: or, it may be, I was not born for that pleaſant kind of life, and thoſe who know me at this day, would find it no ſmall difficulty to imagine, I could ever ſpend my time as I did then.

The firſt year of our marriage was not yet run about, when, among thoſe perſons whereof our little Court conſiſted, I took notice of a young man lately come thither, for ſanctuary, as he ſaid himſelf, againſt certain enemies that were more powerful than himſelf, who had forced him to leave thoſe places where he was born, and who, having been very courteouſly entertained among us, ſet up his ſtaff there. He was called Cleontes, and this I may truely ſay of him, that of all the men I ever met with, I never ſaw a handſomer, or a more gentile perſon, in all his actions, nor a more amiable in all that appeared outwardly [Page] of him. Suitably to theſe good endowments, [...]e immediately inſinuated himſelf into the affections of all the World, in ſo much, that there was no divertiſement appointed between perſons of either ſex, but the am able Cleontes was invited thereto. All the world courted him, all the world ſpoke well of him, and all the world were extreamly deſirous to oblige him. He very pleaſantly received thoſe demonſtrations of kindneſs and friendſhip which were rendred him: and though he ſeemed not to be above eighteen years of age, yet did he diſcover ſuch prudence and conduct in his behaviour, as is ſeldom in perſons of a far greater age. Yet was this particularly obſerved in him, that, ſlighting ordinary perſons, nay indeed many Ladies, by whom he was not a little courte [...], he enjoyed himſelf in no other converſation, but that of Eliſena, whom he accordingly honoured with his conſtant attendance. In ſo much that at laſt he got a haunt of viſiting her ſo often, that he was in a manner perpetually in her company. And whereas it was none of the moſt inconſiderable perfections of Eliſena, that ſhe was admirable in matter of diſcourſe, and that Cleontes was infinitely pleaſant in that kind alſo, they paſſed the beſt part of their time away with abundance of mutual ſatisfaction. Among all [...]e re [...]t that perceived it, I took notice my ſelf of the great kindneſs and famili [...]rity that was between them, but at the firſt looked on it without the leaſt diſturbance, and out of the extraordinary opinion which I had of the vertue of Eliſen [...] I not only harboured not the leaſt ſuſpicion of them, notwithſtanding all the complyances▪ ſervices, and conſtant addreſſes which Cleontes had for her, but alſo took notice, without the leaſt worm of jealouſie, that Eliſena looked very favourably on him, and diſſembled not the pleaſure ſhe took in his company beyond what ſhe did in that of divers other perſons that came to ſee her.

Several moneths were paſt and gone in this manner, before ever I conceived the leaſt ſuſpicion of the demonſtrations of friendſhip that paſt between them; and though I was indeed of opinion that their familiarity was greater than there ought to have [...]een between a perſon of the quality of Eliſena, and a man of the age and beauty of Cleontes, yet did I attribute their weakneſſes to their youth, and the friendſhip which Eliſena naturally had for perſons of good pleaſant wits. In a word, their manner of behaviour made greater impreſſions on other mens minds than it did on mine, and among the many perſons that conceived an ill opinion thereat, there happened to be ſome indiſcreet enough to act the part of the unlucky crow, and to bring me the tidings of my own unhappineſs▪ One above all, a perſon I very much credited, egged on by an imprudent zeal, came to me on a day, and pumping, not without ſome difficulty, as I could perceive, for words wherein to dreſs his expreſſions the more modeſtly; My Lord, ſaid he at laſt, is it poſſible your voluntary blindneſs ſhould be ſuch as muſt reduce your moſt faithful ſervants to a neceſſity of giving you thoſe diſcoveries of their fidelity which they cannot do without regret and violence to themſelves? Or are you reſolved not to open your eyes to ſee what is done againſt you, while it is yet in your power to remedy things by mild and gentile courſes, and that evils are not come to their extremities? Obſerve my Lord, after what manner Eliſena and Cleontes live together, and ſpare me the confuſion it will be to me to tell you what follows.

This was the diſcourſe of that indiſcreet perſon, which yet had this effect upon me, that I could not have been more caſt down, had I received a mortal wound. However I did what I could to ſmother the reſentment I conceived at his words, and thought it enough to tell the men, that we ought not to paſs our judgement ſo lightly of a thing that might [...] innocent; that I was confident of Eliſena's vertue, and if, through the pardonable eruptions of youth, ſhe had been too familiar with, and too liberal of her company to Cleontes, I could not thence ſafely infer it proceeded out of any unjuſtifiable deſign or intention. This I ſpoke to him with a countenance wherein yet he might have obſerved ſome part of the effect of his own diſcourſe, and, having diſmiſſed my intelligence, I would be the more at liberty to make reflections on the knowledg he had given me of my own misfortune. It began to magnifie in ſuch manner to my apprehenſion, that my ſoul for ſome minutes was as it were in a tempeſt, and my mind over-caſt with ſuch clouds as darkened all its former light, the better to diſpoſe it to receive melancholy and fatal impreſſions. All that before had ſeemed ſo innocent to me, preſented it ſelf now to my thoughts under another form, and calling to mind all the occaſions upon which I had obſerved too great familiarity between Eliſena and Cleontes, I was aſtoniſhed at my own blindneſs, or rather inadvertency, and upon that came to my memory a hundred circum [...]tances which I condemned all as criminal. O ye gods, how did this fatal diſcovery eat into my heart, to make a place there for the greateſt grief it could be capable of! And what deplorable effects did that ſelf-tormenting paſſion immediately produce there? This black impreſſion wrought a kind of Metamorphoſis in me, inſomuch that I was become quite another man than what I was ſome daies before. Being thus convinced of my want of circumſpection, and conſequently of [Page] my misfortune, I railed at Fortune, I quarrelled with heaven, and I took any occaſion to diſcover my affliction. Is it poſſible, ſaid I, that one that is ſo dear to my heart, this great example of vertue and conjugal love hath ſo ſoon turned bankrupt as to all vertuous inclinations, and loſt all the affection ſhe had promiſed me? Or if ſhe never were vertuous, nor had any real affection for her Husband, is it poſſible ſhe ſhould be ſo well read in the art of diſſimulation as to conceal it from a mans knowledge with ſo much artifice for ſo long time? How, can that Eliſena, to whom I had abſolutely ſacrificed my heart, that Eliſena, for whoſe ſake onely I love my life, prove unconſtant to me, and it may be, diſhonour me? O inexpreſſible cruelty of my deſtiny againſt which it cannot be expected my courage ſhould be able to reſcue me! O Heaven! O Fortune, what reſolutions would you have me to take? Shall I ever be able to hate what I have ſo affectionately loved; and from hatred can I proceed to revenge, againſt an object ſo dear to my heart, and that the only object of all my affections? But if I do not, I ſhall be inſenſible of the perſidiouſneſſe of an ungrateful woman; and can I with an unparalleld baſeneſs endure thoſe extraordinary affronts which muſt needs blaſt my honour for ever? Hatred, Love, you that divide my heart between you, let either one or the other give place, and perſecute not my ſoul with perpetual uncertainties and irreſolutions.

Many dayes did I ſpend in theſe reflections and diſcourſes, while in the mean time my countenance began to change with my humour, and the alterations that happened, there, was ſo obſervable, that all the World took notice of it. Eliſena was one of the firſt that obſerved it, and by all demonſtrations and expreſſions of love took occaſion to diſcover the grief ſhe conceived thereat; but her carriage towards Cleontes was ſtill after the old rate. And whereas my [...]ies were now much more open than they were before, and diſcerned all things after another manner then I had done in times paſt, methought, I could perceive in all her actions, ſo much tenderneſſe, and ſo much love for Cleontes, that I made it no more a queſtion, but that I was as unfortunate as I had imagined my ſelf. I ſaw the whole day in a manner was little enough for them to ſpend together; they had ever and anon ſome ſecret or other to communicate one to another, and when they were at too great a diſtance to ſpeak one to another, they diſcourſed by their eies: and caſt looks at one another that were more eloquent than any thing of converſation, and this to the obſervation of all the World as well as my ſelf.

This alteration ſeemed very ſtrange, inſomuch that all thoſe that had known Eliſena a little before could not without an exceſs of aſtoniſhment, make any compariſon between theſe fallies of lightneſſe and liberty and her former reſervedneſſe and modeſty. True it is nevertheleſſe, that notwithſtanding all thoſe demonſtrations of affection that paſt between her and Cleontes, her carriage towards me was as it had been ever before, and I could never perceive either from her diſcourſe or her countenance, that there was any abatement or remiſſion in her love towards me, or that ſhe was leſſe taken with my perſon then at the firſt hour of our marriage. Her careſſes, and her inſinuations were ſtill the ſame, ſhe ſpoke with the ſame ſweetneſſe, and acted with the ſame complyance, ſave that ſhe did it not ſo conſtantly as in times paſt, that ſhe left me often to go and diſcourſe with Cleontes, and beſtowed on his entertainment the beſt part of thoſe houres which ſhe had before onely devoted to mine. At laſt, my grief was ſeconded and reinforced by my reſentment of thoſe things, and after I had been a long time ſad and melancholy, I became at length exaſperated, and ſtudying how to be revenged of Cleontes, I began to diſcover to Eliſena, how that her careſſes had not over me that influence they were wont to have, that I looked on them as the pure effects of artifice and diſſimulation, and that I felt my ſoul changed from the love I ſometime had for her, to the paſſion that was moſt contrary thereto. I gave over looking kindly on her, I took a bed by my ſelf, and by degrees forbore all diſcourſe with her.

She ſeemed to be as much troubled at this alteration as the moſt affectionate woman in the World could poſſibly be, and gave me all the demonſtrations of a grief as violent as any ſoul can be able to endure. She uſed all the inſinuation that could be, ſhe melted into tears, and omitted nothing, which ſhe could imagine might perſwade me that ſhe was really moved. In ſome intervals, I was extreamly ſenſible of thoſe expreſſions of her affliction, and thoſe imperious remainders of love that were yet left in my ſoul did partly produce therein the effect ſhe deſired; but a little after, through the cruel prejudice that had taken root there, all was daſhed out again, and I had no more regard to what ſhe did then, as if it had been meer perſonation and ſycophancy. At laſt, after a many dayes ſilence, ſhe would needs force me to ſpeak, and having found me all alone in my chamber, whither I was often wont to retire ſince the change of my humour, ſhe runs to me with her face bathed in tears, and graſping both my hands, with an action full of earneſtneſſe and paſſion; Ah, my deareſt Huſband, ſaid ſhe to me, ſhall I be any longer unhappy, [Page] and not know the cauſe of my unhappineſſe? And will you by ſo many ſeveral expreſſions make it appear to all the World that I am odious in your ſight, and not acquaint me by what horrid misfortune I have loſt your affection? Am I leſſe worthy of it now than I have been formerly by reaſon of ſome defect which you have diſcovered in my perſon; or have I made my ſelf unworthy of it by any offence I have committed againſt you?

To theſe words ſhe added a many others, no leſſe earneſt, and preſſed upon me ſo far, that I could not forbear making her ſome anſwer. Madam, ſaid I to her, methinks you take abundance of pains to expreſſe with your tongue that which hath no acquaintance with your heart, and if my quiet had been ſo dear to you as you would make me believe, you would not have utterly ruined it by your own cruel inconſtancy. 'Tis enough for me to be miſerable, and not that you ſhould aggravate my miſery by your diſſimulation, and you ought to be ſatisfied with what I have ſuffered hitherto, and not put my affection to greater tryalls.

Eliſena ſeemed to be extreamly troubled at theſe words, as I could eaſily obſerve in her countenance; but muſtring up all her ſtrength together to recover her ſelf, My Lord, ſaid ſhe to me, it is not any change in me that diſturbs your quiet, or may have been the occaſion of that which is happened in your ſelf. The gods are my witneſſes, that I am the ſame woman to you that ever I was, and that my life is innocent even to the leaſt thoughts. It is very ſtrange, replied I, that the thoughts ſhould be innocent when the actions are criminal, and that when they appear ſuch not onely to the eyes of a Husband, but to the eyes of a thouſand other perſons.

Theſe words were a little indigeſtible to Eliſena, ſo that ſhe took a little time to ruminate upon them without making me any anſwer, but with the countenance of a perſon recollecting and examining her ſelf, to find out wherein ſhe had offended. At laſt, looking on me with an action which ſpoke ſomething of clearneſſe and confidence, Can it be poſſible, ſaid ſhe to me, that the cauſe of my unhappineſſe muſt be no other than the demonſtrations of kindneſſe and friendſhip which have paſt between me and Cleontes! And knowing me ſo well as you ought to know me, is there any poſſibility that you ſhould perſwade your ſelf, that in the good entertainment I make him, there can be any thing criminal or unhandſome? The demonſtrations of your affection towards Cleontes, replyed I, are ſo publick and ſo remarkable, that you need not pretend ſo much aſtoniſhment, that, when all the World had taken notice of them, they ſhould at laſt come to my knowledge; and you ought to be ſo much the leſſe ſurprized at the effect they have wrought on my diſpoſition, if you but reflection the love I have had for you.

This proved another bone for her to pick, ſo that ſhe could not make any anſwer thereto till that ſhe had been ſilent a good while, with an action that diſcovered her uncertainty, and loſſe of reſolution. At length, lifting up her eies, which ſhe had all the time before faſtened on the ground, and directing them on me with a countenance much more ſetled and ſerene than before: My Lord, ſaid ſhe to me, when I recollect my ſelf, and call to mind things that are now paſt I much acknowledge, that there hath been ſome want of prudence in my carriage, and if I have committed any fault, no queſtion but it hath been out of the exceſſe of confidence which I have had in your love. I cannot deny but I have entertained Cleontes with very great demonſtrations of a particular eſteem, nay, I confeſſe that I have ſtill abundance of reſpects for him, as well upon the account of his own worth, as for other reaſons which oblige me thereto, and which I ſhall acquaint you with, when you ſhall give me leave to do it: but I call all the gods witneſſes of my innocence, and deſire them to ſend me ſome exemplary death before your face, if ever I have injured you as much as in the leaſt thought, or ever diſcovered in Cleontes any deſign or intention that you might condemne. I freely give you leave to take away my life, if in proceſſe of time you find not my words true, and will accordingly be ſorry for the injury you have done me. In the interim, I conjure you to reſtore [...] your affection, the loſſe whereof is much more inſupportable to me then would be that of my life. And ſince you have not taken it away from me but upon unfortunate apparences, which rather argue my imprudence than bad intentions, I ſhall make ſuch proviſion againſt the like for the future, that you ſhall not have the leaſt occaſion to ſuſpect me.

This was the diſcourſe of Eliſena, but uttered with ſo much aſſurance and ſerenity, that I began to be perſwaded ſhe might be innocent; whereupon that love whereof there were ſtill ſome remainders in my heart ſpeaking to me on her behalf, with as much force as her words, diſpelled by little and little ſome part of my ſuſpicions, and if it could not abſolutely clear them, and make it a bright day in my mind, it did at leaſt put me into ſuch a poſture, as that I was willing to hearken to what it ſuggeſted to me for her advantage, and to expect her juſtification from time, in ſtead of condemning her from what was paſt. I immediately acquainted her with all the tranſactions that paſt in my ſoul, promiſing, that in caſe I ſhould find her as innocent as ſhe would perſwade me ſhe was, I ſhould love her [Page] with the ſame paſſion that I had ever had for her, and ſhe entertained that promiſe and aſſurance with ſuch demonſ [...]r [...]tions of joy, that I could not at that time ſuſpect her guilty of any artifice.

From that day ſhe began to live after another rate with Cleontes, that is, with much more reſervedneſs and diſtance than formerly; ſhe forbore all ſecret meetings, and private diſcourſes with him, and entertained him no otherwiſe than as civility required, that ſuch a perſon as Cleontes ſhould be. This alteration occaſioned a change in my humour, and I began to recover the reſt I had a long time wanted, and was convinced that Eliſena, having been a little extravagant through the imprudent ſallies of youth, had by the ſtrength of her own vertue and good advice recovered her ſelf. I alſo, for my part, carryed my ſelf towards her as I had done formerly, and expreſſed my love to her with the ſame earneſtneſs as I had done, before my mind became diſordered by jealouſie.

This laſted for ſome months, during which time we lived together with as much delight as can be imagined: but not long after, the ſame perſon who had made the firſt diſcovery to me, came again to tell me of certain kind and amorous looks, and other circumſtances whence he concluded there was a ſecret intelligence between Eliſena and Cleontes. Now my diſpoſition being before prepared for impreſſions of this nature, I entertained them much more eaſily than at the firſt time, and obſerving my ſelf, that there was a certain violence in that reſervedneſs of Eliſena, I fell into my former humour, and that ſo violently, that I was likely enough to faſten on any deſperate reſolution.

When Eliſena was ſenſible of the alteration ſhe ſoon took notice of in my countenance, and would know the reaſon of it, I anſwered her with nothing but bloody reproaches, and the paſſion I was then poſſeſſed with, furniſhed me with all the words I could deſire upon ſuch an occaſion. Eliſena heard them with much patience, and at laſt, when I had given over ſpeaking, joyning iſſue in the diſcourſe with abundance of reſolution, but a reſolution ful of modeſty, and the demonſtrations of that confidence which is ever the attendant of innocency: My Lord, ſaid ſhe to me, I thought I had reduced my ſelf to ſuch a behaviour towards Cleontes as you expected, and was of opinion, that I had entertained him no otherwiſe then I ought in pure civility to do. But ſince I have been ſo unhappy, either through my ill fortune, or my imprudence, there is now no diſpute to be made of it, but the occaſion muſt be removed, for the correſpondence which is between Cleontes and me, is not of ſuch conſequence, as that we ſhould thereby purchaſe the danger and inconveniences which are the effects thereof. I ſhall not therefore tell you that I will not ſee Cleontes any more, or that I will never ſpeak to him again. No, this is not ſecurity enough for you, while Cleontes ſhall continue in your territories; no, he muſt not tread your ground; and though it ſpeaks a certain barbarouſneſs and inhumanity, to force away a perſon from the place where he had taken ſanctuary againſt a malicious fortune, yet is not it conſiderable in compariſon of the miſchiefs which his abode here hath already, or hereafter, may occaſion. I will therefore take it upon me to ſend him hence ſo as he ſhall never return again, and after the term that you ſhall appoint for his departure is expired, I promiſe you that neither you, nor I, ſhall ever ſee him more.

Theſe words of Eliſena gave me ſome ſatisfaction, though I think ſhe diſcovered ſome violence when ſhe made that propoſition to me, and ſo, reſolved to grant it her. Well Madam, ſaid I to her, if you expect that you and I ſhould live together in any quiet, there is a neceſſity that Cleontes ſhould be ſent away. His longer abode here may haply involve us into ſome misfortunes which we ſhall do well to avoid, when it lies in our own power to do it; and therefore I ſhall intreat you to diſpoſe him to leave us within eight dayes, that is the longeſt day I can afford him to provide for his departure, and to find out ſome other place for his refuge, and that time once expired, I beſeech you let ſuch order be taken that he may never be ſeen in our dominions again. I promiſe you to do it, replies Eliſena, and I ſhall take occaſion this very day to acquaint him therewith, and endeavour what I can to have things ſo carryed, as not to raiſe among our Neighbours any ſuſpicion of the true cauſe of his departure, With thoſe words ſhe went away and left me, but as ſhe took leave, ſhe expreſſed ſo much affliction in her eyes, that it was eaſie for me to judge, through the conſtancy which ſhe ſo much affected, that it was not without a ſenſible regret that ſhe was induced to diſpenſe with the company of Cleontes.

The next day I ſaw them ſpeaking together, and I perceived they were very earneſt in their diſcourſe, and, in their geſtures and looks, diſcovered much ſadneſs. But conceiving all to be in order to his departure, I bore with their converſation, at that time, as alſo what they had in my preſence the day following, during which time Cleontes took leave of his friends, alledging certain reaſons to them for his ſo ſudden leaving of them. The ſeventh day, which was juſt that day before his departure, guided by ſome unfortunate genious, [Page] and my own malicious fortune together, I would needs take a walk in my Garden. And being deſirous of ſolitude, and at that very time reflecting on the uncertainty I was in as to what I ſhould believe of Eliſena, finding appearances of all ſides, as well to demonſtrate her affections to me, as to ſatisfie me of her infidelity, I went aſide from thoſe that followed me, and leaving them ſome in one of the faireſt knots of the Garden, and others in the more ſpacious walks, I went into thoſe that were moſt private and ſolitary, and ſo continued my walk in the moſt remote parts of the Garden. At the furtheſt end of the Knot, before mentioned, there is a little handſome Grove, and in divers places of the Grove, Arbou [...]s made of the boughs of trees plaſhed together. Coming near that which which lies at the greateſt diſtance, I heard the noiſe of ſome people talking, and going forward ſtill to come yet ſomewhat neerer, and liſtening with much attention, I could diſcern the voice of Eliſena. The privacy of the place bred a little worm in my brain, and I immediately ſuſpected there might be ſome unhandſome action committed; and not willing to let ſlip an opportunity; ſo favourable for the diſcovery of the truth, I crept ſoftly between the trees, and coming near the Arbour with ſo little noiſe that I was not heard, I put my head cloſe to the branches whereof it was made, and finding an eaſie paſſage for my ſight, I preſently perceived all that was done in the Arbour. O ye gods, what a ſpectacle, with what object were my eyes unhappily ſmitten with! I ſaw, my Lord, ſince I muſt rip up theſe doleſul paſſages of my life, I ſaw Cleontes ſet upon a little table that ſtood in the middle of the Arbour, holding Eliſena ſtanding between his leggs, compaſſing her with his armes, while he was as amorouſly embraced by thoſe of Eliſena, and at the ſame time both giving and receiving thouſands of kiſſes from him. Sighs, tears, and bemoaning empreſſions were the burthen of their carkaſſes, and reciprocally wiping off one anothers tears, they reiterated their kiſſes with ſo much love, that a perſon, the leaſt ſubject of any in the World to ſuſpicion, would never have been [...] but that there might be yet a further familiary between perſons ſo paſſiona [...]. Fo [...] my part, I made not the leaſt queſtion of it, and from that fatal ſpectacle, concluding my unhappineſs undeniable, I gave way to the rage then gaining ground upon me, and [...] moment to conſult upon the reſolution I was to take to revenge my injured love, [...] the loſs of my honour. I ſeldom went any where without my ſword, & as ill fortune would have it, I had it then about me. I drew it, tranſported with fury, and running to one of the doors of the Arbour with ſo much haſt, that thoſe two amorous perſons had hardly the time to break off their kiſſing; You muſt dye, baſe perfidious wretches, cryed I, you muſt dye, and putting my fury in execution upon the firſt object that offered it ſelf, it ſelf, it fell upon the unfortunate Eliſena, whom running with my ſword in at the breaſt, there needed not much ſtrength to force it in up to the hilts. Cleontes had the time to get out at one of the doors of the Arbour, &▪ had got away as ſoon as he ſaw me appear with all the ſpeed he could make: but the unfortunate Eliſena, who ſtood neereſt to me, receiving the mortal wound, fell down at my feet in a torrent of blood, & [...]s ſhe fell, faſtening on my knees, ſhe held me ſo, that I could not get off from her to run after Cleontes. In the mean time Eliſena expiring, ſtrove as much as ſhe could to ſpeak, and with abundance of difficulty made a ſhift to bring forth theſe words. Zonodorus, ſaid ſhe to me, thou haſt ſpilt innocent blood, which will cry out for vengeance againſt thee; but far be it from me to deſire it of the gods, and I forgive thee my death, which my own imprudence, and thy want of recollection hath brought me to: thou wilt find that I have not injured thee, and therefore content thy ſelf that thou haſt taken away my life, and meddle not with Cleontes, who is............ She would have ſaid ſomewhat elſe, but ere ſhe could bring it out, both voice and life had taken their leaves of her.

This ſpectacle, you may well imagine was deplorable enough to move me to ſome pitty, and the love which I had formerly had for Eliſena, whom I ſaw expiring at my feet, beautiful even in her paleneſs, and, amidſt the very looks of death, as amiable as ever ſhe had been in her life, muſt in all likelihood force me to ſome compaſſion. But rage and fury being grown predominant over my ſoul, and I looking on the loſs of my honour as a thing infallibly certain, and from the laſt words of Eliſena, when ſhe recommended unto me the life of Cleontes, and ſeemed ſo indifferent as to her own, drawing no other concluſion than that of the exceſſive love ſhe had for him, my fury derives new ſtrength from that cruel confirmation, and leaving the body of Eliſena in the hands of her Women, who were come in at the noiſe, out of a place where they waited hard by, I purſued Cleontes, with the ſword all bloody in my hand, that way that I had ſeen him run away. He was gotten far enough from me, and I ſhould have found it no ſmall difficulty to overtake him, if at the ſame time a noiſe had not been ſpread about the Garden, that Eliſena was dead. At this unhappy, news Cleontes ſtayes, not deſirous to ſave his [Page] life after the misfortune which he had been the occaſion of, as I came into the Knot of the Garden, I ſaw him coming towards me, tearing his cloaths, pulling his hair, and filling the place with his lamentations. Inſtead of avoiding my ſword he would run upon the point of it, and preſenting his naked breſt to me, he therein received the mortal thruſt which ran him through and through. After he had gone two or three paces backward ſtaggering, he fell down at the feet of a Diana of Alablaſter, which ſtood at one of the corners of the Knot, and as he fell embraced it: Goodeſſe of chaſtity, ſaid he, receive this life which I offer up to thee, and if I ſtain it with my blood, thou knoweſt it is pure and innocent.

There was ſomething in theſe words that ſeemed ſo mild, and withall ſo mournful, that the better part of my fury was thereby abated; and while a many perſons were running to the place where I was, the expiring Cleontes, turning his eyes from the ſtatue, and faſtening them on me: Barbarous man, ſaid he to me, hope not that the gods will pardon thee the death of the innocent Eliſena, though I forgive thee mine, and ſince I have not life enough left me to convince thee of her innocence, acknowledg it upon the ſight of what I had never ſhewn any man, and which thou of all mankind art the moſt unworthy to ſee. With theſe words, contracting together all the ſtrength he had left, he made a ſhift to open, or to tear that which covered his ſtomack, and by diſcovering to us a neck and breaſts, whiter then the Alablaſter which he embraced, eaſily ſatisfied us that he was a Woman.

Artaxus interrupting Zenodorus at this paſſage; Heavens! Zenodorus, ſaid he to him, what is this that you relate to me, and what an unfortunate adventure was this of yours? Till now, though there were things deplorable enough in your relation, yet had I not been moved to compaſſion at any, and I thought there was ſo much reaſon in all proceedings that I could not bemoane the diſtiny of two perſons whom I conceived worthy the chaſtiſement they received at your hands. But theſe laſt words of your relation having changed the whole ſcene of the adventure, and though there lies no more guilt on you then there would have done, [...]ad it been otherwiſe, yet I muſt confeſſe you are ſo much the more to be pittyed. You may very well think it, my Lord, replyed Zenodorus, and with the ſame labour comprehend ſome part of what I was not then able to expreſſe. At that ſight, that fatal ſight, that fatall and too ſlow diſcovery, I was in a manner more like a dead carkaſe then thoſe I had deprived of life; and not able to oppoſe all the paſſions which then made their ſeveral aſſaults on my ſoul with as much violence as can be well imagined, nor expreſſe them by word [...], I was almoſt grown immoveable and ſenſeleſſe in the arms of thoſe perſons that were about me. I apprehended my ſelf at the ſame to be the murtherer of two Women, of two beautiful and amiable perſons, and two innocent perſons, whereof one had been my own Wife, whom I had loved as dearly as my own ſoul, and the other meerly upon the account of compaſſion had already raiſed in me an affection towards her. This demonſtration of the innocence and fidelity of Eliſena, did at the firſt reflection on it ſtick a ſword into my heart, much more cruel than that wherewith I had pierced her breſt, and the ſight of that unfortunate perſon, now no more Cleontes, but one of the handſomeſt Ladies in the World, wounded my ſoul with the moſt violent affliction that it is capable of: Certain it is, that ſome other perſon, endued with a greater tenderneſſe of mind than I, who have ever been of a fierce and harſh diſpoſition, had not ſurvived ſo deplorable an accident, and yet, ſuch as I was, I really felt in my heart whatever a lively and piercing grief can have in it of torment.

After I had recollected my ſelf for ſome time in the hands of thoſe perſons who had taken away my ſword from me, as having gathered from the fury of my looks, that it was not unlikely I might do my ſelf a miſchief▪ I drew neerer to that expiring Lady, making ſigns to others to endeavour to help her, when perceiving my intention, Stand away, cruel man, ſaid ſhe to me, and come not neer me. Thy aſſiſtance is more hateful to me then the death thou haſt given me, and ſince the unfortunate Eliſena, whoſe death I have unhappily been the occaſion of is no [...] [...]iving, oppoſe not the laſt demonstrations of the friendſhip I had for her, and ſuffer [...] to expire without any other regret than that of having ſacrificed to my misfortune, a [...] ſo vertuous as ſhe was. O Eliſena, Eliſena, ſince my last kiſſes proved ſo fatal to thee▪ learn among the dead, where I am coming to enjoy thee again, that I was [...] to ſurvive thee, and that I run after thee to continue among the ſhades that frien [...]ſhip which was ſo dear to us here.

As ſhe uttered theſe words, ſhe ſaw paſſing by the body of Eliſena, which they were carrying out of the Garden, and at that ſight, crying out louder than her weakneſſe could bear, ſhe withal ſent out her laſt breath in the arms of thoſe that were come about to relieve her. Among thoſe that came immediatly after, a young Gentlewoman that ſerved [Page] her, and who after her example diſguiſed her ſex by mans cloaths, caſting her ſelf upon the body as ſoon as ſhe could get neer it, made the aire echo again with her cryes and her lamentations, and did a many things worthy compaſſion; which I was not in a condition to take notice of, for that at the ſight of the body of Eliſena, which they had very indiſcreetly cauſed to be carryed cloſe by me, I grew abſolutely ſenſeleſs and diſtracted, and was conveyed away and caſt upon my bed, where I was carefully looked after, out of a fear I ſhould have fallen into deſpaire. When I had a little recovered my ſelf, I ran to the place where they had laid the body of Eliſena, and giving it thouſands of kiſſes with an affection equal to that I had for her at the beginning of our unfortunate marriage, I did all that lay in my power to dye neer her, and have a thouſand times ſince wondred, that my grief alone ſhould not be ſtrong enough to do that which no doubt I ſhould have done with my ſword, had I been left at liberty. Her innocency and her vertue being then but too too well known to me, I became a continual prey to that remorſe, and thoſe implacable furies which unmercifully torment the ſoul; and, looking on my ſelf as a Dragon, or ſome horrid monſter, I made againſt my ſelf the moſt terrible imprecations, that a man could make againſt his moſt inveterate enemies.

From the body of Eliſena I went to that unfortunate companion and partaker of her death; and though I had not had any affection for her while ſhe lived, yet had the unhappineſſe of her deſtiny ſuch an influence upon me, and ſhe had appeared to me ſo amiable, even in the laſt minutes of her life, and in the laſt words ſhe ſpoke, that my ſoul was poſſeſſed by ſomething greater then compaſſion, and I was no leſſe liberal of my tears for her death, then for that of Eliſena. When I was ſo far recovered, as that I could apprehend any thing was ſad to me, I was very deſirous to know who ſhe was: and the Gentlewoman that had waited on her and who after her death had no reaſon to conceal what ſhe had kept ſecret while ſhe lived, being brought before me, though ſhe could not look on me without horrour and deteſtation, and being informed what my deſires were, gave me this account of her, Since you are ſo deſirous to know, ſaid ſhe to me, who this unfortunate woman, whom you have put to death, was, I ſhall ſoon ſatisfie you to your ſorrow, for with that you ſha [...]l know what enemies you have raiſed your ſelf by your crueltie, She was born among the Parthians, of an extraction that is equally noble with any of the ſubjects of Phraates, and was allyed on both ſides to the Illuſtrious Family of the Arſacides. Her name was Arteſia, and her beauty ſuch, when it appeared in its meridian luſtre, under cloaths ſuitable to her ſex, that the World can afford but few comparable to her. She hath neglected it very much ever ſince, and indeed hath had no great reaſon to be much in love with it, becauſe it hath proved the occaſion of all the misfortunes that hath happened to her. Being brought up about the Queen, as a Princeſſe that could claime ſome kindred to her, and having in a ſhort time diſcovered to the whole Court, as well the beauty of her countenance, as that of her underſtanding, ſhe was there generally beloved; but indeed much more than ſhe deſired to be, inſomuch, that the amiableneſſe of her perſon having enflamed Phraates with an affection towards h [...]r, ſhe became accordingly the object of his cruel perſecution. She endured the torment of it for ſome time with an admirable vertue, and endeavoured to ſmother the extravagant inclinations of the King, by all thoſe wayes which in any other ſoul might have produced that effect. But her modeſty and reſiſtance adding to the eagerneſſe of the Kings love, he would at laſt needs come to violence, and without any conſideration of the nobleneſſe of Arteſia's bloud, which was no other than a branch of his own, he laid a deſign how to put his wicked reſolutions in execution upon her. This vertuous Lady, whoſe Father had been dead many years before, deſtitute of all protection againſt her King, and that ſuch a King, as to whom, after he had put to dea [...] his own Father, all crimes ought to be eaſie and familiar, had no way but to flye, to deliver her vertue from that tempeſt, and there being no way for her to conceal her ſelf from ſo great a King, but by diſguiſing her ſex, ſhe put on mans cloaths, and cauſing me to do the like, [...] onely me along with her in her flight, and two ancient men-ſervants of her Fathers, whoſe f [...] delity ſhe was confident of. After ſeveral journies to and fro, wherein ſhe had ſtill inviolatly kept the ſecrets of her adventure, ſhe at laſt came into your territories. It was not her deſign [...] make any long ſtay therein; but ſhe immediately charmed by the vertue of Eliſena, and in pr [...] ceſſe of time coming to a perfect knowledge of her, and conceiving her a perſon with whom ſ [...] might ſafely enter into ſolid friendſhip, and in whom ſhe might repoſe a great confidence, ſ [...] diſcovered her ſelf to her, acquainted her with her Fortune, and revealed to her what ſ [...] had ſo carefully concealed from all the World. Eliſena entertained theſe demonſtrations of her affection and confidence with an admirable goodneſſe and offered her all the aſſiſtance th [...] lay in her power. This was meerly the effect of her generoſity as to a ſtranger; but not long after, the vertue and excellent endowments of Arteſia having wrought their effect on the ſpirit of Eliſena, as thoſe of Eliſena had upon that of Arteſia, it became the cement of ſuch a [Page] perfect friendſhip between theſe two amiable perſons, that the preſent age could hardly have furniſhed us with a nobler example. The mutual demonstrations which they gave thereof one to another, with leſs circumſpection than perſons, whoſe intentions are criminal, [...] w [...]nt to obſerve, raiſed jealouſie and ſuſpicions in you, inſomuch, that upon the first [...] you made thereof, they conſulted together, and conſ [...]red whether [...] were ſafe to diſcover the truth to you, and acquaint you with the ſex and [...] of Arteſia. But after [...], Eliſena her ſelf thought it not either ſafe or ſeaſonable, and k [...]ing that you [...] ſome fear of the power of Phraates, and that your [...]trarchy [...]ying [...]e [...]r [...] E [...]p [...]r [...], it concerned you very much to hold a good correſpondence with him, did not [...] that ſecret ſhould be communicated to you, as being in ſome [...], th [...] either [...] obligation upon Phraates, or to avoid the occaſion of making him your [...] diſcover to him that Arteſia was in your power, and haply have ſent h [...]r back to him. The ſincere friendſhip which Eliſena had for Arteſia, inſpired her with that fear, which indeed became ſo great afterwards, that upon your relapſe into jealouſie, and the ſecond diſcoveries you made thereof, ſhe choſe rather to be deprived the ſight and company of her friend, than that you ſhould be acquainted with the ſecret of her life, and conſequently expoſe it to any danger. This ſeparation could not but occaſion a violent grief on both ſides, inſomuch, that when you unfortunately took them in the Arbour, they were taking their laſt leaves one of another, with th [...]ſe demonſtr [...]tions of friendſhip which proved ſo [...] to them. You are but too well acquainted with what followed, I deſire to be excuſed as to any further diſcourſe with you, and your leave to return to that body which I ſo much loved when living, to render it my laſt ſervices, and to take ſome courſe for the carrying of it away out of▪ cruel country, and, ſince it is now beyond all fear of the violences of Phraates, diſpoſe [...]t among the monuments of her Fathers.

Such was the diſcourſe of the deſol [...]te Gentlewom [...]n, whereby coming to underſtand as well the extraction, as vertue of Arteſia, I felt [...], which I thought violent enough before, aſſuming new ſtrength torment me the more. I was in a perpetual poſture of ſighing and ſobbing, which being pe [...]t up in the [...]ranies of [...] forced out their way with the greater violence, bringing forth with them words ſo [...] ful, that it raiſed a certain compaſſion in all thoſe▪ who upon [...] of my miſtake had conceived a horrour for me. I continually [...] upon [...] of Eliſena and with that of Eliſena, I oftentimes brought out th [...] of Arteſia, whoſe lamentab [...] adventure I was no leſs troubled at, then I was for the loſs of my Wife, whom I [...] thought ſo amiable, and accordingly ſo dearly loved.

I ſhall not tire you, my Lord, with [...]edious diſcourſes of my complaints, or with r [...] lations of all thoſe things which I did for ſome dayes, during the extravagance of [...] affliction, and ſhall only tell you, that thoſe who know me at this preſent, and [...] what courſe of life I have led for theſe many years together, would not [...] lieve the ſtrange effects it wrought in me. The Gentlewoman, who had waited [...] [...] teſia, and her two ancient ſervants, having cauſed the body to be embalm [...] [...] away into their own Country; and that of my Eliſena, was diſpoſed into a [...] nument which I cauſed to be built for her. I viſited it every day, and ſpent [...] in waſhing it with my tears, embracing the cold Marble, and doing [...] which ſufficiently diſcovered my love, melancholy, and deſpaire. There was no [...] nothing from which I could derive any comfort; in the day time I [...] the ſociety o [...] men, and in the night, me-thoughts I ſaw perpetually at my bed▪ he [...], the unfortunate images of Eliſena and Arteſia, ſhewing me their wounds, and loading me with the moſt bitter reproaches that might be. During theſe imaginations, I was many times in a manner diſtracted, inſomuch, that in time, if I were not grown abſolutely m [...], I was at leaſt ſo far gone, that I had nothing of mildneſs, nothing of a ſociable humour left in me. By degrees I became more and more ſavage, and barbarous, much more than I was naturally inclined to be, and out of an imagination I had, that all the World ought to abhorre me, I began to abhorre all the World. Accordingly, from that time all things fell out contrary to my expectations, and my crime was ſuch, that Fortune declared her ſelf my enemy as well as men. The King of the Parthians, who was infinitely troubled at the death of Arteſia, immediately reſolved to ruine me, and Herod, who watched all occaſions to poſſeſs himſelf of my Tetrarchy, to joyne it to his own dominions, whereof he conceived it ſhould be ſome part, having no pretence of war againſt me himſelf, promoted underhand the deſignes of the Parthian King, gave a paſſage through his Country, to the Army he ſent againſt me, and ſupplyed them with proviſions, out of hopes of getting my eſtate into his hands.

Things fell out, in a manner as they had deſigned they ſhould, ſo that I, who in the height and favour of fortune, had not been able to oppoſe the forces which the King of the [Page] Parthians ſent againſt me, could hardly, in the misfortune, I was fallen into, loſt as to friends, courage, and all things, make any reſiſtance againſt them. The Parthians forced me out of my country, and Herod having gotten it into his hands upon ſome treaty there had paſt between him and Phraates, he not long after went and begged it of Auguſtus, alledging that he had ſome intereſt in it, during the time that Liſanias was in poſſeſſion thereof. It was beſtowed on him, and he was put into poſſeſſion thereof by the Emperour, who ſent Soſius to ſettle him quietly in it, and who accordingly maintained him therein, againſt the pretentions of the King of the Parthians. This was the occaſion of the difference wherein Phraates was ſo much exaſperated againſt Herod, and which bred the war that hath happened between them ſince, and which was begun by Phraates not long after the carrying away of Phaſela, and old Hircan.

In the mean time I made a ſhift to get away with a certain number of ſhips, deſtitute of all friends and ſupply, nay indeed loſt as to all things; for having applyed my ſelf every where for aſſiſtance, all proved ineffectual, all denyed me. Inſomuch, that, my mind exexaſperated by the conſtant malicce of my Fortune, I became loſt as to all vertue and morality; and thence out of an aſſurance I had that all the World were enemies to me, I became an enemy to all the World. While my grief, for the loſs of Eliſena continued ſtrong upon my ſpirits, I was but little troubled at the loſs of my Eſtate, and Friends; but when time had wrought ſome abatement of it, I could not, without indignation and rage, look on the change of my condition, and ſee Herod poſſeſſed of all I had, and ſo powerful through the authority of Auguſtus, who maintained him in it, and there was but little probability of ever getting it out of his hands.

This put me upon reſolutions of getting that elſewhere which had been wreſted out of my hands at home, and having yet a number of ſhips under my command, I began to make a Sea-war; firſt againſt thoſe only that had taken away my Eſtate, and afterwards againſt all Nations, without any choice or diſtinction of parties. I had gotten with me my Nephew Ephialtes, as valiant and daring a perſon, as ever followed this courſe of life, who contributed much to the carrying on of my deſign; inſomuch that when I had by a great number of rich priſes, got together abundance of wealth, I bought more ſhips, and ſo reinforced my Fleet, and lur'd in a many Souldiers, who found better ſervice and pay in our war, than they would have done in any lawful one. In fine, I became ſo powerful, that I had ſquadrons of ſhips on all Seas. Having made Ephialtes my Vice-Admiral in thoſe parts of the Sea, which admitted not of any communication by Sea, we went and met by Land, having Horſes and private retreats for that purpoſe. So that of a deſolate man, and one that in all probability ſhould have ſpent his whole life in weeping over a Tomb, I became terrible and dreadful to all Nations, the terrour of all that had any buſineſs with the Sea, and famous for thouſands of Prizes, which had made me the richeſt of all the Pyrates that ever were. This courſe of life have I led for theſe ten years very neer, and yet I ſhall not entertain you with the moſt conſiderable actions I have been engaged in, not only becauſe it would require a long relation, ſuch as poſſibly might prove very troubleſome to your Majeſty, but alſo for that I am confident you have already had ſome account thereof, and have, not without aſtoniſhment, heard of the ſeveral changes of my Fortune. I ſhall therefore only tell you, that during the ſpace of ten years, that I have followed this trade, there hapned not any thing memorable unto me, in compariſon of what hath come to paſs within theſe few days upon theſe very coaſts, there having in a manner at the ſame time, fallen into my hands, two of the moſt beautiful preys that the whole univerſe can afford. And this I am confident you cannot but acknowledge, when I have told you that in two days time, I had in my power and diſpoſal the fair Cand [...], Queen of Aethiopia, and the Princeſs Eliſa, the only daughter and heir of the great King of the Parthians. I took the Queen of Aethiopia, juſt at the mouth of the Nile; and this ſoul of mine, which ſince the death of Eliſena, had not entertained the leaſt impreſſion of love, nor ever thought it could have been capable of any, remitted ſome part of its Forces, upon the firſt view of that Princeſs, and, by degrees, became abſolutely ſubject to her Beauties. I was ignorant both of her name and quality; and yet love made me at firſt ſlight the proffers ſhe made me of a conſiderable ranſome, and when afterwards ſhe told me that ſhe was Queen Candace, I would not abſolutely believe what ſhe ſaid, out of an imagination that ſhe might take that name upon her, purpoſely to keep me within thoſe terms of reſpect which ſhe perceived I ſhould not be long able to obſerve. During that uncertainty, I did all that lay in my power to perſwade her to my will, and having found all the waies I took ineffectual, I hoped at laſt to effect my own ſatisfaction, by making uſe of the power I had overher, when that during the ſpace of one night, which I had allotted her to fix on ſome reſolution, this Princeſs, daring above her ſex, and beyond all example [Page] ſet my ſhip on fire, which broke forth in ſeveral places, and caſt her ſelf into the ſea within ſome few ſtadia of this river. You may well imagine what an aſtoniſhment I was in when it came to my knowledge that I had loſt her in that manner. I made the beſt ſhift I could to repair the breaches which the fire had made in my ſhip, that I might the ſooner make after her into this river, whither I conceived ſhe might get upon planks, with the aſſiſtance of ſome men, who had caſt themſelves over-board at the ſame time with her.

We were very buſie a mending of our ſhips, when it was the pleaſure of Fortune, (to make me ſome requital for the former loſſe) to ſend me a veſſel, wherein was the Princeſſe of the Parthians, which having with much adoe eſcaped wrack in the great tempeſt that had been, and being not furniſhed with men to maintain her, came and [...]aſt her ſelf into our hands. We boarded her without any great difficulty, and the firſt thing I was entertained with, was the ſhouts of certain ſlaves, whom I found to have been my ſouldiers, and ſome of thoſe that I had left Ephialtus. They preſently gave me an account of the death of my Nephew, and pointing to a perſon that ſtood neer the Princeſſe, they told he had been his murtherer. I caſt my eyes on the man, and not withſtanding the admirable things I could obſerve in him, yet was I reſolved his life ſhould be ſacrificed to the Manes of my Nephew, whom I had ſo dearly loved, and thereupon cauſed the points of all our ſwords to be tu [...]ned upon him. But good gods, how ſtrangely did he behave himſelf! for paſſing through our armes without any fear, he comes up to me, takes hold of me by the midle, and caſt himſelf into the ſea, with me in his arms. I was relieved and taken up again by my own men, not without much difficulty; but when I had recovered the danger, caſt up the water I had drunk, and put on other cloaths, the preſence of a Beauty which all the World might admire, but that ſeemed orewhelmed with an inſupportable grief, could not make me forget her, who may be ſaid to have ſet my heart a fire as truely as ſhe had done my ſhip. And thereupon reſolving to follow her living, or find out her dead body about this river, I came hither, and landed with thirty of my men, leaving the fair prize I had taken in my Veſſel, under the care of a Lieutenant whom I truſted her with. I wandred up and down the river-ſide all that day, and could not make the leaſt diſcovery of what I ſought, and the nextday, after I had ſpent ſome part of the day in the ſame enquiry, and having divided my men into ſeveral parties, in order to viſit more places, I came at laſt, accompanyed onely by two of them, neer a ſpring, where I ſaw two men engaged in a furious combat. They were both perſons of an admirable goodly preſence, their arms rich and magnificent; but there was nothing comparable to the valour wherewith they fought, but the animoſity they expreſſed in the combat: One of the two had upon his armes, which glittered with gold, the Roman Eagle ſpread in divers places, and thoſe of his adverſary remarkable for certain Lyons, cauſing me to obſerve his ſtature and action, I at laſt diſcovered him to be the ſame perſon that had caſt himſelf over-boord with me in his arms, and whom I had given over for drowned.

I was at a loſſe what I ſhould do upon this occaſion, when, notwithſtanding the attention whereto it might be thought the combat obliged him, he caſt his eyes towards me; and immediately calling me to mind, he retreated a little before his enemy, and having ſaid ſomething to him, which I could not here, he left him, and fell upon me with as little mercy as a bird would on his prey. I was aſtoniſhed at the violence of his proceeding, but though I had then no other arms about me but my ſword, yet I ſaw there was a neceſſity I ſhould put my ſelf into ſome poſture of defence. When I ſaw falling dead at my feet upon the dealing of but two blows, my two companions, who had ſet themſelves before me; I muſt needs confeſſe, that this ſudden execution frightned me a little, and ſeeing my ſelf without arms, to engage with a man armed all over, I was afraid to meet with him, and ſo made away from him as faſt as ever my horſe could carry me. I rid a great way, flying ſtill before him, and he had very neer overtaken me, when coming into a pleaſant valley, I met with a perſon on horſeback; very ſumptuouſly and richly armed, who ſecured me from him, and in the very ſame place had I a ſight of the admirable Princeſſe, whom I ſought after. I was not a little encouraged at this happy adventure, but being not in a condition to carry her away without ſome aſſiſtance, I returned to my companions, and having met with ſome of them, I came back again along with them into the Valley, and with their help carryed away the fair Candace, on horſeback. Tis true, the greateſt part of my ſouldiers, were killed by thoſe valiant men that engaged with us at our coming into the place, inſomuch that I had but one about me by that time I got to the river ſide. Here it was that I was ſatisfyed as to the inconſtancy of Fortune, who had treated me ſo odly in one and the ſame day; for my ſhips were all gone, and caſting my eyes toward the ſea, I ſaw them at a good diſtauce, making as much ſaile as they could away. However I reſolved [Page] not to quit my prize, and accordingly carryed her into a Wood that was hard by, in ſpight of all the reſiſtance the could make. At laſt having made a ſhift to get from me, while I was upon the point of recovering her again, I was ſet upon by divers men on horſeback, and being run through with a ſword, I fell down to the ground with very little hopes of life. That Souldier of mine who had followed me, ſaw me fall at a good diſtance from the place; and when our enemies were gone away with the Princeſs, he came back to me, meeting in his way with another party of his companions, which I had ſent ſome other way, and had not been engaged in the fight we had had. They were extreamly caſt down to ſee what condition I was in, and perceiving there were ſome remainders of life in me, they carryed me to a poor Country-mans houſe, not far from that place. This man was ſent into the City for a Chyrurgion, having before engaged himſelf to keep all things ſecret, and my men having put them both into hopes of extraordinary rewards for the good they ſhould do me, they have accordingly done as much for me as I could have deſired them. I had about me both money and jewels to engage them to fidelity and attendance, and I muſt confeſs, they have done all things with ſo much good ſucceſs and ſecrecy, that they have brought me into the condition you now find me in, without the leaſt diſcovery of any thing.

During the time I remained at that houſe, ſuch of my men as had gone ſeveral times to Alexandria, purpoſely to ſee what news were ſtirring, brought me word that Candace was in Alexandria, that it was the Praeteor himſelf that had wounded me, and that the very ſame day thoſe whom he had ſent to Sea had taken my ſhips, killed all the reſt of my men, together with my treacherous Lieutenant, and recovered the Beauty I had left with him, who had diſcovered her ſelf to be Eliſa, Princeſs of the Parthians. Till then had I been ignonorant who ſhe was; but had learned Candaces name from her own mouth, as I told you before, though my people told me, that ſhe was not known in Alexandria for any other then a Lady of great quality, born in Aethiopio, and one whom it was thought the Praetor was fallen very deeply in love with. In a word my Lord, having loſt my ſhips, my men, and the noble prizes I had taken, with the aſſiſtance I have happily met with, I am gotten into the condition wherein you ſee me, and this very day, as I was thinking of my departure from that houſe, Aristus, ſeeking out where there were any proviſions to be ſold, comes in. We had been heretofore very intimate friends, and, notwithſtanding the alteration, which ſo many years muſt needs have made in our faces, yet after we had looked a good while one upon the other, we called one another to mind, we embraced, and after we had enquired one after another what accidents or occaſions had brought us into theſe parts, he told me, that your Majeſty was hereabouts, and made me believe that my own ſervice, and that of theſe men I have left me, might be worth your acceptance, and contribute ſomewhat to the furtherance of your deſignes. Whereupon I thought my ſelf obliged to follow him, which I did with the greater joy, for that it gives me ſome occaſion to ſatisfie you, that even in the midſt of my misfortunes, notwithſtanding all the changes I have run through, nothing hath been able to force out of my memory the reſentment of your goodneſſes, or the deſire I have, by all the ſervices it lies in my power to do you, to acknowledg them.

The End of the Third Book.

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA; OR, Loves Maſter-piece. Part. IX.
Lib. IV.

[Page]

ARGUMENT.

The King of Armenia acquaints Zenodorus how he had brought away the Princeſſes Cleopatra and Artemiſa, tells him what deſignes he had upon them, and is encouraged in his enterprize by the Pirate. Artaxus is ſet upon by an Egyptian Veſſel, for the deliverante of Cleopatra, and is like to gain the Victory, when an unknown perſon that was in Artaxa's ſhip, awakened by the noiſe, comes in to the relief of the Armenian, and forces the Egyptian to retreat. Having ſecured the Victory, he is known by Cleopatra to be Coriolanus, whereat ſhe is almoſt diſtracted. Upon her reproaches to him for the diſſervice he had done her, he ſwounds, but ſoon after recovers, pleads his ignorance, and the innocency of his intentions. To expiate his crime, he undertakes to deliver her out of the hands of Artaxus, who thereupon ſets his men to kill him, but upon the mediation of Cleopatra, he is proffered life and liberty. He refuſing both, is again ſet upon, kills Ariſtus, Zonodorus, and divers others, and keep all in play ſo long, till a ſhip of Alexandria coming in queſt of Cleopatra, comes to his relief, The ſhips being ready to cloſe, Artaxus threatens to kill the two Princeſſes, whereupon the Egyptian Veſſel, wherein were the Princes, Alexander and Marcellus, dares not fasten to the other. Artaxus would have put his barbarous deſign upon the Princeſſes in execution, but is miraculouſly prevented by Coriolanus, who thruſting him to the other ſide of the ſhip, ſets himſelf before the Princeſſes. Marcellus taking his advantage upon that interval, boards the Arminian. Alexander would have killed Artaxus, but, upon the mediation of Artemiſa, forbears; yet he, ſcorning life from an enemy, falls upon his own ſword. Coriolanus is charged with, and, at laſt informed what his ancient infidelity to Marcellus and Cleopatra was, promiſes to clear himſelf, and is promiſed to be restored to Cleopatra's affection. Marcellus, Alexander, and the two Princeſſes return to Alexandria, whither the body of Artaxus is brought by Megacles, who in his way ſet Coriolanus aſhore, to find out ſome means to approve himſelf a faithful lover and ſervant of Cleopatra.

THis was the concluſion of Zenodorus's diſcourſe, and when he had given over ſpeaking, the King of Armenia acknowledged his obligations to him for the proffers he had made him of his Services, and by way of requital promiſed him, that, as ſoon as they were arrived in Armenia, he would furniſh him with all the aſſiſtance he could deſire, either to reſtore him to his Eſtate again, that he might ſpend the reſt of his life in quiet, or put him to Sea in as good a condition as he had been in ſome daies before. Zenodorus told him on the other ſide, that it was neither prudence nor ſafe for him to make any ſtay in Armenia, becauſe of the Friends of Eliſena, who could not look on him without a certain horrour, and therefore he relied more upon the hopes he had put him into, [Page] of his furtherances in that courſe of life which he was reſolved to follow. Artaxus, who by this unexpected ſupply was twice as ſtrong as he had been before, in men, not onely well verſed in Sea-affaires, but much acquainted with thoſe coaſts, was not a little glad of the adventure: and out of a deſign of engaging Zenodorus the more to ſerve him, he thought it not amiſſe to diſcover to him all that had paſſed, how things then ſtood, and related to him the manner how he had brought away the Princeſſe Cleopatra and Artemiſa, & how that his intentions were to carry them to Armenia as ſoon as the wind ſhould ſerve.

The Pirate was infinitely pleaſed to ſee a King fallen into that courſe of life which he had followed for ſo many years, and being almoſt out of himſelf for joy that he had ſuch a companion, he encouraged him in his enterpriſe, and promiſed him ſucceſs in it, or that he would periſh in his Service. Theſe two ſoules, neer of the ſame making, were extreamly glad at this renewing of their acquaintance, but Megacles, a perſon of a quite different diſpoſition, and one that could not without a certain regreet endure the violences of his Maſter, looked on the Pirate with horrour, and had ſhed many teares at the unfortunate adventure of the deplorable Eliſena. Having therefore taken his reſt (which he ſhould otherwiſe have done out of a conſideration of his indiſpoſition) during the whole time that this relation had laſted, Artaxus, thinking it long ſince he had ſeen the Princeſſe Cleopatra, roſe up from his bed, and was going to her chamber. But before he was gotten into it calling to mind that vertuous unknown perſon in whoſe commendation Megacles had ſpoken ſuch great things, and though he were of a cruell nature, yet upon the account of his courage, which indeed was very great in him, having a certain eſteem ſer noble and generous perſons, he would needs give him a viſit, and ſo went to the place where he was in his bed. The unknown perſon lifted himſelf half up at his coming in, for having heard the word King often ſpoken of in the veſſel, out of an imagination that he might be the King himſelf who did him that civility, he received him with abundance of reſpect, and with as great demonſtrations of cheerfulneſſe, as might be expected from ſo deep a melancholy as he then groaned under. The place was ſomething dark, and the day almoſt ſpent; but it was not long e're torches were brought in, by the light whereof the King ſoon diſcovered the gracefulneſſe of the unknown perſon; which raiſed in him not onely aſtoniſhment but much reſpect for him. The firſt diſcourſe he made to him, was to expreſſe how much he was ſatisfied with the aſſiſtances he had received from Megacles, repeating ſome part of thoſe proffers which Megacles had made him before: and the unknown perſon o [...] the other ſide, though he entertained them not as one that had any intention to make advantage of them, yet acknowledged how great an obligation he had laid upon him, and did it in ſuch termes and with ſuch a grace as raiſed no ſmall admiration in the Armenian. Having underſtood by the account Megacles had given of him, that he was a perſon much inclined to Vertue, he though it not fit to let him know any thing of his carrying away of Cleopatra, as conceiving he might not approve of it, whence it may be inferred that Vertue hath this advantage, that even in the perſons of the miſerable, ſhe raiſes a fear of her ſelf in the moſt happy and moſt powerfull. He told him that he had to his no ſmal ſatisfaction underſtood, that ſince his coming into the ſhip, he had loſt ſome part of that averſion which he had for life, or at leaſt that he would not prove his own executioner as he had intended the day before. The unknown perſon made him anſwer, that as to matter of Life, it was no dearer to him then it had been, when he had endeavoured to rid himſel [...] of it; but that having called to mind certain obligation that lay upon him, to continue it till ſuch time as he ſhould be diſengaged from it, he had reſolved to make one attempt more to meet with ſome opportunity to do it, and conſequently not die with a regreet of having omitted any part of his duty.

That diſcourſe ended, the King asked him whether he would goe along with him, in a voyage he intended to make with the firſt fair wind, or if he had no inclinations to that, whether he had in ſome other deſign any occaſion of his aſſiſtance? The unknown perſon made anſwer, that not able to imagine how he could do him any ſervice by reaſon of the deſpicable condition whereto fortune had reduced him, and ſatisfied on the other ſide that being unſerviceable he muſt needs be troubleſome, he made no proffers of his company, but entreated him, that, e're they ſet ſaile thence, he would order him to be ſet ſomwhere aſhore.

Some further complements paſt between them; but at laſt the King remembring where he was to go, and impatient to ſee the Princeſſe, put a period to the diſcourſe, and having left the unknown to his reſt, which he ſeemed very much to want, he went to the chamber where Cleopatra was. He came to her with a countenance wherein through the Love it diſcovered, was viſible ſome part of the diſcontent he was in; and not able to diſſemble the occaſion of it: All things, Madam, ſaid he to her, are c [...]ntrary [Page] to me, all things oppoſe me, while you are againſt me, nay, the winds themſelves, which ſeem to depend of another power than yours, will never turn to do me any ſervice while I am hateful in your ſight. You may thence alſo infer, replied the Princeſs, the injuſtice of your deſignes, ſince that where there is a want of the aſſiſtance of men, the very Elements fight aagainſt you. We muſt not alwaies, replied Artaxus, meaſure the juſtice of the intentions by the eaſineſs of the obſtacles which we meet within the execution of them; and if you lay that down as a general rule without any exception, you muſt conſequently reconcile Fortune and Vertue, who are ſeldome found to be very great Friends. I am of your mind as to that, replies the Princeſs, and if Fortune did take part with justice, and afford her aſſiſtances to Vertue, 'tis out of all queſtion that you had been e're this puniſhed for the violence you do me, o [...] at leaſt I ſhould not be your Captive. Ah, Madam, ſaies the King of Armenia, do not call her my captive, who her ſelf hath me in chaines, and diſpofes of me with a ſeveraign power! I pray give me leave only to diſpoſe of my ſelf, ſaies Cleopatra, interrupting him, ſince that there's no Law in the world that gives you any power over me. The Laws of Nations, replies Artaxus, are of much leſs authority than thoſe of Love, and it is only to theſe latter, that men, ſuch as we are, that like ſo many ſtars of the greateſt magnitude, are of the higheſt quality, ought to ſubmit themſelves. By this law of Love, whatever my paſſion puts me upon, is juſtifiable, and all that I could alleadge, as concerning the affronts and injuries I have received from your houſe hath much leſs of argument in it than this imperious reaſon.

It was with no ſmall trouble that Cleopatra endured, not only the diſcourſe, but even the preſence of the King of Armenia, and notwithſtanding her reſervedneſſe, no queſtion but ſhe had treated him with a great deale of ſcorn and contempt, had it not been out of a conſideration of Artemiſa, whoſe condition pitied her no leſs than her own, and a conceit withal, that there was no way to keep Artaxus within the bounds of civility and reſpect, but by an exceſſe of patience. Supper was brought them in, and the King to expreſs his complyance, permitted them to eat alone, as knowing they would look on it as a favour, and endeavouring by ſuch behaviour to diſſemble the reſolution he had taken to make uſe of his power, when he were gotten off a little further from a Countrey where he was not over-confident of the ſafety of his prize. He ſpent ſome part of the night in diſcourſes of the ſame nature with the precedent, and when he thought it time to leave the Princeſſes to their reſt, he withdrew into his own chamber & before he lay down, gave order that a good ſtrong guard ſhould be ſet in the ſhip, to prevent all deſignes the Princeſſes might have to get away in the dark. The two Princeſſes paſſed away this night as they had done the precedent, ſave that they were in a much greater fear of their ſudden departure than before, if it were not prevented by ſome unexpected aſſiſtance from Heaven, and the kindneſs of the winds, which did them all the favour they could. Artaxus, tormented with his Love, and a fear of loſing his beautiful prize, could ſleep but little. The unknown perſon disburthened himſelf of frequent ſighs which were heard by ſome in the Veſſel that were neareſt him; And Zenodorus burſting almoſt with grief and rage for the loſſes he had received, had much adoe to find any reſt.

The day hardly began to appear, when upon the firſt dawning of it, thoſe who were upon the watch diſcovered a Veſſel, which being gotten ſomewhat neer them while the darkneſs was not yet diſſipated, made all the ſaile ſhe could towards them, as having a very good wind, that indeed in a manner forced them upon the ſhore. They immediately gave the alarme, and all being prepared, and in expectation of an engagement with the other ſhip, all that were able to bear armes, took them, and came up upon the deck in order to a fight. There were much more armes in the ſhip than were requiſite for the number of men that were in her, inſomuch that the Sea-men who minded only the conduct of the ſhip, could not as ſhe then lay be any way employed, as being in ſuch a poſture as they were loath to quit by reaſon of the advantage of the place, which was ſo advantageous that the enemy could not aſſault them but by one onely ſide. Zenodorus and Megacles having put all into armes, and there being, as I told you, but one ſide to make good, they fortified it with men, and put it into ſuch a poſture of defence, that it was as defenlible as if they had had a far greater number of men. This charge did Zenodorus and Megacles take upon them, becauſe of the wounds which the King had received not long before, whereby he was ſtill a little indiſpoſed, and would fain have had him kept his bed; but he would by no means take their advice, by reaſon of the great concernment which he had to make his party good, and accordingly ſtarting out of his bed upon the firſt alarme, he called for armes, and came up upon the deck in the poſture of a man that wanted not either courage or confidence. Zenodorus and Megacles walked up and down the ſhip, putting all things into good order, and Artaxus ſhewing himſelf among his own people in a poſture of fighting perſonally with them, endeavoured to encourage them as well by example as by words. He omitted nothing of all that he thought might any waies animate [Page] them to fight, and promiſeth them extraordinary rewards, if they behaved themſelves g [...]ll [...]tly, and came off with honour.

During all this time the other Veſſell drew nearer and nearer, and when it was come within a comp [...]ent diſtance, Zenodorus diſcovered by the [...]g that it was one of thoſe ſhips that belo [...]ed to the Pr [...]or C [...]rnelius, and which ordinarily lay in the port of Alexandria. This [...]ſcovery ex [...]ſperated him not a little, as calling to mind the wounds he had received, [...] the great loſſes he had ſuffered by the ſame enemies; and thereupon he told Artax [...] that he [...]eed not que [...]on but he would be ſet upon and that infallibly it was one of t [...]e [...] ſhips purpoſely ſet out by him in the purſuit of thoſe that had carried away Cl [...]tra. Upon this diſcourſe, which made ſome of the company tremble, Artax [...] [...] the entreat [...]e [...] he had made to them to defend themſelves to the utmoſt, and they all promiſed him, though poſſibly with unequall reſolution, that they would ſtand to him, to the laſt drop of their blood. The two Princeſſes, who had awakened at the firſt noiſe that was mad [...], and had, from what they had diſtinctly heard through the ſhip, eaſily imagined the truth of what had paſſed, got immediately out of bed, and betaking them to their devotions prayed the Gods to ſend them thoſe aſſiſtances whereof they then began to conceive ſome hopes.

In the mean time the veſſel of Egypt being come up to the Armenian, the perſon that commanded it ſhewed himſelf upon the deck very well armed, and having made ſome ſign to ſhew that he was deſirous to ſpeak with thoſe of the other veſſel before they engaged, asked him that commmanded the Armenian veſſel. Artaxus having ſh [...]wed himſelf to be the man and asked him what his buſineſſe was with him; My buſineſſe▪ ſaid he to him, is to find out the Princeſſe Cleopatra, and theſe that have carried her away▪ and if you are any of theſe, you are either to reſtore the Princeſſe or prepare to fight. Art [...]us would have been glad to avoid fighting, as not conceiving himſelf [...]trong enough to deal with his enemies who very much exceeded him in number; and accordingly making him anſwer, though not without ſ [...]ame and ſome repugnance. Thoſe whom you ſeek ſaid he to him, are not among us, and there is very little likelyhood that any people having made ſuch a prize ſhould ſtay ſo neer Alexandria, What you ſay, replies the other, may poſſibly be true, but we ſhall not take your word, and therefore muſt ſearch your ſhip, which we are empowered to do by the orders of the Praetor and the authority of Caeſar. Artaxus, exaſperated at this diſcourſe, and perceiving there was no way to avoid fighting; I am not a perſon to acknowledge any orders, ſaid he, nor k [...]w I any authority, that ſhould force me to commit a baſe action, and therefore if it be fighting that thou deſireſt, prepare thy ſelf for it without ſeeking any other pretences.

Theſe words were ſpoken ſo loud that they were diſtinctly heard by the Princeſſe Cleopatra; and out of a fear that ſhe was in leaſt Artaxus might perſwade thoſe of the other v [...]ſſe [...] with fair words, and divert them from their intended deſign, ſhe would needs ſhew her ſelf to them. Finding therefore the chamber door faſt, ſhe ran to a little window that was on one ſide of the ſhip, and opening as haſtily as ſhe could, ſhe ſhewed them her beautifull countenance, which ſeemed to ſhine a new day upon the waves, and lifting up her voice ſo as that ſhe might be heard; Here, generous men, cried ſhe, here is Cleopatra, whom you look after, I expect my Liberty from your aſſiſtance, and I beg it of you out of the compaſſion which my misfortune may have raiſed in your Soules.

There needed no more to ſatisfie all parties ſo as to reſolve upon what was to be done, inſomuch that ſhe was ſcarce delivered of theſe words but the Egyptian veſſell had faſtned her grapling irons in the other. The fight upon the firſt onſet was very terrible, and ſo much the more cruel in that they were come to handy blowes, thoſe that [...]re come to reſcue the Princeſſe, having it ſeems purpoſely forborn to make uſe of arrowe [...] out of a fear they might hurt them. There being therefore on both ſides a many gall [...]nt men, and thoſe animated by conſiderable intereſts and concernments, they all fought with abundance of valour, inſomuch that within a few minutes the waves were dy'd with the blood of both parties. With the firſt raies of the riſing Sun were ſeen the ſwords glittering, and the blowes falling at the ſame time either on the Bucklers oppoſed thereto, or on thoſe unarmed places where the ſteel found its paſſage to diſpatch life. And whereas Artaxus and his men were onely upon the defenſive, and ſtood to their buſineſſe cloſe and covered with their bucklers, it was very d [...]fficult to force them and ſo to board the veſſell. The firſt that came on of the enemies was caſt over-board, and there fell more then one by the hands of Artaxus himſelf. He was gallantly ſeconded by Zenodorus and Megacles, though this latter fought with ſome regret upon ſo unhandſome a quarrell. But after ſome diſpute, the number of their enemies being ſtill greater than theirs, and being alſo better armed then they, and commanded by no leſſe valiant men, and that of Artaxus's ſide there were but twenty fighting men, and the reſt onely ordinary Seamen whom they forced to fight both againſt their wills and their cuſtome, [Page] Fortune began to turn to their ſide who fought for the liberty of Cleopatra, and their Commander having with an unmerciful blow upon the head laid Zenodorus groveling on the ground, and gained the places which he had forced him to quit, his companions took encouragement by his example, and victory ſeemed to declare her ſelf for their ſide.

Things were come to this paſſe when the unknown perſon, who reſted himſelf upon his bed in the bottome of the Veſſel, and perceived that through the reſt he had taken he had recovered his ſtrength, having heard the noiſe, and at length underſtood the truth of what was done, immediately got on his cloaths. And though he ſeemed a perſon little concerned in what was done in this world, yet, his generoſity being not quite extinguiſhed by his misfortunes, he thought himſelf obliged to aſſiſt thoſe men, who had done him ſuch civil offices in his deſpair, and who were ſet upon in a veſſel wherein he was with them. Poſſeſſed by this imagination, he ſtood not to reſolve on what he was to doe in that emergency; ſo that finding his ſword lying by him, he took it, without any other armes, and comes up on the deck; where meeting with a buckler at his feet, he covered with it his left arm, and in that poſture went towards thoſe that were a fighting. Juſt as he came in were Artaxus and his men ready to quit the place, and their enemies preſſing very hard upon them, began to board the ſhip in ſeveral places. The unknown perſon ſtood ſtill a little to conſider how the fight ſtood, and perceiving what an ill condition they were in whom he was to relieve, he ran and ſet himſelf in the head of them, and by the firſt blowes he dealt, let them know that in one ſingle perſon, they had met with an aſſiſtance far greater than they could have expected. The two ſtouteſt and moſt forward men of the enemies ſide fell dead at his feet at two blowes, and ruſhing in upon the reſt with ſuch a force as they were aſtoniſhed at, he diſperſed the moſt daring, in ſuch manner, that in a few minutes, he brought the victory into diſpute which had been before concluded for the other ſide. Artaxus and Megacles were immediately ſenſible of this aſſiſtance which had ſo much changed the face of their affaires, and, perceiving him to be the gallant unknown perſon mentioned before, becauſe he fought without any thing on his face, and without any armes other than a ſword and a buckler, they were over-joyed at the relief they had received in him, and looked upon him as ſome miraculous perſon.

When he had by the firſt blowes that fell from him ſcattered the moſt confident of the Enemy, calling Artaxus and his men to him, and encouraging them to proſecute the fight both by his words and examples; Take heart, ſaid he to them, gallant men, fight with me for your own ſafety, and do not fear enemies that dare not ſtand before you. Theſe words were ſeconded with ſuch heavy blowes, that there durſt not any enemy appear before him; and Artaxus and his men having recovered a little of their courage at this miraculous aſſiſtance, came up to him, and began to fight again with abundance of valour.

During all this time, the fair Cleopatra, who in a ſtrange diſquiet expected the ſucceſſe of a fight on which her liberty, and all the happineſs of her life depended, after ſhe had ſpent a good ſpace in prayers to the gods for thoſe that fought for her deliverance, would needs, if poſſibly ſhe could, ſee them fight, out of an imagination that they might derive no ſmall encouragement from her preſence. To this end coming to the chamber door, which, during the time of the diſorder of the fight, was not guarded, ſhe found a means to open it, and to get up upon the ſtern of the ſhip. From thence ſhe ſoon diſcovered how things had paſt, and perceived, much to her grief, that thoſe of her party fled before the dreadful ſword of the unknown perſon, and thoſe others whom his example had animated, and that that man, without arms, by a prodigious valour, ſweeping all that came before him, forced the others into their Veſſel with much more ſpeed then they had made to get into that of the King of Armenia; Wo is my lot, cryed ſhe at that ſight, overwhelmed with grief! What man is this that the gods have armed againſt me, and why, if they are juſt, have they not made him one of thoſe that came to my reſcue, ſince that I might with more reaſon expect my ſafety from his ſingle ſword, than from the aſſiſtance of ſo many men, whom he puts to flight? Thus, continued ſhe, ſighing and ſpeaking a little lower, did, not many dayes ſince, my unfortunate, or unconſtant Coriolanus fight for me, and with the ſame valour would he fight again, had it but pleaſed the gods to ſend him to me.

While ſhe thus diſcourſed to her ſelf the unknown perſon, whoſe valour ſhe ſo much admired, and was withal ſo much diſpleaſed at, either flung his enemies over board into the ſea, or forced out of the veſſel what ever ſtood in his way; and, being at laſt come up to the Commander in chief of the contrary party, who had fought all this time very gallantly, he burthened him with ſuch heavy blows, that notwithſtanding his extraordinary valour, not able to bear them, he was forced to retreat towards his own veſſel, and had gotten his foot into it, when he receives a blow on the head from the ſame dreadful hand, which made him fall to the ground among his own men, who reached out their [Page] arms to ſave him from falling into the ſea. The fall of their Commander, and the death of the beſt part of their companions, put the enemies to a loſs of all courage, and having as ſoon as they could, got their ſhip clear from the other, they made all poſſible haſte away, and would meddle no further with either the victory or relief of Cleopatra. 'Tis inexpreſſible what affliction it was to the Princeſſe, to ſee all the great hopes ſhe had conceived vaniſh of a ſudden, and with what reſentments was ſhe not exaſperated againſt that valiant, though unknown, perſon, whoſe valour had proved ſo fatal to her? She looked upon him ſighing, and when, after he had ſecured the victory, he turned his face towards that part of the ſhip where ſhe was, which before he had alwayes had upon his enemies, ſhe caſt her eies upon him full of tears But, O celeſtial powers! What a ſtrange aſtoniſhment, what an incredible ſurprize was ſhe in, when in the countenance of that dete [...]table ſtranger to her, who had been the onely hinderance of her liberty, and had returned her once more into the power of Artaxus, ſhe ſaw that of Coriolanus? Here certainly all expreſſion is too weak to make the leaſt repreſentation of what the felt upon that cruel diſcovery, and the ſtrangeneſs of the accident wrought ſo violently on her, and put her into ſuch a diſtraction, that having not the command of her conſtancy for ſome ſmall time, ſhe was upon the point to caſt her ſelf into the ſea at the ſight of that ungrateful perſon, and ſo to ſacrifice to him a life which he had made ſo inſupportable to her, by delivering her up to the moſt cruel enemie ſhe had in the World. She looked on him for a good while together, out of a fear ſhe might be miſtaken, and found it no ſmall difficulty to convince her ſelf of that cruel truth. But at laſt being ſatisfied that her eies did not deceive her, and that it was but too too certain that ſhe ſaw no other then the true Coriolanus, ſhe was out of all patience ſo far, that ſhe diſcovered her grief by ſuch circumſtances and demonſtrations of it as ſhe was not able to conceal, and made the ſhip, and the hollowneſs of the adjoyning rock to echo again with the noiſe of her lamentations. Is it poſſible, wickedeſt of men, cryed ſhe, that thou ſhouldeſt fight againſt the liberty of Cleopatra? This then is the innocence thou pretendeſt to, and wouldſt have had me to believe; Or art thou not ſufficiently ſatisfied with thy former treachery, which had armed the powers of Heaven and earth againſt thee, but thou muſt commit a ſecond more deteſtable than the other, by being thy ſelf the inſtrument to deliver her whom thou hadſt ſo ungratefully forſaken into the hands of the greateſt of her enemies?

She had no ſooner begun to ſpeak, but Coriolanus, (for it was really Coriolanus himſelf) ſmitten with a voice he was ſo well acquainted with, had caſt his eies upon her with ſome precipitation, and perceiving it to be the celeſtial countenance of the Princeſſe whom he adored, he became as immoveable as a ſtatue of Marble; and having, from the very firſt words ſhe ſaid, diſcovered the certainty of his unhappineſſe, that conviction of the malevolence of his deſtiny, wrought ſo much upon him, that immediately a deadly ſhivering running all over his body, the ſword fell out of his hand, his eyes cloſed, and his ſtrength leaving him of a ſudden, he fell down in a ſwound upon the deck. The incenſed Cleoapatra, had not loſt her generoſity, and therefore ſeeing him in that condition, though ſhe was ſomwhat of opinion that that weakneſs might come upon him from ſome wound he had received in the fight, ſhe gave thoſe notice that were about him to have a care of him, ſince he had fought ſo well in their quarrel.

Having ſo done, ſhe found a place to ſit down where ſhe was, and leaning her amiable face on her two fair hands, ſhe burſt out into a rivulet of tears, and deplored the ſtrange and extraordinary misfortune that had happened to her, by ſuch complaints, as no doubt would have moved any ſoul with compaſſion, unleſs it were thoſe of Artaxus and Zenodorus. Artemiſa, who ſate by her, would have comforted her, but not being able to do it, ſhe wept with her for company, and was not afraid to diſpleaſe Artaxus by participating in her lamentations. When the fair Daughter of Anthony had with much ado diſperſed thoſe ſobs which made ſome reſiſtance againſt the paſſage of her voice, turning upon Artemiſa thoſe fair eyes, which, though drowned as they were in tears, ſet all on fire in the ſhip, even to the hearts of unmerciful Pirates; Ah Siſter, ſaid ſhe to her, what fortune was ever comparable to mine, by what means think you am I fallen into the hands of Artaxus, now the ſecond time! That man whoſe innocence you pleaded ſo much, and were ſo confident of; that man from whom, inconſtant as I had concluded him, I yet expected aſſiſtance, nay, that very man whom you ſaw, not many dayes ſince, fighting ſo valiantly in our defence, by the ſame valour delivers us up himſelf, and that into his hands from whom he had before reſcued us, the King your Brothers. Had it not been for the aſſiſtance of his fatal valour, we had been freed; and it was he alone that forced away, nay, haply, killed thoſe that fought for our liberty. After ſuch an adventure as this, never diſpute with me a gain the greatneſs of our misfortunes, and find me but one example in the World that may be parallel'd with [Page] this. I do not think it ſtrange, that Artaxus, an implacable enemy of one houſe, and one that by his former inhumanities had diſcovered the malice he hath againſt us, ſhould treat me with violence and injuſtice: but that he who had ſometime loved me ſo dearly, whom, to my confuſion, I had loved beyond my own life, who had ſuffered ſo much for my ſake, and upon my account, and had been the occaſion that made me ſuffer ſo much my ſelf, and to be ſhort, that that only perſon who ſhould have ſacrificed thouſands of lives for my liberty, ſhould come and expoſe all he had againſt my friends and againſt my reſcuers, purpoſly to return me into the chains and power of Artaxus, and not into his own! Ah Siſter, this, this is what no ages ever produced any thing comparable to, and 'tis ſuch a ſtrange accident as I am not well able to comprehend, though my eyes can but too well witneſs the truth of what I have ſeen.

While Cleopatra broke forth into theſe lamentations, and that Artemiſa, aſtoniſhed at the ſtrangeneſſe of the adventure, gave her the hearing, and wept with her without making any reply, Megacles and diverſe others were gotten about Coriolanus, endeavouring to recover him again, ſome others were employed in caſting the carkaſſes overboard, and to dreſſe thoſe that were wounded, whereof there was no great number. But before they went to viſit them, having looked all about the body of Coriolanus, they could not find any wound about him: and, yet though they caſt water in his face, and uſed ſeveral other remedies, all could not bring him to himſelf again. Megacles, who had the greateſt reſpect of any for him, made it his buſineſſe very earneſtly to recover him, beſides that when they reflected on the aſſiſtance he had done all that were in the veſſel, all did accordingly conceive themſelves obliged to relieve him. Artaxus knew not how he ſhould entertain this ſtrange emergency, and though his firſt motions were inclined to gratitude and acknowledgement, for the great ſervices he had received from that valiant perſon, yet thoſe which immediately ſucceeded them began to raiſe a terrible diſturbance with him. From the words of Cleopatra, which fell from her in the violence of her grief, contrary to her ordinary prudence, he concluded that that man muſt needs be his Rival. But that grieved him not ſo much as to conſider that it was a Rival very precious in the affection of Cleopatra, and the hiſtory of the King of Mauritania's Love to that Princeſſe being a thing known all over the world, from the gracefulneſſe, from the valour, and from all the other demonſtrations and characters of a great ſoul that were diſcoverable in that valiant man, he was eaſily perſwaded that it was Coriolanus, and conſequently he that of all the world ſhould be moſt his enemy, and whom he ſhould accordingly be moſt jealous of in the love he had for Cleopatra. Yet could he not find in his heart to hate him ſo ſuddenly, as well for the conſiderable ſervice he had recieved from him, as that from ſeveral circumſtances it was very probable he was unfortunate in his affection, and that from the reproaches of infidelity which the Princeſſe made him, he could infer no leſs than that that Prince had forſaken her. In this confuſion of imaginations he was at ſuch a loſſe, that he knew not what reſolution to take, caſting his eies ſometimes on the Prince that was ſtill in a ſwound, and ſomtimes on the afflicted Princeſſe. Beſides, it being not his opinion alone, that the unknown was the very ſame perſon he thought him, it went from one to another, that without queſtion it was the valiant King of Mauritania. So that, coming at laſt to the ears of Cleopatra, as incenſed as ſhe was againſt him; yet was ſhe not a little troubled that ſhe had by her diſcourſe diſcovered him; and yet it being to no purpoſe to recall what is once paſt; You are in the right, ſaid ſhe, it is indeed the King of Mauritania, 'tis a perfidious man whom for a double infidelity I am obliged to hate above all mankind beſides; but he is a Prince, how unconſtant ſoever he may have proved to me, deſerves your aſſiſtance for the ſervice he hath but too fortunately done you againſt me, and therefrre ſince you have made ſome advantage of his treachery, you have as much reaſon to look, after him as I have to abhorr him.

To this effect was the diſcourſe of this generous Princeſſe; and though that in all appearance ſhe ſeemed, not without very much reaſon, to be incenſed againſt the unfortunate ſon of Juba, and to have made a ſtrong reſolution not to admit him into her affections again, but to avoid him as much as ſhe could, yet could ſhe not wiſh his death, nor endure the very thought that ſhe ſhould die for want of aſſiſtance. 'Twas for this reaſon that ſhe aggravated his infidelity before Artaxus, purpoſely to make him the leſſe odious in his ſight, and to divert what after ſuch a diſcovery he might well fear from the exaſperated Armenian.

The Prince was not all this while come to himſelf, and while Megacles was very buſie and took a great deal of pains about him, one of the Armenians being come neer him, and viewing him with a countenance ſwelled with indignation; inſtead of the aſſiſtance you afford this man, ſaid he, with ſo much care and tenderneſſe we ſhould do well to run our ſwords [Page] into his breaſt. This is the very man that killed our companions not many dayes ſince, when we carried away the Princeſſes; and beſides the lineaments of his face which I eaſily call to mind again: I have found about his bed the armes of my Brother whom he unmercifully killed in my preſence. This was the diſcourſe of the Barbarian, who could not but diſcover the malicious deſign he had againſt the Princes life, when Megacles hearing it, and having authority over him, gave him ſuch a look as upon which he immediately took occaſion to be gone, with ſome threatning geſtures, that ſufficiently argued his reſentment of it.

At laſt, upon the application of ſeveral remedies, the King of Mauritania opens his eies, and became ſenſible, and having gotten up, he ſcattered his ſcaring and extravagant looks on all thoſe that were about him, and finding Megacles one of the neereſt him, and one that made it moſt his buſineſs to aſſiſt him, he looked on him a while in ſuch a manner as if he would expreſſe thereby how ſenſible he was of his compaſſion and good offices, yet were diſpleaſed at him for them? Will you ever be, ſaid he to him, the cruelleſt enemy I have, by taking ſo much trouble upon you as you do for the preſervation of mylife, and ſhould you not rather have ſuffered me to die, ſince you are one of thoſe that carried away Cleopatra. Charge me not, ſaid Megacles to him, ſpeaking very low, with a crime I have not committed, and confound not thoſe who do things out of a conſideration of the duty they owe their Maſters, with thoſe that ſerve them in their moſt unjuſt and irregular paſſions. Coriolanus thought it not fit to make him any anſwer and perceiving he had recovered his ſtrength again, he gets up, and looking about for Cleopatra, he found her ſitting in the ſame place where ſhe had continued ever ſince they had given over fighting. This ſecond ſight of her had almoſt put him into the ſame condition he had been in before, and reflecting on the diſſervice he had done her by oppoſing her deliverance and liberty, the grief he conceived thereat was ſo great, that he found it no ſmall difficulty to ſupport it. And yet he thought, that, as things ſtood, his onely courſe was to muſter up all his courage, and to ſummon all his virtue to his aſſiſtance, and after the ſhort reflection of a few minutes, thinking himſelf in a better condition, that he met with Cleopatra in that poſture, than that he ſhould have loſt her for ever, he took the beſt heart he could, and with a flow pace, ſuch as argued the ſmallneſs of his confidence, he goes towards the place where Cleopatra was ſtill ſet. She ſaw him coming towards her; and her indignation againſt Coriclanus being greater upon the recovery of himſelf, than her pity had been before, ſhe could not endure he ſhould come neer her, and giving a look ſufficiently diſcovering her diſpleaſure; Stay there barbarous man, ſaid ſhe to him, and come not any more neer a woman whom thy continua▪ treacheries expoſe to ſo many misfortunes! What canſt thou hence forward expect from me, and what further miſchief canſt thou imagine yet to do me, after thou haſt beſtowed me on the King of Armenia. That Prince, inhumane as he is, and though the greateſt enemy of our houſe, hath not betrayed me as thou haſt, and I am much inclined to believe, that he would not give me to any other, as thou, with ſo much baſeneſſe, doſt: Leave me therefore quic [...]ly to him, ſince that it is on him that thou haſt beſtowed me, even with the hazard of thy own life, and aggravate not my afflictions with thy abominable preſence. This heart which ſo unfortunately received for thee thoſe impreſſions whereof it ſhould have been inſenſible for any other, favoured thee and argued on thy behalfe, ſeeking out ſomething, by way of juſtification for thee, while thou wert in armes for Artaxus againſt Cleopatra. Do not therefore think it much to afford her that comfort which ſhe may derive from thy eternal abſence, ſince thou haſt for ever deprived her of all hope of any other, and imagine not, that after I have cleared my thoughts of the image of an uncounſtant man, they can ever entertain that of Artaxus, for whom no doubt but thou art come to ſpeake.

The dejected and almoſt deſperate Coriolanus, leaning againſt one of the Maſts, hearkened to this violent diſcourſe of Cleopatra, having not the courage to make her any anſwer, and the Princeſſe, attributing his ſilence to the confuſion he might conceive at the horrour of his crime, was the more enflamed into indignation; inſomuch that ſhe could not forbear to diſcover it in further reproaches, ‘Tell me, cruell man, ſaid ſhe to him, by what offence had I ſo far incenſed thee, as to deſerve the unworthy treatment I receive at thy hands, and, if I were no longer worthy the affection thou wert pleaſed ſometime to afford me, and which had wrought all the pleaſure and felicity of my life, by what action, or by what defect, am I become ſo odious to thee, as that thou muſt needs ſacrifice my liberty, life, and enjoyments to the moſt inhumane of all mankind; to him, whom of all men I ſhould look on as the moſt deteſtable? Or if this proceed not from any hatred, which I know not how I ſhould have deſerved at thy hands, upon what account of friendſhip or intereſt, couldſt thou do Artaxus a ſervice ſo diſconſonant to the precedent actions of thy life, and to that vertue which thou hadſt ſometimes [Page] the reputation to practiſe? Wert thou reſtored to the throne of thy Predeceſſors by the means of any aſſiſtances from the King of Armenia, or wert thou ſo deeply engaged to him that thou couldſt not any way di [...]engage thy ſelf, but by preſenting him, with that which thou haſt ſometime preferred before the Empire of the Univerſe.’

Thus did the diſconſolate daughter of Anthony diſcourſe, while the King of Armenia and all thoſe that were about him gave ſo much ear to what ſhe ſaid, that they had not any of them the power to interrupt her; and the Prince overwhelmed with grief and confuſion at the apparent juſtice of her reproaches, ſuffered the torrent of them to waſte it ſelf without offering to oppoſe it, and would not have preſumed to open his mouth in his own juſtification, if the Princeſſe had not given over ſpeaking, to wipe the teares that fell abundantly from her fair eies. The dejected ſon of Juba took the advantage of that intervall to rejoyne to her diſcourſe, but it was with no ſmall difficulty that he made a ſhift to ſpeak, ſo much were his expreſſions in a manner ſmothered by ſighes. ‘I am ſatisfied Princeſſe, ſaid he to her, that it is not without ſome reaſon that I am ſo deteſtable in your ſight, and ſince that by ſo many extraordinary demonſtrations and by misfortunes ſo far exceeding thoſe of the common rate, it may eaſily be perceived how odious I am in heavens account, it is but juſt you ſhould avoid the eternal object of its indignation, and have no farther commerce with a perſon ſo ſtrangely deſtiaed to be miſerable. I am guilty of the crime you lay to my charge, I cannot deny it, and in an accident ſo unfortunate I cannot ſtand upon my innocency. I have fought for your enemies, againſt you; I have with all the ſtrength I was maſter of oppoſed your liberty, and I have been the meanes of your coming into the hands of a man whom you would have me look on as the King of Armenia. After the commiſſion of ſuch a crime, I cannot pretend any thing to innocency, and, when their effects have proved ſo deplorable, it were vain for me to plead the harmleſſeneſſe of the intentions. But might it be once the pleaſure of heaven, Madam, that the former treacheries you charge me withall, and for which I am undone; were ſo much within the reach of my knowledge as this [...] which you reproach me with, I ſhould not be as miſerable as I am, ſince I ſhould haply find ſomewhat to ſay for my ſelf by way of juſtification in relation to thoſe, as I can for this laſt.’

‘How is that, wickedeſt of men, ſaid the Princeſſe, interrupting him, doſt thou think to find any thing by way of juſtification for a crime thou ha [...] committed in my ſight, or wouldſt thou perſwade me that I have not ſeen thee with thy ſword drawn fighting for my enemies againſt thoſe that endeavoured my deliverance? Wouldſt thou dazle my own eyes in this, as thou wouldſt thoſe of all the World in thy former treachery, or is it thy deſign to perſwade me that I am extravagant and out of my wits? It is indeed but too too true, replyed Cori [...]lanus, that you have ſeen me with my ſword drawn fighting for your enemies, and I [...]y preſume to affirm, that I haply made their way to a victory, which without my a [...]cance it is likely they had not carried. It is not therefore my deſign to juſtifie the events, but onely my own intentions, which if conſidered alone, I dare affirm my ſelf innocent, if there can be any innocency in an offence whereof the ſucceſſe hath proved ſo fatal to you. You may be pleaſed to remember, that there are not many dayes paſt ſince I fought in your defence againſt the ſame enemies, whom I have this day ſerved, and there is but little likelihood I ſhould ſince that time have contracted any friendſhip with them to prejudice the love I have for you.’ For this man, ſaid he, looking on Artaxus, whom you would have me take notice of as King of Armenia, he knows how that it is but ſome few minutes ſince I firſt ſaw him, and whether I diſcovered the leaſt deſire to be acquainted with him. ‘And for thoſe others, ſaid he, pointing to Megacles and his companions, you may have haply learnt from them, whether they had not recovered me out of the waves into which I had caſt my ſelf, from the top of the rock that covers us, through the deſpair which the loſſe of you had put me into. They can further tell you what trouble they had to make me admit of life, and they know, whether it were out of any other motive than that of gratitude, and a ſenſe of the obligation I ought them for their aſſiſtances, that I took up arms in their quarrel when they were ſet upon. Theſe truths cannot be unknown to you, all thoſe that hear me are now become my enemies, ſince they are thoſe that did you violence, and yet I appeal to them whether I affirm any thing which is not true.’

At theſe words he made a little ſtop, looking about him of all ſides, and perceiving that Artaxus, being much at a loſſe to think of this adventure, expected to ſee what would be the iſſue of it without ſpeaking one word, and that all thoſe that ſtood about him were in [Page] the ſame poſture, and ſuſpence, continued his diſcourſe to this effect. I know not, continued he, whether I wanted any love towards you, when I caſt my ſelf headlong into the ſea, out of the regent it was to me that I could not relieve you, when it hath been known, that in other very conſiderable misfortunes, to which my life hath been expoſed, I have never been charged with want of conſtancy to ſupport them, but theſe very enemies that hear me, know whether, upon their earneſt int [...]eaties, I have prolonged my life out of any other deſire then that of making one attempt more for the ſervice of that perſon to whom the life they prolonged was devoted.

As ſoon as Cleopatra began to find ſome probability in the diſcourſe of Coriolanus, ſhe had heard him very attentively, and out of the deſire ſhe had that he were innocent, ſhe favoured him in her heart as much as ſhe could; and looking on Artemiſa, ſeemed as it were to ask her, whether ſhe was not alſo in ſome ſort convinced of the innocency of Coriolanus? Artemiſa was very much inclined to that belief without any ſollicitation, and it was onely by reaſon of the preſence of the King her Brother, that ſhe would not ſpeak openly in his juſtification.

In the mean time Coriolanus deriving a little more confidence from the ſilence of Cleopatra, as alſo from thoſe diſcoveries which he perceived in her countenance of the diſpoſition ſhe was in to be perſwaded of his innocence, reaſſumed the diſcourſe with an action that argued a greater ſetledneſs of mind. You ſee then, Madam, ſaid he to her, what I can ſay for my ſelf, to juſtifie my intentions: but for the effects, ſince they have proved ſo fatal in relation to your quiet, and that it is impoſſible to recal what is paſt, the reparation I am to make you, muſt be extraordinary. And therefore this very hand that hath done the miſchief, muſt find out the remedy for it, and this ſword, (continued he, putting his hand on the hilt of his weapon, which he had taken into his own hands when he got up) this very ſword that hath put you into the power of the King of Armenia, ought to bring you out of it, or take away his life, were it to be done, not only in this veſſel, but even in the heart of his kingdom. Tis with this reſolution that I caſt my ſelf at your feet, added he, coming neer her, ready to defend you againſt him to the laſt drop of my blood, and it may be in a condition yet to give him his death in the midſt of all his men, if he does not reſign up to me what is mine, and reſtore you to that liberty againſt which I have ſo unfortunately fought.

Artaxus had hitherto, with a great deal of patience hearkned to all the diſcourſe that had paſt between Coriolanus and Cleopatra, and was content to hear the Princeſſe charge him with cruelty, and declare that he was odious in her ſight; but at this laſt diſcourſe of the Prince of Mauritania, he thought his temerity and confidence inſupportable, and accordingly looked on him with a malicious and ſcornful ſmile; Coriolanus, ſaid he to him, I have paſſed by the firſt affronts I have received from thy preſumption, out of a conſideration of the ſervice thou haſt done me, and I have given thee leave to speak againſt my concernments with too much liberty, becauſe thou hadſt defended them with abundance of valour; but now I perceive thy temerity knows no limits, ſo that it will be hard for me to obſerve thoſe bounds which I had propoſed to my ſelf upon the firſt reflections I had made on the aſſiſtance I have recived from thee, and the eſteem I have conceived for thy perſon.

Artaxus, replyed the valiant Mauritanian, looking on him very fiercely, there cannot be any ſuch thing as a mutual eſteem between us, and if my actions have raiſed any ſuch in thee towards me, haply not without reaſon poſſibly have the ſame effect upon me. Beſides, it cannot be expected we ſhould be any longer Friends, not only becauſe thou keepeſt Cleopatra as a captive, but alſo becauſe thou loveſt her. For the ſervice thou haſt received from me, thou art ſoon diſengaged as well by the regret and affliction it is to me that I have done it thee, as by the little intention I ſhould have had to do it, had I known thee to be him that carried away Cleopatra; and for the good office which I received from thy people, when they took me out of the water, I have ſufficiently requited it, by expoſing my life for their defence. We are therefore upon equal terms as to point of obligation, we are equal as to that of extraction, and if we are unequal as to fortune, it is in the power of Heaven, who protects juſtice againſt oppreſſion and iniquity, to make our forces and conditions equal, and to put me once more into ſuch away as that I may be able to deliver Cleopatra If it be the pleaſure of fortune that I periſh in the deſign, expect not thou ever the more that ſhe will be long at thy diſpoſal, nor indeed canſt thou be ignorant that the whole Empire is at this preſent in arms againſt thee, and that, when thou haſt brought the Princeſſe into Armenia, thou wilt be ſoon followed thither by the moſt dreadful forces of the Univerſe, who will deſtroy all that lies before them by fire and ſword, upon ſo juſt a quarrel.

[Page] The Armenian King was ſilent all this while, as if his aſtoniſhment was no leſſe now at the confidence of Coriolanus, then it had been not long before at his valour; and thereupon giving him a look wherein he ſufficiently diſcovered his indignation; ‘Thou ſpeakeſt to me, ſaid to him, with as little reſpect, as thou wouldſt haply do, if thou were in the head of a hundred thouſand men, but there is, it may be, ſome flaw in thy memory, and thou haſt quite forgotten that thou art alone, and without arms in my ſhip, in the midſt of all my men, and that thou art already obliged to me for the life which thou haſt enjoyed upon my courteſie ever ſince that moment, wherein thou gaveſt me the firſt occaſion of diſpleaſure. From this very indulgence Cleopatra might infer ſo much as might oblige her to quit the opinion ſhe hath conceived of my cruelty, and there are few Kings in the World, who having an abſolute power, ſuch as mine is,’ would have ſuffered ſo much from any man, and not have caſt him into the ſea. ‘I ſhall caſt my ſelf into the ſea of my own accord, replied the Prince of Mauritania, when the misfortunes of my life prove ſo inſupportable as to adviſe me to put a Period thereto; but thou wilt find, that, to caſt me into the ſea againſt my will, is not an attempt ſo eaſie in the execution as thou conceiveſt it. And though thou haſt a a great number of men about thee, yet am I confident that the moſt daring among them will bethink him more than once what he hath to do ere he attempt it, and though they ſhould forget all reſpect to the royal character which I bear as well as thy ſelf, they are better acquainted with the mettal my ſword is made of, then to come over-confidently too neer the point of it.’

Artaxus had his hand ready on the hilt of his ſword, and by his own example was going to oblige all his men to fall upon the King of Mauritania, who ſecuring himſelf with a buckler, expected them with an undaunted courage, when Zenodorus, having recovered himſelf of his fall, and the lethargy occaſioned thereby, and being come up to him, told him that the wind was turned, and was very good for their departure thence, and that it was their beſt courſe to weigh anchor, and be gone from a coaſt, where they muſt expect to be aſſaulted again if they ſtayed there any time. Artaxus overjoyed at that happy change of weather, gave order to hoiſe up ſail, and that they ſhould make what ha [...]t they could out of the river. But now was it that Coriolanus made them know what he was, and turning toward Cleopatra, who heard that order of Artaxus as ſhe would have the ſentence of death paſſed againſt her; ‘I beſeech you, Madam, ſaid he to her, be pleaſed to receive this laſt ſervice from me without any repugnance, and be aſſured by the death which I am ſoon to ſuffer for your ſake, what correſpondence there hath been between me and the King of Armenia. I do not ſuſpect you guilty of any, replied the diſconſolate Princeſſe, and notwithſtanding the unconſtancy you have been guilty of towards me, I am better ſatisfied as well of the nobleneſſe of your blood, as of that of your courage, then to make a hard judgement of you in things where there is any one circumſtance that makes any way for your advantage. But how inconſtant ſoever you may be, added ſhe, riſi [...]g from the place where ſhe [...]ate, I am far from deſiring your death, and I ſhall never give way you ſhould receive it in my ſight, if I can hinder it.’

Coriolanus had not heard thoſe laſt words, and ſeeing too men ſomewhat neer him, doing ſomething in order to the departure of the veſſel, he thruſt away the neereſt to him with ſuch force that he had turned him over-board into the ſea, with his ſword, cleft the others head into two pieces. Upon this ſpectacle Artaxus, perceiving it was not ſafe to daily any longer, and repenting he had not fallen upon him ſooner, cryed out to his men to haſten to cut off that temerarious perſon; and when he ſaw himſelf fortified by thoſe that came about him, he advanced along with them with his ſword drawn towards the Prince of Mauritania. But Cleopatra came and ſtood before him, and, ſpeaking to him much more mildly than ever ſhe had done before, ‘Artaxus, ſaid ſhe to him, if ever in thy life thou wilt do an action which I may take kindly at thy hands, attempt not the life of Coriolanus, and remember the aſſiſtance thou haſt received from him, without which I had been out of thy power, and thou thy ſelf haply out of the World. What you deſire of me, Madam, replies the King of Armenia, is a thing out of my power to grant, beſides that Coriolanus himſelf, who, unworthily abuſing the reſpect I have for you, ſticks not to murder my men before my face, is not deſirous of that life which you ſo much beg for him. And yet I ſhall not take it away from him, that I may at length begin to do ſomething that pleaſes you, and though he be my Rival, and that one ſo much the more to be feared for that he is much in your favour, yet ſhall I permit him to live, and give him leave to depart immediately, out of the ſhip, and go his waies whither it ſhall pleaſe fortune to diſpoſe of him.’

[Page] If there be any favour in this, replies the Mauritanian, it were done to thy ſelf and not to me, nor indeed do I make the leaſt doubt of it, but that thou wouldſt be very glad I were once out of thy ſhip; but thou art not guilty of ſo much vanity as to imagine I will go hence without the Princeſſe Cleopatra, and therefore reſolve immediately either to reſtore her to liberty, or to give me my death, and withall to defend thy own life, which I doubt not but I ſhall even in the midſt of all thy men, put once more into danger. Alas! for death, cries out Artaxus, being grown furious to the higheſt degree, thou ſhalt without much difficulty find it at my hands, and here I now ſacrifice thee to my reſentment, and my love, both as a temerarious enemy, and an inſolent Rival.

With this Rhodomantade, having not the patience to give any further ear either to his words, or the cries of Cleopatra, whom he cauſed to be taken away by force from between their arms, he began to make towards the Prince, who, having got to a place whence he could not be aſſaulted, but onely before, covering his left arm with a buckler, and brandithing his dreadful ſword with the right, expected him in ſuch a poſture as ſpoke him a perſon whom no danger could frighten. Artaxus was both valiant and daring; but beſides that, he was not abſolutely recovered of his wounds, and felt himſelf a little too weak to engage in a combat, the great actions he had ſeen him do that day againſt the enemy that would have reſcued Cleopatra, made him look on that enterprize with ſome diſtruſt, and accordingly was not much diſpleaſed to ſee the ſtouteſt of his men expoſe themſelves before him to that danger. Zenodorus, followed by the reſt of his companions, and ſome of the Armenians, animated by him whoſe Brother the valiant Prince had killed ſome dayes before, was the firſt that would venture to come on. Megacles, not able to divert this misfortune, would not however have any hand in the crime, and holding his armes acroſſe at the other end of the ſhip, did all that lay in his power to perſwade to ſtay with him ſuch of the Armenians as had moſt affection for him. Ariſtus, who was the firſt that offered at the King of Mauritania, was alſo the firſt that paid for his confidence; for, having made a blow at the Prince, and he putting it off with his buckler, he received another from him by way of exchange, which taking him in the throat, cut off the paſſage of his reſpiration. For the bloud, iſſuing out of his wound in thick clots, choaked him within a few minutes, and after he had ſtaggered ſome paces backwards, ſpreading his arms aſunder, he ſell down and breathed out his laſt at the King of Armenia's fe [...]t. Had Cleopatra delighted in revenge, and that a b [...]udy revenge, here ſhe might with no ſmall pleaſure have looked on this victime which the Prince ſacrificed to her, ſince it was this man that had ſeized her, and carried [...]er in his armes into the ſhip.

This ſudden diſpatching of Aristus did a little cool the courage of his companions; but [...] withall animated them to revenge him; and the King, who had loved Ariſtus very [...]rly, being extreamly grieved at his fall, cryed out to his men to take heart, and would have been in the head of them, had he been in his abſolute ſtrength, and if ſome of his own, who would not have him to hazard his life, had not ſtood in his way. But this they did partly out of a deſire to pleaſe him, and the fear they were in at the ſight of Coriolanus's dreadful ſword, and partly out of a certain repugnance they felt in themſelves to put to death a valiant Prince, who not long before had ſo generouſly hazarded his life for their ſafety. Thoſe that were the moſt forward to ſecond Ariſtus, met with a deſtiny, not much different from his, and he who was ſo violent to be revenged for his brothers death, coming on a little too raſhly, loſt his reſentments, with his life, by a thruſt which for want of arms found a way into his belly, and which made him fall down into a Rivulet of his own bloud. The deaths of theſe two men made their companions more circumſpect, and more fearful of the length of Coriolanus's ſword. The valiant Prince looking on them with a certain contempt, and frightning them the more by menacing geſtures; It is not ſo eaſie a matter, ſaid he to them, as you conceived it, to take away a mans life, who knows how to defend it, the advantage of number and ar [...]s does not alwayes bring victory with it, and if I die this day, as it is poſſible I may, by your hands, if the gods have ſo diſpoſed of me, I hope I ſhall not dy unrevenged.

Having ſaid theſe words to them, he kept his former poſture, that is, ſtood cloſe to the ſhips ſide to avoid being ſet upon behind, and warding off the blowes which were made at him with his buckler, he looked like lightning on his enemies, and when any one of them inſtigated either by ſhame or the cries of Artaxus grew more daring than his companions, he neglected not either time or occaſion to make him repent his forwardneſs, and alwaies directed his ſword ſo fortunately and with ſuch force and execution, that it ever proved either the meſſenger of death or ſome cruell wound. At laſt Zenodorus, to whom this kind of engagement was more familiar than to any of the reſt, [Page] being aſhamed to fight with ſo much precaution againſt a ſingle perſon, and deſirous to let the King of Armenia ſee how much he deſerved the aſſiſtances he had promiſed him, after he had called his companions about him, and reproached them with their cowardice and baſeneſſe, comes on before them, and, intending to direct his ſtroke at the Princes bare head, Coriolanus warded it off with his buckler. But, having many adverſaries to deale with, and they directing ſeveral blowes at him at the ſame time, he could not ſo well put off that of the Pirate, but that his ſword ſliding down along the buckler fell upon his ſhoulder, and gave him a ſlight wound. Zenodorus perceiving the Prince to be in ſome diſorder, would needs be at him again, and taking his ſword with both hands, he lifted it up high in the air, with a deſigne and hope to cleave the Prince his head aſunder; but at the very ſame time the ſon of Juba, exaſperated at the blow he had received, gave him a back-blow with ſuch force, that the edge of the ſword meeting with the Pirate at the wri [...]s, which were not covered with any armes, cut them both off, ſo that both hands and the ſword fell down at the feet of thoſe that were fighting. The unfortunate Zenodorus, ſeeing himſelf in that deplorable condition, was loath to live any longer, whether that ſtrange misfortune raiſed in him an averſion for life, or that he was perſwaded that through his cruell wounds it would have run out with blood. So that having remained ſome little while as it were in an irreſolution what to do, and ſent forth a doleful exclamation towards heaven, he of a ſudden flies at the Prince, with a deſigne to thruſt him over board into the ſea. And certainly he might have effected it, if the Prince perceiving he made towards him, had not ſtepped aſide with ſo much agility, that the deſperate Pirate not meeting with any thing to ſtay him, and thruſting forwards with the whole weight of his body fell over the veſſel into the Sea, where having no hands to do him any ſervice in point of ſwimming, or to faſten on any thing if need were, he was ſoon drowned, looſing his life after a little ſtrugling, the laſt word that fell from him being the name of Eliſena, it being a certain juſtice in the Gods that he ſhould expire in that Element upon which he had committed ſo many crimes, and was grown ſo dreadful to all the world.

The misfortune of Zenodorus took off much of the ſpirit and eagerneſſe of his companions, which had been the moſt animated by his example; but on the other ſide it put Artaxus into ſo much rage and violence, that being not any longer able to forbear either out of fear or any other conſideration, he came up to the moſt forward of his men, reſolved to periſh himſelf or to take away his enemies life. What, cowardly villaines, cryed he to his own men, you are afraid and give back for a ſingle perſon, and you ſuffer the ſtouteſt of your companions to be killed before your faces and are not able to revenge them? O ſhame beyond expreſſion, the ſtaine whereof neither all his blood nor all ours is able to waſh off! O Zenodorus, added he, ſince thou haſt in my quarrell loſt a life, which thou hadſt preſerved among ſo many dangers, and among ſo many misfortunes, If I cannot make that ſatisfaction to thy Manes which I ought them, receive at leaſt that victime which I now ſacrifice to thee.

With theſe words he comes on full of fury▪ when the moſt affectionate of his men caſt themſelves before him, and kept the Prince ſo much in play, that there was little probability, with all his valour, he ſhould long deſend a life ſet upon by ſo great a number of enemies, and that with ſo much eagerneſſe and animoſity.

Alas! how can we imagine the diſconſolate Cleopatra was employed while they were engaged in this unequal combate; and with what abundance of teares did ſhe bewayle the loſſe of a Prince whom ſhe ſaw p [...]riſhing upon her account, and that a Prince who, notwithſtanding the pretended infidelity laid to his charge, was dearer to her than her own life? What endeavours did ſhe not uſe to divert his enemies from their inhumane enterpriſe? But when ſhe perceived that all her intreaties and ſollicitations proved ineffectual, as to the expectation ſhe conceived from them, what complaints, and what regrets did ſhe not importune heaven with, ſince that, in her misfortune, her lamentations and teares were all ſhe could afford, and indeed all that Fortune had left her? She embraced the comfortleſſe Artemiſa, whoſe teares were mingled with hers, and preſſing her, with an action that ſpoke the height of paſſion; Now Siſter, ſaid ſhe to her, now, may you ſee the extremity of my cruell and unfortunate deſtiny, now may you ſee the moſt extraordinary effects of heavens indignation, that ever fell upon any wretch in this world. After the infidelity of Coriolanus, after the loſſe of my liberty, and after the affliction it muſt needs be to me to ſee my ſelf returned into captivity by no other hand than his whom I loved ſo much, all the miſery I could further expect, was, to ſee the ſame Prince whom I loved ſo dearly, cruel [...]y deſtroyed in my ſight, and periſhing in our defence. If [Page] it muſt needs be the pleaſure of the gods that he ſhould die in my preſence, it had been ſupportable to me that he had done it while he was yet in his miſtake and fought for our Enemies, and that to the former infidelity I might not reproach him with this laſt, which he hath now ſufficiently cleared himſelf of. But the gods thought not fit to leave me that conſolation in his loſſe, and would needs make his innocence appear as to this laſt crime, where of I might otherwiſe have accuſed him, as if it had been done purpoſely that my grief for his loſſe might be the more in ſupportable.

But Sister, ſaid Artemiſa to her, whenever the importunity of her teares made any intervall in her diſcourſe, can you be ſtill of opinion, that this man whom you ſee fighting with ſo miraculous a valour for your deliverance; that he, that ſhould caſt himſelfe headlong from the top of a rock into the ſea, meerly becauſe he would not ſurvive your loſſe and indignation; and that hath refuſed before us the life which Artaxus was content to leave him, purpoſely, that he might ſacrifice it to your ſervice, can be a treacherous and unconſtant perſon; and will you not quit that opinion upon ſo many apparent demonſtrations of his fidelity and his affection? No doubt, Siſter, but I ſhould have other thoughts of him, replies Cleopatra, if in the diſcovery he made to me of his treachery he had not been ſo cruell as to deprive me of all matter of hope, and not leave me any circumſtance whence I might argue any thing on his behalfe. But, I beſeech you; let us have no farther diſpute about his innocence, ſince that if he be found innocent, I ſhall be ſo much the more unfortunate, and that it muſt needs be more inſupportable to me to looſe him innocent, then to ſee him die in his unconſtancy. And yet Siſter, though I ſee my grief muſt needs be the greater, yet can I not forbear wiſhing him innocent, and therefore whatever he may be, whether innocent or guilty, whether loved or hated by me, might it pleaſe the Gods that I could redeem his life with the ſacrificing of my own, and that thoſe Barbarians that aſſault him, would turn their ſwords againſt my breaſt ſo they would ſpare a life which is ſo deare to me as his.

The conſequence of theſe words was a torrent of teares, which when it had almoſt ſpent it ſelfe, ſhe lifts up her eies towards heaven, and reaſſuming her diſcourſe; O ye juſt powers of heaven, cryed ſhe, are you then reſolved to expoſe vertue to rage and cruelty, and ſhall heaven be turned into braſſe onely againſt my addreſſes, when it is open to the Lamentations and cries of other wretches that call upon the gods?

Theſe words were hardly underſtood by Artemiſa and Megacles, who deſirous to have no hand in that unjuſt combat, was come into the room where the Princeſſes were to comfort them as well as he could, but there was ſuch a horrid noiſe in the ſhip about one ſingle perſon, that there could not well be a greater, had there been a fight between divers ſhips. That put Cleopatra in a manner out of all hope of ever ſeeing Coriolanus alive long, when caſting her eye towards the ſea, as ſhe did every minute almoſt to ſee whether there were any thing coming to their aſſiſtance, ſhe diſcovered a ſhip making all the ſaile ſhe could. That ſight recruited her heart with ſome hope again, eſpecially when ſhe perceived by degrees with Artemiſa and Megacles, who alſo obſerved her courſe, that the ſhip tacked about and came directly towards theirs, and was not at that time ſo far from it, but that it might come up time enough to relieve the Prince, if he would but ſtand it out as long as he could. To that end ſhe thought fit to communicate that hope to him, and accordingly ſpeaking to him as loud as ſhe could, by reaſon of the noiſe and diſorder; Take heart Coriolanus, cryed ſhe to him, the gods have ſent you relief, husband your ſtrength ſo as to expect it, and do not caſt your ſelf away through deſpaire, when it is yet in your power to hope.

Theſe words of Cleopatra wrought on him the effect ſhe expected they ſhould, and by a certain miracle multiplying the remaining fractions of courage which were yet leſt in the Son of Juba, when his ſtrength was upon the point to for ſake him, they obliged him to have a greater care of his life then he had had before. Five or ſix of his enemies were laid with their bellies upward at his feet, and made, as it were, a kind of a rampartagainſt the reſt, who, notwithſtanding the cries of Artaxus, and their own great reſolution, were afraid to meddle with him, and thought it greater prudence to expect till wearineſſe had made him incapable of fighting any longer, that they might accordingly kill him with leſſe danger. Artaxus was ſome what of the ſame opinion himſelf, out of a confidence he had that he could not eſcape him, and finding in himſelf, that his ſtrength, grown much leſſe by reaſon of his wounds, was not proportionable to his ſury, as he could have wiſhed, he was content to remit ſomewhat of his rage, and to have a little patience with him.

But, having at the exclamation of Cleopatra caſt his eye about him on the ſea, and ſeen the ſhip making towards them, which he could not take for any other than an enemy, [Page] the violence of his grief was inexpreſſible, inſomuch, that retreating ſome few paces full of confuſion and aſtoniſhment, he was for ſome minutes at ſuch a loſſe, that he ſtood immoveable, and incapable of all reſolution. The firſt imagination that came into his mind, was, that he could not be in a condition to ſtand an engagement with thoſe that came againſt him, eſpecially, when the men he had left, found it ſuch a difficulty to take away the life of a ſingle perſon: ſo that he was in a fear both of looſing Cleopatra, without whom he did not much care for life, and alſo to looſe that very life againſt which he had armed ſuch powerful enemies. Poſſeſſed with this fear, he looked all about him, and perceiving he was at no great diſtance from the ſhore, he had ſome thought to quit the ſhip, and accordingly to avoid a fight which muſt needs prove diſadvantagious to him upon the ſea. But this reflection was no ſooner in his mind, but he conſidered withall that that flight into the land, beſides the diſhonour of it, would prove fruitleſſe, and that, though he ſhould with much ado get aſhore, yet could he not get Cleopatra out of the Veſſel till he had diſpatched Coriolanus out of the way. Nay all this granted as poſſible, and that he were delivered of that obſtacle by the death of the Prince, he conceived himſelf leſſe ſafe upon the land than he was upon the ſea, it being in a Countrey where all things were at the command of his enemies, and where he was not likely to meet with any retiring place for himſelf, or any to conceal Cleopatra, whom he could not think of for ſaking without death.

Theſe difficulties, with many others, coming immediately into his imagination, made him ſoon quit the deſign he had at firſt ſramed to himſelf, and thereupon he took an abſolute reſolution to fight it out, and to defend his beautiful prize to the very laſt gaſp. In this reſolution, looking up to heaven with eyes ſparkling with indignation, and an action expreſſing the very depth of deſpair; Though gods and men, cryed he, and all the elements combine to ruine me, yet ſhall they not abate a jot of my courage, and if I muſt periſh, implacable destinies! you ſhall find I can do it without either baſeneſſe orremorſe. With theſe words, he returns to Coriolanus, as conceiving it abſolutely neceſſary that he ſhould be diſpatched out of the way before the enemy were come up; and thinking it now paſt time to dally, and that he was to make all the haſte hë could with him, he comes up to him in ſuch manner, that the Prince, after he had warded off certain blows which the other had made at him, ſtruck him over the head with all the ſtrength he had. The goodneſſe of the head-piece ſaved him from death; but it was not able to hinder him from being ſtunned in ſuch wiſe, that after he had ſtaggered a while, he fell down within ſome few paces of the Princeſſe Cleopatra, Megacles ran immediately to help him, and Artemiſa, out of the excellency of her good nature, remembring what ſhe ought her own bloud, came to him, and took up the viſour of his head-piece, to give him a greater freedom of breathing, and more aire.

While he continued in that condition, Cleopatra, running to thoſe that were ſtill fighting againſt Coriolanus, and who poſſibly, notwithſtanding his miraculous reſiſtance, would have diſpatched him at laſt, comes up to them without any fear, and lifting up her voice that ſhe might be the better heard; Hold your hands, ſaid ſhe to them, and if you expect any favour from thoſe whom you ſee coming to our aſſiſtance, make no further attempt on the life of a Prince, on whom your own will, within theſe few minutes, depend. Tis the onely way you have left you to ſecure your lives, for you are not to hope for any mercy, if you betake you not to your own Prince, and by complyance make your ſelves worthy the pardon which I promiſe you. Theſe words proved effectual upon ſome part of thoſe that heard them, and particularly upon the Armenians, who were moſt of them perſons of conſiderable quality. Theſe were content to do as the Princeſſe would have them, and, giving over fighting, went to ſee how their King did: but the Pirates, in whom the death of their leader, and the deſpaire of pardon wrought a different effect, were obſtinate in the deſigne they had conceived to take away Coriolanus's life, and, though there were but one half of them left, yet deſpaired not of revenging the death of Zenodorus.

The Prince, perceiving himſelf eaſed, not onely of the greateſt part of his enemies, but alſo of the moſt dangerous and moſt valiant, valued not much thoſe that remained; and though he muſt needs be very much weakened, as well by the continual action he had been in, as by ſome ſlight wounds he had received, yet was he now in greater hopes than ever of gaining the victory, and delivering Cleopatra. In the mean time, Artaxus, who had onely been ſtunned with the heavy blow he had received, comes at length to himſelf, by the aſſiſtance they had given him; but ere he had ſo far recovered himſelf as to know all that were about him, and become maſter of his ſtrength, that is, before he was in a condition to diſcern what paſſed in the ſhip, and to give out orders about any thing, the other that was coming in to the aſſiſtance of Cleopatra, and which [Page] had already been known to be one of thoſe of Alexandria, was gotten ſo neer, that they could hear them hollow that were within her, and in a man [...]er diſcern their faces.

Artaxus having got up, and taken his ſword again, looked about him of all ſides, and perceiving that all his hopes were vaniſhed, he was convinced his final ruine was at no great diſtance. He ſighed again for very grief and rage, as co [...]ceiving himſelf not to be in a condition either to execute his revenge, or keep Cleopatra in his poſſeſſion, and therefore was at ſuch loſſe and irreſolution; that he knew not what ſide to take. Whi [...]e in the interim, the other ſhip came on ſtill with ſuch ſpeed and ſuch hollowing, that it was out of all queſtion ſhe was an enemy, and indeed within a few minutes after Cleopatra and Artemiſa, perceived, in the head of thoſe that were coming to their aſſutance, Prince Marcellus and Prince Alexander, who, that they might be known to the Princeſſes had raiſed up the viſours of their head-pieces. If their joy was extraordinary, the grief of Ataxus, who, upon the firſt ſight knew Alexander, was no leſſe violent. He bl [...]ſphemed againſt Heaven, and railed at his evil fortune, and that hateful ſight filled him no doubt, upon the firſt apprehenſion thereof, with ſatal reſolutions. We muſt periſh, cryed he, but it is but juſt we bury under our ruines thoſe that ſhould derive any felicity from our deſtruction. And for thy part, Alexander, ſaid he, loud enough to be heard by him, aſſure thy ſelf thou ſhall not laugh at the d [...]feat of Artaxus. With theſe words he com [...]s up to the two Princeſſes, and looking on them with eyes red with blood and fire, he put them into a greater fright then ever they had known before; See bere, ſaid he, theſe are either my ſecurity, or my victimes: what ſhall eſcape my love, ſhall never eſcape my revenge, and if it be loſt to me, it ſhall be loſt to all the World beſides.

As he uttered theſe words, he took Artemiſa in the left hand, and with the right preſenting the point of his inhuman weapon to the fair breaſt of Cleopatra, he directs his fatal looks on Alexander and Marcellus juſt at the inſtant that they were preparing all things to faſten the grappling-irons; and addreſſing his ſpeech to the Son of Anthony: Alexander, ſaid he to him, hope not thou ſhalt have any thing to rejoice at in the misfortune of thy enemy, and think not to triumph over me ſo many ſeveral wayes as thou haſt, through the malice of my fortune, and the perſidiouſneſs of Artemiſa. It was through the baſeneſſe of this Princeſſe that ſhe ever came into thy power, and the revenging gods have been pleaſed that Cleopatra ſhould fall into mine; but if my Siſter hath been too ſuſceptible of thy love, thine hath been too ungratful to entertain the affection I have had for her. Thou returneſt again conducted by that Fortune which hath ever been in hoſtility againſt me, with a deſign, and haply in a condition to force them both out of my hands: but know, that thy hope hath deluded thee, and all thou art to expect from this enterprize, is the death of theſe two Princeſſes, Thou maiſt ſave their lives by directing thy courſe ſome other way, and leaving me at liberty to purſue mine: but if thou loſeſt a ſingle minute in conſidering what reſolution thou ſhould take, thou ſhalt find me already reſolved to ſheath this ſword in the breaſts of Cleopatra and Artemiſa.

The King of Armenia had made this diſcourſe without the leaſt interruption, while Alexander, ſeeing him in that cruel poſture againſt the Princeſſes, had given order to thoſe that were preparing to faſten the ſhip, to forbear, and ſtood in a confuſion, and abſolutely at a loſſe what to think of ſo terrible a ſpectacle. Upon the firſt ſight of that Barbarian and his inhuman attempt, his indignation would have broke out againſt him with all its violence; but fearing, on the other ſide, by his precipitation, to loſe what was a thouſand times dearer to him then his own life, his love tyed up his hands, with conſiderations as ſtrong as the other, and kept him in an irreſolution full of perplexity. Thence it was, that he not onely forbore interrupting Artaxus while he ſpoke, but alſo when he had given over, was not able to make him any reply, and onely looked on him with much confuſion, and as if he had been in trance. Marcellus was alſo afraid for Cleopatra, whom he loved as dearly as he could a Siſter, but his ſoul being not upon this occaſion, capable of ſuch a violence of paſſion as was that of Alexander he was guilty of a greater freedom of apprehenſion, and conſequently was the leſſe troubled at the horrour of that object. Hence was it that he took occaſion to ſpeak while the other was ſilent, and darting on Artaxus, a look expreſſing the greatneſſe of his indignation; ‘Barbarous wretch, ſaid he to him, if the ſight of thoſe divine beauties cannot ſtay thy hands, conſider what will become of thy own life in that horrid attempt,’ and doubt not but thou ſhalt looſe it by the moſt exquiſite torments that humane invention ever found out, if thou execute thy barbarous reſolution.

The Armenian ſmiled at this diſcourſe of Marcellus, and looking on him very ſcornefully. ‘Do not imagine, ſaid he to him, that thou canſt frighten me with thy [Page] menaces, or that I ſtand in any fear of death my ſelf, after I have given it to what I love beyond my ſelf; but if thou with Alexander art deſirous of the ſafety of theſe Princeſſes, reſolve immediately to do as I would have you, for ſear your reſolutions come too late. Ah! ſaies Alexander to him, aſſ [...]ming the diſcourſe at laſt, will thy cruelties never have any end, and wilt thou treat me with more inhumanity upon the ſea of Alexandria then thou didſt upon the ſcaffold at Artaxata?’ Thus did he ſpeak to him, as much out of tenderneſs as indignation, when the couragious Cleoapatra, out of a jealo [...]ſie that that ſoftneſs might prove prejudicial to her liberty, and ſtanding leſs in fear of death then of her captivity, and the importunate Love of the King of Armenia, broke that ſile [...]ce which ſhe had obſerved all the time before, and looking on Alexander with a countenance that argued much more confidence than his: ‘Brother, ſaid ſhe to him, have a greater relyance on the gods then to forſake us upon the vain frights which Artaxus would put us into. He dares not put us to death, but though we were to expect it, we think it much more ſupportable then the life he prepares for us.’

Artaxus was in a manner ſati [...]fied that theſe words of Cle [...]patra would have that effect on the ſpirit of Marcellus and that of Alexander as ſhe expected they ſhould, and fearing to be ſurprized, he lifted up his arm as he drew near to Cleopatra (who was gotten ſome paces from him) either to frighten them the more, or poſſibly to execute his bloody reſolution. But, as happy fortune would have it, at the very ſame inſtant of time, the valiant ſon of Juba, who was fighting at the other end of the ſhip againſt thoſe that were leſt of the Pirates, had, notwithſtanding their fi [...]ding him ſo much employment, (minding the ſafety of Cleopatra much more than his own) partly taken notice of what was paſt: Tranſported at the imminent danger he ſaw her in, and perceiving it was not now a time for him to be ſo mindful of his own life, broke through thoſe enemies that ſtood in his way, and laying on the ground all that any way oppoſed him, he got up to the King of Armenia with ſo much ſpeed, that, before he was ſenſible of his coming, he gave him a thruſt with ſuch force that he laid him at his feet and tumbled him upon the deck to one ſide of the veſſel. Artaxus made a ſhift to get upon again, but e're he could do it, Coriolanus was gotten before Cleopatra in a condition to defend her, while in the mean time Alexander and Marcellus in taking their advantage of this intervall had cauſed their ſhip to cloſe with the other, and, notwithſtanding the oppoſition of the Armenians and the Pirates, who joyned with them with abundance of reſolution, made their way through and boarded the Armenian.

This fight, as it was undertaken upon a barbarous occaſion, ſo was it managed with more animoſity than ordinary, and upon that account was it that there was ſome blood ſpilt, which upon another occaſion had haply, through the clemency of the Chiefs, been ſpared. The Egyptian ſouldiers that followed Alexander put all they met with in their way, to the ſword; but that Prince and Marc [...]llus ſcorning a victory too eaſily gained, ran to Cleopatra and Artemiſa, and if love obliged the ſon of Anthony to mind in the firſt place what he moſt loved, Friendſhip had in a man [...]er the fame effect upon the ſon of Octavia. Alexander, full of fury and indignation ran towards Artaxus, whom rage had upon the laſt and moſt violent attempts, and who muſt needs have expected the execution of a juſt revenge; but Artemiſa ſtepped before him, and ſpeaking to her deareſt Alexander with her natural goodneſs; ‘Alexander, ſaid ſhe to him, put not to death the King my Brother, and ſatisfie your ſelf with the victory and poſſeſſion of Artemiſa.’ Alexander let fall the point of his ſword at this diſcourſe, and looking on the Princeſſe with an action full of affection and reſpect; Madam, ſaid he to her, had not you laid your commands on me, I ſhould have conſidered in the perſon of Artaxus both the blood of Artemiſa and the dignity of a King. Whereupon, turning to Artaxus, who, ſwelling with rage and confuſion, and overpreſſed with grief and wearineſſe, ſate upon the deck, whence darting his ſcattered looks of all ſides, his thoughts ran upon what was moſt barbarous and horrid. ‘King of Armenia, ſaid he to him, thou ſhalt receive from us what thou haſt never granted any one, and what indeed thou ſhould not expect, if thou call to mind that cruel ſcaffold upon which my head was once made a publick ſpectacle. We leave thee thy life, and abſolute liberty to diſpoſe of thy ſelf as thou pleaſeſt, and deſire no other advantage than that of delivering Artemiſa and Cleopatra out of thy cruel hands. From this difference of carriage, thou maiſt reflect on what there is between us, and from the ill ſucceſſe of thy enterpriſes infer what horrour and vengeance the good and juſt powers of heaven have for thy violences and cruelties.’

To this effect was the diſcourſe of Alexander when the King of Armenia, looking [Page] on him with eies wherein the rage which poſſeſſed him was viſibly apparent; ‘Be not ſo fond as to imagine, ſaid he to him, that I will accept of a life from the ſon of Anthony, the Cajoller of Artemiſa, and the brother of Cleopatra. Thy very birth made thee my enemy, thy crime armed me againſt thee, and thy Siſter, by the little regard ſhe had for my love, hath deprived me of all the deſire I could have had for life. Think not then that I will owe it to him who hath occaſioned me ſo many misfortunes, or ſurvive the hope I now loſe both of being revenged of thee, and poſſeſſing Cleopatra.’ With theſe words he riſes with his ſword in his hand from the place where he was ſet, and rowling his dreadful eyes about him, gave all notice as it were of the horrid reſolution he had taken. The two Princeſſes, who were beſt acquainted with his furious humours, ran behind their defenders, and the Princes ſet themſelves before them in a poſture to oppoſe Artaxus, if he ſhould attempt any thing. The cruel King having conſidered his weakneſſe, and the little probability there was he ſhould execute what his reſentments inſpired him with, hearkned to the temptation of his evil genius, and after the ſilence of a few minutes; Implacable Fortune, ſaid he at laſt, thou ſeeſt me ruined, but not vanquiſhed, and though, by thy unjuſt aſſiſtance thou haſt made the blood of Anthony to triumph over that of Artabazus, yet is it not to thee, but to my own revenge and love that I now offer this great ſ [...]crifice.

Having uttered theſe words, with a furious action he turned the point of his ſword againſt his breaſt, and directing it to a certain place where there was nothing of arms to oppoſe its paſſage, he fell upon it ſo of a ſudden, that no man had the time to prevent him and that ſo effectually, as to his deſign, that the murdering ſword meeting with no reſiſtance, ran him quite through, and, paſſing through thoſe parts which are moſt neceſſary for the preſervation of life, deprived him of it in a moment. Though that unfortunate King had drawn upon himſelf the deteſtation of all thoſe that were preſen [...] at his death; yet were there ſome among them, who could not but pity his misfortune: and though Alexander were a perſon that of all men had the moſt juſt ground to hate him, yet was he extreamly troubled for him, even to the ſhedding of tears at that deplorable adventure. Artemiſa ran immediately to her Brother with a face over-flown with tears, and bewailed his loſſe with all the lamentations, which an exceſſe of good nature could put into a womans mouth. Cleopatra, Coriolanus, and Marcellus thought themſelves concerned in it meerly out of a conſideration of generoſity, and not long after, they all jointly acknowledged the juſtice of the gods in that example, and ſubmitted to their will in the puniſhment of that cruel King. Artemiſa was ſtill about the body of Artaxus with Megacles and the reſt of the Armenians who had their lives given them upon the mediation of Cleopatra. Cleopatra returned her thanks to Marcellus and Prince Alexander for their aſſiſtance, and Coriolanus, not able to ſtand for wearineſſe by reaſon of the continual action he had undergone for ſo long time, and the weakneſſ he was in, through certain wounds he had received, was ſate down, and looked on what paſſed as a perſon diſtracted by different reflections, when Marcellus and Alexander, caſting their eyes on him, knew him. Their aſtoniſhment was not ſmall at that accident, for Alexander, having been acquainted by Marcellus with the pretended infidelity of Coriolanus, he was no leſſe ſurprized then Marcellus, to find him with Cleopatra. Now, Alexander, having ever loved the perſon, and reſpected the vertue of the Son of Juba, thought not the ground he had to hate him ſo great as ſhould oblige him to forget the eſteem he ſometimes had had for him. But Marcellus, whoſe reſentment proceeded from a more violent paſſion, could not abſolutely moderate himſelf in that emergency, and looking accordingly on the Princeſſe Cleopatra with a countenance wherein might be ſeen the lively characters of his aſtoniſhment: ‘What, Siſter, ſaid he to her, is the King of Mauritania among you? And is that Prince, who is guilty of ſo horrid an infidelity both againſt you and me, ſo neer Cleopatra, whom he had ſo ungratefully forſaken? You may credit your own eyes, ſayes Cleopatra to him, and know withall, that that very inconſtant man whom you find ſo neer me, hath fought all this day alone againſt Artaxus and all his men, hath killed the greateſt part of thoſe you ſee laid along upon the deck, overthrew Artaxus in your preſence at the very inſtant, that he was going to take away my life, and hath done ſo much in my aſſiſtance, that without it, yours had come too late, and I had been yet in the hands and power of the King of Armenia. I never queſtioned, replies Marcellus, but that Coriolanus was the moſt valiant Prince upon earth; but we may as little doubt, for your part and mine, but that of all men he is the moſt unfaithful both to his Miſtriſſe and his friend.’

Coriolanus, as it were, awakened by this diſcourſe, out of thoſe reflections wherein his thoughts were employed before, and looking on Marcellus with a certain diſcovery of his reſentment; ‘Marcellus, ſaid he to him, now do I perceive that thy cruelty knows no [Page] limits, and thou thinkeſt it nothing to cruſh a miſerable man with ſuch indignities as he could not have expected from a Prince that had ſometimes been his friend. It is a great demonſtration of my fidelity, that I ſuffer theſe affronts from thee with patience, and not many dayes ſince, when thou hadſt an implacable deſign againſt my life, I preſented my breaſt to the point of thy ſword without the leaſt oppoſition, though it be not unknown to thee that I am able to defend it. If it be any trouble to thee that thou didſt not then take it from me, come now and deſtroy the pittiful remainders that are left of it, and ſatiate thy ſelf with my blood without tormenting me continually with thy cruel perſecution. Acknowledge the difference there was between us in point of friendſhip, ſince that, for an imaginary perfidiouſneſſe which thou woulſt have to be conſtrued a real infidelity, thou art bent againſt my life with ſo much inhumanity, and that by ſo many unworthy actions of thine, (whence I cannot but too much infer thy baſeneſſe) thou couldſt never abate any thing of that affection which my heart hath conceived for thee, and does ſtill preſerve, indeed, but with too too much fidelity. Go cruel man, triumph over my misfortune by thy change, and proſecute, with Cleopatra, thoſe enjoyments which I am content to reſign to thee. I muſt needs at laſt conclude from the conformity which I perceive there is between her ſentiments and thine, that it is upon thy account, and to enjoy thee, that ſhe ſlights me, as conceiving her fortune will be much better with Caeſars Nephew, a perſon deſtined for the Empire of the Univerſe, then with a beggarly diſpoſſeſſed Prince, whom Fortune hath not left any thing but his ſword. And yet as contemptible and as wretched as I am, I would not reſign the intereſt I have in her to Tiberius, while I had one drop of bloud left in my veines, and I would wander all over the World, but I would find him, and take away his life, did I but once imagine that Clcopatra were deſigned for him. But for thee, who didſt ſometimes quit the pretentions thou hadſt to her, to me, I find in my ſelf a complyance for thee, ſuitable to ſo great an obligation, and if I cannot look on thy fortune without dying, I will be ſo far from being any way thy hindrance, that I ſhall haply by my death remove out of thy way the greateſt obſtacle which any other but thy ſelf could have met with in ſuch a buſineſs.’

This was the diſcourſe of Coriolanus, and notwithſtanding the cruel prejudice, whereby ſome, that were concerned in it, were poſſeſſed, yet had it that influence upon their ſpirits, that it was impoſſible for them to conceal the diſcoveries of their ſympathy. Marcellus, who was a perſon of an excellent good nature, could not diſſemble it; and doing himſelf a certain violence to expreſſe what he felt within him; ‘Coriolanus, ſaid he to the Prince, how far ſoever I ought to be perſwaded of thy infidelity, yet have I not ſo great an a verſion for thee, but that I would ſpend the beſt part of my blood, might it contribute any thing to thy juſtification; and if thy proceeding had been ſuch as to leave us any thing to doubt of, thou hadſt found an advocate in my heart, that would have maintained thy innocence againſt all the World to the laſt minute of my life. But, Coriolanus, thou wert not pleaſed to afford us that comfort, and haſt taken ſuch a courſe to have thy crime noiſed through the whole Roman Empire, that unleſſe we had been without the limits of it, baniſhed into the moſt remote parts of the earth, it was impoſſible we ſhould be ignorant thereof. Ask the moſt inconſiderable perſon among the Romans what the infidelity of Coriolanus was, and by what means it broke forth; and then ask Caeſar, ask all the Romans, nay, Cleopatra her ſelf, whether I have betrayed thee, or whether, from the day that for thy ſake I have diſengaged my ſelf from the affection I had for her, I ever looked on her otherwiſe then as a Siſter, or minded any mans intereſts as to her, but thine. Do not therefore charge either her or me with any baſen eſs, ſince there hath happened no change in our ſentiments, and that when we both accuſe thee with a departure from thy former thoughts, and the infidelity thou haſt committed againſt us, infer not that I have quitted Julia, for Cleopatra, or that Cleopatra, ſhunning Coriolanus as a monſter of ingratitude, hath looked on the Empire, or Marcellus, or indeed any other perſon that thou canſt any way reproach her with.’

Coriolanus, being out of all patience at this diſcourſe, riſes up of a ſudden, and coming to Marcellus in an exceſs of paſſion; ‘I am ſatisfied, ſaid he to him, that what thou ſaiſt is true; but thou muſt either run me through this heart with thy ſword, or expect to ſee me fall upon the point of my own, after the example of the King of Armenia, or let me underſtand at laſt, what this infidelity is, which is ſo well known to all the World, and unknown onely to the perſon that hath committed it. I have nothing in particular to acquaint thee withal, replies Marcellus, but it was ever my opinion, [Page] that was apparant to the eyes of all the World carryed crime enough in it to deny thee the thought of innocence, and that thou needeſt not expreſſe thy ſelf more plainly both to Cleopatra and Marcellus, then by ſending plenipotentiary Ambaſſadours to Caeſar with credentialls under the great Seal of Mauritania, to demand of him the Princeſſe Julia in marriage, and thereupon to do him homage for thy Kingdom.—Who? I! cries out the Prince, at this diſcourſe of Marcellus, have I ſent Ambaſſadours to Caeſar to demand Julia of him, and to do him homage for my Dominions? Tis true Coriolanus, ſaies the Princeſſe Cleopatra, who had been ſilent all the time, tis true, Coriolanus, you did ſend them, and if we had not ſeen them our ſelves with their credential letters in form, and with full power, we ſhould hardly have been perſwaded to a thing ſo improbable. Theocles, one of the moſt eminent of your Subjects, was the chief perſon of that Embaſſy, and he came along with Voluſius to Rome, at his return out of Mauritania. There was nothing omitted in that affair, either as to ſolemnity or form, and if it wrought not the effect you expected it ſhould, it hath raiſed in the heart of your friend, and that very juſtly, the reſentment he hath diſcovered to you, and in that of the unfortunate Cleopatra, a grief which will bring her to the grave.’

Cleopatra having thus diſburtnened her thoughts by this diſcourſe, Camilla, whom the vertue of that Prince had ever obliged to ſide with him, perceiving he was mute and immoveable at theſe reproaches, comes to him, and in few words acquainted him more at large, with the cauſe of his misfortune, and the truth how all things were managed between Voluſius and his Ambaſſadours. The ſon of Juba no leſſe caſt down at this diſcourſe then if he had been ſtruck with a thunder-bolt, ſtood ſtill for a good ſpace of time looking ſtill about him as if it had been to ſeek for ſome either to witneſs his innocence, or make good the charge put in againſt him. At laſt, diſpelling his aſtoniſhment, and fe [...]ring his ſ [...]lence might be thought an argument of his guilt, he comes nearer to Cleopatra, and ſetting one kn [...]e to the ground; Madam, ſaid he to her, I humbly crave your pardon, for my having charged you with any thing unjuſtly: I ſhould have known, that you are just in all things, and thence have inferred, that your change could not proceed but from a cauſe ſuitable thereto. I might haply, not without reaſon, hope it from your goodneſs and the friendſhip of Marcellus, that you would have proved my advocate to your ſelf, and plead my cauſe against the artifices and deſignes of my enemies. And this it was not hard for you to take notice of; ſince there was little likelihood I ſhould ſo much court the allyance and friendſhip of Caeſar when I was poſſeſſed of the throne of my Anceſtors, having ſlighted it in a time when I had no favour or fortune to hope for, but from him alone, or that I ſhould voluntarily offer him the homage of my kingdomes after I had conquered them by open war, and the defeat of his forces, when I had not long before refuſed them of him upon thoſe very terms. But, in fine, ſince I have not been ſo fortunate as to find that protection in you, and that you have really been perſwaded that I had been guilty of a baſeneſs ſo improbable as that, and▪ if I may preſume to ſay it, ſo diſconſonant to the other actions of my life, it concerns me [...]o endeavour my own juſtification, and to ſatisfie both you, and all the world beſides, of the impoſſibility there is I ſhould be guilty of ſo baſe an infidelity. I muſt find out Voluſius and Theocles, and I muſt find out Ti [...]rius, who, no doubt, is the Authour of this cruel intrigue. I hope, through the aſſiſtance of the gods, to make my innocence apparent to all and am confident that within a ſhort time I ſhall diſpel all theſe miſts of plots and prejudice. But▪ Madam, you may be pleaſed to remember, that when you baniſhed me out of your ſight for ever, and pronounced that dreadful ſentence, which hath occaſioned all my loſſes, I was maſter of two great Kingdoms which I came to preſent you with, and that through the deſpair you put me into, you deprived me not only of the power but even of the deſign I had to go and maintain them, as no doubt I could have done againſt all the forces of the Univerſe. Through that misfortune is it now come to paſſe that I have nothing left me, as having lost, not onely the crowns I had conquered, but alſo the Friendſhip of Caeſar. from whom I was to hope for all I could expect. So that when I ſhall return again into your ſight, in a condition innocent enough to hope a readmiſſion into your favour, I ſhall have no Crown to offer you nor indeed a refuge in any part of the earth, it being not ſo eaſie for me to expect a ſecond revolt of my Subjects, after I have by my negligence betraied them to Caeſars ſeverity, and the orders he hath ſetled in the Provinces ſince his laſt conquest thereof. Thus Madam, can I not caſt my eies on you with any confidence; nor indeed deſire▪ you ſhould faſten your ſelf to the fortunes of miſerable perſon that hath not an inch of earth to offer you and to entertain you in. However I go my waies in order to my juſtification, ſo to ſatisfie both my love and my duty, by both which I am equally obliged thereto: and when I ſhall have affected it, I ſhall either, out of a complyance with the will of the gods, not diſturb a better fortune, which it is in their power to ſend you, or, with my hopes, loſe a life which muſt needs be troubleſome to you, and to me inſupportable.

To this effect was the diſcourſe of Juba's ſon, and Cleopatra and Marcellus were ſo moved thereat, as alſo at the reflection he cauſed them to make upon the deplorable change of his condition, that they could not forbear teares, and all other demonſtrations of the tenderneſſe, compaſſion, and ſympathy, which might be expected upon ſuch an occaſion. Cleopatra, the moſt concerned of any to expreſſe her ſentiments to the Prince, looking on him with with eies wherein could not be ſeen any thing of diſpleaſure; ‘Go Coriolanus, ſaid ſhe to him, go, and endeavour your juſtification, I deſire you ſhould effect it, no leſſe than you do your ſelf. 'Tis poſſible you might be ſufficiently juſtified in my apprehenſions by the things you have done for my deliverance, by the probability which I find in your diſcourſe, and by the good opinion I have of you, were it not requiſite to make your innocence apparent, that ſo it might be lawfull for Cleopatra to readmit you, with honour into her former favour and affection. They are but juſtrewards of pour fidelity, if you have continued in it, and the loſſe of your Kingdomes ſhall looſe you nothing in my heart, if yours have ſuffered no change. In the mean time conceale your ſelfe in a Country where you are to feare all things,’ as being ſo near [Page] ſo powerful an enemy; and aſſure your ſelf that in the uncertainty I may be in of your fidelity, I am not ſo little concerned in the ſafety of your life, but that I tremble when I reflect on the hazards whereto you expoſe it.

With theſe words ſhe reached forth her hand to raiſe him up, and the Prince imagined to himſelf ſo much kindneſs and obligation in what ſhe had ſaid, as alſo in all the other demonſtrations of her affection, that for the time he had in a manner loſt all remembrance of his misfortunes. He ſtood ſtill and made no reply, not knowing how to expreſs his reſentments, when Marcellus, looking on him with eyes red, by reaſon of the tears he had ſhed; Prince, whom I once loved ſo dearly, ſaid he to him, and whom I cannot yet hate, if you are innocent, I know not what reparations to make you; but what condition ſoever you may be found in, I here promiſe that I will never oppoſe you.

Having ſaid thus much, they all went towards Artemiſa, who was ſhowring down her tears upon the body of her Brother, and, after they had given her a little time to recover her ſelf, they intreated her to paſs into the other Veſſel. Artemiſa was content, and was handed in by her Alexander, who, looking on her now as Queen of Armenia, by reaſon of the general opinion there was of the death of Ariobarzanes, would have behaved himſelf with more reſpect towards her than he had done before, would ſhe have permitted it. They ordered Megacles to carry the body of Artaxus to Alexandria, that it might be embalmed, and tranſported thence into the monument of his Fathers: and Coriolanus, who had a great eſteem for Megacles, out of a conſideration of his vertue, would needs be carried aſhore in his ſhip. Cleopatra, Marcellus, Alexander, and Artemiſa, having once more taken their leaves of him, went into their own, and, with all the joy and ſatisfaction, which they could derive from the liberty of the two Princeſſes, ſet ſaile towards Alexandria.

The End of the Nineth Part of Cleopatra.

HYMENS PRAELUDIA; OR Loves Maſter-peice. Part. X.

[Page]

LIB. I.

ARGUMENT.

Artaban and Eliſa, Princeſs of the Parthians, take ſanctuary in Alexandria. Agrippa, under whoſe protection they had caſt themſelves, falls in love with Eliſa, but out of conſideration of Vertue and Generoſity, forbears the diſcoveries of his affection. Candace and Eliſa diſcourſe of their loves. Caeſaria (generally known by the name of Cleomedon) comes to Alexandria, upon intelligence that Queen Candace was there, with whom he hath a ſecret interview in the night-time. He entertains her and Eliſa with a continuation of his Hiſtory. He gives battle, with 16000 men, to Tiribaſus, who had 100000, is left for dead in the field, but afterwards miraculouſly recovered by Eteocles, who was left in a condition not much better. The next day after the battel, Eurinoe, an Ethiopian Lady, coming into the Field to ſeek the body of her beloved Teramenes, is brought alſo to that of Cleomedon, whom, as having killed him, and not long before a Brother of hers, ſhe would have run through with a dagger, but is prevented by Eteocles. Making a ſecond attempt to do it, ſhe finds ſomething in his Countenance, which being taken with, ſhe had compaſſion on him, cauſing him and Eteocles to be carryed to he [...] Castle, where they were nobly entertained, and recovered of their wounds. Euri [...]oe, having given order for the enterrement of her dear Teramenes, he miraculouſly recovers to life, and is brought by Pelorus to a Siſters houſe of his, where he is ſecretly Cured, and informed of all that paſſes at Eurinoe's. She falls in love with Cleomedon, whom ſhe much preſſes to promiſe her a mutual affection: but he perſiſting in his former reſolutions of vertue, and constancy towards Candace, all proves ineffectual. Several conferences they had together to that purpoſe, moſt of which are over-heard by Teramenes, who thereupon conceives a great eſteem for Cleomedon. At laſt Teramenes is reconciled to Eurinoe, and by the mediation of Cleomedon they are married before his departure thence; and, in requital of his good offices, furniſh him with all things neceſſary. He goes to Telemactrus and Oriſthenes, to whom he diſcovers himſelf, and acquaints them with the deſign he had againſt Tiribaſus.

IN the mean time, the Queen of Ethiopia, and the Princeſs of the Parthians were gotten into Alexandria, and after that the two Princeſſes had been diſpoſed into their ſeveral lodgings, Cornelius, who had already taken order for the entertainment of the King of the Medes, did the like for the accommodation of Artaban. This latter, though he were not looked upon as a perſon of a royal rank, as Tygranes was, yet was he treated with as much reſpect as any of thoſe that wore Diadems; and the great reputation he had acquired, ſuch as was already ſpread over the whole earth, added to the gracefulneſs of his countenance, and that majeſtick aire which was ſo remarkable in his perſon, made Agrippa, and the Praetor of Egypt conſider him as a man worthy of all the reverence and acknowledgment that might be due even to the Caeſars. Though by an extraordinary indulgence of good fortune he had come off without wounds, having been engaged [Page] in ſo great a fight as he was that day, yet was he not ſo throughly recovered of thoſe he had received before, but that the action he had been in, had weakned him ſo much, as that he ſtood in need of ſome reſt. Eliſa could have wiſhed he ſhould take his eaſe for a certain number of daies; but, not able to perſwade him to it, by reaſon of the impoſſibility which he urged there, was, he ſhould forbear waiting on her for ſo long time, after he had ſo miraculouſly met with her again, ſhe laid her commands on him not to ſtir out of his bed for that night, and the beſt part of the next day, though ſhe did no ſmall violence to her ſelf meerly out of the tenderneſs ſhe had for his health. He obeyed her commands with that reſpectful ſubmiſſion, which, notwithſtanding his heat & fierceneſs, he had ever obſerved towards her, and, receiving the lodgings appointed him, and the Officers whom Cornelius ordered to waite on him, with abundance of ſatisfaction and reſpects, he paſſed over that night in his bed with reflections much different from thoſe which he had had, for ſome that preceded it. Certain it is, that that great ſoul, great even among thoſe that could pretend moſt to greatneſs, though it were not immoderately ſubject either to grief or joy, was at this time ſenſible of both: for as it had, in the loſs of Eliſa, made tryal of the greateſt ſpight that a malicious fortune could do him; ſo in the happy recovery of her, he had met with the ſweeteſt ſatisfaction he could be capable of.

During theſe pleaſant entertainments of his thoughts, reflecting on the many extraordinary accidents that checquered his life, and not a little delighted with the conſideration of thoſe many victories that had raiſed his fame to ſo high a pitch, and the noble demonſtrations of his affection to his Princeſs, he could hardly for ſome time ſo much as think of the misfortunes he had already run through, or the oppoſition he might for the future meet withal, through either the cruelty of Phraates, or the troubleſome enterview between him and the King of the Medes. All this ſignified very little with him, when it came into his mind that he had found Eliſa again, that, by many diſcoveries, he found her not diſpleaſed that ſhe had met him, that he was within the ſame walls with her, and that in a place, where ſhe ſtood not in fear of any thing from either the Authority or Tyranny of Phraates. O ye immortal gods, ſaid he at laſt, directing his thoughts to Heaven with all poſſible acknowledgment, O ye aſſistant deities, who have ever delivered me out of thoſe abyſſes of misfortunes, whereinto an implacably malicious Fortune, and the ingratitude of men have often forced me! I humbly acknowledg your power in this miraculous effect of your goodneſs, and I repine no longer for what I have ſuffered, either from the hands of ungrateful men, or from the contrary diſpoſal of my destiny; ſince you have been pleaſed at length to restore me my Eliſa. I have not forgotten how much I am obliged to celebrate your divine aſſiſtances, not only for a many Vistories which have proved the means to raiſe me to ſome name and rank in the World, but alſo for the extraordinary protection which you thought fit to afford me, as well amidſt the ſwords of my Enemies, as the angry Waves. There is therefore much leſs reaſon I ſhould forget, that, at the point of deſpair, you reſtore my Princeſs, and with her thoſe felicities which are not ſubject either to the inconſtancy of Fortune, or the ingratitude of men.

From this conſideration his thoughts were taken up with Tigranes, and he began to reflect on the obſtacles and inconveniences he might fear from him, and his unfortunate meeting with him; and certainly, ſuch a reflection, had it happened at ſome othe time might have moderated, if not diſturbed, his joy, but, as things ſtood now, it was not ſo conſiderable as to come into ballance againſt his preſent happineſs. Whereupon, calling to mind how that during the ſmall time he had been felicified with the company of his Eliſa, he had obſerved that her affections were abſolutely devoted to him, and that ſhe had all a verſion that could be for Tigranes, he could not but raiſe his thoughts to a certain confidence, that all the hindrance he might fear from that Rival would not be able to injure his Fortune. The protection which Agrippa had put him in hopes of, amounted to ſo much, as to win him into a belief, that Caeſar would not any way oppoſe him, and the conſtancy he had perceived in Eliſa towards him, though ſhe were not naturally guilty of too much forwardneſs, made him imagine that though all the world ſhould be againſt him, yet was happineſs ſo ſurely grounded on the affection of his Princeſs, that nothing could ſhake it. Amidſt theſe imaginations, wherein it might be ſaid he placed a certain felicity, his greateſt diſquiet, was, that he wanted the ſight and preſence of his Eliſa for ſome few hours; and the impatience he was in to ſee her again, made him look on that one night, and a peice of the next day, as if it had been a year, ſo trivial ſeemed to him the conſideration of his reſt in compariſon of that of his Love.

But if his reflections troubled and interrupted his ſleep, that of the great Agrippa might be ſaid to be ſubject to greater diſtraction. For the paſſion he had for Eliſa having already arrived to its full ſtrength, and being come to ſuch a height as that all the force of his underſtanding [Page] and diſcourſe was not able to oppoſe it, the effects it had wrought in his ſoul were accordingly ſo violent, that he could expect no other iſſue thereof but perpetual and inevitable diſquiet. And though it had been meerly out of the conſideration of his own vertue, which would not ſuffer him to deny the doing of a good action, when an opportunity offered it ſelf to do it, that he had protected Artaban, againſt the armes and power of Tygranes, and purely out of generoſity had taken his part rather than that of the King of the Medes, yet was it not in his power to forbear looking on him as his Rival, and that not as a Rival out of favour and ſlighted, as Tygranes was, but as one much eſteemed by Eliſa, and conſequently as the only perſon that had been ſo fortunate as to engage her affections. He had, it ſeems, that very day obſerved very evident demonſtrations of the mutual reſpects that paſſed between them. And whereas, on the other ſide, the revolutions which had happened in the Kingdome of the Parthians, and that of the Medes by the valour and conduct of Artaban were of ſuch conſequence as that they were known all over the world; in like manner, his inclinations for Eliſa, and the ingratitude of Phraates, made no ſmall noiſe among the Romans, and by that means was come to the ears of Agrippa, ſo that when he looked on Artaban, he muſt needs conſider him as that perſon, who of all men was the moſt likely and moſt able to croſs him in his love, or rather as the only man that could ruine all his pretences.

This conſideration made him ſigh for very grieſe, and if his vertue had not been ſo great, no queſtion but he had repented him of the aſſiſtance he had given him: but, having withal a great and gallant ſoul, and all his reſentments conformable to the noble fame he had acquired, he could not be troubled that he had done what he ought to have done, and thought it ſufficient only to quarrel at the croſsneſs of his Fortune without being guilty of a wiſh that ſhould any way derogate from his Vertue. Nay, he was not able to conceive any averſion for ſuch a Rival, and thoſe excellent qualities which might oblige him to fear Artaban, were no leſs powerful in obliging him to love him, as repreſenting to him, that he might by the ſame means deſerve the friendſhip of Agrippa, as he had obtained the love of Eliſa. And yet all this hindered not but that he wiſhed himſelf loved by Eliſa, and all the great vertue he was maſter of, could not oppoſe in him a deſire ſo natural to thoſe that Love, nor prevaile with him to quit Eliſa to Artaban, though he were very much in her favour, and not unworthy her affections. He was ſatisfied that how earneſt ſoever he might be to gain her love, all his endeavours would prove ineffectual, and yet h [...]s paſſ [...]on exaſperated by that kind of deſpair, ſeemed to grow more and more powerful, and to ſeat it ſelf in his ſoul with more empire and authority.

From this therefore he concluded, that it was impoſſible for him to give over loving Eliſa, and thereupon reſolved to do all that lay in his power to force her inclinations from Artaban, and to give a check to the favour ſhe was pleaſed to afford him. But, in regard that all his thoughts were conformable to honour and generoſity, and out of a conſideration that he could not, without prejudice to both, diſturb a noble affection grounded on extraordinary Services, and that, between perſons that had caſt themſelves under his protection, in a place where he had all power in his own hands, and where, in all likelihood, he could not make uſe of his authority, without a certain kind of tyranny, he ſought but a mean to reconcile his Love to his Vertue, and to manage the former without perjudice to the latter.

Upon theſe reflections he reſolved to diſpute the buſineſs fairly with Artaban, without any advantage to matter of power, and to ſtrive with him for the heart of Eliſa, by deſert and ſervices, and not make uſe of his credit in the Empire, or the authority of Caeſar, Being confirmed daily more and more in that reſolution; What injury, ſaid he, do I do Artaban, by being deſirous to engage with him in a combat; wherein all the advantage is of his ſide? And what quarrell can be juſtly have againſt me when I ſhall with no other force, than that of Love, aſſault a heart already delivered up to his diſpoſall, and that a heart favourably prepoſſeſſed for him with all that may make him happy, to my prejudice. I am not engaged to him either upon any account of Friendſhip, or obligation. and wherefore ſit no reaſon that ſhould perſwade me tamely to ſit down in my own miſery, out of a fear of thwarting his happineſſe. There are few perſons haply that have ſuch a command of their inclinations, as to confine themſelves to thoſe rules which I propoſe to my ſelfe, and it is in Love rather than policy, and to gain the poſſeſſion of what a man moſt affects, rather than to gain a Kingdome, that it is lawful to employ all armes, and to make uſe of all manner of forces▪ And yet to avoid the reproach, I might make to my ſelfe, of having abuſed my Fortune againſt perſons to whom it is contrary, I will by no means make uſe of Auguſtus's favour, or the power I have in the Empire, but ſhall be content to be unhappy while I live, if my happineſs cannot be effected by other waies than thoſe.

[Page] Having ſo ſaid, he recollected himſelf for ſome few minutes, as if he were extreamly well ſatisfied with the reſolution he had taken. But not long after, reflecting on the difficulty of his enterpriſe, and the little hope he had to bring it to any effect: It is true, continued he, that by this courſe I ſhould avoid that remorſe and thoſe ſcruples with might riſe in my mind, for oppreſſing, by my power, a man whoſe vertue is not inferiour to my own: but, alas! if thus be the way to quiet my conſcience, it is alſo the onely courſe I can take to cruſh my hopes; that is, I undertake a buſineſſe whereof I cannot expect the ſucceſſe ſhould be fortunate. Artaban is alrea [...]y very much in the affections of Eliſa, and beſides the eminent ſervices, whereby he hath deſerved her favour, he is otherwiſe worthy of it upon the account of the great excellencies of his perſon, as much as for the noble effects of his Love. So that there is very little probability, that a Soul engaged not only by a great merit and very conſiderable ſervices, but alſo haply by a ſtrong inclination, can eaſily be diſengaged by a new affection, if I neglect my advantages, (which alone may come into compariſon with thoſe of my Rival) and meerly upon the account of merit deal with a merit, which is ſo far from being inferiour to my own, that it hath already wrought in the ſoul of Eliſa, all that I could hope, or rather all that I could deſire.

This reflection troubled, and caſt him down very much; but not long after taking encouragement from that little ſhadow of hope which ever offers it ſelf even to the mo [...]t miſerable; Why, added he, may it not be lawful for me to hope? There happen daily revolutiòus no leſſe ſtrange than what I am about to undertake, and if a m [...]n may be pardoned, a little ſelf-conceit upon ſome certain occaſions, I may hope ſomething beyond the ordinary rate of men. My perſon is not unacceptable to thoſe that ſee me, I have ſome name among men, my rank is conſiderable enough to work ſome effect on the inclinations, of Eliſa, to the prejudice of a man, to whom heaven, though it hath beſtowed on him great advantages, hath denied ſome part of thoſe which it was but requiſite he ſhould have to pretend to the Princeſſe of the Parthians. Let us hope then if we may preſume to do it, or at leaſt, let us not abſolutely deſpair, ſince that hope is a vertue ſo much inclined to aſſiſt any one, that it hardly for ſakes the moſt unfortunate that are, though in their greateſt and laſt extremities.

Thus were Agrippa and Artaban treated by love, (who at this time, in a City where the Ptolomeys had reigned, was taken up with nobler employments then haply he had met with in all the extent of his Empire) while Prince Ariobarzanes, and Prince Philadelph were entertained by him with ſuch enjoyments as to all others were incomprehen [...]ible. Theſe two Lovers, who, after ſo many traverſe▪ offortune, and ſo many tempeſts, ſaw themſelves at the feet of their amiable Princeſſes, as it were in a ſecure Haven, could not without ſome difficulty apprehend the greatneſſe of their felicity, when they reflected on their paſt miſeries, and may in ſome ſort be ſaid to have found that, in the exceſſe of their joy, which they had avoided in their afflictions and dangers, All that day was ſpent in tranſports, ſuch as the prudence of their Princeſſes would have moderated, though ineffectually; and though thoſe of Ariobarzanes, ſhould, proportionably to his adventures, and the accidents had happened to him, (which indeed had been of the moſt dangerous and extraordinary) have expreſſed in all probability ſomething [...]ore vehement then could be expected from thoſe of Philadelph; yet was it certain, that in the ſoul of the Prince of Cilicia, there paſſed ſomewhat that argued a greater tenderneſs and ſenſibility of affection. For, this ſatisfaction having happened equally to both, that they had met with the Princeſſes they adored, and whom they ſought out ſo earneſtly, Philadelph had this advantage, that now he had by many infallible demonſtrations diſcovered himſelf to be admitted to a happineſs which he was not before aſſured of, and found that his amiable Delia, who, while they were in Cilicia, could never be perſwaded to declare what ſentiments ſhe had for him, made no difficulty to afford him, even in the preſence, and with the conſent, of her Brother, the greateſt proofs of affection he could have deſired, from a vertue, ſuch as was that of Delia. Above a hundred times that day had he embraced her knees, with expreſſions of love particular to his paſſion; and the modeſt Arſinoe, mildly putting him back, could not but with joy obſerve the continuation of that noble affection, whereof he had given her ſo many obliging demonſtrations in Cilicia. The more he called to mind thoſe pleaſant entertainments, the more it added to h [...]s acknowledgments, inſomuch, that the fair Olympia, whom Ariobarzanes had already acquainted with all the particulars of their Hiſtory, conceiving an affection towards Philadelph, upon the account had been given her of his generous way of proceeding, took occaſion to confirm Arſinoe more and more in the reſentments ſhe had thereof.

Yet was not this felicity of Philadelph without ſome diſturbance, for the experience he had of the King of Armenia's diſpoſition, (which was ſuch as admitted no reconciliation [Page] with his enemies) put him, not without ſome ground, into a fear he might refuſe his allyance, and, out of the hatred he had to him, for his houſe, raiſe him ſome new difficulties. Arſinoe her ſelf was not abſolutely free from that fear, and could not diſſemble it to Philadelph, when he diſcovered his to her: but Ariobarzanes gave him the beſt conſolations and aſſurances he could, by promiſing him that he would further his intereſts as much as lay in his power, even though the King his Brother ſhould oppoſe them, and that he would periſh rather then that Arſinoe ſhould be any other mans then Philadelph. Beſides, when it came to the worſt, they had this courſe to gain the conſent of Artaxus, ſtill left with them, which was to make uſe of the authority of Auguſtus, who had ſuch an influence upon the King of Armenia, that he could not deny him any thing, having ſome intentions, to that very end, to caſt themſelves under the protection of Auguſtus, who had ſometimes profferred it them, and making no doubt but that he would employ the utmoſt of his intereſt to effect their quiet, not onely upon their own intreaty, but alſo upon the recommendation of Agrippa, who had promiſed to aſſiſt them with all the power he had with the Emperour. The ſame mediation they thought would prove effectual with the King of Cilicia, who in all probability would gladly comply with the deſires of Caeſar, though, on that ſide, all that was to be done was to ſatisfie Arſinoe, in regard Philadelph was fully reſolved not to be troubled at any obſtacle which through the means of the King his Father, might any way delay his happineſſe.

As for Ariobarzanes, his trouble was much leſſe, as being not obliged, as Arſinoe was, to be guided by the will of his Brother, and knowing no reaſon he could alledge to diſapprove the allyance of Olympia. However, he hoped he ſhould not want Caeſars Authority, if it were requiſite, and doubted not but he ſhould find him favourable in an occaſion which of its ſelf was ſufficiently ſuch. The conſent of Adallas he ſtood not at all upon, as thinking it unneceſſary, and, beſides that he had already given it, he had, by the inconſtancy of his proceedings, given them but too clear a diſpenſation from all ordinary proceedings. The greateſt regret he now had, was, that he wanted a Crown to preſent Olympia withall, as Adallas had ſometimes caſt it in his diſh. For though that Princeſſe ſeemed to be very well ſatisfied with his preſent condition, and to prefer his perſon before all the Empires of the World, yet had it been no ſmall difficulty to him to digeſt the diſpleaſure he conceived thereat, had there not been'a certain hope left, that with the help of the ſame ſword which had defended Thrace with ſo much valour, he might poſſibly raiſe Olympia to the dignity of her Anceſtors. Beſides, it muſt needs be ſome grief to him, to obſerve, in the Princeſſes countenance, the alteration, which her ſickneſſe and ſufferings had wrought therein; but he doubted not but that in an age, ſuch as was that of Olympia, joy might recover what ſadneſſe had taken away, nay, he was further of opinion that the change which her condition had received that very day, had in that ſmall ſpace of time retrived no ſmall part of her beauty.

Theſe four, mutually loving, and mutually beloved perſons, having thus paſſed the day together, underſtood at night, and not long after the return of Eliſa and Candace, ſome part of what had happened to them, and how that the Princeſſe of the Parthians, had almoſt been carryed away: but what they heard was with ſome uncertainty and confuſion▪ And therefore ſince it was very late, and that they were aſſured the Princeſſes were ſaſely arrived in the palace they forbore the viſit they intended them till the next day, as being only to expreſſe how much they concerned themſelves in their adventure, and their deſires to be acquainted with the particulars thereof.

In the mean time, Candace, and the fair Eliſa being retired to the lodgings appointed them, after they had endured the converſation of Agrippa and Cornelius for the ſpace of an hour, were no ſooner left alone with the women that attended them, but perceiving themſelves delivered of the company that had hindred them from entertaining one another when they had the greateſt deſire and opportunity to do it, they cauſed their chamber door to be made faſt, that they might diſcourſe with greater privacy and liberty. After they had looked upon one the other, with eyes wherein might be perceived ſome part of what they had to ſay, they embraced one another with as much earneſtneſſe, as if it had been a long time ſince they had met. Whereupon, ſitting down together upon a bed, Candace began firſt to ſpeak, and preſſing Eliſa's hand between her own, with an action expreſſing the greatneſſe of her friendſhip; Well then, my deareſt Princeſſe, ſaid ſhe to her, will you not for the future give credit to my predictions, and was I not a true propheteſſe when I promiſed you a happy change in your fortune? Faireſt Queen, replyed Eliſa, returning her careſſes, I ſhould but poorly acknowledge the happineſſe it was to me to meet with you, ſhould I not have derived from it all the advantages I could expect, for I have not onely found [Page] what I gave over for loſt, according to your prediction, but I have found it by your means, and through that inſpiration which no doubt you had from Heaven, to take me along with you to that happy walk. So that it ſeems then, replies Candace, I am not like to be henceforth the moſt ſatisfied of us two, and that you will return me ſome part of thoſe conſolations which you have received from me, when I ſhall bewayle Caeſario, as you did Artaban. May it not pleaſe the gods, replyed Eliſa, that you have the ſame occaſion to do it? I had with theſe eies ſeen Artaban buried in the waves, and you have ſeen Caeſario living within theſe few dayes, and know that he is not far from Alexandria. I know not certainly, replies Candace with a ſigh, whether I may truſt my own eies or no, and through the experience I have of my own unhappineſſe, I begin to imagine that rencounter a pure illuſion. But whatever it may have been, I am content for this day to ſuſpend the remembrance of all my misfortunes, to diſpoſe my ſelf the more abſolutely to joy out of a complyance with your good fortune, wherein I think my ſelf ſo much concerned that I can hardly believe your apprehenſions of it more lively then mine. This argues you as excellent in point of goodneſſe, replyed Eliſa, as you are in all thoſe great perfections which make you ſo admirable a perſon, and theſe I am ſo extreamly ſenſible of, that.......

No more of that, I beſeech you, ſaics Candace, interrupting her, I do not expect any acknowledgements, from you, of an affection, which, being but too much your due, the expreſſions I make you thereof cannot be exceſſive, nay I queſtion not but your merit will force as much from all the World beſides. But ſince it is lawful for me to rejoice with you, now that all occaſions of your weeping are taken away; do you not expect I ſhould reproach you with a felony you are guilty of towards me, for having ſtollen from me a man, whoſe firſt inclinations, if I am not much miſtaken, were directed to me And conſequently you will give me leave to charge you with the trick you put upon me, in that, when you related to me the great actions of Artaban, you would not let me know that it was Britomarus, and that, when I gave you an account of the firſt actions of Britomarus, you would not tell me it was your Artaban.

You charge me with two things, replyed the Princeſſe, whereof I ſhall find it no great difficulty to clear my ſelf. For the former, which is, that I have robbed you of the heart of Artaban, I am to tell you, that the age and condition he was of when he was with you, conſidered, there is little probability he ſhould lift up his eies ſo high as you; and that further, ſuppoſing that might happen, the treatment he received from you, continued ſhe ſmiling, might ha [...]ly diſplace you out of his heart, ſo that there might not poſſibly be any neceſſity he ſhould meet with Eliſa the more to alienate his inclinations from you. And for the latter, which is, that I had not diſcovered to you that Artaban was the ſame perſon with Britomarus, I can aſſure you, that I have ever been ignorant of it as well as your ſelf; that Artaban never acquainted me with any thing that had happened unto him before I kn [...]w him, and that, being ſatisfied that his greateſt glory conſiſted in the memorable actions he had done, whereof thoſe of moſt conſequence we had the knowledge of, I was never guilty of a curio [...]ity to know any more of his fortune then he was pleaſed of himſelf to communicate to me, out of a fear of engaging him in a diſcourſe, which he ſhould take no great delight in.

I am very much troubled, added the Queen of Aethiopia, that I have acqua [...]ted you with that particularity of the firſt beginnings of his life, though it diſcover as much of the greatneſſe of his courage, as the gallant actions he hath done ſince, and could I have thought that Britomarus was ſometime to be Artaban, I ſhould not have let you known how he had lived with me, in a condition not proportionable to the rank which he now deſerves to be in among men. Aſſure your ſelf, replyed Eliſa coldly, that you have not done him any ill office by that diſcourſe, and tha [...] Artaban, having only told us that he was of noble birth hath not been with you in any employment, which might derogate ought from the nobility of his blood. On the other ſide, added ſhe, with an action more free and cheerful▪ I ſhall not bluſh when I tell you, that you put me into no ſmall joy▪ when you let me know that Britomarus had had ſome inclinations for yo [...]; and, if I ſhould think it any misfortune or malice of my deſtiny to have complyed with the affection of a man, whoſe birth is diſproportionable to my own, I ſhould have this comfort withal, that I were not the firſt of my rank and quality to whom he had addreſſed himſelf, and thence fall into this conſideration, tha [...] he might very well lift up his eyes to me, when he had had the confidence to do [...] to you.

This [...] but a very ſlight [...]fort, replyed the Queen, but indeed you ſtand not i [...] any need of it, ſince the vertue of Artaban is ſuch as may both raiſe him to Crowns, and without doubt is to be prefe [...]d before them. But, my faireſh Princeſſe, continued ſhe preſently after, will you promiſe me that he ſhall be no longer at any diſtance with Caeſario if I may be ſo happy as to meet with him again? He hath made you that promiſe himſelf, ſaid the Princeſſe to her, and, not to mention the reſpect he hath for you, and the conſideration he may have of the deſire I made to him to that purpoſe, there is ſo [Page] much advantage in the friendſhip of Caeſario, as that he will not onely deſire it, but endeavour by all wayes to purchaſe it; nay I dare further promiſe you upon the experience I have of the generoſity of Artaban, that, if ever any occaſion offer it ſelf, he ſhall with the hazard of his life confirm the truth of what he hath already aſſured you of.

Eliſa having ſpoken to this effect, Candace ſpent a few minutes as it were in a deep recollection, not making her any anſwer at all. At laſt, awaking as it were out of it, and lifting up her head, ſhe ſpoke to the Princeſſe with much more earneſtneſſe then ſhe had done before. But, Madam, ſaid ſhe to her, if I am not miſtaken, you related a while ſince, before Agrippa and Cornelius, how that when Tigranes would have carried you away, you had been relieved by a certain man that laid him groveling on the ground, and killed two of his men. ▪Tis very right, Madam, replyed the Princeſſe, I have been relived by a very miraculous perſon: one that muſt certainly be Caeſario, ſince it was not Artaban. The diſtraction and trouble I was in, hindred me from taking better notice of him, onely thus much I can remember of him that he was ſomewhat pale in the face by reaſon of ſome wound or ſickneſs, that he ſeemed to be much about the age of Artaban, and though I cannot haply ſpeak of Artaban, without partiality, yet me thinks, meaſuring all things by the little notice I could take of him in ſo ſhort a time, that either in point of beauty or valour, this perſon was not inferiour to him. According to the deſcription you make of him, added the Queen, I ſhould be almoſt perſwaded that it can be of no other than Caeſario that you received that aſſiſtance, as being ſatisfied that unleſs it be Caeſario, no man can come ſo near, as you expreſſe it, the valour and handſomneſs of Britomarus. Might it pleaſe the gods, my moſt amiable Princeſſe! to afford me a comfort ſo great as that of being certainly aſſured that it was really he and no other, who had done us that ſervice. And this I the rather wiſh, not onely out of a reflection that you had received it from a Prince I infinitely love, and could not do me the like more to my ſatisfaction in my own perſon then he hath in yours, but alſo out of a conſideration that this action might in ſome part take away the averſion which Artaban hath for him, and might prove a likely means of a reconciliation, and as it were a ſhort introduction to that Friendſhip which we would eſtabliſh between them, as by fortune and the ſympathy of our diſpoſitions it is effected between us. Do not I beſeech you make the leaſt doubt replyed the Princeſſe, but that Artaban will acknowledge this action with as much reſentment as I do my ſelf, and aſſure your ſelf, that, if I have received this relief from Caeſario, his endeavours to gain his friendſhip will be greater than the diſ-inclination he ſometime had towards him.

The two Princeſſes would have continued their diſcourſe for ſome time upon this ſubject, when Clitia who not long before was gone out along with Cephira to take a little freſh air upon the Terrace, comes into the chamber, and perſented her ſelf before the Queen with a countenance wherein might be ſeen that the owner of it was in no ſmall diſturbance and aſtoniſhment. Candace having looked upon her, knew by demeanour that ſhe had ſomething to ſay to her: whereupon, cauſing her to come nearer, ſhe commanded her to diſcover before the Princeſſe the cauſe of that diſturbance whis was ſo apparent in in her countenance. Clitia having looked about her, and perceiving there was none in the chamber but onely Urione, whom they were confident of, takes the Queen by the hand, with a certain unuſual eagerneſſe; ‘Madam, ſaid ſhe to her, the newes I am to acquaint you with, is, no doubt, the beſt I could ever bring you; but indeed it is ſo great that you may well pardon the diſturbance it hath put me into and which you took notice of. Caeſario is in this pallace, nay is come up upon the Terrace, and ſtaies at your chamberdoor. O ye heavenly Powers! Clitia, ſaies the Queen, in a manner out of her ſelf, what doſt thou tell me? Is Caeſario at my chamber-door? He is, replies Clitia, in the little Gallery which abuts upon the terrace, where he expects my return and your commands to waite on you. Taking advantage of the night and the confuſed number of perſons that are in this palace he hath made a ſhift to get in; and being acquainted with all the paſſages of the place, as having not onely been born here, but ſpent his youth in it, he hath without any difficulty got to your lodgings, and hath walked upon the terrace, till ſuch time as he ſaw me appear, and, by the diſcourſe I had with Cephiſa, knew my voice. Whereupon, having called me ſoftly by my name, he acquainted me with his own, and not long after with his perſon, whereof I had an impreſſion ſo well graven in my memory, that it would not have been very hard for me to dave diſcerned him in the greateſt darkneſſe.’

While Clitia gave this account of Caeſario, the beautifull Queen was in a manner overwhelmed with an exceſſe of joy, which, by a pleaſant authority, got the dominion of her Soul; and, though fear and diſquiet endeavoured to diſturb it, yet was there a neceſſity they ſhould give place to the firſt ſallies of that paſſion and ſuſpend their effect, till the firſt violence of the other were ſpent. The Queen, caſting one arme abount Clitia's [Page] neck, Ah Clitia, ſaid ſhe to her, it is certainly decreed, that it is from you I muſt expect all the moſt happy tidings; and it was you that heretofore brought me word into the garden at Meroe, of the life and return of Caeſario, at a time when I bewailed his death, and that I had renounced all the enjoyments of life.

After ſhe had ſaid theſe words, ſhe would have put a hundred queſtions to Clitia, and that all of a ſudden, upon that accident: but ſhe told her, that the time ſhe had was to be otherwiſe ſpent, and that ſhe muſt reſolve either to ſee Caeſario at the place where he expected her return, or permit him to come into the chamber. Now was it that fear beg [...] to diſturb her joy; and if, on the one ſide, ſhe were ſatisfied to ſee her ſelf ſo near the Prince ſhe dearly loved, ſhe trembled, on the other, when ſhe conſidered, that he was in a Pal [...] whereof Augustus's Lieutenant had the command, and that a place where he muſt expe [...]t no leſs than to lay down his life, if he were diſcovered. This fear made her to ſhake again, and put her to ſuch a loſs, that ſhe knew not what reſolution to take, looking ſometimes on Eliſa, ſometimes on Clitia, as if it had been to ask their advice what ſhe were beſt to do. The fair Princeſs of the Parthians, who had received ſo great conſolations from the Queen, together with ſuch remarkable demonſtrations of Friendſhip, conceived her ſelf extrea [...]y concerned not onely in the joy, but alſo in the fear which ſhe now ſtrugled with, and would have been as glad as the other to find out a way to ſee Caeſario with as little danger as might be. But, after they had continued for ſome time in uncertainty, and at a loſs what courſe ſhould be taken, they at laſt thought it the ſafeſt way that he ſhould be brought into the Chamber, it being then ſuch a time of the night that it was not likely they ſhould be troubled with any more viſits, eſpecially there being conveniences enough to hide him in caſe it were neceſſary, and that Clitia proffered, as ſoon as ſhe had brought him into the Chamber, to go out upon the terrace along with Cephiſa, and to walk there a while, to ſee if any body came, by whom they might be ſurpriſed. Beſides all which, it made ſomething for the ſecurity of the Prince that he was, not only, not known in Alexandria; but alſo his death was more firmly believed there, than in any other part of the world. Upon all theſe grounds ſummed up together, yet not without a great deal of doubt and terrour, the Queen commanded Clitia to go fetch him in, whereupon Eliſa thinking her ſelf obliged in diſcretion and civility to go into her own Chamber, that they might be at a greater freedome in that interview, would have done it, but Candace embracing her would not permit it, and entreated her to be preſent at her felicity, as ſhe had been at the happy meeting between her and her Artaban.

Eliſa, at the entreaty of Candace ſtaies in the room, and preſently after Clitia returns, bringing along with her the ſon of Caeſar into the Chamber. At that firſt ſight, theſe two excellent ſouls felt in a moment all that a paſſion, ſuch as theirs could produce in a longer ſpace of time, and their firſt looks communicated one to another, of an inſtant, what their hearts meant of greateſt tenderneſs and paſſion. As ſoon as ever the Prince appeared at the door, the Queen ran towards him, with an action, whence he might eaſily infer, how welcome his preſence was to her; and the ſon of Cleopatra, kiſſed her hands and embraced her knees with ſuch tranſportations of joy, as might well convince her that his Love had not admitted of the leaſt diminution or remiſſion. Candace, after ſhe had embraced him very earneſtly with both her armes, while he was yet in that ſubmiſſive poſture, raiſed him up, and entertained him with all thoſe Careſſes which were ſuitable to her dignity and modeſty, conſidering withal the violence of her affection. During the firſt expreſſions of their mutual ſatisfaction and joy, their diſcourſe was accordingly confuſed, and incoherent; but when the violence of thoſe were over, Candace, retreating ſome few paces back, as it were to take the better notice of the Prince; What Cleomedon, ſaid ſhe to him, the gods it ſeems have thought fit to reſtore you to me, after ſo many dangers as I had run through my ſelf, and ſo many others wherein I had left you? But, Madam, replies the Prince, it was then decreed I ſhould find you, after I had ſo unfortunately loſt you, and what is more, I do not only find you living, and full of goodneſs for me, but I meet with you in Alexandria, in the Palace of my Fathers; and in that very Chamber, wherein I drew the firſt mouthful of air, and ſaw the first beams of light. 'Tis an accident, I muſt confeſs, replies Candace, that ſpeaks ſomething extraordinary, and if you are ſurpriſed at it, I muſt needs be not a little moved thereat. O how does this ſecond life which I here receive, added the Prince, make the Palace of the Ptolomey's much more dear and precious in my apprehenſion then the former which I ought it, and how eaſily can I bear with the loſs of the command of it, when I find therein what is a thouſand times more dear to me then thouſands of Empires, and thouſands of lives.

To this diſcourſe he would have added much more to the ſame effect, and the beautiful Queen, whoſe affection was not inferiour to his, though, out of the civility and reſervedneſs ſuitable to her ſex, ſhe moderated her ſelf the more, looked on him with a certain [Page] delight, and had pleaſantly ſeconded him her ſelf in the expreſſions of his love, had ſhe not thought it unhandſome to ſuffer any more, before the Princeſs of the Parthians, till Caeſario had taken notice of her and ſaluted her. Upon that account, mildly interrupting him, ſhe obliged him to turn towards Eliſa, and prepared him to ſalute her as the greateſt Princeſs upon earth, and the beſt friend ſhe had in the World. Caeſario, however he might be tranſported at the ſight of Candace, was aſtoniſhed, and in a manner dazled at that of Eliſa, and, coming neer her with a reſpect, which her admirable beauty, and the words of Candace eaſily forced him into, ſaluted her with ſuch ſubmiſſion, as the moſt inconſiderable of mankind might do the heireſs of the throne of the Arſacides, and received from her all the civility ſhe could have done him, had he been poſſeſſour of the Empire. He was not at all ſurprized to meet with Eliſa, whom he knew before to be in Alexandria, and with Candace, but looking more earneſtly in her face, he thought he had ſeen her that very day once before, and the fair Eliſa taking more particular notice of him, diſcovered in his, that he was the ſame man whom ſhe was talking of ſome few minutes before, and who had that day relieved her againſt the violence of the King of Media. She no ſooner perceived it, but her gratitude and acknowledgment working their effect upon her, ſhe turned towards Candace, with a countenance which partly expreſſed the ſenſe ſhe had of that Obligation. Madam, ſaid ſhe to her, our wiſhes are accompliſhed, and if you find in this Prince a perſon infinitely dear to you, I find in him, that of my valiant defender, and look on him accordingly as one whom I owe, not only my liberty, but alſo the happineſs I have to be hear with you.

Theſe words put the Prince into a modeſt bluſh, and receiving them with abundance of ſubmiſſion; Madam, ſaid he to her, I have done no more for you then you might have received from any man whatſoever upon the ſame occaſion; but indeed it proved ſo favourable and ſo glorious a one to me, that I ought to have hoped for no leſs in Conſequence thereto, then the great happineſs which I enjoy this fortunate day.

Having thus expreſſed himſelf, he thought himſelf obliged to obſerve a greater reſervedneſs in the preſence of Eliſa, as conceiving it not fit he ſhould disburthen himſelf before her of all that lay upon his heart. But Candace, taking notice of it, would not ſuffer him to entertain any ſuch thought, and after ſhe had looked on the Princeſs with a ſmile; Caeſario, ſaid ſhe to the Princeſs, ſince I have had ſufficient experience of your reſpect, even ſo far, as not to fear any incivility from you even in deſerts, and that the Princeſs hath a greater goodneſs and friendſhip for me than to deny us that liberty, I muſt tell you that her preſence obliges you not to any reſervedneſs, but what may be expected only upon account of the reſpect due to her, and not upon the ſcore of any circumſpection otherwiſe. And this you may be confident of, in that before her I call you Caeſario, in Alexandria, and you will haply be the more aſſured of it when I ſhall have told you that ſhe is not only acquainted with all our adventures, but alſo, that ſhe is not ignorant of my moſt ſecret thoughts.

Upon that aſſurance, and the freedom you are pleaſed to afford me, replyed the Prince, I ſhall preſume, my faireſt Queen, to ask you what posture my life and fortunes are in, and to conjure you to let me know whether it be poſſible, that diſtance, diſtractions, and the dangers whereto you have been expoſed, have wrought any change in that fortunate condition to which you had out of your own goodneſs raiſed me? May I hope faireſt Queen, contiued he (ſetting one knee to the ground, inſtead of ſitting in a chair which Urione had brought to the bed-ſide, where the Princeſſes were already ſate) ought I, and may I hope that that precious affection, whereby you have made me the moſt glorious perſon in the World............

‘'Tis enough, ſaid the Queen, interrupting him, and forcing him to riſe, it is enough, I doubt not but you could anſwer that queſtion ſufficiently to your own ſatisfaction, were you ſo pleaſed, and I am in a manner confident, that you make not the leaſt doubt of the conſtancy of an affection, which I have inviolably preſerved for you, amidſt traverſes of fortune as great haply as thoſe that may have happened to your ſelf ſince our ſeparation. Not but I muſt confeſs, that I have been in more than ordinary extremities, and my life and affairs in ſuch a poſture, that I ſtood very much in need of your aſſiſtance. Ah Madam, replyed the Prince, I have underſtood no leſs from Eteocles, whom it hath pleaſed the gods to preſerve for my comfort; he hath indeed given me an account of that dreadful danger, whereto you were reduced, when you fell into the hands of the Pirate Zenodorus, and that admirable reſolution which your vertue inſpired you with rather to ſacrifice your life to flames and waves, then to ſuffer any violence. It is poſſible, indeed, added the Queen, that that action might proceed purely from my vertue; but I muſt withal intreat you to conceive your ſelf a little obliged to me in it, and accordingly believe that the deſign I had to preſerve my ſelf abſolutely yours to the laſt gaſp, extreamly fortified me in that reſolution.’

Caeſario was ſo ſtrangely tranſported with joy at theſe obliging expreſſions, that he was [Page] at ſome loſſe how to ſignifie the reſentments he conceived thereof. And yet at laſt he made a ſhift to do it, but with ſuch a diſorder and confuſion, as more truely diſcovered the greatneſſe of his paſſion then the beſt couched diſcourſe could have done. And when the Queen had ſuffered him to recollect himſelf in that poſture, wherein ſhe beheld him with abundance of pleaſure; ‘But is it juſt, ſaid ſhe to him, I ſhould be any longer ignorant, how, and by what adventure I come to ſee you again, what good genius hath brought you to Alexandria, and what fortunes you have run through ſince our ſeparation? It is juſt, replyed the Prince, I ſhould give you an account of what you were pleaſed to entruſt me with, and acquaint you with the ſtate of a Kingdom which you thought fit to leave to my management. That is not it, replyed the Queen, which I am ſo deſirous to preſſe you to, and though I ſhould be content to underſtand whatever you ſhall think worthy our knowledge, yet this fair Princeſs can ſatisfie you, that, in the diſcourſes we have had together ſhe hath obſerved, that the loſs of my Kingdom was not the thing I was moſt troubled at.’

‘Your generoſity is to be admired, replyed the Prince, that is ſuitable to your admirable perſon, and I cannot expreſſe the experiences I have found of it, but by my ſilence and confuſion. I ſhall therefore acquaint you, as well with what paſt at Meroe, as what hath been done in Aethiopia, ſince your departure thence, whereof the relation cannot be long, becauſe it can amount to no more then a diary of ſome few daies actions, and afterwards, what hath happened to my ſelf, ſince it hath been my buſineſs to find you out.’

‘Now it comes into my mind, added Candace, when I entertained this fair Princeſs with a relation of our adventures, I forgot, to give her an account after what manner you got off from that bloudy battle, which with a handful of men you gave the great and numerous army of Tirabaſus, and where you were left for dead, and paſſed for ſuch in my apprehenſion, as you did in the general opinion of all the World, till the day that I ſaw you again in the garden at Meroe. And though you ſince told me ſomething of it, yet was it ſo confuſedly that as well for that reaſon, as that I thought not fit to confound that diſcourſe with the perfect relation I had to entertain the Princeſſe with of other things, I made not the leaſt mention thereof. So that it ſhall be your buſineſſe to acquaint her with that particularity, which is all ſhe wants of your adventures to your return to Meroe, and then we ſhall be glad to know what hath happened to you, ſince my departure thence. The diſcourſe you have to make, you will, I know, contract what you can, by reaſon of the diſturbance I ſhall be in, if you make any long abode in this place, where I cannot look on you without fear, as knowing what danger you expoſe your ſelfto.’

With theſe words the Princeſſes having called Urinoe, who onely remained in the Chamber, entreated her to take ſuch order as that there ſhould not come neer them any of the ſlaves that had been appointed to wait on them, and to have a care with Clitia, that they might not be ſurpriſed. After this precaution given, the Prince having ſeated himſelf between them, as the Queen had commanded him, after a recollection of ſome few minutes, to recal into his mind, the things whereof his diſcourſe was to conſiſt, began it at length in theſe terms.

The continuation of the HISTORY Of CAESARIO.

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I Muſt needs confeſſe that in the battle wherein, with 16000, men the greateſt part wounded and unfit for ſervice, I engaged with an Army of 100000. I did not do like an experienced General, or a man that had before commanded Armies and gained Victories. But it is alſo to be acknowledged, that it was not out of any hope of victory, that I came into the field, but meerly out of a deſire to dye, proceeding from the deſpair whereto the misfortunes of my great Queen had reduced me, and to endeavour even at my death to ſhake, if not overthrow, the perfidious uſurper of her Crown and Liberty. Beſides, having conſidered all things, I found my ſelf not in a condition to make my party good by retreating before the army of Tiribaſus, which was come of a ſudden upon us into that very field, where not many dayes before I had defeated 35000, men, and killed Antenor, the Brother of Tiribaſus, by whom they were commanded. I ſhall not therefore ſpend any further time to juſtifie that action, which will be thought more pardonable, among perſons prepoſſeſſed by a violent paſſion, ſuch as was that of mine, then among perſons experienced in the buſineſs of war; and conſequently ſhall onely tell you, that I was not fortunate enough to effect what I had undertaken, though I had the happineſs to ſee Tiribaſus fall in the midſt of his men with two or three wounds about him, & had this comfort in my misfortune, that, with the loſſe of my own; I ſaw the field covered with a number of carkaſes three times greater then that which I could make when I firſt came into it.

At laſt it was my lot to fall, loden with wounds, amongſt thoſe that covered the ground with their carkaſes, and, as my good fortune would have it, my faithful Governor Eteocles, who ſtill kept as near me as he could, having fought it out a little longer, fell alſo not far from me, with ſuch wounds about him, as had deprived him of all ſence and apprehenſion. The enemy ſpent the remainder of the day in ſhipping the dead, and in burying or burning their friends, but in regard that about that place where we were, the air was grown a little infectious by reaſon of the precedent battle, the Generalls thought not fit to make any longer ſtay there, and thereupon marching all away in the night, they encamped at a good diſtance thence upon the way to Meroe inſomuch that there were none left in the Fields but the dead, or at leaſt what were thought ſuch by thoſe that left them.

Now the wounds of Eteocles proving not very great, and that his weakneſſe proceeded not ſo much from their danger as the great loſſe of blood he had undergone, he made a ſhift to to recover himſelf aſſoon as it was night, and I am in this extreamly obliged to him, that e're he had beſtowed many minutes to reflect on the condition he was in himſelf, he came to ſee what was become of me. He ſought me out, and with much ado found me, notwithſtanding the darkeneſſe becauſe I was not far from him, and crawling along as he could to get a little nearer me, he came and felt me all over, trying by all the waies he could whether there were any life in me. The cold air of the night ſtayed the bleeding of my wounds, inſomuch, that Eteocles finding me cold as ice all over, his firſt apprehenſions concluded me abſolutely departed this world, but at laſt laying his hand on my breaſt, he found by the palpitation of my heart, that there were ſome ſmall remainders of life in me. The weak hope which this unexpected diſcovery raiſed in him, filled him with all the joy he could, in that condition, be capable of, and though he took abundance of paines about me to recover me to ſome degree of ſenſibility, yet all his endeavours proved ineffectuall, inſomuch that the whole night, which at that time of the year; was of the [Page] ſhorteſt, was over e're he could do any good with me. He many times endeavoured to get upon his feet, and to go ſeek out ſome help, but his weakneſs was ſuch, that he was not able, and e're he could half get up, he fell down again by me. I ſhall not trouble you either with the complaints that fell from him, or the grief it was to him, that he could not effect what he deſired, and it were but to make my relation the more tedious to inſiſt upon ſuch frivolous particulars.

The Sun was gotten into his Chariot when I firſt began to open my eies, and to breath in ſuch manner that Eteocles perceived it. He immediately creeps neerer my face, almoſt out of himſelf for joy, gave me ſo many kiſſes, and ſpoke to me with ſo much earneſtneſs, that at laſt he abſolutely recovered me to life again. I began to feel and to ſee, but had not the power to ſtir, and though I ſaw Eteocles, yet did I not perfectly know him, but as it were by ſome broken remainders of an Idaea half forced out of my memory. In the mean time he perceived it was impoſſible for him any way to relieve me, and though he ſaw I was come to my ſelf, yet did he in a manner put it out of all queſtion that I would die for want of aſſiſtance, and, out of the fear he was in, it might ſo come to paſs, he importuned Heaven with cries and exclamations, and did all that lay in his power to call in ſome body to our relief. Yet were they not his cries that wrought that effect; but it happened by an adventure very ſtrange and unexpected, whereof, for many reaſons, I thought fit to give the Queen but a ſlender and imperfect account, but ſhall now relate at large, ſince it hath been your pleaſure to command it from me.

I had already made a ſhift to open my eies fully, though all I could do was only to ſtir them a little, when Eteocles hears the neighing of certain horſes, and the noiſe of their going, which made him imagine that there were ſome people coming towards us. He thereupon looks about him, and perceives a Chariot coming into the field, among the dead bodies wherewith it was covered, and a man riding on horſe-back before the Chariot, as if he had been a guide to thoſe perſons that were within it. Thoſe were only two women, one whereof filled the aire with the dolefulneſs of her Lamentations, and there followed the Chariot only three ſlaves, all a-ſoot. At laſt, when they were come quite into the field, the heaps of dead bodies hindering the paſſage of the Chariot, the Women that were within it, were forced to alight, and the Man that was on horſe-back having done the like, took the more conſiderable of the two by the arme, and led her towards the place where we were. Eteocles, whom this accident put into a great hopes of relief, took very much notice of all that paſſed, and diſtinctly heard the mournful cries and expoſtulations of that diſconſolate Lady, which certainly were ſuch as might have been heard many Stadia's. Her hair was looſe and diſhevelled, as if ſhe had been fallen into ſome extravagance, her eies ſhowred down tears, her breaſt almoſt rent with the violence of her ſighes, in a word, her deportment was no other then that of a perſon diſtracted and ready to fall into deſpair. ‘Terrible death, cried ſhe, implacable devourer of mankind, which appeareſt to me here in ſo many formes! it is poſſible, that in this place, where thou haſt exerciſed thy power with ſo much cruelty, thou ſhouldſt forbear to diſpatch one miſerable creature that defies thee, or that thou canſt deny her thy aſſiſtance, after thou haſt deprived her of all that could oblige her to ſhun thy face. Inſatiable Goddeſs, to whom my malicious Fortune hath ſacrificed all that the earth had that was amiable in my ſight! is it poſſible thou ſhouldſt avoid an unfortunate Woman as I am, while thou cutteſt off ſuch noble lives? and that, more inhumane in thy compaſſion than thy cruelty, thou muſt needs ſtrike a thouſand times at a heart which there needs but one blow to deliver from thy Tyranny.’

Here ſighs and ſobs made a parentheſis in her diſcourſe for ſome minutes; but ſoon after, reaſſuming it with an accent much more doleful; ‘Teramenes, continued ſhe, my dear Teramenes, where art thou? why doſt thou conceale thy ſelf from me? O thou body that I have loved beyond all things; why doſt thou hide thy ſelf from her eies that was ſometimes ſo dear to thee? Art thou afraid, thy countenance covered with the horrours of death may frighten me, or that it will be a leſs delightful object to me in that figure, then it was in that wherein I was ſo much taken with it? No, no, my deareſt Teramenes, even under that dreadful livery, under that irremiſſible ice of death, I ſhall think thee amiable, and it may not haply be impoſſible, I ſhould by my kiſſes reſtore to thee ſome part of that which thou haſt loſt, and reinfuſe into thy cold body that ſoul which thou hadſt enflamed with a fire that death it ſelf is not able to put out.’

At this paſſage ſhe made a little truce with her Lamentations, but it laſting not above a minute or two, ſhe turns her ſelf to the man that conducted her: ‘But Pelorus, ſaid ſhe to to him, where is then the body of Teramenes? You ſhewed me in this place, with a confidence it was that where I ſhould infallibly find it, and yet, among this vaſt number of carkaſes I ſee not that of my Teramenes.’ Fear not, Madam, replied the man to whom ſhe ſpake, [Page] it will not be long e're we find it, for now we are come to the place where I ſaw him fall yeſterday by the hands of Cleomedon. No doubt, but he came by his own death out of the over earneſtneſſe he had to revenge that of your Brothers, who died by the ſame hand in the former battle, as alſo out of an exceſſive deſire to have the honour of diſpatching with his own hands a Prince of ſo great a fame. Cleomedon falling at his feet drew him upon him, and with that little remainder of ſtrength he was yet maſter of ran him into the throat with a dagger which he had ſtill in his hand. Teramenes, though mortally wounded with that thruſt, made a ſhift to get off the body of the expiring Cleomedon, but after he had ſtaggered a little, he fell down within ſome ten paces of him, and, by reaſon of the bloud which, coming out abundantly, hindred his reſpiration, died immediately.

Ah cruell man, cries out the Lady, ah inhumane ſtranger, whom I had never any waies injured, and that leaveſt thy native ſoile, to bring death after ſo many ſeverall waies into the breaſt of the innocent Erinoe! May it pleaſe the gods, ſince I have no other revenge either to take or deſire upon thee, that thy body may be the prey of Vultures, and that thy ſhade may eternally wander amongſt the moſt unfortunate ones, without ever obtaining of the infernal Gods any other reſt then what thou leaveſt this miſerable woman. Thou hadſt opened the ſluces of my tears by the death of a brother I infinitely loved, which thy unmerciful arms had deprived me of not many dayes before; but thou thoughtſt it not ſufficient to aſſault my ſelf only upon the account of Blood, and Friendſhip, without ſacrificing to thy cruelty, whatever there is in Love that is moſt paſſionate and moſt violent in the death of my Teramenes.

While ſhe disburthened her grief by ſuch expoſtulations, he, who conducted her, ſhewed her the body ſhe looked after, which lay not above fifteen or twenty paces from us, and it was upon the cruel ſpectacle, that the deſperate woman caſting her ſelf on the cold body with a great cry, fell into a ſwound, which for ſome time interrupted her lamentations and found thoſe perſons that were about her work enough to relieve her. For my part, I had not the leaſt apprehenſion of any thing that paſſed, though I had my eyes open, wherewith, all I could do, was to look on the dejected Eteocles. But he had not miſſed one of theſe words, and was infinitely troubled to find himſelf ſo far from the relief he had expected upon that accident, as not doubting but that I ſhould be diſcovered and known by thoſe exaſperated perſons, if they ſaw me, and that, in the rage which then poſſeſſed them, they would take away thoſe ſmall remainders of life there were in me, rather then any way relieve me. On the other ſide he ſaw me drawing towards my end, & was ſenſible he ſhould dye himſelf, if he were not aſſiſted, and in that perplexity, nor knowing what reſolution to vain to take, he lifted up his eyes to Heaven, and deſired that of the gods, which he thought it expect from men.

In this interim the woman comes to her ſelf again, and immediately diſcovered it by her mournful groans and lamentations: ſhe embraced the frozen carkaſe, and beſtowed thouſands of kiſſes on a face all covered with bloud, and that with ſuch tranſportation as from whoſe violence Eteoclss could infer no leſſe then that that of her love had been extraordinanary. ‘Deareſt Teremanes, ſaid ſhe, ſometime the enlivening light of my dayes, but now a Luminary eclipſed by the interpoſition of eternal darkneſſe! Are theſe the happy Nuptialls that were prepared for our loves, and after the faithful teſt of ſo many traverſes misfortunes, is it in this fatal field that I was to enjoy thee? Dear ſhade, which by an unhuman thruſt haſt quited this body, the object of my trueſt affections, and wandreſt yet about theſe ſhores in expectation of ſepulture! Infinitely beloved ſhade, doſt thou forſake me for ever? And is it poſſible thou ſhouldſt ſeek reſt while thou leaveſt me in diſturbances a thouſand times more inſupportable then that death which ſnatches thee from the embraces of thy faithful Eurinoe?’

Many other exclamations to the ſame effect fell from her, ſuch as were the ſad effects of her deſpair, and which Eteocles would have hearkned to with more patience; but the danger wherein we were, or rather the deſperate condition of our lives, took up his thoughts ſo much, that he could not afford her any longer attention. But indeed it was not long e're he had another motive to diſcover us, when the man that waited on that affiicted Lady, being come neerer me, and having preſently known me, out of a confidence he was of that I had fallen in that place, and knew me very well by ſight, perceived withal that my eyes were open, and that I was not quite dead. They had not ſtripped me naked becauſe of the abundance of bloud that was about my cloaths but they had taken away the excellent armour wherein I had fought, and whereby I was ſo remarkable in the battel. Eteocles had wiped the bloud off my face, ſo that the man could with leſſe difficulty know me again, and thereupon returning immediately to his Lady: Madam, ſaid he to her, if revenge may abate any thing of your greif, lay hold on the opportunity which the gods favour you with to offer a noble ſacrifice to the Manes of Teramenes. Here, behold not onely his murderer, [Page] but the murderer alſo of your Brother, is yet alive, and the juſt gods ſeem to have reſerved thoſe little remainders of life which he hath yet left purpoſely that they might in ſome meaſure ſatisfie your revenge.

Never did any Tigreſs fly out with ſo much fury at thoſe that had carried away her young ones, as that exaſperated and deſperate Woman did upon thoſe cruel words. She laies hands on a dagger which ſhe ſpyed lying on the ground among other armes, and running to the place where the man pointed, ſhe was immediately with me, looking on me with eyes ſparkling with indignation, yet ſo as through which ſatisfaction ſhe conceived at her intended revenge, did in certain intervals, ſhew it ſelf. Teramenes, cryed ſhe, I am now going to ſacrifice to thee all that is remaining of thy Executioner, and ſhall meet with thee again with greater joy, when I ſhall have appeaſed thy Manes with this victime.

With theſe words ſhe comes up cloſe to me, (who was lying on my back with my face directed to Heaven, and my eyes open, which I weakly faſtened on the objects, yet ſo, as that I was not able to diſcern what paſt) and lifting up her arm to thruſt the weapon into my breaſt, it was coming downwards upon me, when Eteocles lifting himſelf half up, put forth his hand, and, laying hold of hers with greater force then in all probability he ſeemed to have had in him; Hold thy hands, cruel Woman, ſaid he to her, ſpare the blood of the gods, and do not, by thy cruelty, ſhorten, for ſome few minutes, the nobleſt life in the World.

Eurinoe was ſo ſurpriſed both at the action and the words of Eteocles, that the dagger fell out of her hands, and ſhe was at ſuch a loſs as to all reſolution, that ſhe could only look on the man whom the gods ſeemed to have purpoſely raiſed up to prevent the effect of her reſolution. But at laſt her paſſion being ſtill the moſt predominant in her mind, her rage grew more violent then it had been before, and running to another weapon which ſhe ſaw, not far from her. Do not hope, ſaid ſhe to Eteocles, thou ſhalt divert me from the ſacrifice which I owe my Teramenes, and be content with this comfort, that his Executioner hath but thoſe weak remnants of life, where as I ſhould wiſh him a hundred lives, that I might take a nobler revenge of them altogether.

With theſe words ſhe comes to me on the other ſide, and at a place where the aſſiſtance of Eteocles would have ſtood me in no ſtead; deſirous to execute her revenge with a greater ſatisfaction, ſhe would needs look upon me, and ſo as ſhe lifted up her arm, fixed her eyes on my countenance. Eteocles hath told me ſince, that even in that languiſhing poſture wherein I then appeared to the ſight of Eurione, there was ſomething in me more beautiful then ordinary: my eyes looked more gently, becauſe I looked more dejectedly then I ſhould have done otherwiſe, and my hair ſtained with blood in ſome places, playing with my cheeks, by reaſon of a little wind that then blew, heightned the little beauty which ſtill remained in my face, whereof the paleneſs muſt needs be thought an extraordinary whiteneſs, in a Country where ordinary degrees of whiteneſs are thought rare and admired. I fine, for my part, I know not with what advantage I appeared in the ſight of that incenſed Woman; but the arm ſhe had lifted up, remained in that poſture, and at the ſame time having gently turned my eies upon her, with a feeble groane, her indignation was diſarmed at that object, and the weapon fell out of her hand the ſecond time.

The man that waited upon her, thinking he did her a very acceptable ſervice in egging her on to take the intended revenge, put the weapon into her hand the third time, and encouraging her to the action ſhe would have done, was ready to help her to put it in execution, when the woman looking very paſſionately upon him, Hold thy hands, ſaid ſhe to him, it is not the pleaſure of the gods that I ſhould put Cleomedon to death. The man, who was, on the other ſide, as ready to obey her, was quiet, and Eurinoe having ſate her down ſome few paces from me, began to look very earneſtly upon me, and ever and anon disburthened her ſelf of certain ſighs which her breaſt was not ſtrong enough to keep in. She looked ſtill more and more earneſtly, and the more ſhe looked on me, the more ſhe ſeemed to ſtruggle with her paſſion, and by all her deportment it was eaſily viſible to thoſe that took notice of it, that there paſſed ſtrange things in her ſoul, and that there was an engagement of paſſion there, whereof ſhe was not over-confident which ſhould have the Victory. Sometimes ſhe would take her ſight off my countenance with ſome ſignes of reaſſuming her reſolution; but preſently after ſhe would faſten her eies on me again with greater earneſtneſs then before, and during thoſe uncertain and impetuous motions which raiſed ſuch a tempeſt in her ſoul, ſhe with much ado made a paſſage for certain ſighs. Which when ſhe had disburthened her ſelf of, Cruel man ſaid ſhe, loud enough to be heard by Eteocles, who was the next man to her, fatal Enemy of our houſe, muſt thou needs, after thou haſt triumphed over the life of my Brother and my Lover, proſecute thy Victorious arms even into my heart? With theſe words ſhe held her peace, and obſerved not without confuſion, that Eteocles might have over-heard them.

[Page] I here entertain you with a diſcourſe not much conſi [...]tent with the mode [...]ty which is natural to me, and which Eteocles might better have undertaken than my ſelf; but it was your pleaſure to command it, and I know not any reaſon whereby I may be diſpenſed from the obedience I owe you.

While the Woman was ſtill ſtruggling with the incertainties ſhe was in, and that by ſeveral diſcoveries it was viſible, that ſhe was guided by a paſſion contrary to that which a little before had put the weapons into her hand to diſpatch me; Eteocles, who, notwithſtanding the extremity whereto he was reduced himſelf by reaſon of his wounds, was ſatisfied of the truth of his obſervation. Being accordingly deſirous to make what advantage he could of the adventure, wherein he could not but imagine ſomething miraculous and extraordinary, and looking on Eurinoe in a very ſubmiſſive manner: Fair Lady, ſaid he to her, ſince your indignation hath ſubmitted to your pitty, be not generous by halves, and conſider with your ſelf, that to thruſt a dagger into the [...]reaſt of Cleomedon, and to leave him without relief in the condition whereto you now ſee him reduced, is, no queſtion, one and the ſame thing. Let your vertue have an abſolute conqueſt, in favour of a Prince who hath offended you only through his misfortune, and will ſerve you by his acknowledgments, if the gods ſhall, through your aſſiſtance, prolong your life.

Eurinoe needed no more prevalent ſollicitation to oblige her to do a thing which ſhe was earneſtly bent to do, and thereupon giving Eteocles an immediate anſwer; I ſhall ſatisfie your deſires, ſaid ſhe to him, I ſhall relieve Cleomedon, though he be the murderer of both my Brother and my Love; and the gods who were not pleaſed he ſhould receive his death at my hands, command me to preſerve his life, if it be poſſible.

With theſe words, turning to the man that accompanyed her; Pelorus, ſaid ſhe to him, the hazard I run in this action is very great, and, beſides the report I am to fear by doing this good office to him that hath ſhed the blood that was ſo dear to me, you know I have yet one Brother left about Tiribaſus, exaſperated to the revenge of his own relations, and without doubt an irreconcileable enemy of Cieomedons. But I have ſo great a confidence of your fidelity, that all my hope is in it, and I am accordingly inclined to believe, that you will not betray this ſecret, and will afford me your aſſiſtance upon an occaſion of ſo great conſequence. The man, who was become abſolutely her Creature by the death of his Maſter, complyed with her in all things, and promiſed her to be as ſecret as ſhe expected.

But why ſhould I importune you any longer with the relation of particulars of little conſequence? By the command of Eurinoe, & the care of thoſe that were about her, a horſe-litter was prepared & brought to the place were we were, into which I was put, & Eteocles by me, and we were conveyed as gently as could be poſſible, to a Caſtle which was but one houres riding from that place, where we were at firſt diſpoſed into ſeveral beds, but in the ſame chamber, Eteoc [...]es, it ſeems being very unwilling to be in any other place then where I was.

But now give me leave to beg your attention, O ye great Princeſſes, and withal your aſtoniſhment, as what I have to tell you, or at leaſt be pleaſed to infer thence the conſtancy of thoſe affections which ſeem to be the moſt violent. You have heard the account I have given you of the affliction Eurinoe was in for the loſs of her Teramenes, as alſo of her lamentations and her deportment full of deſpair and extravagance, which in all probability were the expreſſions of the moſt violent love that a ſoul could be capable of: and now you are to know that when ſhe left the place, whence ſhe cauſed us to be conveyed away, ſhe hardly ſo much as thought on him, or at leaſt beſtowing all her pains on the living, who might ſtand in need of her aſſiſtance, ſhe thought it enough to give Pelorus order to cauſe the body of Teramenes to be carryed away, and to ſee it buried.

They preſently ſent into the next Town for Surgeons, by whom we were dreſſed with much ſecrecy, taking great care they ſhould not come to the knowledg of my name who knew me not by ſight. And theſe being excellent men in their profeſſion, their endeavors proved ſo ſucceſſeful on me, that, ere that day was paſſed, they brought me abſolutely to my ſelf again, and within a few days after undertook to Eurinoe, and Eteocles, that I ſhould not dye of my wounds. I have underſtood ſince that Eurinoe entertained that aſſurance with as much joy as if her life were concerned in the preſervation of mine; but for my own part, I can truly affirm that I received it without any, and that after I had recovered my memory, and began to make my firſt reflections on the wretched condition I was in, I had almoſt caſt my ſelf, through my own deſpair into that danger out of which they took ſo much pains to deliver me. Whereof this certainly muſt be the reaſon, that the violent deſire of death which forced me to engage in the fight, being not yet gotten out of my mind, I ſhould in all likelihood have followed what that inſpired me with, and had tendred the endeavors of thoſe that took ſo much trouble upon them about my recovery, abſolutely ineffectual, had it not been for the continual ſollicitations and importunity of Eteocles, for whom I have ever had a very great eſteem, and a moſt affectionate friendſhip.

[Page] I ſhall not trouble you with a repetition of all thoſe reaſons whereby he endeavoured to make me apprehend, that I did not only betray a great want of prudence, but that I was gu [...]lty of a capital crime againſt my Love, by courting my own death, at a time, that my life might be neceſſary for the Queens ſervice, and that ſince I had not received any tidings that ſhe was either dead, or married to Tiribaſus, there was no reaſon I ſhould ruſh into extremities, which I might overtake time enough, when thoſe misfortunes were come to paſs. To be ſhort, he preſſed theſe things to me with ſo much reaſon and conviction, that I began to acknowledg the truth of them, and to ſubmit to his judgment, that it was not well done of me, to hazard upon ſuch light grounds a life which I had beſtowed, and conſequently could not diſpoſe of my ſelf, while ſhe that was the Miſtreſs of it, might expect any ſervice out of it. Upon this conſideration I was content they ſhould endeavour my recovery, and entertained with great acknowledgments the care they took of me.

As ſoon as I had arrived to ſuch a degree of recovery, as that I was able to endure diſcourſe, Eteocles came and told me what place I was in, and by what adventure I was brought thither, and at the ſame time acquainted me what averſion Eurinoe had had for me upon account of the death of her Brother and her Love, and what affection ſhe had conceived for me of a ſudden. Now his health being in a much better poſture then mine, as having given over keeping his bed, while I was yet in great danger, he had had more leaſure to informe himſelf of all that he was deſirous to know, and had underſtood that Eurinoe was a Widow of very great quality, that her friends and her husband had alwaies kept her at a diſtance from the Court, that ſhe had had two Brothers, very deeply involved in the intereſts of Tiribaſus, whereof the younger was ſlain in the late Battle, and the elder had ſtaied at Meroe by the orders of Tiribaſus, who affected him very much, and repoſed great truſt in him; that ſhe had been very earneſtly courted, ſince her widow-hood, by that Teramenes, on whom ſhe had beſtowed, ſo many tears, a perſon it ſeems of very great worth and very amiable as to his perſon; that ſhe had loved him very dearly, and that after many great traverſes and revolutions, ſhe was upon the point of marrying him with the conſent of her friends, when death deprived her of him. Eteocles acquainting me with all theſe things, told me withal how circumſpectly I ſhould carry my ſelf, that I might not be diſcovered by any other perſons then thoſe whom Eurinoe was forced to truſt with that ſecret, not doubting but that, if ſuch a misfortune ſhould happen, my life muſt needs be in manifeſt danger, as well by reaſon of the rage of Eurinoe's Brother, as the near relation he had to Tiribaſus, who, out of all queſtion would never ſuffer me to live, ſhould he once find out were I were retired. But, as things ſtood, the ſecurity of that ſecret conſiſted not altogether in our circumſpection, for Eurinoe was ſo much concerned in it her ſelf, not only out of the deſire ſhe had to preſerve a perſon on whom ſhe had beſtowed her affection; but alſo for fear of her Brothers indignation, whoſe ſavage humor ſhe was acquainted with, that ſhe omitted nothing which in point of care or caution might be expected from her.

I ſhall not preſume, my great Princeſſes, before you, whoſe beauties eclipſe what ever is beautiful in all nature, to ſay any thing of the beauty of Eurinoe, but certainly among the beauties of the rank next inferiour to the firſt and chiefeſt, ſhe might very well paſs for a handſome woman, ſomewhat duskiſh, not abſolutely black, the lineaments of her face very good, of a good ſtature, and in a word one of the handſomeſt perſons that ever I met with in Aethiopia. I ſhould commend her farther, were it not that you would imagine, faireſt Queen, that in the commendations of her beauty, I ſhould have no other deſign, then to celebrate my own fidelity.

As ſoon as I was grown any thing capable of converſation, I had her perpetually at my bed-ſide, and I ſoon obſerved in all her deportment what Eteocles had told me before of her affection. Her modeſty-indeed was ſuch, that ſhe would not in words diſcover what her heart was burthened with; but her eies betraied ſome part of it, and all her actions ſufficiently confirmed the obſervation which Eteocles had made of her. During ſome few daies, at firſt, while the ſucceſs of my recovery was yet doubtful, & my fever very violent, ſhe ſaid little to me, & I ſaw her not but at ſome certain times; but when I was a little recovered and permitted to diſcourſe, ſhe was very liberal of her company. She was one day at my bed ſide, where ſhe ſeemed to be extreamly ſatisfied to ſee my health in ſo good a poſture, when I, venturing to ſpeak, more than I had done before, took occaſion to give her thanks & to make all the acknowledgment I could of her care & tenderneſs towards me, & commended the generoſity ſhe exerciſed towards a man who had been of a party contrary to that of her Friends, & withal ſo unfortunate as by the chance of war to do her a diſpleaſure. She patiently bore with my diſcourſe, & taking her advantage of my ſilence, My lord, ſaid ſhe to me, I have done no more for you than your vertue deſerved; but ſhall entreat you not to attribute meerly to a conſideration of generoſity all that I have done to ſerve you. After you had not only been the death of [Page] my Brother, but alſo deprived me of a perſon I infinitely loved, and one with whom I was upon the point of marriage, there was no reflection of generoſity ſtrong enough to oblige me to do an action, whereby, I cannot but incur, if it be known, the reproaches of all the world, and the indignation of all my kinred and you may therefore well judge, that it muſt proceed from ſome more powerfull motive, that I conceived my ſelf engaged to relieve you. I ſhall take it upon what ground you pleaſe, replied I, but you will give me leave to imagine that it is meerly to your goodneſſe that I am to attribute the aſſiſtances I have received from you, ſince I had not any waies deſerved them. If it be meerly upon the account of goodneſſe, replyed ſhe with a ſigh, alaſſe! how fatall will that goodneſſe prove to me, and if I am onely good to you, how cruell am I to my ſelf! It would be an infinite trouble to me, replyed I, to think that the good offices you do me ſhould cauſe you any diſpleaſure, and therefore when my health ſhall be in another poſture than it is now, I ſhall heartily ſpend this life, which I have received from your courteſie to protect you againſt whatſoever you may fear. You your ſelf, ſaid ſhe, caſting down her eies with a bluſh which covered all her face, you are the moſt dreadfull of my enemies, the onely perſon I can fear, and the onely man againſt whom you can offer me your aſſiſtance.

Theſe words, though I were not at all ſurpriſed thereat, put me to ſuch a loſſe that I knew not what anſwer to make her, and ſeeing me ſilent as ſeeking what to ſay; ‘It plainly argues in you, added ſhe, an exceſſe of cruelty to pretend your ſelf ignorant of my condition, after what you have diſcovered your ſelf, and what you might have underſtood from Eteocles.’ You cannot be yet to learn that miraculous alteration of my heart and ſentiments, which, by reaſon of the inexpreſſible ſuddenneſſe of it, muſt needs proceed from ſome ſuperiour power, or a ſtrange fatality e're it could paſſe out of one extremity into the other, It is impoſſible you ſhould not take notice of its engagement in my actions ſince, and in fine you but too too well perceive all the tranſactions of my ſoul, for me to trouble my ſelf to acquaint you therewith by my diſcourſes. I am not naturally very much inclined to make declarations of this kind, but I have not been able to contain my ſelf in an adventure abſolutely prodigious, and whereof all the conſequences muſt needs be extraordinary.

Here Eurinoe put a period to her diſcourſe not without great diſcoveries of confuſion, and I was in too much diſorder my ſelf, not to be aſtoniſhed thereat, as perceiving my ſelf reduced out of neceſſity, to act a part for which I had ſo much a verſion. I thought it fit to make her ſome anſwer, and after I had ſtudied ſometime to dreſſe it with ſuch obliging expreſſions as that I might neither engage my ſelf nor deceive her; Madam, ſaid I to her, I now perceive I am much more happy than I thought my ſelf, ſince I muſt infer from your diſcourſe, (it being your pleaſure I ſhould) that I owe that to your affection, which I thought my ſelf obliged for onely to your pitty. This happineſſe is too great not to be eſteemed and acknowledged by a perſon that hath the leaſt pretence to reſpect and gratitude, and I muſt therefore promiſe you that you ſhall find my heart as well furniſhed, as to that point, as you can deſire your ſelf. This was all I ſaid to her for the firſt time, and I was not able to judge, whether ſhe were ſatisfied or diſpleaſed at it, for that Pelorus, whoſe fidelity ſhe began to miſtruſt, comes into the chamber, which obliged her to fall upon ſome other diſcourſe, and not long after to leave the roome.

The diſcoveries of this affection of Eurinoe had made ſome further impreſſions upon me, if my ſoul had not been then ſtrugling with other afflictions which I thought more inſupportable and if the knowledge I might have had of the extremities whereto my Queen had been reduced thorough the Tyranny of Tiribaſus had not tormented me with ſuch a violence as afforded me but little leaſure to think of any thing elſe. Wo is me! what cruell reflections was I perſecuted with at that time, and how often in the day, did I repreſent to my ſelf that my faireſt Queen was fallen into the power of Tiribaſus, and, it may be, upon termes of yeelding to his violence? Then was it that I ſeriouſly repented me of my raſhneſſe in purſuing my own death, at a time that I ſhould moſt have husbanded my life to do her further ſervice; and I thought that if I had minded my own ſafety, I might have been able, alone, and by ſome other waies, to take away Tiribaſus ▪s life in the midſt of all his Guards. That which aggravated my grief, was, that I durſt neither enquire after any news from the Queen, nor give any credit to what I heard related in that place, as being ſuch as I could not but ſuſpect. On the other ſide I could well remember that juſt upon my engagement in the battle, I had writ her a Letter, whereby I gave her to underſtand, that I was going to inevitable death, and conſequently made no doubt, but that the news of my departure was ſoon brought her, and ſpread all over Aethiopia. And this I ſaw muſt needs prove prejudiciall to me two waies, either by expoſing her to a grief for my loſſe, proportionable to the firſt experiences I had received of her favours, or by [Page] exempting her, by my death, from the obl [...]gation ſhe had to my Love, and the prom [...]ſe ſhe had made me.

I was ſo tormented with theſe cruel reflections that I ſaw there was no remedie, but patiently to expect my recoverie, and to haſten it all that lay in my power, it being not to be expected I ſhould there meet with any expreſſe meſſenger whom I d [...]r [...] truſt with the ſecret of my life, and Eteocles being abſolutely reſolved not to leave me in the doubtfull poſture I was in as to point of health, and withall in a place where I lay ſubject to a thouſand dangers if my abode there were diſcovered. I therefore reſolved, with much difficulty, to comply with the preſent neceſſity, muſtring up all the forces of my mind to my aſſiſtance in that emergency; while in the mean time my faire [...]t Queen was ſtill in my thoughts, and her idaea, as it was the cauſe of all my ſufferings, was alſo the ground of all my conſolations.

That part of the Caſtle into which we were diſpoſed was at ſome diſtance from all the reſt, ſo that thoſe perſons that were in the others, knew nothing of what was done where we were, Eurinoe having ſo ordered things that all was carried on with the greateſt caution and ſecrecy imaginable. By this means had I all the accommodation and attendance I could deſire, inſomuch, that, having kept my [...]ed a moneth, I at laſt began to ſit up, and to walk a little about the room. Now had I ſo much of Eurinoe's company, that ſhe was in a manner never from me, making it her buſineſſe, by all her diſcourſes, though ever cloathed with modeſty enough, to convince me of the greatneſſe of her affection. I, on the other ſide, expreſſed my ſelf with as much acknowlegment; as I could p [...]ſſibly, of the obligations I ought her, as well becauſe I thought it no more then civility to do ſo, as upon the advice of Eteocles, who would not have me by any means to exaſperate her, and was afraid of the dangers it was yet in her power to bring us into.

But ſhe in the mean time was not ſatisfied with my ſimple civilities, and expected I ſhould engage my heart in a love proportionable to hers towards me. I, on the contrary, avoided all the occaſions of ſaying any thing to her which might diſpleaſe her, though I ſaid not ought that ſhe might be miſtaken in, or on which ſhe might ground any thing of affection. But one day, after ſhe had preſſed me very much to reſolve on ſomething, yet in a way full of ſweetneſſe and modeſty, I thought fit to diſcover my thoughts more particularly then I had done any time before. Looking on her therefore in the moſt obliging manner I could; ‘Faireſt Eurinoe, ſaid I to her, I have this unhappineſs for one, among many others that are my perpetual attendants, that I cannot convince you of the ſincerity of my intentions, and the real acknowledgments I have for all the great demonſtrations you honour me with of your affection. This misfortune happens to me, for that I really have too great an eſteem for you, to make proteſtations to you beyond what I am able to make good; but ſince you will needs oblige me to open my heart to you, with that freedom which I owe a perſon to whom I owe my life, and of whom I have received ſuch extraordinary expreſſions of affection, I muſt tell you, faireſt Eurinoe, that, ſince you are acquainted with my name and perſon, it is not to be doubted but you have had ſome account of my life, and conſequently know how far I am at liberty to diſpoſe of my affections. There are few perſons in Aethiopia but know it, and therefore without obliging me to diſcover my ſelf any farther, be pleaſed to reflect on what I can, and what I ought to do, and aſſure your ſelf that I ſhall be infinitely deſirous to afford you all the expreſſions of my reſentments that I poſſibly can.’

Eurinoe ſeemed to be a little daſhed at this diſcourſe, and it was ſome time ere ſhe could make any anſwer thereto, but at laſt, having ſufficiently recollected her ſelf; ‘I have, indeed, with all the Kingdom, ſaid ſhe to me, heard of the love you have for the Queen, the great actions you have done for her ſervice, the intentions which the late King had to beſtow her on you, and the hopes you may, upon juſt grounds, have conceived, that you may obtain her, and I am not ſo far blinded by my paſſion, but that I am ſufficiently ſenſible of the diſparity there is, as well in regard of nature as fortune, between Candace and Eurinoe, upon the account both of quality and beauty; nor is my extravagance come to that height, as that I would diſpute with Queen Candace, the poſſeſſion of a heart to which ſhe hath any pretentions. But my Lord, you are withal notignor [...]nt, how that, on that ſide, all your hopes are blaſted, that Candace hath now loſt both her Kingdom and her liberty, and that all the good intentions ſhe may have for you, ſtand you in no ſtead. She hath haply beſtowed her ſelf on Tiribaſus, who is maſter of her perſon as well her dominious; and the inclinations ſhe hath had for you, if they have not already, will no doubt give way to that cruel neceſſity, which allows her not the liberty to make choice of a husband.’

Theſe words, wherein I perceived there was abundance of probablity and truth, came very neer my heart, and not being able to conceal it from Eurinoe; ‘The news you tell me is very doleful ſaid I to her, and yet you tell me nothing but what what I knew before; I have been acquainted with the uſurpation of Tiribaſus & the captivity of Candace,’ but I know withal, [Page] that the gods are juſt and omnipotent, and that by a turning-caſt of their power and juſtice, they may overturn Tiribaſus, and raiſe Candace into the Throne. There have been ſeen among men revolutions as ſtrange as that, and we muſt not quit hope till the utmoſt extremeties of misfortune. But ſuch a hope as that, replyed Eurinoe, cannot be well grounded, and as it is not impoſſible but you might alone counterballance, and haply overturn the fortune of Tiribaſus, if you had had ſufficient forces to oppoſe him, for you are not ignorant that there is not any body left which he needs fear, or that can with any probability prevent his eſtabliſhment in Ethiopia. I can do it yet my ſelf, ſaid I to her not able to diſguiſe my thoughts, what neceſſity ſoever there were I ſhould do it, I may yet haply t [...]art that fortune which you think ſo well eſtabliſhed, and put him to as great a hazard upon the uſurped throne he is in, as he was in, when he had the command of a hundred thouſand men. Ah, my Lord, replyes Eurinoe, truſt not too much to that unfortunate preſumption. Your courage is ſufficiently known, but Fortune is not your friend, and your life is dearer to me then that I can, without trembling, reflect on the danger you muſt expoſe your ſelf to. Your fear, ſaid, I ſmiling, is haply for Tiribaſus, as knowing well that a miſerable perſon that is careleſſe of his own life, may endanger thoſe of the moſt powerful and moſt fortunate. Cleomedon, ſaid ſhe to me, you do not, I hope, any way doubt, but that your life is much dearer to me then that of Tiribaſus, ſince I value it above my own. I ſhall not take the pains to perſwade you any further as to that point, but ſhall onely adde thus much, that how far ſoever my Brothers have been wedded to his intereſt, whether upon the account of fortune, or ſome allyance that was between our houſes, and though Teramenes, (whom when living I loved beyond my ſelf, and whom dead as he is, I ſhould have loved to the laſt minute of my life, had it not been for the fatal ſight of Cleomedon) was very much in his eſteem, I could never, for my own part, aporove his proceedings, nor conceive any reſpects for an unjuſt man and an uſurper.

She would have ſaid more, had it not been for Eteocles coming into the room, before whom ſhe would not inſiſt any longer on that ſubject. In the mean time, my greateſt care was to haſten my recovery, being upon thorns to faſten on ſome occaſion to ſacrifice the remainders of my life, with ſome advantage, to the ſervice of my faireſt Queen. But the more I recovered my health, the more did Eurinoe's diminiſh, inſomuch, that at laſt ſhe was brought ſo low by that unfortunate paſſion, that I could do no leſſe then pitty her, if I may uſe that term with modeſty, and was extreamly troubled that I could do nothing to comfort her.

I was at laſt grown ſo ſtrong, that I durſt venture out of my chamber, and to go in to a fair garden wher ſhe would needs have me to walk with her. I did it, though with much difficulty, ſhe being forced to help me ever and annon by reaſon of my weakneſſe. 'Twas in this place that ſhe made all her complaints to me with more freedom then ſhe could do in the chamber, and where I was many times extreamly put to it, though I am obliged to give her this character, that, in all the moſt violent expreſſions of her paſſion, I never obſerved any thing to fall from her that was unhandſome or prejudicial to modeſty. I urged to her, but to no purpoſe, the fidelity I ought to the Queen, and one day above all having preſſed it to her more earneſtly then at other times; Cruel man, ſaid ſhe to me, you have but that onely argument to elude me withal, and I am confident, that it is without any hope that you make it a cloak for your cruelty. I have told you ſeveral times that, I would not diſpute your heart with Candace, could you but think of her with any likelyhood of obtaining her; but you kn [...]w well enough that ſhe is loſt as to you, and yet thruſt a dagger into the breaſt of an unfortunate woman who loves you but too well, and pretend fidelity to a perſon that cannot think on you, and, no doubt, does not.

Theſe words, which I was extreamly moved at, furniſhed me alſo with an anſwer thereto, wherewith I thought ſhe ſhould be in ſome meaſure ſatisfied; yet ſo as that I ſhould not ſtand engaged to any thing, and thereupon taking her by the hand, and wringing it, with an action that argued ſomething of a paſſionate affection more then ordinary; Madam, ſaid I to her, it is no ſmall affliction to me to find you ſo doubtfull of the ſincerity of my heart, but ſince you are ſo incredulous, I muſt make you one overture more, which ſhall abſolutely convince you of my reality. Since therefore you have already declared that you would not dispute my heart with Candace, and that it is onely upon the ſuppoſal of her loſs that I muſt be yours, I pr [...]teſt to you, by all the gods, in whoſe preſence we now are, and make a ſolemn vow to you, ſuch as nothing ſhall ever oblige me to break, that if Candace be loſt as to me, and that I ſurvive her loſſe, I ſhall never love any thing but the fair Eurinoe. Though ſhe could not derive any advantage from theſe words, if rightly underſtood, and that I hazarded nothing by promiſing not to love ought but her, in caſe I could love any thing after the loſſe of Candace, yet I obſerved that this diſcourſe wrought that effect which I expected it ſhould, and that ſhe was ſo ſtrangely appeaſed, that for many daies her thoughts were in a more then ordinary ſerenity, during which time I grew ſtronger and ſtronger, inſomuch that I thought my ſelf able, within a few dayes to get on horſe-back.

[Page] Now was it that my diſquiets perſecuted me af [...]eſh, as having neither armour, nor horſes; and knowing no means how to procure any, but only through the aſſiſtance of Eu [...]inoe; whom I was very much afraid to make any propoſition to upon that account, as being confident ſhe would do all that lay in her power to prevent my departure at lea [...] as long as the could. And certainly I was not miſtaken in the opinion I had conceived of her, and accordingly as ſoon as ſhe underſtood, that I was upon ſome reſolutions to be gone, ſhe was ſo extreamly troubled at it, that I thought it would have proved impoſſible to comfort her. This put me into a ſtrange diſturbance, as well out of the fear I was in, that her de [...]pair might produce ſomething that ſhould prove prejudicial both to her ſelf and to us, as the improbability there was I ſhould get out of her houſe, in the conditio [...] I then was in, without her conſent, or indeed without her aſſiſtance. My thoughts were continually employed in finding out ſome expedient, and conſulting with Eteocles, who was to ſeek in it as much as my ſelf, when our diſquiets were determined by an adventure that happened, and at which you will not haply be a little aſtoniſhed.

During the time that Eurinoe was troubled moſt with a fear of my departure, and that I found my ſelf in ſuch a condition as that I might get on horſe-back within three or four days, ſhe took me along with her, as ſhe had done divers times before, to walk in the Garden. And in regard I had now fully recovered my ſtrength, ſhe carryed me into the mo [...]t ſolitary walks, and moſt remote, having wi [...]h her that Gentlewoman, whom ſhe had entruſted with this ſecret from the beginning, as if ſhe ſtood much upon the decorum and civility ſhe had always obſerved towards me. After we had taken ſome few turns, we ſate down upon a ſeat made of turſs, at the end of a walk, on both ſides of which was a high and thick hedge-row, and there, after ſhe had ſpent ſome time in the remonſtrances [...]he ordinarily entertained me with▪ How cruel man, ſaid ſhe to me, can you poſſibly prevaile with your ſelf to forſake me, and leave me in an indignation that I have made no impreſſion upon your heart by ſo many demonſtrations of a perfect affection? It ſeems then, that neither what I have done in order to your ſafety, nor what I have done againſt my ſelf by expoſing my ſelf to the indignation and reſentments of my friends, nor the violence I did for your ſake, to an ancient and earneſt paſſion, could never move that inſenſible ſoul of yours, and you make it a light matter to forſake me for ever, and to leave me at a time, when you cannot doubt but that the loſs of my life depends on that of your ſight.

There fell abundance of other things from her, with ſuch a torrent of words, as I knew not [...]ow to ſtand againſt. But when that was ſpent, and that ſhe had given over ſpeaking▪ Eurinoe, ſaid I to her, I ſhall not leave you, till ſuch time as you give me the liberty to do it, and ſh [...]ll be your ſelf ſatisfied that I ought to be at a greater diſtance from you, as well in regard of your concernments as my own. By the diſcovery I have made to you of my thoughts, you have underſtood that I am obliged to endeavour once more to do ſomething for the ſervice of an unfortunate Princeſs, to whom you know my life hath been long ſince devoted, and I were unworthy your eſteem if I ſhould baſely forſake her in the misfortunes whereto ſhe is reduced. This is it I am obliged to do, as to what concerns my ſelf; and for your part Eurinoe, you muſt give me leave to teil you, that what may be thought lawful, and haply commendable in your carriage, during the extremities whereto my wounds had brought me, would not be thought ſo after the recovery of my health, and that it would prove very unhandſome, and much prejudicial to your reputation, that a perſon of my age, and one to whom you pretend an affection ſhould make any longer abode in your houſe. What may have been kept ſecret hitherto, cannot be any longer, for time does at laſt diſcover things that are moſt concealed. You have abundance of Vertue, Eurinoe, though you have been overcome by ſome paſſion, and it is your Vertue as much as the aſſiſtances I have received from you, that I conceive my ſelf obliged to eſteem you for▪ Since then your Vertue is really more than ordinary, ſuffer it not to be ſtained with thoſe ſpots, which it will be hard for you to get out again, and endeavour to preſerve your reputation amongst me a by actions conformable to thoſe of your life paſt. You will pardon me for being ſo free as to give you this advice, which aſſure your ſelf, proceeds from a heart full of grateful apprehenſions, as alſo if I preſume to beg no other love from you, then ſuch as you would afford a Brother, ſince that you perceive by the poſture of my affairs, that I cannot love you otherwiſe then as a Siſter.

I had not till then ſpoken in ſuch terms to Eurinoe, whence it came that ſhe was the more ſurprized thereat, in ſomuch, that for a long time ſhe was not able to make any reply. And yet I think ſhe had bethought her of ſomething to ſay, when our diſcourſe was interrupted by a little noiſe which we heard behind the hedg-row, againſt which we were ſate, and not long after, by the appearance of a man, who, being come into the walk, made all the haſt he could towards the place where we were. Eurinoe's thoughts being emp [...]oyed at that time much more than mine, I took notice of the man before ſhe did, and ſaw that [Page] he was of a very goodly preſence, a noble and majeſtick air, and had a very fair countenance for a man of that Nation, though he ſeemed to be weak and brought very low, and diſcovered in his eyes ſome dreadful reſolution. Being, for my part, ignorant what occaſion might bring him thither, I was very glad of a ſword I had by my ſide, which Eurinoe had given me the day before, I had begun to wear it but that very day, to make uſe of, [...]f need were, in a Country where I was to ſuſpect all things: but Eurinoe, who had thought before that it was either Eteocles or Pelorus, caſt not her eyes on him, till ſuch time as he was come up almoſt to us. At the ſame time the woman that was with her gave a ſhriek, which ſhe hearing, and endeavouring to find the cauſe of it in the countenance of that man, ſhe immediately found it, when ſhe knew him to be her unfortunate Teramenes, on whoſe death ſhe had beſtowed ſo many tears, and on whoſe body ſhe had made ſo much lamentatition, and done things that ſufficiently argued her extravagance and deſpair. At this ſight ſhe gave a great [...]hriek, and ſhe brought forth the name of Teramenes, and the terrour ſhe conceived thereat was ſo great, that ſhe fell into a ſwound upon the ſeat where ſhe was ſate. Her action, that of the woman that was with her, and the name of Teramenes, which they pronounced, put me into an imagination it might be his ghoſt, or haply he himſelf preſerved by ſome miracle.

During that uncertainty, retreating back a little, when he was come up very neer us, and putting my hand to the hilt of my ſword; ‘Stand there, ſaid I to him, and if thou art only the ghoſt of Teramenes, diſturb not any further by thy approaches, thoſe whom thy preſence hath frightned. Were I only the ghoſt of Teramenes, replied the man, it were to thee that I ſhould addreſs my ſelf, as having been my murtherer; but ſince I am Teramenes living, and recovered of the cruel wound which I received from thee in the battle, thou ſhalt not need to fear in this deplorable condition, him, whom thou couldeſt look upon without any dread in the head of an Army. I am Teramenes the over-faithful Lover of that faithleſs Woman, whoſe heart thou haſt gotten from me, after thou hadſt taken away my life, not only in her opinion, but in that of all the world beſides. I was thine Enemy upon the concernments of Tiribaſus who was my Friend; I became thy Enemy upon the wound I received from thy hands, which hath brought me to the extremities of life and death, and I have yet a more juſt ground to be thy Enemy for the injury thou haſt done me in Robbing me of the affections of Eurinoe, which I was in poſſeſſion of, and had well deſerved. I muſt further acknowledge, that this laſt injurie though thou haſt done it innocently, had armed me againſt thee, and that I came abroad this day, though the firſt of my ſtirring, with a reſolution which might have proved fatall to one of us; but the words that have fallen from thee, and which I have over-heard, have wrought a change in my thoughts, and I have found ſo much vertue, prudence and goodneſſe in them, that they have taken off all the indignation I had co [...]ceived againſt thee. I come therefore, no longer as an enemie, but as a perſon that hath a veneration for thy vertue, and as one that is an humble ſuitor to that generoſity, which thou diſcovereſt as well in thy actions as thy words, to beg that heart of thee, which thou haſt taken away from me, without making any advantage thereof, and which thou keepeſt from me, yet wouldſt rather be without it. Reſtore to me Cleomedon, a thing which thou haſt no mind to preſerve, or if thou wouldſt be further revenged on the Friends of Tiribaſus, behold the ſacrifice, which I ſhall now offer at the feet of an ungratefull woman, of a life, which muſt now be as deteſtable to her as my death was grievous at the laſt moments of her affection.’

While Teramenes disburthened himſelf after this manner, and that I hearkened to him with attention and aſtoniſhment, Eurinoe by the aſſiſtance of her woman, and that of Eteocles and Pelorus, who came in at the ſame time, was come to her ſelf again, and might have heard ſome part of what Teramenes ſaid, while Pelorus, who had caſt himſelf at her feet, aſſured her that he was really living, and craved her pardon for having put ſuch a tick upon her. The woman was ſo ſtrangely at a loſſe between horrour, aſtoniſhment, ſhame, and, poſſibly, grief into the bargain, for the return of a man ſhe had then no affection for, that ſhe knew not in a manner where ſhe was, was not able to ſpeak, and had not the confidence to look upon him. With this, ſhe found it no ſmall difficulty to be perſwaded that Teramenes was living, though Pelorus had, by proteſtations aſſured her of as much, as but too too well remembring the laſt kiſſes ſhe had given his cold and bloody body, and the orders ſhe had given for his enterrement.

While ſhe was in this perplexity, Teramenes comes towards her, though by her ſhrieks ſhe ſufficiently diſcovered the fear ſhe was in he ſhould come near her, and thereupon ſtopping at the diſtance of ſome few paces from her, becauſe he would not diſturb her [Page] any further, and looking on her with a countenance where in his paſſion was extreamly viſible; ‘Is it poſſible, Eurinoe, ſaid he to her, you ſhould be ſo much affrighted at Teramenes living when you could find in your heart to give him kiſſes when he was dead, and waſh his face with ſo many tears! But can I think that change any miracle, cruel and ungrateful Euninoe, when I am ſo well acquainted with that of your ſoul; and that I am not ignorant, how that, in the ſame minute, you were ſeen to paſs from the effects of the moſt violent paſſion in the world, to a mortal oblivion of him that had adored you with ſo much fidelity; and to new inclinations for a dying man, whom you had never ſeen before, and one that had [...] the death of thoſe perſons ▪ whom you thought deareſt to you: I return, Eurinoe, I return, almoſt from Hell to reproach you with your prodigious inconſtancy, and the gods have been pleaſed to reſtore me to life, contrary both to your expectation and my own, that I might come and repreſent to you, the many oaths and proteſtations wherein you have called them to witneſs, to your promiſes of an eternal affection for me. Is it poſſible that you can call them to mind without remo [...]ſe and confuſion, and can ſo many demonſtrations of my love, which you ſometime valued at the higheſt rate, come into your memory, and not raiſe in you either a ſecret grief or a ſecret repentance? Your hand was lifted up to thruſt a dagger into the heart of my Murtherer, and by an extravagance of paſſion, you were hurried into extremities not ordinary to your ſex, when that fatal ſight gave a check to your cruelty, and that new love, poſſeſſing it ſelf of your ſoul in an inſtant, forced thence the unfortunate Teramenes in ſuch manner, that you hardly remembred he had once lived. In the mean time, my life was preſerved to my greater misfortune, and I wiſh it had pleaſed the gods to have put a period to it at that very minute when your affection ceaſed, and that their aſſiſtance, and that of men had not proved ſo effectual as to reſtore it me, to make me fall into the greateſt unhappineſs that ever man groaned under. Do you imagine, Eurione, that Heaven hath not a puniſhment for ſo ſtrange an infidel [...]ty, and that the cries of a deſperate and an injured Lover, will not bring upon your head thoſe misfortunes which his Love permits him not to wiſh you▪’

To this effect was the diſcourſe of Teramenes, which fell from him with a certain action, that raiſed in me abundance of pittie, and he would have ſaid more, had not the exceſs of his grief prevented him, when Eurinoe, having quite recovered her ſelf, as convinced, both by the things which ſhe heard, and by what Pelorus had told her, would needs ſtop the torrent of his words. Whereupon, ſmothering that confuſion and remorſe which had tied up her tongue ſo long, ſhe looked on Teramenes, not without ſome remainders of the fright he had put her into; and not long after, venturing to ſpeak, though with difficulty enough; ‘Whatever thou art, ſaid ſhe to him, whether the Ghoſt of Teramenes, or Teramenes himſelf alive, thou haſt killed my ſoul with terrour and aſtoniſhment, I cannot look on thee in that condition, after I had honoured thy cold and bloody body with the laſt demonſtrations of my Love, but I muſt needs be diſturbed at ſo ſtrange an adventure. Aſſure thy ſelf therefore, that what thou haſt obſerved in my countenance is meerly the effect of that trouble, and not of that confuſion and remorſe which thou doſt reproach me with, and though it might haply have proved more advantageous to my ſelf to have continued my affections to thee even after thy death, ſince it was decreed thou ſhouldſt come to life again, yet is it certain that thou haſt loſt them by a misfortune which I have not any way contributed to. With what juſtice, Teramenes, canſt thou charge me with any infidelity towards thee? Have I been any way backward in the Love I had promiſed thee to the very laſt minute of thy life, or did we perſwade one another that our Love ſhould laſt beyond this life? What law is that which engages one to this eternity of affection towards the dead, or by what ſymptomes, could I judge that thou ſhouldſt return to life, after I had cauſed thee to be brought out of the Field in order to thy burial? Thoſe demonſtrations of love which I gave thee, and what elſe thou maiſt have underſtood from the unfaithful Pelorus, were they the effects of an ordinary paſſion, and was there not ground enough thou ſhouldeſt be ſatisfied with a paſſion which engaged me to do things beyond the bounds of Reaſon? To revenge thee, I became, contrary to my natural inclinations, more cruel than a Lyoneſs, and would have attempted the life of an expiring Prince, at whoſe ſight even Tygreſſes would have been moved to compaſſion. If I therefore were moved thereat, if the will of the gods, and generoſity obliged me to aſſiſt him, and if ſince, (as thou art too well informed to be denied any thing) his excellent endowments, or ſome ſuperiour irreſiſtible power, have forced my inclinations, and taken that place in my heart, which was not to be eternally kept empty for one that was dead, doſt thou find in this misfortune that horrid infidelity which thou reproacheſt me with, or didſt thou imagine that my obligations were as great to thy ghoſt, as they were, while living, to thy ſelf? No Teramenes, think not that thou canſt accuſe me with any juſtice, and if thou [Page] haſt been ſo unhappy to looſe my affections, by an adventure ſo prodigious quarrel, with heaven, whoſe will it was it ſhould be ſo, and not with my will which hath contributed nothing thereto. As to the misfortune which thou bewaileſt ſo much, my condition is not a jot happier than thine, thou maiſt elſewhere find a better fortune than thou canſt expect with the unfortunate Eurinoe, while in the mean time it is deſtined ſhe ſhould be eternally miſerable, and expoſed to that chaſtiſement of heaven, which thou ſaieſt muſt fall upon me, and which indeed I have already felt.’

The period of this diſcourſe of Eurinoe's was a ſhower of tears which it lay not in her power to keep in any longer. Whereupon Teramenes whom it put to the extremity of grief, by reaſon there could not be a greater confirmation of the reality of his unhappineſſe, caſting a dreadful look upon her: ‘No, no, Eurinoe, ſaid he to her, I ſhall accuſe you no longer, but acknowledge with you, and ſubmit to that irreſiſtible power which hath forced your inclinations. But in regard my life might do your reputation ſome prejudice in the world, though my tongue were ſilent and that it is not to be doubted but that I am now as abominable, as ever I was amiable in your ſight, it is but juſt my life ſhould here determine, and that in ſuch a manner, that you may not be therein miſtaken a ſecond time. The greateſt regret I now have at my death, is, that I leave you an unfortunate woman, and if the vertue and conſtancy of Cleomedon could but give him leave to forget Candace to enjoy you, as you have, to gain him, forgotten Teramenes, the laſt intreaty I were to make ſhould be, that he would be leſſe cruel to her, and not aggravate any further a revenge which I deſire not you ſhould take.’

With theſe words he drew out a dagger he had about him, and lifting up his hand, would have thruſt it into his breaſt, if I had not faſtned upon him, and ſtaied his hand, though onely with ſo much force as to prevent him from executing his reſolution. Teramenes, perceiving his deſign fruſtrated, looked on me very diſturbedly, and endeavouring to ſnatch the dagger which I had taken out of his hands; ‘Cleomedon, ſaid he to me, content your ſelf that the experience I have of your vertue, hath prevailed ſo far upon me, that I would not have the effects of my deſpair fall upon you, and ſince I am willing to ſpare thoſe by whoſe means I am become miſerable, purpoſely that I might execute all my revenge upon my ſelf, hinder me not from freeing my ſelf from thoſe miſeries which I groan under upon your account. I will hinder you to lay violent hands on your ſelf, ſaid I to him, if it lie in my power to do it, and it ſhall not be my fault, if you do not find out ſome expedient beſides that of death, to get out of thoſe misfortunes whereof I am the innocent cauſe. Eurinoe knows very well, that it is not upon any hopes that I have given her that ſhe perſevers in the affection which ſhe hath for me, & I here give you a ful diſcovery of my thoughts when I tell you, that I ſhould think my ſelf a very wretched perſon, and abominable in the ſight of heaven, if a love ſo faithful as yours ſhould come to an unfortunate end by my means’

Having with theſe words taken away the dagger from Teramenes, I turned towards Eurinoe, in whom the deportment and laſt words of her husband had raiſed ſome compaſſion I ſaid to her all thoſe things which pitty could ſuggeſt to me on her behalf, and alledged to her all the reaſons which I thought might any way oblige her to diſ-lodge me out of her heart, and to readmit her faithful Teramenes. For ſome time ſhe was not able to make me any anſwer, other then that of a ſhower of tears, which being at laſt over, ſhe very earneſtly reaſſumed the diſcourſe, and charged me with the greateſt cruelty and ingratitude imanable. I heard all with abundance of patience, and not diſcovering the leaſt trouble thereat, I took occaſion to repreſent unto her, what might be the conſequencees of an obſtinate perſeverance, in a fruitleſſe paſſion, and that directed to a man engaged, in another love one that was ready to take his leave of her, and ſhould not haply ever ſee her again; nay, which is more then all, one, that, though he were not called away by the affection he had for the Queen, could not make any abode with her, but to the utter ruine of her reputation beſides the little probability there was ſhe would be ſo extravagant, as to entertain in her houſe the murderer of one of her Brothers. To this I added what ſhe might fear from her other Brother, who was ſtill with Tiribaſus, and that ſhe muſt needs expect he would have ſome deſignes, not onely againſt her life, but mine alſo, as being dear to her, but that, on the contrary, ſhe could not but be happy with Teramenes. It being out of all doubt that he had an extraordinary affection for her, ſince the demonſtration ſhe had received thereof were very remarkable: that he was approved and recommended to her by her friends, and, in a word, that it was the onely means to make a compoſure not onely in her own mind but alſo in her houſe and fortunes.

While I thus diſtburthened my thoughts to Eurinoe, Teramenes, having caſt himſelf at her feet, bathed them with his tears, inſomuch, that, whether it were upon that ſpectable, which ſtirred up in her the embers of her former affection, or that ſhe was convinced [Page] of the reaſon and truth of the things I repreſented to her, and withal loſt all hope of being loved by me, and haply imagined ſhe might never ſee me again, after a doubtful engagement wherein we ſpent the beſt part of the day, ſhe at laſt began to yield. Whereupon upon looking on Teramenes, with a milder countenance then before, ſhe turned towards me, and told me ſhe would do what I ſhould adviſe her to, and that, being become mine through the means of ſome unknown power, ſhe now ſubmitted again to the ſame power, which ſhe was not able to reſiſt. Teramenes, almoſt out of himſelf for joy, after he had given thouſands of kiſſes to her feet, caſt himſelf at mine, embracing me by the k [...]ees, calling me the author of his ſafety, and his tutelary angel, and making all the earneſt prote [...]tations he could to me, that he would heartily ſpend, to do me any ſervice, that li [...]e wh [...]ch I had prevented him from deſtroying, and made him happy in. And knowing on the other ſide that Eurinoe might be in ſome fear he ſhould afterwards remember the change that had happened in her affections, and accordingly conceive ſome diſcontented thoughts of the love ſhe had ſome time had for me, he, to rid her of that fear, made thouſands of proteſtations to her, that it ſhould never come into his mind again. He told her that he abſolutely attributed that accident to the extraordinary merit of Cleomedon, which might produce no leſſe miraculous an effect any where: but in fine, that, however he might ſeem to quarrel with her, he was confident of her vertue, not onely upon the former expreſſions ſhe had made thereof, but alſo from that very demonſtration of it, which, when he leaſt expected any ſuch thing, he had heard from the mouth of Cleomedon, that, for my part, he ſhould never conceive the leaſt jealouſie or ill thought of me, out of a confidence. I ſhould never prove unfaithful to Candace, either for Eurinoe, or any other perſon in the World.

Here am I [...]orced to contract my relation, for that, ſhould I make it buſineſs to repeat all the diſcourſes which paſſed upon this occaſion to ſatisfie and convince Eurinoe, it would take up more time then I have ſpent in the account of all I have given you already. At laſt I made an abſolute reconciliation between Teramenes and Eurinoe, who endeavoured, all that lay in her power, to conceal before him, the violence ſhe did her ſelf upon that occaſion, and prevail'd with her ſo far upon the earneſt intreaties of that Lover, that I got her to promiſe that ſhe would be married to him before my departure thence, as ſhe might very well do, being, as ſhe was, altogether at her own diſpoſal, and knowing withall that her marriage with Teramenes was approved of, and deſired by all her friends.

At laſt we would needs know of him, how he had recovered to life, and had carried his buſineſſe ſo ſecretly that Eurinoe never ſo much as ſuſpected any ſuch thing. He, in few words, acquainted us, how that, after we had been brought into the Caſtle, Peloru [...] returning to the place, where he had left him, with a letter to carry him away, found him recovered out of that mortal ſwouning wherein he had continued all the night, and ſome part of the day; that this man, being one that had been brought up in his ſervice, over-joy'd at the accident, had taken ſuch pains about him, that at laſt he brought him ſo far to himſelf, that he was ſenſible of what was ſaid to him. To this Pelorus added, That Teramenes had commanded him to carry him to Eurinoe's, as having no place where he might well retire any neerer, and that thereupon he had been forced to acquaint him with the truth of all that had paſſed, as having far greater reſpects for his Maſter then he had for Eurinoe: That Teramenes had almoſt dyed in good earneſt at that cruel news, and that nevertheleſſe, out of a deſire to ſee the conſequences of that adventure, and to apply thoſe remedies which time and his own reſentments ſhould ſuggeſt unto him, he was content to be carried to a houſe that belonged to a Siſter of Pelorus's, not far from Eurinoe's Caſtle, where he might not onely be privately looked after, in order to his perfect recovery, but alſo be in a place, where he might every day underſtand, by Pelorus, what was done at Eurinoes: That all things came to paſſe as Teramenes had deſired, and that he had been waited on and dreſſed with ſo much care as might be, by perſons concerned in his welfare, and ſuch as had not any way betrayed the ſecret committed to their truſt: That this had been done with the greater eaſe, by reaſon of Eurinoe's continual imployment about me, and the little curioſity ſhe was then guilty of, to enquire what was done in her neighbourhood: That he brought Teramenes notice every day of what was done at the Caſtle, in regard he might go and come to his Siſters houſe without the leaſt ſuſpicion: That Teramenes conceived ſuch a grief and affliction thereat, that many times he was upon the point of diſcovering all, not doubting but that Tiribaſus, and Eurinoe's Brother, and all of that party would ſoon find out ſome means to diſpatch me, when they were once acquainted with the place of my abode, but that he had been perſwaded to the contrary, partly by his intreaties, who deſired [Page] him to delay it, and partly by thoſe remainders of love which he ſtill had left in him for whoſe ſake principally it was that he forbore putting that bloudy deſign in execution; that at laſt, through the aſſiſtances of thoſe that were employed about his recovery, he was come to the poſture of health wherein he ſaw him, and that having notice given him, that Eurinoe and my ſelf walked every day in the Garden, he would needs come thither, to over-hear our diſcourſe, if it were poſſible, and to take his opportunity to be revenged of me in ſuch a manner as might leaſt prejudice the reputation of Eurinoe; That he had many times over-heard our diſcourſe, through the hedge-row, but that in thoſe which I made to Eurinoe, he had found ſo much prudence and vertue, that he immediately changed his reſolution, and that perceiving I had no affection for Eurinoe, he thought fit to make his advantage thereof, and had then diſcovered himſelf to us to implore my aſſiſtance upon the opinion he had of my generoſity,

Thus did Teramenes give us an account of his adventure, and prevailed ſo far with Eurinoe, that ſhe pardoned Pelorus, who in thoſe tranſactions had expreſſed a greater love to his ancient Maſter then to his new Miſtreſſe. But to what purpoſe ſhould I ſpin out the particulars of this relation, all things were compoſed, quiet and ſerenity of thoughts began to chaſe away all former diſſatisfactions, onely Eurinoe diſcovered by certain ſighs that her ſoul was not abſolutely recovered, and, three daies after, finding my ſelf in a condition to depart thence, I charged Eurinoe with her promiſe, and in my preſence obliged her to marry Teramenes. There happened ſome particulars in this action which I carefully concealed from Teramenes, and the next day I preſſed them, to accomodate me with thoſe things that were neceſſary for my departure, that I might repair to thoſe places which I was obliged to go to, promiſing them, I ſhould acknowledge, when it ſhould pleaſe the gods to enable me, the aſſiſtances and kindneſſe I had received from the officious Eurinoe. Teramenes granted my requeſt, and furniſhed us with cloaths, arms, and horſes, and would have gone along with me. Had I accepted of his company: but I gave him thanks for his kind proffers, and told him, that I was ſatisfied he ſhould be no longer my enemy, without engaging him to be any way ſerviceable to me againſt Tiribaſus, who was much his freind, and ſo intreated him not to diſcover any thing he knew of me, and to promote the report which was already ſpread abroad of my death. And this I was the more confident he would do, not only upon the promiſe he had made to do it, but alſo out of a conſideration of his own intereſt, which would adviſe him not to publiſh a thing, that might exaſperate Tiribaſus againſt him. They alſo taught me an invention which proved very fortunate to me; for, perceiving I was ſomewhat troubled how to conceal my ſelf in the places I was to paſſe through, by reaſon of the fairneſſe of my face, ſo different from the complexion of the men of that Country, they gave me a certain water, which is commonly uſed among the Ethiopians, by thoſe that are deſirous of a more ſhining blackneſſe in the countenance, and having made experience of it firſt on my hands, they afterwards therewith painted my face, as alſo that of Eteocles, ſo that after three waſhings, we were grown as black as if we had really been Ethiopians. They gave me a little Glaſſe-Bottle full of it, to carry along with me, and ſhewed me the way to take it off, when I had a mind to do it, which was, onely with warm water and certain herbs put into it. In this poſture, after ſome bemoanings from Eurinoe, which ſhe was not able to forbear, and thouſands of proteſtations which I made her, to acknowledge her extraordinary favours, if ever Fortune proved kind to me, I departed from that houſe without any other company then that of Eteocles, and one ſervant on horſeback, Teramenes beſtowed on me, and of whoſe fidelity he gave me very great aſſurances.

The deſign I then had was ſecretly to get to thoſe whom I knew to be ſtill my Friends, and were deſirous to ſerve their Princeſſe, and had a zeal for the memory of their late King, hoping, that upon my returne they would be encouraged to attempt ſomething for the ſervice of their Queen, whom I knew to be well beloved among the Ethiopians. Among thoſe Telemachus and Oriſthenes were the moſt conſiderable, and, having underſtood in my way that they were retired from the Court to certain houſes they had in the Country, where they paſſed away their time in grief and ſolitude, I, without any danger, got to Oriſthenes, paſſing through all palces, without the leaſt ſuſpicion, by reaſon of the blackneſſe of my countenance, which diſguiſed me ſo well, that you your ſelf, Madam, were miſtaken in me. I ſhall not take occaſion to prolong my diſcourſe upon the aſtoniſhment of Oriſthenes and Teremachus, when I had diſcovered my ſelf to them, [Page] and when they ſound me living after they had bewailed my death. They gave me thouſand of expreſſions of their joy and friendſhips, and continuing ſtill as well affected and as zealous for the ſervice of their Queen, as ever they had been; they very cheerfully entertained the propoſition I made to them, of attempting ſomething againſt the Tyrant, and proffered of themſelves to go, and ſecretly ſollicit all her faithfull Servants and Subjects into ſome engagement, and to get together ſuch a Body as might undertake ſome remarkable enterprize. They acquainted me, Madam, how you had been ſecured and guarded; and gave me an account of your admirable conſtancy in oppoſing the ſollicitations of Tiribaſus, who was not yet come the utmoſt violences, but had gone ſo far as to put your moſt faithful Servants into ſome fear, that he would not long continue in thoſe termes. I communicated to them the deſign I had to wait on you, and they were perſwaded, that, conſidering how I had diſguiſed, my ſelf, I might come even into the preſence of Tir [...]baſus without any danger. I came to Meroe, where I had not the happineſſe to ſee you the firſt time; but the ſecond, when I came into the Garden, I was more fortunate, and ſeeing you again, I laid as an offering at your feet your faithful Cleomedon, whom you had honoured with your tears, and who, through the exceſſe of your goodneſſe and favours, ſtill lives in your memory.

The end of the Firſt Book.

HYMENS PRAELUDIA; OR Loves Maſter-peice. Part. X.
LIB. II.

[Page]

ARGUMENT.

CLeomedon proſecutes the continuation of his Hiſtory. He draws to his party 4000▪ men, with whom he forces the Palace at Meroe, forcing Tiribaſus into the City, and ſending Queen Candace along the Nile to Baſſa. He maintains the Palace till the ſupplies raiſed by Oriſthenes and others were come into the City, whereupon, ſallying out to joyn with them, and jointly to engage Tiribaſus, he meets with a party commanded by Aſanor, defeats it, and kills him. He relieves Oriſthenes, hard ſet upon, and conſummates the victory by killing Tiribaſus. Having ſecured the reduction of the City by a new oath of allegiance to Queen Candace, he goes after, thinking to find her at Baſſa, but meets there with a probable report that ſhe might be taken by the Pirate Zenodorus, whom thereupon he makes a fruitleſſe ſearch after till at laſt he was by a tempeſt caſt aſhore near Alexandria. Renewing his ſearch after her upon Land, he meets accidentally with Artaban, they fight, but are interrupted by Zenodorus paſſing by, who is purſued by Artaban. They both fight againſt Zenodorus and his men, till that weakened by wounds and loſſe of blood, he is relieved by Eteocles, and brought by Alexander to a houſe where he hath a ſight of his Siſter Cleopatra, but diſcovers not himſelf to either. By the mediation of Candace and Eliſa, he is induced to an inclination of friendſhip with Artaban. Olympia and Arſinoe come to viſit Candace and Eliſa. Philadelph goes to viſit Tigranes, to whom he preſſes his vain purſuit of Eliſa, and reproaches him with his former affections to Urania: Olympia and Arſinoe are made acquainted with Artaban, who know him to be the ſame Britomarus, who had ſometime had ſome inclination for Arſinoe, and had reſcued Ariobarzanes out of the hands of the Pirates. Ariobarzanes and Philadelph are made acquainted with Artaban, and acknowledge their great obligations to him under the name of Britomarus. Agrippa entertains Ariobarzanes, Philadelph, and others, with the loſſe of Cleopatra, upon which the Princes that were preſent take occaſion to diſcover what they had every one contributed to that adventure.

THE fair Princeſſe of the Parthians and the Queen of Ethiopia had hearkned hitherto with great attention to the relation of Cleomedon, without offering to interrupt him, but when he was come to that paſſage, Eliſa looking on the Queen with a ſmiling countenance; You were very much to blame, Madam, ſaid the to her, not to have diſcovered to me this particular of Caeſario's life, becauſe, in my judgement it is none of the leaſt important. But I withal percieve that you purpoſely avoided all occaſion of giving me any account of the Love of Eurinoe, out of a fear you were in, that I might obſerve in your diſcourſe, ſome glimſpes of the jealouſie you may have conceived at that adventure. You force me to a protestation, Madam, replied the Queen (with an action wherein ſhe ſeemed to be as indifferent and as little earneſt as the other) which is, that the greateſt part of thoſe things which he hath related, was not come into my knowledge; and therefore whether it were for the reaſon you alledge, or for ſome other yet unknown to me, Caeſario had given me but an [Page] imperfect account of that adventure, and had not diſcovered the particulars thereof that were of moſt conſequence. You are very much in the right, Madam, replies Caeſario, for indeed, I ſhould gladly have avoided giving you any account of it, could I well have done it, and the little inclination I have to engage my ſelf in a diſcourſe of this nature might have exempted me from doing it now, had you not laid your abſolute commands upon me to that purpoſe. I have therefore made a ſhift to get through the firſt and longeſt part of my narration, ſince you have already acquainted this great Princeſſe with the entertainments that paſſed between us in the garden, as alſo all that happened even to the day, on which, after I had brought in four thouſand men of thoſe I had drawn into our party by the means of Telemachus and Oriſthenes, I forced the palace, and that Tiribaſus, having ſaved himſelf by getting into the City, I led you through the garden to a veſſel which I had provided to carry you along the Nile to the city of Baſſa, a place then at our devotion. Of all theſe things, replyed the Queen, I have given the Princeſs an exact account, all you have yet to inform us of, is, what hath happened to you ſince our ſeparation. Though this, replied Caeſario, be the ſhorteſt part of my relation, yet is it that of greateſt conſequence, and I cannot but extreamly wonder you ſhould not be more impatient to know whether you have not ſtill a Crown to diſpoſe of.

After I had brought you to the veſſel, & there left you, though not without much violence to my ſelf; to put the deſign we had undertaken in execution, which we had in ſome part effected, in as much as concerned your liberty, but as to what was yet to be done were in a very ill poſture by reaſon of the eſcape of Tiribaſus, I returned to the palace, where I found all my men abſolutely reſolved to make good what they had gotten, and to fight for your intereſt to the laſt gaſpe. I encouraged them in that deſign by all the words I thought might any way animate them, and put them into a poſture of maintaing the Palace, in the beſt order I poſſibly could. I made no doubt but that Tiribaſus, as being a much experienced in matters of war, would come immediately and ſet upon us with all the force he could of a ſudden make, knowing that it concerned his ſafety to recover preſently what he had loſt, before thoſe ſupplies came in to us which we expected. This he accordingly put in execution, as I had imagined he would, and he was no ſooner gotten into the City, but he forced all the Citizens to take up armes, though the main motive of their obedience was their fear, their inclinations being abſolutely for their Queen; and in the mean time having given order that all the troops that were in the ſuburbs and about the City, ſhould rally under the command of Theogenes and Aſanor, he got a conſiderable body together, and came againſt the Palace with abundance of fury. You know, your ſelf, Madam, that all the fortification there is about it, is a ditch with a low ſtone-wall flanked here and there with certain Towers. The ditch may ſoon be filled, as being neither very broad nor very deep yet not ſo eaſily but that it would coſt a great many men to do it, the palace being made good by a conſiderable number of men, and thoſe all reſolved to ſell their lives at the deareſt rate.

Tiribaſus having made his aſſaults upon that ſide of the palace which lies towards the City, ſent at the ſame time to ſecure all the boats that were upon the Nile, that he might onely have the command of the river to carry on the ſiege againſt us, but alſo prevent us from making any eſcap that way. Nay I doubt not but that, if he had had the leaſt ſuſpicion of your departure, he would have ſent ſome boats after you; but you might have been ſo far before he bethought him of that courſe. that I was out of all fear of your being taken before your arrival at the City of Baſſa, where you were expected. Tiribaſus made his approaches and carried on the aſſault, as a man that very well knew what he had to do; and cauſing ſome part of his ſouldiers to bring turfs, ſtones, faggots, and all ſuch other things as were fit to fill up the ditch, he began to do it with abundance of earneſtneſſe, but there being within a conſiderable number of old ſouldiers, and ſuch as were well verſed in matters of war, and far greater then was neceſſary for the defence of the palace, while I gave order that ſome ſhould reſt themſelves, the reſt were diſpoſed upon the battlements, and ſhowering down arrows upon the Stormers that were below, they filled the ditch much more than all thoſe other things did which the enemy had brought thither to that purpoſe. I had, as good fortune would have it, found out in the palace, an infinite number of arrowes and all other armes, which it ſeems Tiribaſus had cauſed to be brought in thither, and which was yet a further happineſſe going into that chamber which he had appropriated to himſelf ſince his pretended Royalty, I there met with my armour enriched with Eagles of gold, the very ſame which I had been ſtripped of after the battle, and which had been brought to him, as well for their ſumptuouſneſs, as to put him into a greater aſſurance of my death. I have been informed ſince that it was an officer that had fought under my command in the war of Nubia, and one that had ſome reſpects for me, that had hindred his companions from cutting of my head, to preſent it Tiribaſus, as they were once reſolved to [Page] do, and was content onely to ſtrip me of my Armour and to preſent him with them. This accident I looked on as a good omen, and thereupon putting them on with much joy, I imagined my ſelf more hardly conquerable in them than that I had been before. I very diligently viſited all thoſe places wherein my preſence might be any way ſerviceable, and omitted nothing that contributed ought to our defence, no more then Tiribaſus did on the other ſide to carry on the aſſault. I once perceived him, amidſt a many of his Soldiers, iſſuing out his orders with much earneſtneſſe, and having diſcovered my ſelf to him by a great ſhout, I took a bow and arrowes in my hand, and ſhot twice at him, the latter arrow coming ſo near his head, that he durſt not continue any longer in the place where he was; and perceiving that, at the ſame time, I cauſed him to be ſhot at ſeverall wayes, after he had threatned me by cries and geſtures, he retired to a place where he was more ſecure. From that time I ſet upon him the beſt Archers I had, to ſhoot continually at him aſſoon as ever he ſhould appear, by which means it came to paſſe that he was leſſe confident in the aſſault then he had ſhown himſelf before.

The number of men that I had within the palace was ſuch, that I might have ventured to ſally out, and have forced back the more daring of the enemies ſide; but it was my greateſt concernment to gain time, in expectation of thoſe ſupplies which Oriſthenes was to bring me, and which were raiſed with ſo much privacy, in the Cities that were ſtill under our command, that Tiribaſus had not the leaſt intelligence thereof, and in the mean time to keep Tiribaſus ſo in play, that, directing all his force againſt us, he might make the leſſe proviſion againſt other enemies. Beſides thoſe I had about me in the palace I had four hundred men lying dormant in the Citie, in certain houſes whereof we were confident, and under the command of Clinias a Nephew of Oristhenes; and theſe were ordered, aſſoon as the ſupplies were come, to joyne with them at a place appointed, and poſſeſs themſelves of a gate of the City to make way for the other forces. I diſcovered ſome part of my deſigne to the principal Officers, encouraging them to play the men that day, and promiſing them they ſhould be relieved, if not the night following, at fartheſt the next morning. There was no great need of this ſollicitation, for they all fought with ſuch eagerneſs, that, though Tiribaſus had in ſome places filled up the ditch, and had brought ſcaling ladders to ſtorme the place, yet all came to no other effect then that thoſe who were moſt forward to get up, were tumbled down in the ditch, as it were to abate the confidence of thoſe that were to come after them.

You would haply think my relation very tedious and impertinent, ſhould I give you a particular account of all the actions of that day, and therefore, I ſhall think it ſufficient to tell you, that the Gods (who no doubt, had a vengeance in ſtore for the Tyranny of Tiribaſus,) took away the light of his reaſon in that emergency, and, depriving him of ſome part of his ordinary prudence, were pleaſed, that, blinded by the violence he was in to reduce us, he bent all his forces to do it, in ſuch manner, that he made not any proviſion for the ſecurity of the City. Upon this account was it that he ſpent the whole day in aſſaults againſt us, but to no purpoſe, and having hardly taken one hours reſt in the night, he was at us again before day, much more furiouſly than before.

In the mean time, Oriſthenes, having landed in the Iſland without any difficulty, was, with the advantage of the night gotten to the very gates of Meroe, and, at the break of day, having given the ſignall which we were agreed upon with Clinias, he was preſently at the gate, whither all his men, coming to him from ſeverall quarters, came about him, and, before that thoſe who were then upon the guard could perceive whether they were Friends or Enemies, they fell upon them, cut off thoſe that made any reſiſtance, and having forced the reſt to fly, ſet open the gate for Oriſthenes. Yet could not this be done with ſo little noiſe, but that thoſe who were upon the walls, though but few, and thoſe not much minding what was done, did, aſſoon as it was light, diſcover the forces of Oristhenes, and accordingly give the alarme; but, before it could come to the place where Tiribaſus was, Oriſthenes was gotten into the City, his troops coming in ſtill like waves, and meeting with nothing that any way oppoſed them. He brought in along with him three thouſand horſe, and about ſeven or eight thouſand foot, all choice men, and ſuch as were ready to ſacrifice their lives for the juſt cauſe wherein they were engaged. Oriſthenes uſed all the expedition he could to get in his forces, which he diſpoſed into the more ſpacious ſtreets and other large places that lie neer that gate, and when he ſaw that the greateſt part were come in, and that the reſt would follow without any hindrance, he advanced towards the palace, putting all to the ſword that he met with in arms. He cauſed it to be cried wherever he came that the Citizens ſhould lay down their arms, and that no violence ſhould be done to thoſe that would not fight for Tiribaſus. It were impoſſible for me to repreſent to you what a diſtraction Tiribaſus was in, when word was brought of that [Page] misfortune, and what imprecations he made againſt heaven, when he perceived himſelf ſurprized by thoſe very enemies, whom not long before he had ſlighted for their weakneſs: and yet he withall ſaw that he had but little time to looſe in conſultation, and that in tead of carrying on the aſſault againſt the Palace, he muſt make head againſt Criſ [...]henes and fight him.

He accordingly reſolved to do it, and thereupon, rallying all the forces he had about him, and giving order that his horſe ſhould mount, he mounted alſo himſelf, and leaving a ſmall number before the Pallace to keep us in play, he took all the reſt along with him to engage with Oriſthenes. I had underſtood by a ſignall from Clinias that the ſupplies were come, and eaſily imagined what might have followed, inſomuch, that, finding that I might either freely ſally out, or at the worſt meet with ſuch oppoſition as I might well overcome, I thought it not fit to fight any longer behind dead walls; and ſo leaving twelve hundred men to make good the Palace, though a leſſe number might have ſerved to do it. I commanded out all the reſt, and getting up of a good horſe, whereof I [...]ound no ſmall number about the Palace, and which I diſpoſed among the moſt conſiderable of thoſe that were about me, I cauſed the great gate of the Palace to be opened, and drew out into a ſpacious place not far from it. Thoſe that endeavoured to oppoſe our paſſage were [...]nmediately cut in pieces, and the reſt, running away, made all the haſte they could to Tiribaſus.

I was no ſooner got into the City, but I cauſed it to be proclaimed every where, as Oriſthenes had done before, that the Queen pardoned the Citizens, provided they layd down their armes, and this, running from one to another, proved ſo effectual, that the greateſt part of the inhabitants took occaſion to go home to their own houſes, by which means Tiribaſus's party became much weaker then it had been. However, the number he had about him was far greater then that of our forces; but he could not make any advantage of their number in the ſtreets, where the engagement was not the ſame as it would have been in an open field. Tiribaſus was already engaged with Oriſthenes, and upon the firſt encounter there was abundance of bloud ſpilt on both ſides. As I was marching towards the place where I thought to have found them, I met with Aſanor in my way, in the head of a party which he was carrying to the relief of Tiribaſus. I immediately charged him, and it happening that we met in a ſpacious place, the engagement proved accordingly very hot and bloudy. The ſucceſs alſo for ſome time was very doubtful, but at laſt victory declared her ſelf for the juſter cauſe, and, Aſanor being killed, with the moſt conſiderable of thoſe that were about him, the reſt ran away in diſorder towards the place where Tiribaſus was fighting againſt Oriſthenes, and certainly there it was, that bloud and blows were not ſpared, and that we had by much the worſt end of the ſtaff. Tiribaſus ſighting with his men like one that had all at the ſtake, had charged Oriſthenes with ſuch fury, that the braveſt of his men lay upon the ground, and he himſelf, being unhorſed, diſputed the buſineſs on foot with little hope of victory, nay, it would have been long ere he had loſt his life, had not ſome of the beſt affected and ſtouteſt of his men ſet themſelves before him, and relieved him with much eagerneſſe. Tiribaſus, making all the advantage he could of that overture of victory, forced his enemies to retreat, fighting them ſtill even into the ſpacious place of M [...]roe. There it was that he thought to give them an abſolute defeat, by reaſon of the advantage of the place, and the diſtraction they were already in, when I, coming to their relief another way, which I found free, got up to that place with my Troop, and immediately crying out, Candace, Candace, and thoſe that followed me, Cleemedon, we revived thoſe that were ready to quit the field, and abated their confidence, who expected nothing leſſe then victory. The preſence of the two chiefs added very much to the bloodineſs of the engagement, which was upon my coming reaſſumed, and, having ſent ſome of my men to relieve Oriſthenes, whoſe danger I had underſtood, I endeavoured to meet with Tiribaſus, as knowing that in his perſon conſiſted all the war. I took notice of the place where he was, and be immediately knew me. I am eaſily perſwaded that it was not his deſire to avoid fighting, being, by the acknowledgment of all, a man valiant enough, and no leſſe concerned in my death then I could be in his: but the moſt devoted to his intereſts that were about him, ſetting themſelves before him, many were laid on the ground that I was forced to diſpatch to come up to his perſon. At laſt we came together, notwithſtanding the oppoſition of our men, and running at him full of fury; The day is now come, Tyrant, ſaid he to him, that thou muſt render up the Crown with thy own life into the bargain. He made me ſome anſwer, which I could not hear by reaſon of the noiſe, and the heat I was then in, and received with me a reſolution not much different from what I brought. But, being ever and anon hindred by our men, who came in between us, and that eſpecially by his, who fell upon me on all ſides, I grew the more eager to determine the difference; and that was it had almoſt coſt me my life. I had made two blows at Tiribaſus, with ſuch good fortune, [Page] that they gave two wounds, whereupon he began to look on me as one that ſought with a certain confidence of victory, when my horſe, by reaſon of many hurts he had received, ſell down ſo of a ſudden, that I had much ado to get my feet out of the ſtirrups, and to ſtand before Tiribaſus, who taking me at that advantage, was upon the point of running over me, I could not avoid the ſhock of his horſe, in ſomuch that he had almoſt overthrown me, but in that poſture leaning on my own horſe that lay dead between my legs, with my left hand, I, with my right, thruſt my ſword into the belly of his, ſo that when he was coming at me, he felt him falling down under him. In that interim I cloſed with him, to avoid the ſhock of his men, and in that diſorder finding a place unarmed, I run him with my ſword through the body.

Tiribaſus ſtretched forth his arms as he was falling with his horſe, but, in regard that I ſtood neer him, he very furiouſly caſt himſelf on me, and by his weight forcing me to the ground, he fell upon me, as he breathed out his laſt, and faſtned on me in ſuch a manner, that I found it no ſmall difficulty to get from under him, all goared and covered with his bloud. The danger I was in by reaſon of that diſadvantage, had been very great, had I not been relieved by diverſe ſtout men▪ who reſcued me from the rage of Tiribaſus's friends, and, notwithſtanding all they could do, got me on horſeback again. This, Madam, was the fate of Tiribaſus, the uſurper of your Dominions, and your precious Liberty, and you may ſee in it how that the juſt gods decreed he ſhould periſh by his hands, to whom, of all men, that revenge was moſt due.

Upon his death, thoſe that were of his party were ſo loſt, as to courage and reſolution, that the moſt eager in the cauſe could hardly be gotten to fight much longer. When I ſaw the reſiſtance they made was very weak, and that ſome were running away in the ſtreets, caſting away their arms, I conſidered, Madam, that they were your ſubjects, and thereupon, out of a deſire to ſpare their bloud, I cryed, and cauſed it to be cried up and down, that if they laid down their arms, the Queen would give them their lives, & would forgive all that was paſt. Som particular friends of Tiribaſus would not accept of this proffer, but would needs be killed, and, among the reſt, Eurinoe's Brother, whoſe life I would gladly have ſaved for his Siſters ſake; but all the reſt, perceiving there was no ſafety but by that means, and having, for the moſt part, ſided with Tiribaſus, purely out of fear, laid down their arms, and cried up and down, God ſave Queen Candace. I immediately thereupon ſent orders every where, that none ſhould be put to the ſword; and it was ſo religiouſly obſerved, that after ſome few minutes, there was no more bloud ſpilt. All thoſe of Tiribaſus's party went in among the Citizens, who had laid down their arms as ſoon as I was gotten out of the Palace: and our men, though in arms and victorious, began to treat the others as their Country-men and companions. Oriſthenes, who, having been ſet on horſeback again by the relief which I had ſent him, had joined with me, and behaved himſelf with abundance of valour, rid all about the City by my order, and ſo appeaſed the remainders of the diſorder, that when the dead bodies were removed out of the ſtreets, it could hardly be imagined there had been any fight.

All things being thus compoſed, I ſent out orders, that the more conſiderable of thoſe that had followed Tiribaſus, as well Citizens as ſouldiers, ſhould come to me in one of the moſt ſpacious places in the City, and, after I had entertained them with a diſcourſe (which it were not fit to trouble you with a recital of) wherein, having in, the firſt place, repreſented to them the greatneſſe of their crime, I made them, in the next, apprehenſive of that of your goodneſs, who were gratiouſly pleaſed, even at a time that they might be puniſhed with ſeverity, to pardon them ſo horrid an infidelity, and forget all that was paſt; provided that for the future they did thoſe things which were expected from them. And that I exhorted them to do with a true remorſe, and to repair their crime, by a fidelity as remarkable as their defection had been. All the inhabitants anſwered me with cries and tears, and, pronouncing your name on their knees, they called all the gods to witneſs the ſincerity of their intentions, and proteſted they had done nothing againſt you, but by force, and out of the fear they were in of the power of Tiribaſus. The ſouldery, for the moſt part, returned me the ſame anſwer, ſo that after I had taken a new oath of allegiance from them all in your name, I diſmiſſed the Aſſembly, permitting all to follow their occaſions, and ſuch as had friends dead, to bury them. I alſo gave way, that thoſe that pretended a more particular affection to Tiribaſus, ſhould take away his body in order to an honourable enterrement, as knowing, Madam, your generoſity to be ſuch, as permits not your reſentments to go beyond death. And thereupon, having my thoughts wholly taken up with you, and yet not thinking it ſafe to leave Meroe that very day, for fear of the accidents that might happen upon ſo ſudden a revolution, I ſent Clinias Expreſſe to you, to give you an account of all that had paſt, and to intreat you to remain at Baſſa till the next day, at which time I ſhould have waited on you, bringing along with me your people of M [...]roe, who were infinitly deſirous of your return.

[Page] Having gone ſo far, I ſpent all the reſt of the day, and ſome part of the night in pacifying and compoſing all things, and, conſidering the ſhortneſſe of the time, there was ſuch order taken, that it was hardly perceiveable that there had been any revolt in Ethiopia. But what grief it was to me, what diſtraction I was in, the gods onely know, the next day, when I found Clinias returned, telling me, that you had been expected to no purpoſe at Baſſa, whither you came not at all, and where there had not been any thing heard of you. Being extreamly troubled at this account of you, I immediately left Meroe, having onely ſtaied ſo long as to leave orders with Oristhenes to take care of all things t [...]ll your return; and taking certain boats, and ſuch a number along with me, as I thought fit, of thoſe I could beſt truſt, I made all the haſt I could to Baſſa. There I ſoon met with the cruel confirmation of you loſs, and underſtood from thoſe that you had left to command there in you abſence, that they had neither ſeen nor heard any thing of you. Theſe unfortunate tidings raiſing the greateſt diſtraction imaginable in my thoughts, put me to ſuch extremities, as I had never been acquainted with before; and the violence of my affliction taking away for ſome time the uſe of my reaſon, I had much ado to forbear revenging my ſelf upon ſuch as had contributed nothing to the misfortune. I did nothing the reſt of that day, and all the next night, but wander up and down upon the Nile, while thouſands of perſons were ſearching in other places to the ſame purpoſe.

But all proving in [...]ffectual, I thought it my beſt courſe to return to Meroe, out of a conceit, that, without all queſtion, you had been taken by ſome perſons that Tiribaſus had ſent after you, and that, by ſecuring thoſe that were yet there, of the friends of Tiribaſus, ſomething might be diſcovered, when there comes to Baſſa an Egyptian Marchant ſhip, by which I underſtood, that as they ſailed up the Nile, they had met with the Pirate Zenodorus, with four ſhips, and had eſcaped being taken by him, by making to land, which they were not far from, and that they had paſſed ſo cloſe to him, by reaſon of the narrowneſſe of the River in that place above any other, that they could eaſily perceive there were ſome Ladies priſoners in his Veſſel, whereof they had ſeen ſome upon the deck, and heard the cries of others ecchoing all over the River, and that afterwards, coming further into the River, after the Pirate was gone by, they met with abundance of earkaſes floating, and found all the circumſtances of a great and bloudy engagement. From this diſcourſe, which the paſſion I was then diſtracted by eaſily induced me to believe, I immedately inferred all circumſtances conſidered, that it muſt needs be you, Mad. that was fallen into the hands of the famous Pirate Zenodorus, whoſe name was grown dreadful in all theſe coaſts, and who was the beſt acquainted of any therewith, by reaſon of the perpetual inroads that he made upon them. You may eaſily imagine, Madam, that it were impoſſible for me to make you ſenſible of the grief it was to me to hear theſe fatal tidings, and that all I am able to ſay will come very far ſhort of what I then felt upon the firſt entertainment of that cruel account of our malicious Fortune. This was it that put me out of all patience, and in a manner took away the uſe of my reaſon, inſomuch, that the gods may well pardon me, if, during the time that that extravagance laſted, I did not alwaies obſerve that reſpect which a man ſhould never be guilty of any breach of towards them. Nay, methought the rage I was then poſſeſſed by, was in ſome ſort excuſable, and that misfortune, happening at a time when I expected all the kindneſs and indulgence of fortune, ſeemed to me ſo great, that I could not imagine it ſupportable by the greateſt conſtancy in the World. Nevertheleſſe, thinking it too great a lowneſſe of ſpirit to looſe time in lamentations and fruitleſſe complaints, I ſent Clinias back again to Meroe, with orders directed to Oriſthenes, to hearken out every where after you, in caſe the tidings I had received of you ſhould prove falſe, and to ſecure the moſt intimate friends of Tiribaſus, to find out, by that means, whether you had been taken by any orders of his, and, having given him that charge, I took up three veſſels that lay in the haven ready to ſet ſail, accompanied by all thoſe I had about me, that I thought able to fight, and made all the ſpeed I could towards the mouth of the Nile, into the Mediterranean Sea. I thought it no ſuch difficulty to make after Zenodorus though with a number of veſſels, much inferiour to his, and, no doubt, leſſe ſerviceable as to matter of engagement, and all the fear I was in, was, that I ſhould not find him, ſo far was I from any thoughts of being worſted, if I were ſo fortunate as to meet with him.

We got out of the Nile, and were entred into the Sea, being abſolutely to ſeek what courſe we ſhould take; but, having underſtood that Zenodorus came often to Peleuſia, and the ports adjoining to Alexandria, to ſell ſome part of what he took upon thoſe coaſts, I imagined I might there hear of him, and ſo thought fit to make towards Alexandria. I ſhall not, Madam, trouble you with the complaints I made during the time of this ſad courſe, nor the doleful reflections which tormented my thoughts without the leaſt intermiſſion. I was ſenſible, as indeed I ought to have been, of a misfortune that deprived me of the happineſs [Page] of your preſence; but this was not yet the greateſt of my afflictions, and when I imagined to my ſelf, that my faireſt Queen was in the hands of a mercileſſe Pirate, and repreſented to my ſelf all the dangers whereto ſhe might be expoſed, (and to which, as I have ſince underſtood from Eteocles, it was but indeed too too true that ſhe was) I was at a loſs of all patience, inſomuch that I could hardly forbear caſting my ſelf into the ſea. At laſt, we were entertained by the ſame tempeſt which proved ſo favourable to you againſt the inſolencies of Zenodorus, and which hath been the occaſion of ſo many accidents upon theſe coaſts at the ſame time; and this alſo grew ſo implacable to us, that our veſſels were diſperſed, in ſuch manner, that I could never yet learn any tidings of the other two, and know not but that they are long ſince devoured by the waves: and that wherein I I was in my ſelf, after we had, for two whole daies ſtrugled with the ſame cruelty of weather, that you had met with, was at length caſt upon this coaſt within a hundred Stadia of this City, ſo ſhattered, that it was abſolutely unfit for the ſea. I left ſome part of my men to get the veſſel repaired, as at Alexandria they might with all freedom do, there being free commerce between the Ethiopians and the Egyptians, leaving orders with them that they ſhould expect to hear from me in the port of Alexandria, and that they ſhould make enquiry every where after the Pirate Zenodoras. And ſo, taking onely twelve along with me, proportionably to the number of horſes that we had in the veſſel, we all mounted, and having, for ſome time rid all together along the ſhore, I thought it not amiſſe that we divided into parties, it being the more likely way to find out what we ſought, and thereupon ſhewing them a little village which I knew, and whereof I gave them the name, I entreated them, that, after they had viſited all the places about Alexandria they would all meet there at night.

This was done as it had been reſolved, and for my part I would have no more in my in company but onely one Eſquire, by reaſon of the averſion, which, through melancholy, I had for all company. All that day was ſpent in a fruitleſſe ſearch, and at night meeting at the rendez-vous appointed, we there paſſed it over, wanting nothing as to the accommodation of the body, if the mind could have taken any reſt. The next day, I named to them another ſmall town diſtant from this place about two hundred Stadia, where was appointed the meeting for the night following, and ſo dividing into ſeveral parties, as the the day before, directing them to take other courſes then they had done, went my ſelf as before, attended onely by a ſingle perſon in the quality of Eſquire.

I had wandred up and down for ſome part of the day, when finding my ſelf ſweltred with heat, and the weight of my Armour, which I had not put off all this time, I would needs take a minutes reſt, and refreſh my ſelf at a ſpring that lay in my way in the midſt of a very pleaſant valley. With this reſolution I alighted at a certain diſtance from the ſpring, and▪ having given my horſe to the Eſquire, I ſate down by it, and putting up the viſour of my head-piece, I drunk of the water, and lay down on the graſſe, where no doubt I had taken ſome little reſt, had my grief been ſo ſupportable as to afford me ſuch an intervall. I had not been there many minutes, when there comes to the place where I was, a man accountred much after the ſame rate that I was, and, as I conceive, with the ſame intentation. His arms were very ſumptuous, and he was of a goodly preſence: but I thought him quite another man, when he had put up the viſour of his helmet, as I had, and that, caſting my eies on his face, I found he had the beſt countenance in the world? We ſaluted one another very reſpectfully, though that in his face, as well as mine, were viſible the characters of a more than ordinary ſadneſſe. After he had quenched his thirſt, which it ſeems had forced him thither, he began to look more earneſtly on me, and he had no ſooner caſt his eie on my face but he thought he ſhould know me. His behaviour obliging me to look on him with the like earneſtneſſe, methought the lineaments of his face were not ſtrange to me, and, notwithſtanding the alteration which ſeven or eight years might have wrought therein, I preſently was perſwaded I had ſeen him ſomewhere before.

We looked thus one upon the other, with ſome ſuſpence on both ſides, when he, firſt diſcovering himſelf, and ſpeaking to me with an accent which I was not unacquainted with; I know not, ſaid he to me, whether you would find Britomarus in my countenance as I would do Cleomedon in yours. There needed no more than theſe words to put me out of all doubt, that it was no other then the ſame audacious Britomarus, with whom, while we were yet both very young, I had had that great falling out in Ethiopia, and whoſe valour and generoſity I had ſo much admired. And though I ſhould have gladly concealed my ſelf from any other perſon, yet could I not imagine it pardonable in me to do it from Britomarus, after I had reflected on thoſe things that had paſſed between us, and thereupon making him an anſwer ſuitably to his manner of ſpeaking to me; You are very much in the right, ſaid he to him; I am Cleomedon, and though it is with much ado that I [Page] called you to mind, yet now I am abſolutely ſatisfied that you are Britomarus. 'Tis very true, I am Britomarus, replied he, and I muſt tell you moreover, that I am Artaban. Under this latter name I am much more known among men then under the former; under that name I have gained ſome battles, conquered Kingdomes for ungrateful Kings, and have done thoſe actions, which have haply raiſed me to that rank whereto I told you at our last parting, I was in hopes to raiſe my ſelf. I have meaſured my ſword with Kings, who have not thought it any diſhonour to themſelves; I have raiſed ſome of them, I have pulled down others, and I have not met with any greater than my ſelf, till the chance of war had dicided the controverſie.

There needed no more than the word Artaban, to ſatisfie me as to ſome part of thoſe things which he told me, the reputation of Artaban being ſo much ſpread all over the world, that few were ignorant of the great actions he had done. On the other ſide, by reaſon of the acquaintance there had been between me and Britomarus, I was eaſily perſwaded that he was Artaban, as finding in him all things extreamly conformable to what I had known in the other. I hearkened to his violent diſcourſe with much patience, to ſee what would be the iſſue of it, when he proceeding; I do not, ſaid he to him, tell you theſe things of my ſelf, Cleomedon to derive any vain reputation thence, but to give you occaſion to remember that, when I was affronted by you, and forced to quit the ſervice of Candace for your ſake, I told you, as we parted, that a day might haply come, wherein I ſhould be in a condition once more to meaſure a weapon with you. Not but that the cauſe of that reſentment of mine hath long ſince been taken away, and that the addreſſes which were ſlighted by Candace, have been entertained by a Princeſſe who is not inferiour either to Candace or any other Princeſſe in the world; not alſo but that I am ſatisfied that the averſion which I have ever naturally had for you, is unreaſonable, ſince your excellent endowments ought in all juſtice to gain you the eſteem of all the world. On the other ſide, it is not unlikely, but that there may be ſome occaſion, nay haply neceſſity, that both of us ſhould employ our arms elſewhere, and upon that conſideration I ſhall not oblige you to turn yours againſt me: but you will be pleaſed to remember, when we ſhall meet with a more favourable opportunity, that Britomarus is arrived to that condition which he ſaid he ſhould come to, and dares meaſure a ſword not onely with Cleomedon, but with all the Princes upon earth.

This fiery diſcourſe of Artaban's, though it raiſed in me a certain eſteem for the perſon, yet was I not a little incenſed at, and my thoughts being eaſily put into diſorder by reaſon of the affliction I was in, there needed but a ſmall matter to put me out of all patience. Not but that I was extreamly troubled at this adventure, as ſuch as obliged me to a fruitleſs engagement, in a time which I was to employ in finding out other enemies; but there being no grief ſo great as to ſmother the Love of glory, I thought, that, the diſcourſe, which Britomarus hadmade, well conſidered I could not with honour avoid fighting, though he had left it to my choice. Upon this reflection looking on him with an eie, which eaſily diſcovered how much I was moved at what he had ſaid; Artaban, ſaid I to him, I am very ready to believe of you all that you ſay of your ſelf, as alſo all that Fame hath ſpread abroad concerning you, and am withall ſatisfied, that the cauſe of your reſentments hath been taken away by change of your affections; but, it ſeems, though there be no quarrel between us out of any conſideration of jealouſie, I am yet to be accountable for your averſion, and though there want not haply other occaſions of far greater conſequence than the motives of our differences that call me elſewhere, yet will I be obliged for my liberty to proſecute them, to my ſelf and not to your civility. Let us not remit, to another time and other opportunities, what we may determine in this. It is poſſible we may not meet with another ſo favourable, and we were both equally blameable if we ſhould now part and avoid and engagement that is now become neceſſary, and for which it ſeems you come ſo well prepared.

With theſe words I roſe up from the place where I lay, and after I had put on and faſtned my head-piece, and taken my buckler from my Eſquire, I got up on horſeback▪ and rid forth into the moſt delightful part of the plain. Artaban was not a perſon to be expected, he had his foot in the ſtirrup aſſoon as my ſelf, and being immediately, come up to me, he eaſily diſcovered by all his deportment, that he was the perſon Fame publiſhed him to be. The firſt onſet proved very furious, and the indignation I was in to think that he ſhould continue an unjuſt averſion during ſo many years for a diſpleaſure I had innocentdone him, and for which I had made ſuch ſatisfaction, cauſed me to fight with no leſſe animoſity againſt him, then I had done ſome few daies before againſt Tiribaſus. The firſt blows that were dealt on both ſides were hearty and heavy enough; but being both very well skilled in the uſe of the Buckler, there were a many exchanged ere there was any wound [Page] received on either ſide. At laſt being more and more exaſperated by this trial of our ſtrength, we engaged one another with leſſe circumſpection, inſomuch that both his armour and mine began to be dy'd with the blood. which our ſwords drew out of our bodies. That ſpectacle heightning our courage added alſo to our animoſity, and no doubt but that the end of the combat would have proved fatal to one of us, nay it may be to both, by reaſon of the great equality of our force, when a certain man on horſeback riding at a ſmall diſtance from us, and making a ſudden halt, ſtaied for ſome little time to look on us. For my part, I could ſee nothing in the man that might divert me from minding what I was then about: but Artaban had no ſooner caſt his eie on him, but he gives a great ſhout, and at the ſame time, gave me ſuch a blow over the head that I was for ſome minutes ſtunn'd with it. However, I made a ſhift to recover and that immediately, and was thinking to drive towards him, when, looking about, I perceived him at a great diſtance from me, riding with all the ſpeed his horſe could make, after the man we had ſeen, and purſuing him ſo cloſely, that it was not long ere a turning that was in the plain, deprived me of the ſight of him. This accident put me very much to a loſſe, as being too well acquainted with the valour of my Adverſary, to imagine that it was out of any motive of fear that he avoided fighting. No, I was far from conceiving any ſuch thing of him, as knowing him to be as gallant and as ſtout a man as ever drew ſword: but being already exaſperated by the ſight of my blood ſliding down along my Armour, I would needs run after him, either to decide our quarrell, or know of him the reaſon why he had left me in the midſt of it.

Whereupon obſerving the way he had taken, I followed the track of his horſe, with all the ſpeed I could make, and with a ſmall time came into a place where I found him engaged in a combate with another man that ſeemed to be no leſſe valiant then himſelf. But, my greateſt Queen, I ſhall ſay no more as to what paſt then, becauſe you were your ſelf preſent and ſaw all, having Eteocles with you and another valiant perſon, who made it his buſineſs to part us, There it was that I had the happineſſe to ſee you like a flaſh of lightning, and juſt at the minute that I began to feel the firſt motions of joy for that adventure, I ſaw you carried away, once more, by the man whom Artaban had purſued, who was returned thither with his companions, and was the Pirate Zenodorus, as I have underſtood ſince by Eteocles.

The fair Queen, who had been preſent at that action, and had obſerved all till ſhe was carried away, was ſo well acquainted with all paſſages, that he might well forbear all further account thereof, Whereupon the Prince related to her, how that he had followed her ſo long, till at laſt, through the great loſſe of blood, and the weakneſs he was reduced to, by reaſon of his wounds he fell of his horſe; how he had been relieved by Eteocles, and not long after by his own Brother, Prince Alexander, and the Princeſs Artemiſa. He afterwards entertained her with an account how they had brought him to the houſe where they had taken ſanctuary themſelves; how that ſome few daies after, when he had in ſome meaſure recovered his health, he had been acquainted with the Hiſtory of their loves, and yet, though he had not the leaſt miſtruſt of their vertue, and friendſhip, that he thought it not fit at that time to diſcover himſelf to them, as not knowing whether ſhe might take it well at his hands.

He afterwards acquainted her with the arrival of the Princeſſe Cleopatra, and her being in that houſe, to whom alſo he had not diſcovered himſelf, and how that the next day ſhe had been carried away again with Artemiſa. Caeſario aggravated to the Queen the affliction he conceived at that misfortune, as being not in a capacity to afford his Siſter the aſſiſtances he ought, and to go along with Alexander after thoſe that had carried her away; yet told her withal, that it was his reſolution to have done it, and that he would have put on his armour, if Alexander himſelf had not prevented him; and if Eteocles had not taken ſuch order, that he could get neither arms nor horſes for that day: that the next day towards the evening finding himſelf a little ſtronger, he got out of his bed with an intention at the ſame time to ſeek out both Candace and Cleopatra, and was got to one of the windows, whe [...]ce, caſting his eye upon the adjoining wood, he had ſeen a Chariot paſſing by, wherein he had perceived the Queen, with the fair Princeſs of the Parthians, whom he knew not, that upon that happy ſight, joy taking its former place in his ſoul, friendſhip had ſubmitted to love, and the loſſe of Cleopatra troubled him the leſſe by reaſon of the recovery of Candace: That he wold immediately have run after her, but not long after, Eteocles, coming into the room, and having communicated that good news to him, had intreated him to have a little patience, and to give him leave to run alone after the Chariot, to find out the truth of that adventure; That accordingly Eteocles got on horſeback, and followed the track of the Chariot, and thoſe that conveyed it, into Alexandria, whither [Page] having got in undiſcovered, he had informed himſelf ſo well of all things, that he underſtood how the Queen was in the Palace, with the Princeſſe of the Parthians; that ſhe had been reſcued out of their hands that had carried her away by the Praetor Cornelius, and that ſhe was attended with all manner of reſpect, though ſhe had diſcovered her ſelf onely ſo far as that ſhe was a Lady of great quality, born in Ethiopia; that theſe tidings re [...]toring him, as it were, to a new life, had alſo reſtored him, in ſome meaſure, to his health and ſtrength: and that, having that very day ſent Eteocles into the City to ſpeak with her, if he poſſibly, with any convenience, could; he returned ſome time after, with news, that he had ſeen her getting up into a Chariot, wherein ſhe went out of the City, to take the air along the river ſide, and would come within a ſmall diſtance of the houſe where he was; That, upon that news he was not able to keep in any longer, and that notwithſtanding the reaſons alledged by Eteocles, who would by all means have hindred him, he got on horſeback, and rid forth into the wood, in hope of ſome opportunity to ſee her, out o [...] a confidence he ſhould not meet with any one that knew him That it was, as he croſſed the wood up and down upon that deſign, that he firſt heard certain out-cries, and afterwards ſaw the Princeſs Eliſa in the hands of Tigranes; That, though he knew not who ſhe was, he had done her that ſervice which he ought her, and that he had not ſorſaken her, had he not ſeen Artaban, and a company of men on horſeback coming behind him; That being unwilling to be diſcovered by them, he withdrew; but that he had taken particular notice of Artaban, and that, looking on him as the moſt concerned in the relief of the Princeſſe, he was very glad that he had done him that good office, as well out of a conſideration of the ſatisfaction a man takes in doing what he is in honour obliged to, as out of a remembrance, that, in the engagement they had had together, againſt the Pirate Zenodorus, and his men, Artaban had relieved him, and helped him on horſeback, after his own had been killed under him; That afterwards he had wandered up and down the wood, in hopes to ſee the Queen, but that, having obſerved ſome appearance of Agrippa and Cornelius, with their Troop, he would not by any means be met with by them, and thereupon retired til night, at which time, through the help of the darkneſſe, he made a ſhift to get into the City, and, knowing what part of the Palace the Queen was lodged in, he, without any difficulty, ſound her out, having once gotten upon the terrace, where he had met with Clitia.

Thus did Ceſario put a period to his relation, and when he had given over ſpeaking, the Queen, looking on him with a countenance wherein her thoughts were in ſome meaſure legible; ‘Caeſario,’ ſaid ſhe to him, you have had your traverſes and extremities, and we badours, which I ſhall not trouble you with any relation of, becauſe you have underſtood them already from Eteocles. If I have ſuffered much for you, I muſt yet confeſſe you have endured more for▪me, beſides, that by your attempts and valour, you have regained me a Kingdom, which I gave over for loſt. It is but juſt it ſhould be a preſent made to you, as it were, in ſome ſort, to reward your care and conduct, and might it pleaſe the gods I had any thing to preſent you with, that were more conſiderable and more precious, that I might requite, as I ought to do, thoſe ſo many noble demonſtrations of your affection. Madam, replies Caeſario, it is beyond the merits of my blood, nay, indeed, of my life, to deſerve the expreſſions I receive of your favours and goodneſſe, and I am very much aſhamed to expect ſo many great things from my nobleſt Queen, when I am able to offer her nothing but a miſerable wretch diſcarded and deſpailed of that which now makes up ſo many Monarchies and a . . . . . . . . . . . .

Tis enough, ſaies Candace, interrupting him, let me hear no more of that diſcourſe, if you have not a ſet purpoſe to diſpleaſe me, and take it for granted, that your perſon is of a value high enough to be preferred by the greateſt Princeſſes in the Univerſe before that of the [...] ſuper, who is now poſſeſſed of your Fathers Palace.

Having by theſe words engaged him to ſilence, ſhe fell upon ſome other diſcourſe, wherein ſhe diſcovered to him what trouble ſhe was in for the danger whereto he expoſ [...]d himſelf, by coming into Alexandria, where he muſt expect no leſſe then death if he were once known; as alſo her diſpleaſure to ſee him ſo careleſſe of his health, as being not ſufficiently recovered, (as might be ſeen in his countenance) to venture on horſeback, and take ſuch pains as he did. The Prince, after he had thanked her for the afflictions ſhe was in for his ſake, as being the pure effects of the tenderneſſe ſhe had for him; For the hazard whereto I expoſe my ſelf, ſaid he to her, it is not ſo great as you imagine it, and beſides the difference there is between the face of a child of fourteen years of age, and that of a man of four and twenty, the report that is ſcattered up and down the world of my death hath taken ſuch root, and is particularly ſo much credited by Auguſtus, that it were no ſmall difficulty to perſwade people to the contrary: and for my health, I find, that through the joy which the gods have been pleaſed [Page] to afford me, by meeting with you again, I have recovered my ſtrength in ſuch a meaſure, that within three or four dayes I ſhall be in as good plight and condition as ever I was, either to do any thing in point of arms, or to waite on you by ſea into Ethiopia. Eteocles hath within theſe two dates found out our veſſel, which the Ethiopians that had followed me have gotten, made fit for the ſea again, and rides at anchor within a hundred ſtadia of Alexandria. Your faithful ſubjects that are aboard it, have underſtood, not without great tranſports of joy, that you were in this City, and expect your orders with that ſecrecy which Eteocles hath engaged them to. I ſhall be content to remain either with them, if you think it good, or in the houſe where I have already made ſome abode, and where, by the appointment of Alexander, I have hitherto been extreamly well entertained, and at ſuch hours as theſe you will give me leave to wait on you for ſome ſmall time, till the day that you ſhall have reſolved to depart hence. Alas! for matter of departure, ſaies Candace to him, it ſhall be as ſoon as your recovery ſhall permit, beſides that there are ſome other reaſons beſt known to my ſelf, which would force me to haſten my departure hence, were it not that the company of this fair Princeſſe, which I cannot without an infinite affliction ever quit, doth prevail with me to wave all reſolutions of that nature. It was but juſt, ſaid Eliſa to her, that you gave me that little comfort, after the cruel diſcourſe you have entertained me with, and I ſhall be very much troubled to conſent to your departure, if you do not take me along with you.

Theſe laſt words fell from her with a certain ſmile, whereupon the Queen look [...]ng with a more ſerious countenance; Faireſt Princeſſe, ſaid ſhe to her, you ſpeak that in jeaſt, which, with more reaſon, you might do after another manner: and were it the pleaſure of the gods, and that I might hope ſo much from your friendſhip, as that, till ſuch time as you are reconciled to the King your Father, or have ſetled your ſelf by other waies, you would make your reſidence in Ethiopia, you ſhall be there attended with ſo much reſpect and affection, that poſſibly it would be long ere you returned among the Parthians. Two hours ſince I could not have made you this propoſition; but ſince that through the aſſiſtances of the gods, and the valour and conduct of Caeſario, we have recovered the Kingdom of our Fathers, I ſhall never derive any advantage thence that can be more acceptable to me then that which I may receive by this goodneſs of yours.

This diſcourſe of Candace was accented with ſo much affection, that Eliſa could not forbear embracing her, and kiſſing her many times together, giving her withal many thanks for this demonſtration of her friendſhip, in terms wherein ſhe fully expreſſed how extreamly ſenſible ſhe was thereof. At length, turning to Caeſario, I ſhould have feared, ſaid ſhe to him, that the difference there is between you and Artaban might have engaged you to employ the intereſt you have with the Queen, to oppoſe the ſanctuary and entertainment ſhe is pleaſed to proffer me, as knowing the inclinations he hath for me, and haply having underſtood the marks of a more then ordinary eſteem which I have for him: but ſince you have been ſo fortunately generous, as to have done her, with joy, the greateſt ſervice ſhe could have expected from the beſt of her friends, I cannot but hope, that, through the aſſiſtance of the Queen, who will make it very much her buſineſs to perſwade you thereto, you will not be ſo exaſperated againſt him, as to deny him your friendſhip, if he deſires it of you, as he is obliged to do. Madam, replies Caeſario, I can make an unfeigned proteſtation to you, that I never had any hatred againſt Artaban, and from the eſteem I have ever made of his admirable endowments, it may eaſily be inferred, how extreamly I was troubled to find in him ſo much averſion for me. Inſomuch, that without engaging by this action, the Queen, or your ſelf, to a belief that it proceeds from the reſpect and complyance I have for your commands, I ſhall gladly embrace his friendſhip, and give him what aſſurances of mine you ſhall think fit.

Eliſa ſeemed to be extreamly joy'd at this diſcourſe of Caeſario's, whereupon the Queen, deſirous to unite thoſe two extraordinary perſons by a friendſhip as great as that which was between her ſelf and Eliſa, knowing that Caeſario had had ſome imperfect account of the great actions of Artaban, as alſo of the affection he had for Eliſa, acquainted him in few words with what of moſt conſequence he was yet ignorant of. Inſomuch, that by that relation ſhe gave him ſuch a character of Artaban, that he looked upon him as the greateſt and moſt generous of men, and repreſenting to him the difference there is between thoſe elevated ſouls in whom noble actions raiſe onely an impreſſion of eſteem and reſpect, and thoſe other reptile ones, wherein they produce envy and enmity, to deſire with earneſtneſs, the acquiſition of his friendſhip.

It is not to be doubted but that the ſight of Caeſario was an infinite ſatisfaction to Candace; and Caeſario, on the other ſide, could gladly have ſpent whole ages in her company, and yet not be ſenſible of their length; but yet, beſides the fear which upon his account Candace was perpetually in, the night was in a manner ſpent, and Caeſario, [Page] thought it too great a preſumption to delay any longer the repoſe of thoſe two great Princeſſes. So that he was obliged to recommend them to their reſt, having firſt obtained the Queens leave to waite on her the next night at the ſame hour, and promiſed, that he would entertain Artaban with all friendly embraces, if it ſhould prove his fortune ever to meet him again. Aſſoon as he was gone, the two Princeſſes went to their beds, and by reaſon of the alteration that had happened that day in their fortunes, having diſmiſſed thoſe cruel diſturbances which interrupted their repoſe, they fell into ſuch a quiet ſleep, that it was very late the next day ere they awoke.

Thus was this night paſſed over by thoſe many illuſtrious perſons who were then at Alexandria, and the next day aſſoon as Olympia and Arſinoe had notice brought them, that Candace and Eliſa were awake, they left their own lodgings with an intention to give them a viſit, and to let Eliſa underſtand how much they thought themſelves concerned in what had happened to her the day before. They would by no means give way that Ariobarzanes and Philadelph ſhould follow them, though it was no ſmall torment to them to be out of their Miſtreſſes preſence ſo much as one minute, and indeed they were not overearneſt to do it at that time, knowing well, that by reaſon of the difference of ſex they had not the ſame freedom with the others to viſit Ladies before they were dreſſed. Beſides Philadelph was a little troubled by what he had underſtood of the arrivall of Tigranes, and the attempt he had made to carry away Eliſa. And being withall a Kinſman and friend to the King of the Medes, and that it was by his aſſiſtance and that of Archelaus King of Cappadocia, that Tigranes had recovered his Kingdome, he knew not well, how he ſhould behave himſelf towards Eliſa, for whom he had already conceived abundance of reſpect, and for whom Arſinoe whoſe commands he was wholly to be guided by, had a very great affection. At laſt he reſolved not to do any thing that Arſinoe might take amiſs at his hands, or prejudice the reſpect he had for Eliſa; but he thought he might ſafely go and ſee Tygranes, having underſtood that he was in Alexandria, and thereupon taking his leave of Ariobarzanes for ſome time, he went to give him a viſit. And yet before he was gotten out of doores he called to mind the ancient enmity that was between the King of the Medes and the houſe of Armenia, though there had been a peace concluded between thoſe two Crownes by the intereſt and Authority of Auguſtus, And accordingly, fearing that Ariobarzanes was ſtill wedded to the quarrell wherein his houſe had been engaged, and conſequently an enemy to Tygranes, he entreated him for his ſake, to moderate the reſentments there might be yet remaining in him as to that affaire, and to do that Prince no ill office, if he did not by ſome deportment of his, oblige him thereto▪ Ariobarzanes, who was a perſon of an excellent good nature, promiſed Philadelph to be guided in all things by him, and ſeeing himſelf deprived of all the company by his departure, he went to ſee Agrippa whom he extreamly honoured for his vertue, and whoſe friendſhip he was very deſirous to preſerve, that he might make uſe of it, either upon his own account or Philadelphs, againſt the implacable humour of Artaxus, whom he ſtood much in fear of.

Tygranes had paſſed away the night in ſuch fits of madneſs and exaſperation, as had hardly allowed him the reſt of ſome few minutes, and brought him into an humour, which made him unfit company for all in a manner, Philadelph onely excepted. But as ſoon as he caſt his eies on that Prince he whom he had infinite love for, and whom he was obliged to for the recovery of his kingdom, all his melancholy and extravagant reſentments vaniſhed to make way for that exceſs of joy which filled him at a ſight ſo little expected. He found it ſome difficulty to imagine to himſelf, that it was really Philadelph; but when the Prince had by his words and careſſes, confirmed what his eies durſt not eaſily decide, the ſatisfaction it was to him proved an excellent remedy to alleviate his diſcontents, and, ſuffering himſelf to be abſolutely▪ poſſeſſed thereby, his behaviour towards the Prince was ſuch as could not proceed but from a violent and cordiallaffection.

After the firſt complements, ordinary upon the occaſion of ſuch an interview, were paſt, Tygranes asked Philadelph what ſtrange adventure had brought him to Alexandria, and Philadelph, having made the ſame demand to the other, they reciprocally ſatisfied one the other; and entertained one another with an account of their laſt adventures, by means whereof they were come to Alexandria. Tigranes ſeemed to be very glad at the fortunate ſucceſſe of Philadelphs Love, though he could not but much wonder, that that fair Delia, of whom he had heard ſuch ſtrange things while they were in the wars together, was the ſame Arſinoe, that was reported to be dead long before with her Brother Ariobarzanes, and Siſter to Artaxus their irreconcileable enemy. Philadelph told him that he had been no leſſe aſtoniſhed at it himſelf, and therefore doubted not but that the indeprecability of Artaxus and that of the King his own Father might yet put a many rubbs in their way; but, all notwithſtanding, he thought himſelf happy [Page] in having conſecrated his life to the moſt amiable and moſt vertuous Princeſſe upon earth, and that he expected no leſſe from the friendſhip of Ariobarzanes, and the authority of Caeſar then that all things ſhould be ſo carried that both parties ſhould comply to contribute to their good Fortune.

After they had had ſome diſcourſe of the affaires of Philadelph they ſpoke of thoſe of Tigranes, and after that, that violent King had with a great deal of fury and fierceneſſe diſburthened himſelf of part of that which lay ſo heavy on his heart, and made thouſands of complaints againſt Eliſa, and diſgorged thouſands of menaces againſt Artaban and all thoſe that were of his party, Philadelph took occaſion to reaſſume the diſcourſe with abundance of m [...]dneſſe in theſe termes, You do not doubt, ſaid he to Tigranes, but that I am your friend, and as deeply engaged in your intereſts as any Prince whatſoever, either of your allies or neighbours. The expreſſions I have received thereof, are but too many, too great, and too important, replied Tigranes, not to raiſe in me a confidence of your Friendſhip. Since you are ſo much of that belief replies Philadelph, you will give me leave to tell you, that you your ſelf contribute moſt of any to your own misfortunes, and that the ſame Eliſa for whoſe ſake you have once already loſt your kingdome, may prove the occaſion of greater inconveniences to you. I muſt needs acknowledge the world affords not any thing comparable to her beauty, not any thing greater then the rank ſhe is in among the Princeſſes of the earth, and that the Crown of the Parthians, whereof ſhe is yet preſumed to be the lawful heir, is, next to the Roman Empire, the greatest Monarchy in the world. But on the other ſide, you are to conſider, that this Eliſa ſhuns you, hates you, prefers before you a perſon whoſe revenues conſiſt in his ſword, and deſies the indignation of her Father and her King, meerly to ſatisfie the averſion ſhe hath for you; ſo that you may well infer that there is little likelihood to reduce that which neither paternal authority, nor the hazards ſhe hath hitherto been expoſed to, have ineffectually attempted: And therefore, if you will take my advice, you will make this advantage of the diſentertainment of your addreſſes, to baniſh out of your heart a pe [...]ſon that ſlights you, and one that, though ſhe were within your power, will never have any affection for you while ſhe lives, and conſequently, muſt needs make you, by reaſon of the continual hoſtility which you muſt ever expect to ſtruggle with in your own houſe, the moſt unfortunate Prince upon earth.

On the other ſide, I have heard of ſome little engagement you were in towards Urania, during the time you took ſanctuary with King Archelaus, her Brother, who may with very much reaſon be exaſperated againſt you, if the things I have heard be true, and you muſt needs expect the reproaches of all the world, if by your irregular proceedings you diſoblige a f [...]iend from whom you have received ſervices of ſo great conſequence.

While Philadelph held him with this diſcourſe, Tigranes hearkened to it with much impatience, as deſirous to interrupt him. But when he had given over ſpeaking; I muſt needs acknowledge, ſaid he to him, that there is abundance of reaſon in ſome of thoſe things which you inſiſt upon; but if you have had as much love for Delia as you have ſometimes told me you had, I am to learn, how you can imagine it ſhould be ſo eaſie for me to diſengage my ſe [...]f from that which I have for Eliſa, the influences of whoſe beauty are not ſo weak but that they may work their effect upon a mans heart while he lives. Beſides, though my inclinations that way proceeded not out of any engagement of Love, and the intereſt of a Crown, ſuch as is that of the Parthians, I am obliged to do what I do out of a conſideration of honour; for I have married her by my Ambaſſadours, and the King her Father beſtowed her himſelf upon thoſe Ambaſſadors, that ſhe might be brought into my embraces. So that I am to take in any part of the earth, wherever I meet with her, the woman that is my lawful wife, and by all manner of waies revenge the affront I have received, and I cannot imagine that Caeſar, or any other Authority in the world, will oppoſe ſo juſtifiable a reſolution. For Urania, you know the worſt ſhe can expect; it will be no preju [...]ice to her to give place to Eliſa and though what you have heard ſhould prove true, ſhe is no worſe dealt with by me then ſhe had been before by you.

I hope you are not ſo far miſtaken, replies Philadelph, as to imagine I ever promiſed Urania any thing, and that if I had, the Love I have for Arſinoe ſhould not oblige me to deceive her. As for the revenge you ſpeak of, and which you ſay you ought to endeavour, for the affront hath been done you. I know not on whom you ſhould execute it, and if you take my opinion, I think it is onely of Eliſa that you have received that affront. I ſhall not revenge my ſelf on Eliſa, replied the King of the Medes, becauſe, notwithſtanding her ingratitude and inſenſibility towards me, ſhe is yet dearer to me than my own life, and I could never attempt any thing againſt her, but it muſt wound me to the heart. But I will puniſh that audacious fellow whom ſhe moſt ſhamefully prefers before me, and will chaſtiſe a perſon who, riſ [...]n out of the duſt, would needs raiſe himſelf above Kings, and who, not able to lift himſelf up into the rank whereof he now is, but by the favours that I have done him, and the employments I have put him into in my Armies, hath ſo inſolently abuſed the fortune he crept into by my lenity, and treats Kings as his equals, if not as his inferiours.

[Page] I am not acquainted with Artaban, requires Philadelph, though his great fame hath raiſed in me a great deſire to be; but if I may meaſure him by the things I have heard related of him, I cannot look on him as a perſon that Kings ſhould contemn. This you can teſtifie more than any other, and conſequently when I conſider the things he hath done as wel [...] for you, as for the King of the Parthians, it cannot enter into my imagination that you will find it ſo eaſie a matter to puniſh him as you conceive.

Philadelph would have ſaid more to that purpoſe, as being not able to forbear giving that acknowledgment of Artabans vertue which all the world confeſſed to be its due; but obſerving in the countenance of Tigranes, that he was not well pleaſed with diſcourſes of that nature, he thought fit not to continue it, and not long after falling into ſome other talk, for ſome time, they went together to give a viſit to Agrippa. Tigranes made ſome difficulty to go, by reaſon of the hindrance he had done him in his deſign the day before; but conſidering withal that, by reaſon of the intereſt he had with Caeſar, the ſucceſs of his affaires depended partly on him, he went along; Philadelph having before hand made him promiſe, that he would not diſcover any ſatisfaction towards Ariobarzanes, who was no Enemy of his, and had made the ſame promiſe as to him.

Agrippa entertained all theſe Princes with much civility, and being a man that derived no pride from the greatneſs of his fortune, becauſe it was indeed below his Vertue, he treated them with all the honour due to their dignity. And knowing that in Alexandria they had not all things ſuitably to their rank and attendance, they were wont to have, eſpecially Ariobarzanes and Philadelph, who had not any retinue at all, he invited them to dine with him, excuſing himſelf for being ſo free with them, out of a reſpect of their preſent condition i [...] Alexandria, which was ſuch, that they could not have thoſe accomodations at their own lodgings, which they might with him. Ariobarzanes and Philadelph were perſwaded to ſtay; but Tigranes would needs dine with Cornelius, who had ſent him an invitation to that purpoſe in the morning. At this firſt interview between Ariobarzanes and him, they ſaluted one another as perſons that were not acquainted, without any expreſſion of diſcontent or animoſity of either ſide, which was all that Philadelph deſired.

In the mean time Arſinoe and Olympia were gone to viſit Eliſa and Candace, whom they took juſt getting out of bed, and as ſoon as Olympia was gotten neer Eliſa, putting on, yet with a cheerful look, the countenance of a ſlave; What, Madam, ſaid ſhe to her, have you no employment now for your ſlave, and will you ſuffer your ſelf to be dreſſed, and receive the ſervices of thoſe that are about you, and ſlight mine? Eliſa bluſhing at this diſcourſe, after ſhe had kiſſed Arſinoe and Olympia; I cannot blame you, Madam, ſaid ſhe to her, for reproaching me with the faults, which, through my ignorance, I have committed againſt you; and to be ingenious, I muſt confeſs they are ſuch, that if you are not in ſome meaſure guilty of them your ſelf, I ſhall be aſhamed of them as long as I live.

This diſcourſe had been continued ſomewhat longer, if the fair Arſinoe had not interrupted it, to let Eliſa know, how much ſhe thought her ſelf concerned in what had happened to her, as well upon her meeting with Artaban, and with Tigranes, aſſuring her, that ſhe was no leſs troubled for any misfortune, might come to her, then thoſe perſons that had been of her acquaintance many years together. The diſcourſe of Olympia was much to the ſame effect, and that in terms full of affection; and when Eliſa had returned them thanks, cloathed in the beſt expreſſions ſhe could, For your part, Madam, added ſhe, ſpeaking to Olympia, you have done nothing upon this occaſion, but what I might justly have expected from the friendſhip we have mutual [...]y promiſed one another: but for yours, Madam, ſaid ſhe, directing her ſpeech to Arſinoe, I muſt needs acknowledg my ſelf infinitely oblieged to you, for adhearing to my intereſts, againſt your own Friends, or, at leaſt, if I may be pardoned that freedome, againſt thoſe of Philadelph. For I cannot imagine you are ignorant, that Philadelph, is both a Kinſman and Friend to Tigranes, and that it was Philadelph himſelf that raiſed him into that Throne, out of which Artaban had pulled him down.

Since you oblige me to anſwer for Philadelph, replies Arſinoe, ſmiling, and bluſhing at the ſame time, I ſhall tell you, that haply he did but his duty when he relieved his Friend and Kinſman againſt thoſe that had diſpoſſeſſed him of his dominions; but if he place my concernment in the loſs or enjoyment of my perſon, I ſhall accordingly hope, that thoſe of our houſe will be as dear to him, as any related to that of Tigranes, who hath ever been an Enemy thereto. And for our own particular, I am to tell you, that there is ſuch a conſtancy in the inclinations we both have to honour you, that I dare aſſure you that we ſhall ever be of the ſame party. Beſides, I am further to let you know, that both my Brother and he, though they never ſaw Artaban, are ſo ſtrangely fallen in love with the noble fame he hath acquired, and the account hath been given them of his perſon, that it will be a kind of miracle that ever they ſhould oppoſe him in any thing. Some conſiderations of no ſmall conſequence have obliged them to forbear [Page] viſiting him this morning; but they hope, that ere this day be over, they ſhall find out ſome means or other to ſee him: and if you will pardon me the acknowledgment of my own curioſity, I muſt confeſſe, that I deſire it no leſſe my ſelf, and that I cannot make any repreſentation of him to my ſelf but as a very extraordinary perſon. When you ſhall have ſeen him, added Candace, your conviction will be much greater then your confidence is now, and you will find, that, though Fame be extreamly liberal of her good word and character of him, all comes ſhort of the truth, and in this diſcourſe which I make of him, I am the more to be credited, the leſſe I am obliged to be his friend, and that, for ſome little infidelity he hath been guilty of towards me, I were ſufficiently diſpenſed from ſpeaking ſo much to his advantage.

This laſt expreſſion falling from her with a ſmile, and that obſerved by Eliſa, on whom ſhe looked at the ſame time; I did not imagine, replyed Eliſa, that you had been acquainted with Artaban, and much leſſe that you could have charged him with any infidelity: but I have this only to ſay by way of excuſe for him, that if he had been guilty of it towards any other perſon then your ſelf, whoſe attractions are ſo great, as to confine the moſt inconſtant minds till death diſſolve them, I think I ſhould pardon ſuch a defection out of a conſideration of the noble cauſe of his change, and that I ſhould not call that man inconſtant that ſhould forget all things to ſacrifice himſelf to the fair Princeſſe of the Parthians. You would take that for good ſatisfaction, ſaies Candace to her, if he had for ſaken you to ſerve her? I know not what I ſhould do in that caſe, replyed Arſinoe, ſmiling, but am ſatisfied, that I ought to do it, if I were but any thing rational. I do not place ſo much felicity in revenge, replies the Queen of Aethiopia, as to wiſh that Philadelph ſhould prove inconſtant; but I would with all my heart that Artaban, in whom you are not ſo much concerned, had ſeen you, had loved you, and had for ſaken you, to court Eliſa, and it would be no ſmall happineſſe to me to have ſo fair a companion in this diſgrace.

Arſinoe was going to make her ſome reply, when Olympia takes occaſion to break of the diſcourſe; out of a deſire to be more particularly informed of the adventure that had happened the day before; as having before had but an imperfect relation thereof. Eliſa entertained them with an account of it; but, being unwilling to bring in any thing into thoſe adventures relating to the Hiſtory of Candace, which they had not been acquainted with, as they had with her own, ſhe ſaid nothing of the diſcourſes that had paſt between her and Artaban, and did not diſcover any thing whence they might imagine that Artaban was Britomarus. Theſe two Princeſſes were, by this relation, confirmed in the great opinion they had conceived of him, and acknowledged that ſuch a man, though without Crowns, was to be preferred before thoſe that wore the richeſt in the World.

Whe [...] the Princeſſes were quite dreſſed, word was brought them, that dinner ſtaid for them, and though Eliſa doubted not but that ſhe ſhould ſee Artaban that afternoon, as ſhe had promiſed him, yet out of a conceit that ſhe ſhould not any time that day, have the freedome to ſee him alone, ſhe thought fit to entreat the two Princeſſes to dine with them, which propoſition they complied with, when they had underſtood by a meſſenger that came from Ariobarzanes to the Princeſſe his Siſter, that Philadelph and himſelf were invited to Agrippa's.

Aſſoon as they had dined, they immediately returned into Eliſa's chamber, whither they were hardly all gotten, but Cephiſa came and acquainted the Princeſſe, that Artaban, was at the door deſirous to wait on her. She, with a certain agitation which ſhe was not able to conceal, gave order he ſhould come in, ſo that at the name of Artaban, Arſinoe, and Olympia prepared themſelves for a ſight which they had long been infinitely deſirous to ſee. Artaban was immediately admitted, and came in with that attractive countenance, and majeſtick deportment, which raiſed in all thoſe that ſaw him, reſpect and admiration. Olympia was aſtoniſhed at it, as finding ſomewhat beyond all ſhe could have imagined of him, and would needs turn to Arſinoe, as it were to read her thoughts of him in her countenance, when ſhe obſerved in it, more of aſtoniſhment and ſurpriſe then ſhe had thought to find there. Accordingly, Artaban; having in the firſt place very ſubmiſſively ſaluted Eliſa and Candace, had no ſooner turned himſelf towards Olympia and Arſinoe, to do them the ſame civility, but the Armenian Princeſſe met with, in his countenance, that of Britomarus, the ſame Britomarus that had courted her with a very violent affection, in the King her Fathers Court, that Britomarus, whom, for his over-confidence, ſhe had ſlighted, though ſhe infinitely eſteemed him for his great worth, and who, not long before, had in Cyprus, protected her againſt the violences of Antigenes, and reſtored her into the hands of Ariobarzanes after he had delivered him out of the chains of the Pirats, as ſhe had related to Philadelph two daie [...] before. Theſe laſt obligations put upon them by Britomarus were of ſuch conſequence, [Page] that in a mind, ſuch as was that of Arſinoe, they could have produced no leſſe then an acknowledgment equal thereto, and when that in the perſon of that great Artaban, whom ſhe looked on as a man, whoſe ſword decided the fates of Empires, ſhe found that of Britomarus, to whom ſhe ought to honour, and her brothers liberty, ſhe could not avoid being ſeized by a violent ſurpriſe, yet ſuch, withal, as was delightful, and brought with it n [...] leſs ſatisfaction then aſtoniſhment. Nor indeed either could ſhe, or would ſhe, diſſemble it, and thereupon coming up to him with ſuch a confidence as ſhe might have expreſſed towards a moſt affectionate brother: What, Britomarus, ſaid ſhe to him, are you then that great Artaban, whoſe fame fills the univerſe, and who, under that illuſtrious name of Artaban, are pleaſed to conceal from us that of Britomarus, to whom I ſtand engaged for my own hon [...]u [...], and my Brothers life.

The other three Princeſſes could not but wonder very much at this diſcourſe of Arſinoe; but indeed A [...]taban could do no leſs himſelf, as conſidering with himſelf, not without aſtoniſhment, how Fortune, in ſo ſmall a ſpace of time, ſhould bring together, out of ſeveral Kingdoms that lay at a great diſta [...]ce one from another, the onely three perſons for whom he ever had conceived affection. The preſence of Eliſa, as things then ſtood, put him into ſome little diſorder, and yet not willing to be thought inſenſib [...]e of the civility he had received from Arſinoe, for whom he had infinite reſpects, after he had ſaluted her with as much ſubmiſſion as he could have done, even when his affections were mo [...]t violent for her, Madam, ſaid he to her, the ſame fortune, that makes Delia's and Arſinoe's, may alſo make Artaban's and Britomarus's, and under both theſe names I continue towards the Princeſſe Arſinoe [...] reſpect, which nothing ſhall ever be able to make me forget.

Eliſa, during this diſcourſe, being gotten cloſe to Arſinoe: What, Madam, ſaid ſhe to her, it ſeems you are acquainted with Artaban? Since Britomarus is the ſame with Artaban, replies Arſinoe, I dare tell you, Madam, that I knew him before you, and ſhall further let you know, that I have much reaſon to be acquainted with him, ſince that, n [...]t to mention the addreſſes he ſometime made to me in my own Country, even while he was yet very young, he hath, within a ſmall time, by his admirable valour, and with the hazard of his life, preſerved that which, amongſt us, is counted moſt precious and delivered my brother out of the hands of the Pirates. What Siſter, cries out Olympia, is it then to the great Artaban, that we are obliged for the ſafety of Ariobarzanes? It is ſo Siſter, replie; Arſinoe, tis to him that we are [...]biiged for him, and I believe, let him go which way he will, he ſhall every where meet with perſons engaged to his fortunate valour, replied Artaban, you may reflect onely on ſervices which you might juſtly [...]ave expected from all thoſe perſons, whom fortune had favoured with the ſame opportunities to do them; but if you call to mind that over-confidence, as you thought it, which you puniſhed with ſo much ſeverity and diſdain, while I continued in Armenia, you will haply conceive your ſelf more obliged to my crime, then my ſervices, and that I had preſented you with a thing at that time, which night have made a greater impreſſ [...] on in your memory, th [...]n that little relief, for which you are end [...]bted onely to my ſword.

Theſe words made Arſinoe bluſh, and while ſhe was conſidering what anſwer ſhe ſhould make, Candace not well affording her the time to do it; Ah Madam, ſaid ſhe to her, might it pleaſe the gods that the wiſh I made ſome minutes ſince may be accompliſhed, and that it were true that Britomarus were guilty of the ſame infidelity towards you, which you ſo much approved, or at leaſt, thought ſo excuſable by reaſon of the noble cauſe thereof. For matter of infidelity, replies Artaban, I am not guilty of any towards the fair Arſinoe, for ſhe never n [...] cepted of my fidelity, nor entertained the reſpect I had for her with any obli [...]ation. But certain it is, Madam, that when I left you, I brought away this young heart, which was, upon my firſt inclination,, grown confident enough, and laid it at the feet of Arſinoe, and that, without all queſtion, I had ſpent my whole life in that engagement, if the rigour of this Princeſſe, and the pleaſure of my deſtiny, reſerving me for another vaſſalage, had not involved me in other chains, for which I ſhould willingly for ſake, with all it contains that is moſt excellent, the Empire of the whole World. But who can be confident, ſaies Eliſa to him, not with too much earneſtneſſe, that theſe laſt chains will not be broken as the former were, and what Beauty in the world can be ſecured againſt your inconſtancy, ſince that of theſe two fair Princeſſes hath not been able to fix it? I am very confident, replies Artaban, that ſhe, whoſe vaſſal I now particularly profeſſe my ſelf to be, is not in any fear I ſhould break the chains I am in, and am far from thinking my ſelf ſo happy, as to put her into any fear, which might raiſe me to a degree of felicity whereto I am not yet arrived. Might it pleaſe the gods I were on thoſe terms with her, for I ſhould find is no hard matter to perſwade her, that I conceive my ſlavery too too glorious for me to imagine there is any need of fidelity to continue in it,

[Page] Theſe few words he thought ſufficient as to that point, and Eliſa was ſatisfied therewith, not inſiſting upon any further matter of juſtification to be convinced of a fidelity, which ſhe had experienced in ſo many extraordinary demonſtrations. Upon that account was it that ſhe fell upon ſome other diſcourſe, and ſo asked Artaban, by what miraculous means he had eſcaped out of the ſea, into which ſhe had ſeen him caſt himſelf, and being ſatiſfied for that day, ſhe could not hope to have any private diſcourſe with him, ſhe entreated him to relate before thoſe Princeſſes, by what ſtrange waies he had eſcaped, and in what manner he had ſpent his life ſince their unexpected ſeparation. Artaban was preparing himſelf to obey her commands, conceiving, as ſhe did, that he muſt needs expect till ſome other, more favourable opportunity, to enter into private diſcourſe with her, when there come into the room Agrippa, Philadelph, Ariobarzanes, Ovid, and ſome others, who had dined that day with Agrippa. Ariobarzanes and Philadelph, how impatient ſoever they might be to ſee their beloved Princeſſes, from whom, after ſo cruel an abſence, they could hardly bear with one that took up ſome few minutes, found that deſire, when they were come to the Princeſſe of the Parthians lodgings, exchanged into another, viz. That of ſeeing Artaban whoſe great reputation had raiſed in them no leſſe curioſity for his acquaintance then eſteem for his perſon. Aſſoon as Philadelph ſaw him, he thought there had been ſomething more then humane in his countenance and deportment; but Ariobarzanes had no ſooner caſt his eies upon him, but, as Arſinoe had done before, finding Britomarus in the perſon of Artaban, he retreated ſome few paces with an action full of aſtoniſhment, and a little after coming up to him with his arms ſpread open, after he had craved the pardon of Eliſa and Candace, for the freedom he took in their preſence, he embraced with all the demonſtrations of a perfect friendſhip, and, ſeconding his careſſes with words full of affection; O ye juſt gods, ſaid he, is it poſſible, that in this Artaban, who is ſo famous all over the World, I ſhould find that Britomarus, who is ſo dear to me, and to whom both my Siſter and my ſelf are obliged for our honour, life and liberty? Ah! no queſtion, it is the very ſame, added he a little after, & all things were ſo great & promiſing in Britomarus, that, from the firſt diſcoveries he made of himſelf, we could preſume no leſſe then that they would terminate in the glory of the great Artaban.

Artaban, entertaining the careſſes of that truely noble and a [...]iable Prince with all manner of acknowledgement, and his expreſſions of him with abundance of modeſty, anſwered him with the reſpect he had for thoſe Princes that degenerated not from their dignity; and, knowing withall that Ariobarznes was yet more conſiderable for his actions then for his birth, as he had underſtood from the relation he had received of him after he had reſcued him out of the hands of the Pirates, he looked on him with ſo much eſteem, as he could poſſibly have for thoſe whom their quality and rank make the moſt recommendable amongſt men. Whereupon diſengaging himſelf out of his embraces, My Lord, ſaid he to him, your own vert [...]e makes you ſet too great a value on their valour in whom you may have diſcovered ſome vertuous inclination, and the actions of Artaban are not ſo conſiderable as the miracles of Artamenes. Beſides, both your ſelf, and the Princeſſ [...] your Siſter conſpire together to attribute to me the glory of an aſſiſtance you received not from me, ſince that it is not to be doubted, but you had your ſelf a greater hand then I had in the victory, which reſcued you out of the hands of the Pirates.

They had continued their diſcourſes to this effect for ſome time longer, if Philadelph, perceiving by what Ariobarzanes had ſaid, that Artaban was the ſame Britomarus who had reſ [...]ued Del [...]a from the violences of Antigenes, and put to death that infamous Raviſher, and all his lewd companions, being almoſt out of patience to expreſſe his gratitude towards him, had not come up to him with as much earneſtneſſe as Ariobazanes had done before. And in that heat, not having the leaſt memory of the intereſts of Tigranes, but looking on Artaban, as a perſon to whom he was obliged for what was of greater concernment to him then his life; ‘And have not I, ſaid he to him, as much reaſon as any man to offer my ſelf up wholly to the ſervice of the great Artaban, & can he have delivered Arſinoe out of the hands of her enemies, and not command the life of Philadelph.’ At that word Artaban, having taken notice of Philadelph, whoſe goodlineſſe, as to his perſon, he had already obſerved, and whoſe life he had been acquainted with, both from the mouth of Arſinoe, and that of Fame it ſelf, looked on him with more earneſtneſſe then he had done before, and, conſidering him as one that might juſtly be of that number of men, whom he thought worthy his reſpects and affection, he accordingly expreſſed himſelf with as much freedom to him, as he had done to Ariobarzanes. So that after he had received his careſſes with the ſame civility, ‘It had been very much more to my advantage, ſaid he to him, that you had had theſe favourable ſentiments towards me, when you were ſo earneſt inreſtoring my enemy to his throne, and in a condition to deprive me of all, both my hopes and my happineſſe; but what time or occaſion ſoever you take to proffer it me, I muſt needs place [Page] abundance of glory and f [...]licity in your friendſhip.’ When the King of Cappadocia, and my ſelf, replies Philadelph, aſſiſted Tigranes to recover his Kingdom, out of which you had forced him, we gave him an aſſiſtance, which, no doubt, we ought to have afforded our Friend and our Kinſman; but what advantages ſoever he might have made of your abſence, he would have been but little the better for it, if that ſword of Artabans, which commands Victory where [...]r [...] it comes, had ſtill been in the ſervice o [...] the King of the Parthians. When that ſword purchaſed me any Victory, replies Artaban, I had not to deale with ſuch Enemies, as Philadelph, and if Tigranes had followed your noble examples, he had never fallen into thoſe misfortunes, out of which you have ſince delivered him.

Philadelp replied to this diſcourſe with much modeſty, and they had continued it ſomewhat longer, if Agrippa and the reſt of the company had not interrupted it, all looking one upon the other with a certain eſteem and veneration. And certainly the perſons that were then met, were ſuch, that whether ſex were looked upon, there was ſtill matter of eſteem and admiration, it being likely to prove a hard matter to find in any other part of the world, a like number of perſons to whom nature had been ſo liberal of her advantages.

When they were all ſate, they fell into very pleaſant diſcourſe, but it was not free from ſome reſervedneſs, and, unleſs it were Ovid, and ſome others that came along with Agrippa, there was not any one in that noble Aſſembly that was not rather deſirous of private diſcourſe with ſome particular perſon preſent, then a general converſation. Ariobarzanes and Philadelp could have wiſhed they had been where they might with freedome ſpeak to their Princeſſes, yet were not they the moſt diſturbed of any, and whereas their fortunes were in a more ſettled condition than thoſe of any of the reſt, they accordingly with the more patience endured that little abatement of their ſatisfaction. Artaban, who had not had any diſcourſe with Eliſa ſince their ſeparation, was no doubt very deſirous of it at that time; but being confident that he was loved to as high a degree as he could rationally deſire, he was much in a better condition than Agrippa, who certainly was the moſt diſordered of the whole company. He had taken a ſeat very neer Eliſa, but he b [...] he could not ſay a word to her which muſt not be heard by all the reſt, eſpecially Artaban, who ſate at a very little diſtance from her, and, for the moſt part, had his eyes fixt on her countenance. Eliſa from that time to time faſtned on him ſuch looks as eaſily diſcovered what kindneſs ſhe had for him in her heart; or if thoſe who were not concerned therein, were accordingly the leſs apprehenſive thereof, they were but too too ſignificant to the conſtruction of the paſſionate Agrippa; who, reading in them all he could fear in favour of his Rival, was wounded thereby to the very heart. Of this he would have given expreſſions remarkable enough, had he hearkened only to the ſuggeſtions of his paſſion, but being a perſon of much prudence and reſervedneſs, he ſo far ſinothered the agitations of his thoughts, as not to diſcover them but only to Eliſa, who had already taken but too much notice thereof.

Now there having not happened any thing of a long time in that Country ſo remarkable as the carrying away of Cleopatra, that became for ſome time the ſubject of their diſcourſe, and after that Agrippa had acquainted the company with the order that Cornelius and himſelf had taken for her recovery, and how they had ſent by land an infinite number of perſons to find her out, and by Sea the greateſt part of the ſhips that were in the port of Alexandria, to ſo little effect that none of all thoſe brought any account of her, all ſpake with very much reſentment of the misfortune of that fair Princeſs. It went to the very heart of Candace for Caeſario's ſake; Eliſa out of her own excellent good nature, was extreamly troubled at it, and Ariobarzanes and Arſinoe though the Children of Artabaſus, and Brother and Siſter to Artaxus, having not for the deplorable deſtiny of their Fathers, that cruel reſentment which their Brother would never quit towards the innocent family of Mark-Anthony, but, on the contrary, calling to mind, with tenderneſs, the years they had ſpent in the company of the Princeſs Cleopatra, and her Brothers, in the ſame Citie and Palace, where they then were, and reflecting on the demonſtrations they had in thoſe daies received of their affection, were very much aff [...]icted at that misfortune. Inſomuch that Ariobarzanes, concerning himſelf in it with that ingenious generoſity which was obſervable in all his actions, made a proteſtation that he would hazard his life in the ſervice of that Princeſs. Whereupon, Agrippa, who had privately ſeen Alexander the day before, had furniſhed him with a Veſſel, and had in few words been informed by him how things had paſſed, looking on Ariobarzanes with a ſmile; I am very glad, ſaid he to him, to find your ſentiments of this buſineſs ſuitable to the greatneſs of your courage; but I am doubtful whether you will perſiſt therein, when you have underſtood that the Princeſs Cleopatra was carried away by the King of Armenia your Brother. Ariobarzanes [Page] was very much at a loſs to hear that, but [...]ot long after rejoyning to the former diſcourſe; You entertain me, for your own diverſion ſake, ſaid he to Agrippa, with a diſcourſe that ſeems to have but little probability in it; but, it being ſuppoſed that the King my Brother had carried away the Princeſs Cleopatra, I ſhould by no means approve his action, and would never ſerve him in ſuch an unjuſt enterpriſe. I expected no leſs from your Vertue, replies Agrippa, and it is upon the experience I have of it, that, after a little recollection, I am reſolved to acquaint you with the whole truth of that buſineſs, and ſhall inform you of divers other paſſages which you muſt needs be aſtoniſhed at, after I have told you, that inſtead of ſending abroad both ſhips and men, I would have gone in perſon, as I thought my ſelf obliged both in point of duty, and the friendſhip I have for the Children of Anthony, in purſuit of the King your Brother, who would needs come and carry away, even out of our Port a Princeſs of the houſe, and under the Protection of Caeſar, if I had not received an expreſs order from the Emperour not to ſtir hence, upon any account whatſoever, before his arrival.

This premiſed, Agrippa perceiving that the whole company, and particularly Ariobarzanes and Arſinoe, hearkened very attentively to him, gave them a brief relation of what he had underſtood from Alexander, of his firſt addreſſes to Artemiſa, of the cruelty of Artaxus, and the extremity whereto he had been reduced upon the ſcaffold, his eſcape through the aſſiſtance of Artemiſa, and his arrival upon the coaſt of Alexandria with that Princeſs. Ariobarzanes, who had trembled, as it were, out of the horrour he h [...]d conceived at that deſcription of his Brothers cruelty, was on the other ſide glad of the ſafety of Alexander, and commended Artemiſa for the acknowledgement ſhe had made of his affection; proteſting that if he had been neer her, he would have encouraged her in that deſigne, and have ſacrificed his life to promote it.

Agrippa, perceiving him to perſevere in thoſe vertuous ſentiments, after he had commended him for it, reaſſumed his diſcourſe, and entertaining the company with all that Alexander had learned from Cleopatra, during the ſpace of a whole day that they had been together before her laſt carrying away, gave them an account of her meeting with the King of Armenia upon the Sea; how that cruel King was going to thruſt a weapon into her breaſt to kill her, and had been diſarmed by the Love he immediately conceived for that Princeſs; the perſecutions he had made her ſuffer, their arrival upon the coaſt of Alexandria, the eſcape of Cleopatra, the relief ſhe had received from an unknown perſon on horſe-back, who had defeated the King of Armenia when he was upon the point of retaking her; how ſhe got to the Lodging, where Alexander and Artemiſa were retired, and how that the next day ſhe had been carried away a ſecond time into the wood with the Princeſs Artemiſa, by a company of horſe-men that belonged to Artaxus, who in all probability had returned her into the hands of their Maſter: that Alexander, having wandred up and down in purſuit of her all that day, and the next night, though to no purpoſe, gave him a ſecret meeting the next day, and after he had given a brief Relation of what he had entertained them with, had entreated him that he might have a Veſſel and men to make after thoſe that had carried away Cleopatra and Artemiſa; which he had done, not without much regret that he could not go himſelf in perſon, by reaſon of the expreſs orders he had received from the Emperour not to ſtir by any means out of Alexandria.

During all this long diſcourſe, the prudent Agrippa made not the leaſt mention of Coriolanus, though he had furniſhed him with his own horſe in the wood to ride after Cleopatra, and was not ignorant of the greateſt things he had done for the relief of that Princeſs. The whole company was extreamly aſtoniſhed at the relation of Agrippa, eſpecially Ariobarzanes and Arſinoe, who were doubly concerned in it, both in the perſon of Artaxus and that of Artemiſa. They continued for a good while all ſilent; but at laſt, Ariobarzanes, being unwilling Agrippa ſhould imagine, that his diſcourſe had wrought any change in him as to his former opinion; I am extreamly astoniſhed, ſaid he to him, at the Relation you have made of the cruelty and injuſtice of Artaxus, and ſo far from diſapproving the procedure of Artemiſa, that certainly, had I been at Artaxata, at that time, I ſhould with her have hazarded my life for the ſafety of Alexander. The extremity he was reduced to, by the inexorable ſeverity of Artaxus, makes me tremble, and though he be my Brother and my King, he ſhould not find any other in the world that would more oppoſe him in theſe horrid and deteſtable attempts. Might it pleaſe the gods, that, notwithſtanding my Obligations to him, I might without attempting his life, deliver Clopatra and Artemiſa out of his hands, and I proteſt to you that I ſhould neither ſpare my pains, nor my blood upon that account. The King of Armenia, added Artaban, hath ſhown himſelf in thoſe laſt actions to be the ſame man he had ever been, for it was [Page] out of the horrour I conceived at his cruelty, that I ſometime quitted his ſervice, when he barbarouſly put to death two Cilician Princes, both Priſoners of War, whom I had taken my ſelf in fight. But I can aſſure you thus much, that he is hardly in a condition to undertake any long Voyage, or any great enterpriſe; that I have ſeen him, and ſpoke to him within theſe two daies, and that we parted but yeſtereday, after we had remained for ſome daies together in the ſame houſe.

Upon this he related to them how he had met Artaxus at the houſe of Tiridates, as alſo what diſcourſe had paſt between them, and told them, how that the day before, he had left that houſe, not long before his departure thence, upon a viſit to Tiridate's Tomb.

That diſcourſe of Artaban gave the Company new matter of reflection upon that adventure; inſomuch that at laſt Philadelph, who had been ſilent a long time, taking, upon that, occaſion to ſpeak; If I thought that Prince Ariobarzanes, and the Princeſs Arſinoe, ſaid he, looking on them, would pardon me the injury I have innocently done them, I ſhould acknowledg how far I have been engaged in this adventure, and would tell them, that, if I am not much miſtaken, it was my ſelf that fought with Artaxus, for the recovery of Cleopatra, and who, encouraged by the juſtice of the quarrel, gave him ſuch wounds as made him incapable of further fighting.

Here he took occaſion to acquaint them how he had met with Artemiſa neer the ſpring, though he ſpoke of her as a perſon abſolutely unknown to him; how that at firſt he took her for Delia, what grief it was to him when he grew ſenſible of his miſtake, what compaſſion ſhe had expreſſed thereat, the long diſcourſe there had paſt between them, and how that upon the point of their departure one from the other, he had ſeen Cleopatra paſſing by, making all the haſt ſhe could before a perſon on horſe-back that purſued her. He told them that he had not any acquaintance with that Princeſs, but that by the admirable beauty he had obſerved in her countenance, it muſt needs be either ſome Goddeſs or the Princeſs Cleopatra.

This account of Philadelph raiſing in the Company new matter of aſtoniſhment, as, that by a ſtrange traverſe of fortune, two men that were implacable Enemies ſhould come and engage one the other, yet without eithers knowledge of it, and that the amorous Philadelph ſhould fight with the Brother of his beloved Delia. He once more craved their pardon for it, and both of them aſſured him, that the greateſt affliction they conceived at that adventure, proceeded from the fear they were in, it might further exaſperate Artaxus againſt Philadelph, and would make him the more inexorable as to the conſent he expected from him for the quiet enjoyment of Arſinoe.

It was generally concluded that the faire Ladie he had met with at the ſpring, was no other than Artemiſa, and that eſpecially after the deſcription he had given them of her, and the reſemblance, which upon the firſt ſight had made him miſtake her for Delia, though there were a difference between their faces obſervable enough an imagination that were not ſo violently prepoſſeſſed with the impreſſion of Delia.

The end of the Second Book.

HYMENS PRAELUDIA; OR Loves Maſter-peice. Part. X.
LIB. III.

[Page]

ARGUMENT.

Flavianus is brought in wounded to Alexandria, having been worſted in his attempt for the deliverance of Cleopatra; Whereupon Agrippa, Artaban and others prepare for her reſcue; but upon their coming to the port, diſcover a ſhip arriving, wherein were Alexander and Marcellus, bringing in Cleopatra and Artemiſa. Tigranes deſires the favour of a viſit of Eliſa, but is denyed: Cornelius perſiſting in the preſumption he had, that Candace was onely a Lady of great quality in Ethiopia, perſecutes her with the diſcoveries of his affection. Cleopatra and Alexander are brought into Alexandria. Artemiſa, perſwaded, that Ariobarzanes and Arſinoe had been dead, ſwounds upon the firſt ſight of them, and afterwards acquaints Ariobarzanes that he is King of Armenia by the death of her Brother Artaxus. Ariobarzanes, Alexander, Philadelph, Olympia, Artemiſa, and Arſinoe condole his death, and afterwards reflect on the advantages they all have by Ariobarzanes's coming to the Crown. Candace and Eliſa are made acquainted with Cleopatra, to whom Queen Candace diſcovers both her ſelf and quality, and entertains her with the Hiſtory of Cleomedon. Eliſa does the like with that of Artaban. Agrippa hath a private conference with Eliſa, wherein he further diſcovers his paſſion to her. Artaban entertains Eliſa and Candace with a relation how he eſcaped drowning, after he caſt himſelf, all armed, into the ſea, with Zenodorus the Pirat in his armes. Cleomedon hath a ſecret interview with Artaban in Eliſa's Chamber, where he diſcovers himſelf to Cleopatra and Alexander, to be Caeſario, the ſon of Caeſar, and Queen Cleopatra; which they not eaſily crediting, are confirmed and ſatisfied by Candace, Eliſa, and Eteocles.

WHile theſe Illuſtrious Perſons were thus in the midſt of their entertainments, diſcourſing of the many ſtrange accidents that were come to their knowledge, Cornelius comes into the room, diſcovering by his action that he had ſomething of news to communicate. Whereupon addreſſing himſelf to Agrippa, ‘My Lord, ſaid he to him, I have juſt now received ſome tidings from the Princeſſe Cleopatra, and thoſe that carried her away. Thoſe whom we ſent in purſuit of them, were gotten far enough hence to find her, when in the mean time they were neerer us then can well be imagined, inſomuch, that Flavianus, a Commander of one of our ſhips, met, but this morning, with that, wherein were the Raviſhers, lying cloſe under one of the Rocks, which in ſome places hang over this coaſt, came up to her, ſaw the Princeſſe, ſpoke with her, and fought for her deliverance with ſo much good ſucceſs in the beginning, that he boarded the enemy with divers of his men, and was in a manner poſſeſſed of her, when a certain Perſon, who had not appeared at the firſt engagement, comes up upon the Deck, without any other arms then his ſword, and fought ours with ſo prodigious a Valour, that having either killed or forced away all that were gotten into the other veſſel,’ he ſtruck down Flavianus himſelf, loading [Page] him with ſuch wounds, that he was incapable of fighting any longer, and ſo by the death of the Commander, abating the courage of the Souldiers, they gave over the enterp [...]iſe, and were forced to quit their attempt for the deliverance of Cleopatra, and to make what hast they could into our Port. Flavianus is brought into the City, very deſperately wounded, I have ſeen him, and though it be with much difficulty, that he expreſſes himſelf, yet have I made a ſhift to get thus much out of him.

The news is not the worſt we could have expected, replies Agrippa, and ſince Cleopatra is yet at ſo ſmall a diſtance from us, I hope ſhe may be met with by ſome of the other Veſſels that are ſtill abroad to find her. It was ever my opinion, ſaies Artaban, that the King of Armenia could not be gotten far hence, and that, out of all queſtion, the wounds he had received had been the ground of his lying in that obſcure place, till ſuch time as he were in a condition to depart. But is it not poſſible, continued he, turning to Cornelius, we may yet come time enough for the relief of that Princeſs? And have you no other Veſſels ready for us in this extremity? We may make uſe of that which hath brought in Flavianus, with what there is remaining of his men, and ſuch others as will follow us, ſaies Agrippa to him, and ſince that thoſe we ſeek are ſo neer us, I think I ſhall not much oppoſe the orders of Caeſar, if I go ſome few ſtadia out of Alexandria, upon an occaſion of ſo great importance. It were not civility to entreat either Ariobarzanes, or Philadelph, whereof the one is Brother to Artaxus, the other in hopes to be, to afford us their aſſiſtance in this emergency; but for you, generous Artaban, if your condition, in point of health, be ſuch as may permit it, I ſhould not refuſe your aſſiſtance, and having ſuch a ſecond with me, I may well think our Enemies muſt be very valiant to diſpute the Victory with us, I find my ſelf in a capacity to follow you, replies Artaban, and there is not any thing ſhall hinder me from courting the glory I conceive it is to fight under the great Agrippa.

Eliſa's complexion changed at this diſcourſe of Artabans, and he diſcovered in her eies the trouble it was to her that he ſhould ſo readily engage himſelf in ſuch an enterpriſe. Ariobarzanes and Philadelph knew not well what reſolution to take, there being little probability they ſhould be drawn in to engage, the one againſt his own Brother and his King, the other againſt the Brother of his deareſt Delia, both of them being equally troubled at the departure of their Companions, in order to an engagement upon ſo juſt a quarrel. However, they knew no remedy, but to take all patiently, there being no matter of choice in the buſineſs, and conſequently ſaw, there was a neceſſity they ſhould quietly expect what would be the event, upon the promiſe which Agrippa made to Ariobarzanes, that if they met with the King of Armenia, they would treat him as a King, and would afford him the faireſt terms he could expect, for his ſake.

Theſe two great men, conceiving they had very little time to looſe, as things then ſtood, in order to the deſign they were engaged in, left the Princeſſes, and were attended by all the Roman Nobility that came along with Agrippa to Alexandria. 'Tis poſſible they might have taken a far greater number with them, but having underſtood what number of men might be with Artaxus, and knowing that he had but one ſingle Veſſel, they thought there was no neceſſity of taking any more with them. Artaban ſent for his armour, giving order that Telamon ſhould come along with them from the houſe of Tradates, and that they ſhould be brought aboard the Veſſel, to be made uſe of if occaſion were, as being not able, by reaſon of the condition he was then in, to endure the weight of them without ſome inconvenience to himſelf.

After they were all departed out of the Chamber, Cornelius who ſtayed there upon the order of Agrippa, coming up to Eliſa, acquainted her, that he had, not long before, parted with the King of the Medes, who had honoured him ſo far as to dine with him, and that that Prince had entreated him to know of her, whether he might with her leave give her a viſit. Eliſa, though naturally full of mildneſs and compliance, ſeemed to be much troubled at that propoſition of Cornelius, and looking on him with a little angry bluſh, that immediately ſpread over his face; He ſhall not need put himſelf to this trouble, ſaid ſhe to him, for after the violence he would have done me yeſterday, I cannot look on him otherwiſe then as my Enemy. Let me therefore intreat you to ſpare me that affliction, if you pleaſe; and if you will have me to conceive my ſelf at my own freedom, in a City where you command, I beſeech you, let me not be forced to ſee thoſe perſons, whom above all I endeavour to avoid. Far be it from me, replies the Praetor, to ſide with Tigranes againſt you, and aſſure your ſelf, you ſhall be free and abſolutely at your diſpoſal [...]n Alexandria, while I ſhall continue in that power which the Emperour hath put me into: but on the other ſide you are to conſider, that, ſince you have the liberty to ſee Artaban, you were not very much to be blamed, if you alſo endured a viſit from the King of the Medes. It is not my deſign, replied the Princeſs, that Tigranes ſhould be ignorant how much I prefer Artaban before him, and that he ſhould accordingly aſſure himſelf, that, beſides the difference which [Page] Vertue hath made between them, I muſt needs adde very much to it of my ſelf, unleſs he imagines I know not how to diſtinguiſh between two men, whereof the one hath done me the greateſt injuries he could, and the other the greateſt ſervices I could expect from him.

Corn [...]lius, who had not made this propoſition to Eliſa, but meerly to ſatisfie the importunity of Tigranes, who had entreated him to do it, thought it not civility to preſs it any farther, perceiving ſhe was offended thereat, as being a thing, which he ſaw the had not the leaſt inclination to grant. Whereupon, having taken a ſeat ſomewhat neer Candace, he began to entertain her with the eies, rather than with his tongue, as having not that command of his ſpeech, as that he durſt acquaint her with his thoughts; and that fair Queen perceiving it, would not ſuffer Eliſa to be a minute from her, out of a fear ſhe might be left alone with him. At laſt, having obſerved that the weather was ſomewhat cloudy, and that the Sun darted not his raies with too much violence upon the Terrace, he would needs invite the Princeſs to take a walk about it, not only for the air ſake, but alſo for that there was a fair proſpect thence into the ſea, and that they might diſtinctly perceive things far beyo [...]d the place where they had met with the King of Armenia's ſhip.

This curioſity was a ſufficient motive to oblige them to leave the Chamber, and Philadelph, upon the command which Arſinoe her ſelf laid upon him, having taken Eliſa by the hand, while Arſinoe ſtaid with Ariobarzanes and Olympia, to whom her preſence was not any inconvenience, Cornelius very fortunately happened to be alone with Candace. They took ſome turns upon the Terrace, before he could ſpeak to her with any freedom, but at la [...]t, getting ſome few paces before the reſt, and imagining he could not be over-heard by them▪ Is it poſſible, Madam, ſaid he to her, that, in a place where I may preſume, I have ſome power, I ſhould be the only miſerable perſon, and that I ſhould find ſo many other men happy through the favours of thoſe Ladies whom they effect, while you ſeem to be abſolutely inſenſible of the love I have for you?

Cand [...]ce conceived ſuch a vexation at this liberty of diſcourſe, that ſhe was upon the point to declare to him what ſhe was, ſo to ſtifle the preſumption he took to ſpeak to her after that rate, as conceiving withal that it could not be long ere ſhe were diſcovered, and that ſhe was not ſo much obliged to conceale her ſelf, now that Tiribaſus was dead, as ſhe had been were he living. However, reflecting on the concernments of Caeſario, ſhe forbore to do it at that time, out of a fear of expoſing him to ſome danger, and being withal unwilling to diſcover her ſelf, before ſhe had taken his advice in it. She therefore endeavoured to find out a means, that is, ſo to expreſs her ſelf, that Corn [...]lius might perceive ſhe was diſpleaſed at his diſcourſe, yet ſo as that he might not be incenſed thereat, as calling to mind how much ſhe was obliged to him, and fearing the diſcourteſies he might do her. Upon theſe conſiderations, after ſhe had continued ſome little time ere ſhe made any anſwer, That I am ſo inſenſible of the paſſion you tell me of, as you conceive me, ſaid ſhe to him, the only reaſon is, that I neither am, nor am any way deſirous to be, acquainted therewith; but I muſt withal aſſure you, that I am extreamly ſenſible of the civilities I have received at your hands, and that with the remembrance thereof I have all the gratitude and acknowledgment I ought. Were that certain, Madam, replied he with ſome precipitation, you would treat after another manner, a perſon whom you conceived your ſelf obliged to for ſo conſiderable a ſervice, and you would not ſlight, with ſo much diſdain, an affection which cannot any ways diſpleaſe you. Were I not ſufficiently mindful of the obligations you have laid upon, replies Candace, a little moved, I ſhould tell you that many times, what does not diſpleaſe may be thought importunate, and that to endure any mans, either injury, or importunity, is to me equally inſupportable.

This diſcourſe put Cornelius out of all patience, and not being able to diſſemble it; I am very much troubled, Madam, ſaid he to her, that I ſhould be thought importunate to you, but if you will be pleaſed to remember your ſelf, I think I have ſometimes found you in ſo good an humour as that you thought not my preſence troubleſome to you, and it is yet poſſible, that if I prove the object of your deteſtation, I ſhall not be withal that of your contempt.

Candace, who was naturally fiery and confident enough, could not ſmother her courage upon this diſcourſe of the Paetor, and thereupon looking very ſcornfully upon him; you have loſt, ſaid ſhe to him, all the glory of the ſervice you have done me, by preſſing it to me with ſo many reproaches, and the menaces you adde thereto, whence I perceive that you know me not, and that when you ſhall underſtand who I am, you will haply learn at the ſame time to ſpeak to me after another manner.

With theſe words ſhe ſtood ſtill, expecting Eliſa & Philadelph to come up to her, & would have no further diſcourſe in private with Cornelius. She made no difficulty to ſpeak that day much more confidently then ſhe had don at any time before, becauſe ſhe was in ſome thoughts to leave Alexandria within ſome few daies, where if nevertheleſs ſhe were obliged to make any longer abode, ſhe knew that Caeſar was upon his Arrival thither, and conſidered, [Page] that, Agrippa being there already, ſhe ſhould not be expoſed to the perſecutions of Cornelius, as ſhe might have been without their coming thither. It came alſo into her mind, that if Auguſ [...]us came thither before her departure thence, it were not policy in her to conceal her ſelf, out of a fear, that, if ſhe were diſcovered (as it was very probable ſhe might, by reaſon of the commerce that was between the Ethiopians and Egyptians, and the report which might be ſcattered every where of her flight, and the revolutions lately happened in her dominions) he might miſconſtrue her lying there incognito, & might take occaſion to ſecure her.

After ſhe had ſpent ſome time in theſe reflections, ſhe engaged in the diſcourſe of Eliſa and Philadelph, and not long after they made a halt for Ariobarzanes and the two Princeſſes he waited upon, to come up to them▪ that they might further participate of their converſation. Ariobarzanes ſeemed to be very much dejected and troubled in his thoughts, and Arſinoe in no ſmall diſturbance, there being a certain tempeſt raiſed in them by the reflections they made on the attempt of Artaxus, and the inconveniences likely to enſue thereupon, ſuch, it may be, as might occaſion great alteratiors in their fortunes. They diſcourſed thereof for ſome time, all having ſomething to ſay of it, (Cornelius only excepted, whom the laſt words and deportment of Candace had ſo netled, that for all that day he ſpoke not a word) and after ſeveral diſcourſes, whereby Olympia endeavoured to divert Ariobarzanes; I know not, ſaid ſhe to him, what you would pr [...]ſage by your ſadneſs; but for my part, I have dreamed this laſt night, that you preſented your ſelf before me, with a Crown of gold upon your head. Could I wiſh my ſelf a Crown, replied Ariobarzanes, you may aſſure your ſelf, my deareſt Princeſs, that it ſhould be only to preſent you with it, & that it is many times no ſmall trouble to me to conſider the rank you are pleaſed, out of your own goodneſs, to quit for my ſake. I have repreſented it to you, more than once, replied Olympia, that you cannot do me a greater diſpeaſure then by inſiſting on diſcourſes of that nature; and, not to mention that you are Brother and Son, to Kings, that by a long ſeries have ſate ſucceſſively in the Throne, you ſhould be ſufficiently ſatisfied, that a Vertue, ſuch as yours is, is more conſiderable in my account than many Crowns.

While they were diſcourſing in this manner, Agrippa, with Artaban, and a great number of perſons of quality from Rome, were in their way towards the Port. As they went, Agrippa fell into diſcourſe with Artaban, whom he could not but admire in whatever related to his perſon, and hardly forbore ſighing, when he conſidered the many excellent qualities which made him both amiable and dreadful. Yet was it not in his power to have any averſion for him, as well by reaſon of the natural propenſion he had to Vertue, as that the perſonage of Artaban was ſuch, as if it had been purpoſely made eaſily to raiſe love, and hardly averſion, in any that ſaw it. Artaban, who had not the leaſt ſuſpicion of Agrippa's love for Eliſa, who eſteemed him very much for his great actions, and much more for his moderation amidſt ſo vaſt a fortune, who was in hopes of his aſſiſtance againſt Phraates, and was oblieged to him for the refuge he had afforded him againſt Tigranes, looked upon him with very much reſpect, and a moſt unfained affection. The complements that paſſed between them all the way to their coming into the Port, were accordingly ſuch as well expreſſed the mutual admiration and eſteem they had one towards another. They were hardly well gotten into it, but they perceive a Veſſel making all the ſaile ſhe could towards them, and was already within ſuch a diſtance, as that they could diſcern the ſtreamers. The Officers of Cornelius, who were with Agrippa, had no ſooner obſerved them, but they told him it was the ſame Veſſel which had been provided for Alexander, in order to the deſign he was then engaged in, and upon that account Agrippa having ſtood ſtill, reſolved to waite its coming to ſhore, as taking that to be the only way to hear what news they might bring of Cleopatra. They had not long to expect, for that within a few minutes the Veſſel was gotten into the Port, & immediately they ſaw appearing upon the hatches, Prince Marcellus, with the Princeſs Cleopatra, Alexander with Artemiſa, & behind them the women that belonged to Cleopatra

Agrippa, being a particular Friend to all of the houſe of Anthony, and one that had a more than ordinary honour for Cleopatra, was extreamly elevated at that ſight, nay indeed aſtoniſhed at that of Marcellus, whom he thought not to be near that Country, & of whom there had no tidings been heard; no more than of Tiberius, ſince they both left Rome, much about the ſame time. There was a very great friendſhip between Marcellus and Agrippa, though it had been often imagined at Rome that the great authority of Agrippa might produce alterations in that particular, and that there had been many reports ſpread abroad, that Marcellus, to whom the Empire was deſigned, looked with ſome jealouſie on the great credit of that Favorite of Caeſars, and had ſome thoughts to pull him a little lower. This ſuſpicion had prevailed very much among the people, but thoſe, who were acquainted with the vertue of Marcellus and Agrippa, were of another opinon: and beſides that the excellent good nature of Marcellus was ſuch as forced on him an [Page] eſteem and affection for Agrippa; on the other ſide, Agrippa loved him, and looked upon him no otherwiſe than as if he had been indeed the Son of his Benefactor, and accordingly endeavoured what lay in his power to moderate his fortune ſo as that he might not conceive the leaſt jealouſie thereat.

As ſoon as he had perceived thoſe illuſtrious perſons on the deck, he would not ſtay their coming aſhore, and thereupon, taking Artaban along with him, took a boat and went to receive them in their own Veſſel, and at the ſame time ſent ſome of his men to Cornelius, to give him notice of their arrival, and to deſire him to ſend Chariots to bring the Princeſſes to the Palace. Cleopatra ſeeing theſe two great perſons appearing, one whereof was unknown to her, came towards them with that amiable majeſty which purchaſed her a certain Empire over all that ſaw her, addreſſing her ſelf to Agrippa, whom ſhe knew to be one of the beſt Friends ſhe had, ſhe entertained him in the moſt obliging way that could be, and ſurprized Artaban in ſuch manner with the ſight of her admirable beauty, that how ſtrangely ſoever he might be prepoſſeſſed with that of Eliſa, he could neither ſuffer that luſtre without being dazled, nor forbear acknowledging the advantages which Heaven had beſtowed on that beauty beyond all that were mortal. He had not ſhaken off that aſtoniſhment when Agrippa preſented him to Cleopatra by recommending him to her under the famous name of Artaban, and giving him withal a character which could not any waies be denied him. This made Cleopatra look on Artaban with an aſtoniſhment not much different from that which he had conceived at the firſt ſight of her, and while he ſaluted her with the ſame reſpect which he would have expreſſed towards a goddeſs, and ſhe received him with abundance of kindneſs and civility; Marcellus and Agrippa embraced one the other, and Alexander coming forward, and preſenting Artemiſa to Agrippa, as a treaſure he had recovered through the aſſiſtance he had received from him, the Vertuous Roman received that fair Princeſs with all the Courtſhip that was due to her birth, her great merit, and the Friendſhip he bore Alexander. Upon that, Marcellus, being advanced to ſalute Artaban, whoſe name he had underſtood from Agrippa, after he had looked on him a little, knew him to be the ſame man whom he had ſeen in the houſe of Tiridates, at the time that that unfortunate Prince breathed out his laſt, and called to mind the hot conteſtation there had paſt between him and the King of Armenia, and how far he had himſelf endeavoured to reconcile them. Artaban alſo knew him, and knowing him withal to be Prince Marcellus, whom all the Empire had a love and reſpect for, gave him no leſs honour than he would have done to Caeſar himſelf, and received from him thoſe demonſtrations of the eſteem and account he made of him ſuitable thereto.

That done, Artaban and Alexander ſaluted one another as two men equally ſurpriſed, the one at the goodly preſence of Artaban, the other at the great beauty of Alexander. But when Artaban came neer Artemiſa to ſalute her, and that ſhe was preparing to return to the name of Artaban which ſhe had ſeveral times heard pronounced, what was due to its great reputation, ſhe caſt her eyes on his countenance, and, conſidering it with ſome earneſtneſs, notwithſtanding the alteration which ſome years had wrought in it, ſhe at laſt read in the perſon of Artaban, the ſame Britomarus whom ſhe had ſometime known in Armenia, and for whom ſhe had that eſteem which all the world was forced to acknowledge juſtly beſtowed on him. While they were ſolemnizing their renewed acquaintances, with expreſſions full of tenderneſs and affection, Agripp [...] being returned to Cleopatra, diſcovered to her the joy he conceived at her liberty and return; and that Princeſs who had underſtood from Alexander, that it was he himſelf that had furniſhed him with the Veſſel & men that had come in to her relief, and had heard but a little before that he was then coming in perſon to find out thoſe that had carried her away, had not her happy arrival prevented him, expeſſed the great ſenſe ſhe had of that obligation, in words proceeding from the greateſt gratitude imaginable.

At laſt, this illuſtrious company cloſing up together again; and Agrippa, having acquainted the Princeſſes with the care he had taken to ſend for Chariots to convey them to the Palace, perſwaded them to remain in the Veſſel till they were come, and, in that interim would needs know after what manner they had been recovered, and what accident had brought Prince Marcellus into their company. Marcellus thought it then unſeaſonable to give any particular account of his adventures, and ſo, only to give Agrippa ſome ſatisfaction, told him, that he came into Alexandria, juſt at the time, that Alexander was going to take ſhip, to find out the Princeſſes; and that, having met him and known him upon the Port, after they had embraced one another, with that fraternal affection wherein they had been brought up by Octavia, he had acquainted him with the loſs of Cleopatra, and the deſign he had to relieve her, and that upon that account of her, he without any further diſputing of the buſineſs, went abroad reſolved to run the ſame fortune with him.

[Page] But when the Princeſſe Cleopatra was preſſed to give Agrippa a particularly account of her being taken and her deliverance, ſhe looked on Marcellus and Alexander, as not knowing whether ſhe ſhould make any mention of Coriolanus before Agrippa, in whom the concernment of Caeſar might have altered his inclinations. But Marcellus, who was ſatisfied of the vertue of Agrippa, adviſed her to give him a faithfull relation of all without diſguiſing any thing, aſſuring her out of the confidence he had of his generoſity, that he would rather relieve than cruſh the miſerable. Upon this confidence of Marcellus, the Princeſſe gave Agrippa a brief narrative of what had happened to her ſince her laſt carrying away, whereof the accidents of greateſt importance had happened that very day, and ſurprized him in ſuch a manner, by the relation of the great performances of Coriolanus, and by that of the King of Armenia's death, that he could not for ſome time recover himſelf out of the aſtoniſhment which the conſideration of ſo many extraordinary occurrences had raiſed in him. And thereupon taking occaſion to let Cleopatra know that it was not without ſome reaſon that ſhe repoſed ſo much confidence in him, he related unto her, how he had met with the diſconſolate Cor [...]olanus in the wood the night before ſhe was carried away the ſecond time; how that that unfortunate Prince had diſcovered himſelf to him by his ſpeech, and how that, not being able to do him any other ſervice, he had beſtowed on him his own horſe, and had paſſed over the night in the woods, after he had ſpent the day in purſuit of thoſe that had carried her away.

Cleopatra could not forbear celebrating the generoſity of Agrippa upon that occaſion, and being before more then half convinced of the innocency of Coriolanus, ſhe was not a little glad to find that, even in his misfortunes, Agrippa continued that Friendſhip towards him which he had ever had for him. Artaban, before whom, upon the engagement of Agrippa, who had to that purpoſe ſatisfied Cleopatra, were related the prodigious effects of the valour of Coriolanus, was very much pleaſed with that diſcourſe; and being acquainted with that Prince by reaſon of the combat wherein he had been engaged againſt him in the preſence of Candace and Tiridates, and by the abode they had both ſince made at Tiridates's houſe, and, having accordingly conceived very much affection and a more than ordinary eſteem for him, he thought himſelf very much concerned, in what he had heard ſaid of him, and though he concealed what he knew of him, becauſe he ſaw there was not any neceſſity to ſpeak of it, he was earneſtly deſirous to meet with ſome occaſion wherein he might ſerve himſelf. And indeed it was partly upon that ground that he had ſo generouſly proffered his aſſiſtance in order to the relief of Cleopatra, at a time when the poſture of his health, and other allowable motives might well have procured him a diſpenſation from engaging in that enterpriſe.

Upon that reflection, looking on Artemiſa, and perceiving the teares ſtanding in her eies for the death of the King her Brother, he was troubled at the misfortune of that Prince, though he was neither taken with his diſpoſition nor his perſon, and ſo gave the Princeſſe his Siſter the beſt words of comfort he could. He thought not fit to tell her any things of Ariobarzanes or Arſinoe, becauſe Agrippa and he had ſo reſolved before, that ſhe might be the more ſurpriſed when ſhe ſaw them; and yet when he heard her called in the ſhip by the name of Queen Artemiſa, he could not forbear telling them that they ſhould not be ſo haſty to give her that title before the Kings death were publiſhed, and that he had a certain imagination that ſhe would not be Queen of Armenia.

This diſcourſe made Agrippa ſmile, which Marcellus perceiving would fain have known the meaning of it, when they perceived Cornelius was come with two chariots, followed by an infinite number of people whom the tidings of Cleopatra's arrivall had drawn down to the port. The name of Cleopatra was in ſo much veneration in Alexandria, and the children of that great Queen were ſo dear in the account of the people, who had ſeen them born and brought up in their City, that they could not underſtand that the Princeſſe Cleopatra, and Prince Alexander her Brother, whom they had ſometimes, upon the coumands of Anthony, reverenced in a manner as gods, were coming into their City, without running before them with exclamations, and ſuch expreſſions of tenderneſſe, as could not admit any thing comparable thereto, but upon ſuch another occaſion.

Nor indeed did Cleopatra and Alexander much miſ-interpret thoſe expreſſions of their affection, for they could not look on either the walls or people of that City, wherein they had received their firſt breath, where they had paſſed over their firſt years with ſo much reputation, and whence, after the deplorable ruine of their houſe, they departed ten years before, to follow as far as Rome the fortune and the triumphall chariot of their Conqueror, but the ſadneſſe of the commemoration muſt force them to ſhed tears which i [...] was impoſſible for them to keep in. And it was the more obſervable in Cleopatra, for that ſhe never gav [...] over weeping from the port even to the palace, the ſight [Page] whereof multiplied her grief when ſhe could not look on it only as the magnificent houſe of the Ptolomey's, but that alſo where the unfortunate Anthony, and the deplorable Cleopatra had loſt their lives with the Empire, not to mention thouſands of other ſad circumſtances, which at the ſame time preſſed into their memory.

Cornelius had ſo ordered things, that Olympia and Arſinoe, Ariobarzanes and Philadelph, as alſo Tigranes and Artaban, were not lodged within the Palace, becauſe that had been reſerved for the Emperour and the Empreſſe, who were to come thither within two daies, and how ſpacious ſoever it might be, the Emperours retinue was ſo great, that there would be but little lodging to ſpare for other perſons. But for the Princeſſe Cleopatra, Cornelius thought it not fit to lodge her out of the Palace, but had appointed her certain rooms within that which had been deſigned for Octavia. And Candace, either to leave the more room for the Empreſſe, or that ſhe could not be without the company of of Eliſa, was, upon the deſires of that Princeſſe, gone along with her, and had left her lodgings void; ſo that Cornelius finding none more convenient for the Princeſſe Cleopatra, changed his former reſolution, and diſpoſed of her into the place which before had been taken up by the Queen of Ethiopia.

When the two Princeſſes were alighted out of the Chariots, they met, at the bottom of the ſtaires; with Eliſa, Candace, Olympia, and Arſinoe, with Ariobarzanes and Phil [...]delph, coming to meet them. Agrippa immediately ſhewed Eliſa and Candace to Cleopatra, to whom he had ſpoken of them before in the Chariot, and thoſe two Princeſſes coming up cloſe to her, ſhe ſaluted them, with ſentiments not much different from that admiration which they expreſſed at the ſight of her divine beauty. She knew Eliſa to be ſole heir to the Empire of the Parthians, and looked on Candace as a Princeſſe of the royal progeny of Ethiopia, and, accordingly, made the return of civility to both, which upon the ſight of their countenance they might have chalenged from all the World; and at the ſame time Artemiſa ſaluted Olympia, who, knowing her to be Siſter to Ariobarzanes, was, through a forwardneſſe of affection, come up to her. Artemiſa entertained, with very much civility, the effects of an affection, whereof ſhe yet knew not the cauſe. But when, after ſhe had diſengaged her ſelf out of her embraces, and received thoſe of Candace and Eliſa, whom ſhe firſt met in her way, ſhe was going towards Arſinoe, who ſtretched out her arms with a cordial friendſhip to entertain her, and at the ſame time caſt her eie on her countenance, as alſo on that of Ariobarzanes, who ſtood cloſe by her, ſhe was ſeized by ſuch an aſtoniſhment, that had it not been for Artaban, who was not ignorant of the cauſe thereof, and came forward purpoſely to hold her up, ſhe had fallen all along on the ground.

In the mean time Arſinoe kiſſed her, and embraced her with much tenderneſſe, yet was not able to bring her to her ſelf, nor make her apprehend that what ſhe ſaw was real. Whereupon Ariobarzanes, after he had ſaluted Cleopatra, whom Agrippa had acquainted with his name, as alſo with that of Arſinoe, taking Artemiſa out of his Siſters hands, after he had begged the pardon of thoſe great Princeſſes, to acquit himſelf of the civilities he ought his Siſter, ſaluted her at laſt, with all the demonſtrations of an affectionate friendſhip, and perceiving that that Princeſſe, aſtoniſhed at the unexpectedneſſe of the interview, could not be recovered out of her amazement; What Siſter, ſaid he to her, will you not know Arſinoe and Ariobarzanes? Artemiſa, with much ado, coming at laſt to her ſelf again, and looking on them one after another for ſome time, before ſhe would venture to ſpeak: Alaſſe, ſaid ſhe at length, I very well ſee the countenances of Ariobarzanes and Arſinoe, but I queſtion whether I may truſt my eyes ſo far, and I find it no ſmal difficulty to be ſatisfied, whether they are ſhades that preſent themſelves to me after their death, ſo wel known throughout all Aſia, or whether they appear really before me, and without any illuſion. Aſſure your ſelf, Siſter, replyed at the ſame time, Ariobarzanes and Arſinoe, you ſee us really, and you may embrace us without any fear, ſince we are truely living, and have not been dead, but in the opinion of men.

Artaban, who ſtood neer Artemiſa, gave her further ſatisfaction as to that truth, acquainting her in a few words, how they had both eſcaped ſhipwrack; and when the Princeſſe was convinced, and that the careſſes of her brother and Siſter had diſpelled all her doubts ſhe in the firſt place gave way to certain tears, which a tender joy would needs adde to thoſe which the death of Artaxus ſtill forced out into her face. And then, inſtead of returning the careſſes ſhe had received from Ariobarzanes, ſuitably to their ancient familiarity, ſhe caſt her ſelf on her knees before him, and taking him by the hand, and bathing it with her tears, Since it is certain, ſaid ſhe to him, that you are Ariobarzanes alive, and that I am now abſolutely at your diſpoſal, be pleaſed to pardon the unfortunate Artemiſa, what too too juſtifiable a gratitude hath obliged her to do for the ſafety of Alexander, ſhe embraces your knees to obtain that favour at your hands, and ſhe hopes, the gods have not reſtored you to life, to raiſe in you a ſevere, and an inexorable, judge of my actions.

[Page] Ariobarzanes, aſtoniſhed at the deportment of Artemiſa, from whom he expected thoſe careſſes that ſpoke more familiarity, raiſed her up with much ado, and diſcovering how much he was ſurpriſed at it in all his looks; Siſter, ſaid he to her, I apprehend not what you mean by this kind of behaviour towards me; and beſides, that the crime you charge your ſelf with deſcraves rather to be commended then blamed, and that I ſhould have done no leſſe my ſelf for the ſafety of Alexander, it is to the King our Brother, and not to me, that this ſubmiſſion is due from you. If it be due to my King, replies Artemiſa, it is to my King that I make this ſubmiſſion, and ſince I am the firſt of your Subjects that hath demanded any favour at your hands, I am alſo the firſt that brings you the news that you are King of Armenia.

Theſe words put Ariobarzanes to ſuch a loſſe, that he had not the power to make any preſent reply thereto; and during the ſilence he kept by reaſon of the aſtoniſhment he was in, Agrippa aſſuming the diſcourſe acquainted him with the particulars of Artaxus his death, as he had not long before underſtood them from Cleopatra; and in the relation he made thereof, he forgot not to inſiſt very much upon this, that his death was purely the effect of his own rage and exaſperation, and that his enemies had been ſo far from contributing any thing thereto, that they endeavoured all they could to prevent it.

Artaxas had, no doubt, been a very inhuman Prince, one for whom it could not be expected, that the inclinations of Ariobarzanes and Arſinoe ſhould be very violent, by reaſon of the great diſproportion there was between their diſpoſitions; yet, being both of excellent good natures, the grief they conceived at that unfortunate accident, was, for the preſent, ſo great, that It could not be abated by the purchaſe of a Crown, in the apprehenſion of Ariobarzanes, nor, by the hopes of a more happy condition of life, in that of A [...]ſinoe. For Philadelph and Olympia, if they were aſtoniſhed in ſome meaſure at the firſt hearing of that news, aſſoon as it was diſperſed, joy took its place, and there was no reaſon it ſhould give way to any thing in their apprehenſion, it being conſidered how very much it concerned them to find Ariobarzanes King of Armenia. But for him, he had his countenance covered with tears for ſome time, which there was not any one thought proceeded from diſſimulation, by reaſon of the confidence which all had of his vertue; and Artemiſa, by the embraces wherewith ſhe received him, and by his courteous reception of Prince Alexander, ſeemed to be ſo far eaſed of that burthen of ſadneſſe, which till then had been very obſervable in her countenance, that there was not any could ſuſpect her the leaſt troubled at the loſs of a Kingdom, which in all probability ſhe ſhould otherwiſe have poſſeſſed. Ariobarzanes, thinking himſelf obliged in civility to retire, Artemiſa, who would needs, and conceived ſhe ought to follow him, took leave of Cleopatra for ſome ſmall time. He was alſo immediately after followed by Olympia, Arſinoe, Alexander and Philadelph; and the Princeſs Cleopatra, with Eliſa and Candace, attended by Marcellas, Agrippa, Artaban, Cornelius, and divers others, went up the ſtaires, and was conducted by that Illuſtrious company into thoſe lodgings that had been prepared for her. She could not prevail with Eliſa and Candace, to forbear waiting on her thither, though that, out of the aſſurance ſhe had of the quality of Eliſa ſhe did all that lay in her power to prevent that civility from her, that ſhe might rather have done it to her. But ſhe being the laſt come thither, and having lately eſcaped a danger which gave others a pretence to viſit her, ſhe was forced to permit it, and ſhe did it with ſuch a grace, that thoſe two Princeſſes were infinitely taken with it. They both equally admired that ſo famous beauty of Cleopatra; and, though nature had been ſufficiently liberal of her excellencies in theirs, to raiſe the ſame admiration in thoſe that knew them, and that there was in that of Eliſa, as much delicacy and perfection, and in that of Candace, as much grace and majeſty as ever had been obſerved in the moſt accompliſhed beauties that ever were; yet was it certain, that the delicacy of that of Eliſa, and the majeſty of that of Candace were equally apparent in that of Cleopatra, and that if it were very hard for any man to ſee her, and not be ſenſible of a love towards her, it was alſo a matter of no leſſe difficulty to look on her, and not conceive a reſpect and veneration for her.

Candace, who thought her ſelf much more neerly concerned in her perſon then Eliſa, and looked on her with an affectionate tenderneſſe, as the Siſter of Caeſario, was very deſirous of ſome opportunity to diſcover her ſelf to her, and to enter into that meaſure of her friendſhip which ſhe ſhould be pleaſed to admit her into. And having heard her particularly celebrated for her prudence and reſervedneſs, ſhe reſolved to make her acquainted with Caeſarrio, and could not but think him chargeable with a [...]ertain degree of inflexibility, that he had remained a whole day in the ſame houſe with her, and never offered to diſcover himſelf to ſo amiable a Siſter. But for the preſent, ſhe, with the Princeſſe Eliſa, onely expreſſed to her, in terms full of the tendereſt paſſion, how much they were troubled at the misfortune ſhe had fallen into, and how glad they were of her liberty and happy arrival thither. Whereto [Page] the fair daughter of Anthony having returned thanks, for that demonſtration of their affection with the greateſt acknowledgments ſhe could make thereof, aſſured them on the other ſide of the ſatisfaction it was to her to meet with them in Alexandria: and in regard they were both ſtrangers, and might haply ſtand in need of ſome recommendation to thoſe powers which then diſpoſed of the Empire, ſhe proffered them, in the moſt obliging manner in the World, to ſerve them with all the intereſt ſhe had in the friendſhip of Octavia, Julia, Marcellus, and ſome other perſons whom ſhe was allyed to, in order to what they might have to propoſe, to the Emperour, promiſing them withal, all the ſervice and aſſiſtance they might deſire in thoſe traverſes of fortune which had forced them out of their native Countries.

The two Princeſſes received thoſe proffers with the greateſt acknowledgments imaginable; and while they were thus engaged in diſcourſe, Agrippa and Artaban, having not the opportunity to entertain Eliſa as they could have wiſhed, Cornelius having not the confidence ſo much as to come neer or ſpeak to Candace, and Marcellus being drowned in a deep melancholy, which had hanged upon him for ſome time before, Agrippa riſing up, ſaid, it was but juſt to leave the Princeſſe Cleopatra to her reſt, after the travail and vexation ſhe had undergone, and Cornelius intreated Marcellus, that he would be pleaſed to follow him to thoſe lodgings that were deſigned for him. By which means the Princeſſes were left to themſelves, Artaban not preſuming to ſtay alone with them though he left not the room without ſome regret. But ere he went out, Candace having called to him with much more confidence, then Eliſa durſt have done, and calling to mind the reſolution ſhe had taken to reconcile Caeſario and him together that night, gave him notice to be on the Terrace at the hour ſhe aſſigned him, and which was the ſame wherein Caeſario was appointed to come. Artaban entertained that favour with abundance of reſpect: and going out of the Palace very well ſatisfied, he went to give a viſit to the new King of Armenia.

In the mean time, Ariobarzanes, being retired to his own lodgings, in ſuch a ſad poſture as had not permitted him to take notice of the perſons that followed him, obſerves at laſt among many others that were in the chamber, Prince Alexander, and imagined with himſelf, that the affliction he was in, could not excuſe him from entertaining with the civility he ought a Prince ſo eminent as the ſon of Anthony. Whereupon addreſſing himſelf to him, with that ſweetneſs and courtſhip that was ordinary and natural in him, after he had excuſed his unmind fulneſs of him, and the want of reſpect he was guilty of in ſuffering him to accompany him at that time, by confeſſing the diſturbance he was then in; ‘My Lord, ſaid he to him, is it poſſible there can be any goodneſs remaining in you towards a houſe that hath expoſed your life to ſo dreadful a danger, and wherein you have received ſuch barbarous entertainment? And is Artemiſa ſtill ſo happy, as to have the continuance of your affections, after ſhe had put them to ſuch terrible tryals? Aſſure your ſelf, my Lord, replies Alexander, that for what I have ſuffered for Artemiſa, I place abundance of glory and happineſs in it and the reflection I ſhould make thereupon, muſt needs be very pleaſant, if I am ſo fortunate as to find you in ſentiments as much to my advantage, as thoſe of King Artaxus, were to my prejudice. Ah my Lord, replies Ariobarzanes, make not the leaſt doubt but I ſhall acknowledge the great honour you do our houſe, and be confident, that, notwithſtanding I am the ſon of Artabaſus, I ſhall have my eies ſo far open, as to conſider, how little you have contributed to the misfortunes of our Family. No, I have ſtill freſh in my memory the firſt expreſſions of your friendſhip; and I ſhould have diſclaimed my Siſter, had ſhe not done what ſhe hath for your ſafety, eſpecially in an extremity whereto you were reduced, meerly for your love to her. I ſhall not therefore tell you ſhe is yours, for you have but too much intereſt in her for any man to diſpute her with you, but I ſhall, for your further confidence, make this proteſtation to you, and that truely and ſincerely, that your affection to her cannot be greater, than the earneſt deſire I have to ſerve you both in your mutual inclination.’

Alexander almoſt out of himſelf for joy to hear Ariobarzanes in theſe expreſſions, comes up cloſe to him whereupon theſe two Princes embraced one another, with ſo many diſcoveries of a reall friendſhip, that the whole company could not forbear taking notice of it, not without much ſympathy and ſatisfaction. Artemiſa could not ſmother the felicity ſhe conceived therein, as ſeeing her ſelf, after ſo many ſtorms proſperouſly arrived into ſo happy a Port, and finding, by reaſon of the ſweet and generous diſpoſition of Ariobarzanes, her fortune much different from what it had been ſome few daies before. While her thoughts were the moſt taken up to find out terms to expreſſe her ſatisfaction, or rather to moderate it, ſhe accidentally caſt her eies on Prince Philadelph whom, till then, by reaſon of the diſturbance ſhe was in, and the many illuſtrious perſons ſhe had ſeen before, ſhe had not taken [Page] any particular notice of. And after ſhe had looked on him for ſome time very earneſtly, ſhe ſound him to be that Prince of Cilicia whom ſhe had met with ſome daies before, and who had entertained her with a relation of his noble inclinations for Delia, and who, upon the point of their parting, had ſo gallantly defended the Princeſſe Cleopatra, againſt thoſe that would have carried her away. Artemiſa, upon this occaſion, conceived ſuch an eſteem for Prince Philadelph, and was ſo much moved at the relation of his love to Delia, that ſhe could not look on him without expreſſing an extraordinary joy thereat. Whereupon coming to him with a countenance, wherein were viſible the great kindneſſe ſhe had for him; What, my Lord, ſaid ſhe to him, I have, it ſeems, the good fortune to ſee you again, and the liberty withall once more to aſſure you of the eſteem which I have conceived for your admirable vertue?

Philadelph, whoſe joy had had put him into ſo much diſorder as Artemiſas, could have done her, and who waited the opportunity to diſcover himſelf to Artemiſa, and to put her in mind of their laſt meeting, kiſſing one of her fair hands with the greateſt ſubmiſſion that might be; Madam, ſaid he to her, my fortunate meeting with you, proved the prologue to that good fortune which the gods have been pleaſed to ſend me ſince, and you may alſo inferre thence that I was not abſolutely blinded by my paſſion, when I took you for Delia. How extreamly I was moved at your relation, replies Artemiſa, the gods onely know, and conſequently you may well think your ſelf obliged to let me know immediately, whether you have had any tidings ſince of that Delia, for whom you pretended ſo extraordinary an affection.

Theſe words of Artemiſa cauſing Philadelph to look on the Princeſſe Arſinoe with a ſmiling countenance; I know not, Madam, ſaid he to her. whether it be any prudence in me to acknowledge my inconſtancy to you; but I cannot forbear making this confeſſion to you, that that Delia, for whom I had ſo much affection, hath reſigned up the all the right and title ſhe had in my heart to the Princeſſe Arſinoe, your Siſter. Ah Philadelph! cries out the Princeſſe with ſome precipitation, though my Siſter were the moſt amiable perſon in the World, I ſhould never approve that change in your inclinations, and I ſhould no longer continue that eſteem towards you, which I ſome time had for you, if I thought you could be guilty of any ſuch infidelity.

Theſe words fell from her with ſo much earneſtneſs, that Philadelph could not forbear laughing at it in ſuch a manner, as put him afterwards into a little diſorder, and more ſport might have been made of it, if, by reaſon of the death of Artaxus, civility had not obliged them to a more ſerious converſation. And yet Arſinoe thinking it fit to make ſome rejoinder to the former diſcourſe, What Siſter, ſaid ſhe to Artemiſa, it ſeems you would adviſe Philadelph to prefer a perſon he never knew before me? She ſaid but theſe few words, but the action wherewith they were pronounced, raiſed at firſt ſome ſuſpicion in Artemiſa, which afterward grew into a ſatisfaction, in ſome meaſure, as to the truth of that buſineſs. With that reflection, looking on them both with a countenance wherein were legible the characters of her aſtoniſhment, Ah Philadelph, ſaid ſhe to him, is it poſſible that Arſinoe and Delia ſhould be the ſame perſon? Philadelph, who thought it unſeaſonable to continue that lightneſs of diſcourſe any longer, diſcovered the whole truth to her, and, telling her, that that Delia, whom he had profeſſed ſo much love to in his relation, was the Princeſs Arſinoe her Siſter, put her into ſuch aſtoniſhment, that for a long time there fell nothing from her but exclamations, which once over, ſhe embraced a hundred times together that amiable Delia, and entertained Philadelph with all the careſſes ſhe could expreſs towards a beloved Brother.

Ariobarzanes, who all this time was in diſcourſe with Alexander, had nevertheleſſe taken notice of what had paſſed between his Siſters and Philadelph. And when that firſt aſtoniſhment of Artemiſa was over, taking her by the hand, and preſenting her to Olympia, who ſtretched out her arms to her with much affection; What, Siſter, ſaid he to her, would you beſtow all your careſſes on Philadelph and Arſinoe, and will not look on my Princeſs here, her I ſay, to whom I not only owe my life, but have ſacrificed it, to make her ſatisfaction in ſome meaſure for what I am obliged to her? Artemiſa, without any difficulty, caſt her ſelf into the arms of Olympia, in whom, not withſtanding her paleneſs, ſhe could obſerve the tracks of an admirable Beauty, and a moſt amiable kind of Majeſty. And thereupon having entertained her embraces with abundance of affection; Be pleaſed, Madam, ſaid ſhe to her, to charge the faults you now find me guilty of, upon my ignorance, as conceiving, that, one who, within theſe few minutes, knew not whether Ariobarzanes and Arſinoe were in the World, could not have learned whom they are obliged to for their lives, nor underſtood the particular reſpects due from her to your ſelf.

Olympia made anſwer to this diſcourſe of Artemiſa with a civility civility ſuitable to that of the other, and the King of Armenia engaging himſelf in their converſation, addreſſing himſelf [Page] not long after to Olympia; and looking on her with eies full of love, and a deportment, which, by reaſon of the preſent occcaſion of his ſadneſſe, was ſomewhat more ſerious then ordinary; Madam, ſaid he to her, when I was ſo deſirous of a Crown to preſent you with, the gods are my witneſſes, that it was my hope I ſhould have arrived to it, by ſome other way then that whereby it is now fallen to me, and that I ſhould have choſen rather to paſſe a way my life with a private fortune, and then aſpired to the Throne by the death of the King my Brother. But ſince it hath pleaſed thoſe celeſtial powers, whoſe decrees are irreſiſtible, ſo to diſpoſe of me, as that I am come to the poſſeſſion of the Crown of my Anceſtors; give me leave to offer it to you, as I would offer you that of the Univerſe, were it in my power, and be you pleaſed to receive it from your faithful Ariamenes, as a thing of greater value then it is, and yet as what he conceives a thouſand times leſſe dear, and leſſe glorious then the chains he hath worn, and ſhall wear for your ſake to the laſt minute of his life.

Olympia entertained this diſcourſe of Ariobarzanes with a deportment ſuitable to his that ſpoke it, and looking on him with a countenance, which, in ſome meaſure diſcovered the preſent ſtate of her thoughts; My Lord, ſaid ſhe to him, I have looked on you with ſo much eſteem, even while you were without a Crown, that that, which you have now received, can hardly add any thing to what you were in my account before; I receive it with all heartineſſe and ſubmiſſion, becauſe that with the Crown, I am confident you will beſtow on me the Prince that is to wear it, and without the perſon of Ariobarzanes, I could eaſily contemn all the Crowns and Scepters of the Univerſe. I cannot beſtow Ariobarzanes upon you, replied the Prince, becauſe he is yours ever ſince the day he ceaſed to be his own, and conſequently it is not in my power to make you that preſent; but I might well offer you the crown, becauſe that it is within this hour that it came to my diſpoſal, and that till then I was not in a condition or capacity to make you any offer thereof; and ſo, I, in ſome meaſure make you ſatisfaction for the injury I did you, in depriving you almoſt of all hopes of a dignity which you could not have miſſed elſewhere, and which you ſlighted for your Ariamenes.

He entertained her with a many other things that diſcovered the greateſt kindneſſe & ſenſe of obligation that might be; whereto the fair Princeſſe anſwered with the ſame generoſity, and their diſcourſe might have continued yet ſome while on the ſame ſubject, had it not been interrupted by Prince Philadelph. And what ſhall become of me? ſaid he to Ariobarzanes, ſhall I make no advantage of that influence which the change of your condition gives you over my fortunes? And will you offer me nothing, now that you can do all things, after you had offered me ſo much when all my hopes conſiſted meerly in the good inclinations you had for me? Aſſure your ſelf, replied the King of Armenia, that one of the greateſt advantages I ſhall hope to make of my new dignity, is, that I may be able to do you the civility I ought: and though you have indeed but too great an intereſt already in Arſinoe, yet if you have that diſtruſt her arſpoſition, that you imagine ſhe ſtands in need of a Brothers conſent to make her abſolutely yours, I ſhould heartily, with that conſent, part with the crown I have received, could I think that preſent might contribute any thing to yours ſatisfaction.

Philadelph received this diſcourſe of the King of Armenia's, with the marks of both a ſatisfaction and a reſentment that were indeed extraordinary, and immediately thereupon caſting himſelf at the feet of his amiable Delia, and, notwithſtanding her reſiſtance, kiſſing one of her fair hands, with the ordinary ſallies of his affection, entertained her with abundance of diſcourſe, conſonant to thoſe demonſtrations of Love which ſhe had received from him in Cilicia: Alexander was in the ſame termes with Artemiſa and Ariobarzanes being alſo in the ſame humour with Olympia, theſe ſix fortunate perſons, after ſo many ſtorms which a malicious fortune had raiſed againſt them, finding themſelves ſafely arrived at the ſo much wiſhed for port, celebrated their happineſſe by all the obliging expreſſions, which they might derive from ſuch an exceſſe of joy, But being mutually ignorant of the fortunes of thoſe perſons that were ſo dear to them, and particularly Artemiſa, who knew nothing of that of Ariobarzanes, and had not underſtood ſome part of thoſe of Arſinoe, and that there were a many particulars in that of Artemiſa and Alexander that were unknown to Ariobarzanes and Arſinoe, they would needs be informed one of another, and thought fit to ſpend that day in the relations of their adventures. To do this, they would obſerve a certain order, and Alexander and Artemiſa being extreamly deſirous to underſtand thoſe of Ariobarzanes and Olympia they were accordingly the firſt ſatisfied, with this proviſoe, that Alexander, Arſinoe and Philadelph ſhould afterward give them an account at large, of what, of their fortune, was not as then come to their knowledge. Artaban coming into the room while they were thus engaged, and being very kindly entertained by all thoſe illuſtrious perſons [Page] that were peſent, diverted them not from the reſolution they had taken. And being a perſon they might well truſt with their concernments, he hearkned, not without much ſatisfaction to many things, whereof, as having had an imperfect account of them before, he was very much pleaſed with the relation, and would needs ſup with that noble company, and ſpend his time in it till the hour aſſigned him by Candace.

In the mean time the Princeſs Cleopatra ſtirred not out of her chamber, where ſhe had with her Eliſa and Candace, and aſſoon as the Princes were departed the room, the two Princeſſes imagining, not without reaſon, that Cleopatra might ſtand in need of reſt, took their leaves of her, and went to their own lodgings which were cloſe by. Cleopatra, upon their importunity laid her ſelf upon the bed, and reſted for an hour; but time expired, ſhe got up, and having underſtood what quality Eliſa was of, and had ſome account of Candace, and finding her ſelf inclined to a great eſteem and affection for both, ſhe would put off no longer the return of a civility which ſhe conceived ſhe ought them, and going out of her own chamber with her woman Camilla ſhe went to that of Eliſa. The two Princeſſes quarrelled very much at her for that ſtrictneſſe of ceremony, and ſeemed to be very much troubled, that ſhe had taken ſo little time to reſt, conſidering the great trouble and hardſhip ſhe had undergone. But the made them anſwer, that the reſt which her body might require was not ſo conſiderable to her as the obligation ſhe thought lay upon her to return their civilities, nor ſo dear to her as the honour to wait on them, which ſhe was not able to diſpenſe with any longer after ſhe had been deprived of their ſight with ſo much precipitation.

The two Princeſſes made her anſwer with equal civility, and whereas Candace was already paſſionately in love with her, as well out of a conſideration of her excellent endowments, which might produce that effect in any one, as upon the account of Caeſario, and was very deſirous to be more intimately acquainted with her, looking on her in a moſt paſſionate manner; As for the fair Princeſſe of the Parthians, ſaid ſhe to her, whoſe extraordinary merit makes an immediate aſſault on all hearts, and whoſe illuſtrious birth is known to you, ſhe may without any unjuſt preſumption claim ſome place in your friendſhip, and there are few ſouls can ſtand out long againſt her charms, if ſhe thinks ſit to make uſe of the battery thereof. But for one whom you have no other account of then that ſhe is a perſon of ſome quality born in Ethiopia, and cannot aſpire above a mediocrity of parts, ſhe cannot rationally hope for the ſame advantage, if in ſome meaſure, to ballance thoſe wherein Eliſa ſo much excells her, ſhe could not pretend to ſomthing, that, more particularly recommends her to your notice. For matter of recommendation, replied the Princeſſe, ſmiling at the modeſty of her diſcourſe, there is ſo much ligible in your face, that it were ſupererogatory in you to look for any elſewhere; and as for your being born in Ethiopia, you are never for that, that leſſe worthy of our affections and our reſpects. I am not, I muſt confeſſe, made abſolutely acquainted with your birth, though I have underſtood ſomething of it; but beſides what I have obſerved of the Princeſſe Eliſa's familiarity and behaviour towards you, there are many other arguments whence I inferre, that your quality muſt needs be of the higheſt, and I ſhall haply know more of it, when you ſhall be ſo well acquainted with me, as to think I may be truſted with a ſecret of that conſequence. I know not, replied the Queen, whether I can with civility diſtruſt you; but, beſides the bent of my own inclination which naturally engages me into a very great confidence of you, I have haply ſome very particular reaſons to diſcover that to you, which I have not to any but the Princeſſe of the Parthians. And therefore to begin with ſomething, I ſhall make no difficulty to acknowledge my ſelf to be Candace, Queen of Ethiopia, whom Fortune hath been pleaſed to caſt on theſe coaſts and that diſpoſſeſſed of a Kingdome, which ſhe hath ſince recovered by the aſſistance of a perſon unknown to you.

Upon this diſcourſe of Candace, Cleopatra asked her pardon, in caſe, through an ignorance of her quality, ſhe had been awanting as to point of civility towards her, and gave her many thanks for the confidence ſhe was pleaſed to repoſe in her, with a proteſtation that ſhe ſhould make no other advantages of that acknowledgment of her, then ſuch as might give her the occaſions to ſerve her, if ſhe ſhould be ſo happy as to find them. And thereupon reflecting on the laſt words that fell from her whereby ſhe confeſſed her ſelf obliged for the recovery of her Crown to a perſon of her acquaintance; May I pretend to ſo much happineſſe, ſaid ſhe to her, as that there ſhould be a perſon within the reach of my knowledge, that may have done you a ſervice of ſo great importance as that you tell me of, and can I beg his name of you without preſuming too far upon the confidence you have honoured me with. I hope, it will not be long, replies Candace, ere I ſhall make you far greater diſcoveries of him than that of his name, and, it may be, renew your affectionate enclinations towards a perſon upon whoſe account I preſume ſo much upon your [Page] friendſhip; but till that happen, give me leave to ask you whether you did not ſee Cleomedon, in the houſe where Prince Alexander made ſome little abode upon his arrival near Alexandria. It is very true, replied Cleopatra, that I have ſeen him in that houſe, where I ſtaid one night and ſome part of the next day, till ſuch time as I was carried away thence: Alexander procured me the ſight of him in his bed, which he was confined to by reaſon of ſome wounds, ſo that I could not ſee him with as much advantage in that condition, as, no queſtion, I ſhould have done in another. But to meaſure him by that little obſervation I then made of him, I perceived as well in his countenance as his diſcourſe, ſomething that argued a certain grandeur much beyond the ordinary rate of men; and it now comes into my mind, that my Brother procucured me that ſight of him as a perſon of a great and noble fame, and told me withal, that his name was much cried up in Ethiopia for many famous victories. Alexander replies Candace, hath told you no more of him than Truth will juſtifie; but I am in hope that he will bring both you and Alexander, thoſe tidings of a perſon whom you once thought very dear, which may prove very advantageous to me, and very much further the deſign I have to purchaſe your friendſhip; and it is for that onely reaſon, that I asked you whether you had ſeen him, and that I am deſirous to give you another ſight of him before this night be quite paſſed, if you give me the liberty to do it. It cannot be, replied the fair Princeſſe, but too great ſatisfaction to me, to ſee a man ſo conſiderable, both upon the account of his own worth, and the great ſervices he hath done you, and I think my ſelf ſo much concerned already in whatever relates to you, that I cannot but with much more intereſt than heretofore, look on a man to whom you are obliged for the recovery of your Crown. Not, Madam, that any conſideration of his perſon, or the hopes I may conceive within my ſelf of him, can adde any thing to the reſpect which I have already for you; and aſſure your ſelf, that if the friendſhip you are pleaſed to deſire of me, were any thing of far greater value then it is I ſhould gladly offer it you by way of exchange for that which I deſire of you.

Candace, extreamly ſatisfied with this diſcourſe of Cleopatra, made her anſwer in terms ſo affectionate, that the fair daughter of Anthony, as well out of conſiderations of gratitude, as for the remarkable excellencies of that great Queen, felt in her ſelf a more then ordinary inclination to love her as much as lay in her power, and began to give her the greateſt aſſurances ſhe could thereof. Which Eliſa, who had been ſilent all the time very much obſerving, and not able to endure it any longer without ſome diſcoveries of her jealouſie; ‘What, Madam,’ ſaid ſhe to Candace ſmiling, you are, it ſeems abſolutely reſolved to engroſſe the friendſhip of this fair Princeſſe to your ſelf, and would not ſuffer ‘me to have any place therein, though poſſibly my deſires of it are not inferiour to yours? If you diſpute it with me, replies Candace, no queſtion but you will clearly carry it from me but if you do, you muſt look on it as the pure effect of your merit, whereas I have ſome reaſons to pretend thereto, which you cannot any waies alledge.’

Cleopatra perceiving this obliging conteſtation of the two Princeſſes, found it no great difficulty to give them ſatisfaction; and indeed they were both of them ſo amiable, that ſhe was eaſily inclined to afford them thoſe demonſtrations of her affection which they deſired, that is, ſuch as could not well be denied them.

But the diſcourſe of Candace, whence ſhe might have inferred that ſhe muſt needs have ſomething of news to acquaint her with, raiſing a certain curioſity in her, ſhe could not forbear diſcovering to her the deſire ſhe had to be ſomewhat better informed then ſhe was, of her affairs, as alſo of thoſe of the fair Princeſſe of the Parthians. Which they were no ſooner ſenſible of, but they were both very ready to afford her that ſatisfaction, and having obliged her to caſt her ſelf on the bed, upon which they fate by her; Candace gave her a more brief account than ſhe had done to Eliſa, of the adventures of the greateſt conſequence that had happened to her; but in her diſcourſe ſhe diſcovered nothing of the birth of Caeſario, and calling him all the way Cleomedon, repreſented him onely as a Prince come for refuge into her dominions.

Cleopatra having admired the ſtrange accidents of Candaces life, and expreſſed how much ſhe was moved thereat, with no ſmall affection, gave hearing afterwards to what ſhe was yet to learn of thoſe of Eliſa; I ſay what ſhe was yet to learn, for the greateſt part thereof was already come to her knowledge from the common reporter of all things, Fame, who had divulged the moſt memorable of her adventures. By theſe diſcourſes of the two Princeſſes, Cleopatra became better acquainted then ſhe had been before, with both Artaban and Cleomedon, and looked on them as the onely two in the World, whom ſhe might juſtly compare to her own Coriolanus, and having underſtood from them the deſign they had to have them reconciled that night, and to oblige them to forget the great difference that had been between them, ſhe very much approved their reſolution. And being further ſatisfied, that Cleomedon, for very good reaſons, could not come to viſit Candace till ſuch time as all other [Page] people were in their beds, ſhe aſſured the Queen that ſhe would gladly return into their Chamber at that time, if ſhe thought it fit, that ſhe might take better notice then ſhe had done before of two men ſo particularly obſervable, as alſo to underſtand from Cleomedon; what the Queen had put her in hopes of, concerning him. They continued their diſcourſes of this nature till ſupper time drew neer, and having diſcovered their deſires to eat together, all things were accordingly prepared in a Parlour, not far from their lodging rooms, whither they were conducted, and immediately after ſupper, returned to Cleopatras Chamber, to paſſe away the evening with ſuch as ſhould come to viſit them, and whom, by reaſon of their rank, they could not deny that civility, with a reſolution withal to meet together at Eliſas Chamber, when all were withdrawn.

Immediately after they were gotten into the Chamber, as they had imagined, they were viſited by Marcellus and Agrippa, who had ſupped together at Agrippas, Cornelius having, as it ſhould ſeem, ſpent that evening with the King of the Medes, with whom he had contracted a friendſhip, and was engaging in ſome deſigns of his. Marcellus, whoſe company was infinitely pleaſant, when his mind was in a ſerenity free from the tempeſts of his diſcontents, entertained the Princeſſes for ſome time, with an account of ſome particular obſervations he had made in his late voyage; when in the mean time Agrippa, finding an opportunity to ſit by Eliſa, ſo as that Candace was not ſo neer her as ſhe was wont to be, that fair Princeſſe could not avoid, but that he might ſpeak to her, yet not be over-heard, and conſequently that he might acquaint her with his love. She would have called Candace to a relief which they mutually afford one the other, by way of combination againſt both Agrippa and Cornelius, could ſhe without incivility have done it: but Agrippa was a perſon of that rank, and, withal, of ſuch worth in himſelf, that the Princeſſe, not without ſome reaſon, was afraid to diſoblige him, and thereupon reſolved to endure this diſcourſe, as being out of neceſſity forced to do it.

Agrippa having thus broken the ice, and removed the firſt difficulties, he found it ſo much the leſſe to carry on his deſign; and after ſome diſcourſe of an indifferent nature, perceiving that he might ſpeak without any fear of being heard: ‘Is it poſſible, ſaid he to her, that, in a place where I have the honour to waite on you at any time, I have with much ado got the advantage of this little interval, to give you ſome aſſurances of that ſubmiſſive paſſion which I have for you? Or rather am I to imagine, that the firſt diſcoveries I made to you thereof, have incenſed you ſo much againſt me, that you ſhould avoid my company as you do?’

No doubt but Eliſa, was ſufficiently troubled at theſe words, yet would ſhe not diſpleaſe Agrippa, whom ſhe thought her ſelf obliged to, whoſe power ſhe was afraid of, and whoſe vertue ſhe highly eſteemed. Accordingly, rejoyning to his diſcourſe with an accent full of mildneſſe and modeſty; ‘I have but too great eſteem, ſaid ſhe to him, both for your worth and your perſon, to ſhun your converſat on, and therefore if you find any repugnance in me as to that point, it does not proceed from either of thoſe two cauſes; and I ſhould both ſee you and hearken to you with very much ſatisfaction, had you ſo much goodneſſe for me as to make ſomething elſe the ſubject of your diſcourſe. My diſcourſe ſhall be of what nature you ſhall approve of, replies Agrippa, but I cannot, without a great violence to my ſelf, forbear telling you, that I die for your ſake, and that, though you ſhould forbid my mouth to tell you ſo much, it were very hard for my eies to afford you the ſame obedience, and that they ſhould not, in ſome meaſure, expreſſe the effects of what you have cauſed in my heart. I am eaſily perſwaded, replied the Princeſſe, that you do not feel all that you would have me believe; and I cannot but have that confidence of your generoſity, that inſtead of what your diſcourſe might very well put me in fear of, I ſhall find onely, where you are, a ſanctuary againſt that perſecution which I have run through ſo many dangers to avoid. I ſhould think my ſelf the moſt unfortunate man in the World, replyed Agrippa, if you ſhould look with the ſame eies on the love of Tigranes, and that which I have for you, and call that by the name of perſecution, which is, on the contrary, a paſſion full of reſpect and veneration, ſuch as mine is, as you do the violence of a Prince, who, by force and tyranny hath ſought that which he ſhould have patiently expected from your own good liking. I know, Madam, that the enterpriſe, I engage my ſelf in, is of no ſmall difficulty, when I would diſpute a heart prepoſſeſſed by another affection, and that an affection dearly purchaſed by an exceſſe of merit, and which you have, not without much reaſon, conceived for him, who, of all men, hath ſhewn himſelf the moſt worthy of it, as well by his vertue, as the tranſcendency of his actions. But I ſhall entreat you withall to aſſure your ſelf, that it is not by condemning it, that I ſhall endeavour to ruine it, to my advantage; and obſerve, that I freely acknowledge Artaban to be worthy of his fortune above all the men I have known, [Page] and, that it is not my own will that inclines me to traverſe his affections, but that it proceeds meerly from the violence you do me, which is ſuch as I have ineffectually endeavoured to overcome by all the reaſons which you could your ſelf have alledged againſt it. Do not therefore conſider what I do againſt him as a voluntary action, which might be condemned, but as a forced action, and conſequently rather deſerving your pitty, then his reſentment; and pardon, if you pleaſe, the deſign I have to diſpute your affections with him, which I ſhall not do out of any conſideration of Caeſars authority, and the power he hath inveſted me with through the whole extent of his Empire, but my love and ſervices.’

To this effect was the diſcourſe of Agrippa, and the Princeſſe finding ſome comfort in the concluſion of it, and in what he had ſaid to the advantage of Artaban; ‘It hath ever been my perſwaſion, ſaid ſhe to him, that, what deſign ſoever you might be engaged in, you would make uſe of no other force then that of vertue it ſelf to effect it; and that is it indeed which makes you more conſiderable then the rank you are in, or the friendſhip of Caeſar; and it is from the ſame vertue that I am inclined to hope you will overcome a paſſion, which may haply expoſe your reputation to ſome reproach by thwarting the enjoyments and felicity of thoſe that caſt themſelves under your protection.’

Theſe words troubled Agrippa more than any thing elſe could have done, as being levelled at him in point of generoſity and honour; and indeed, great ſouls, ſuch as was really his, are far more ſenſible of aſſaults of this nature, then thoſe which proceed meerly out of a conſideration of difficulty or danger. He accordingly was at a little loſſe what return to make thereto, but when he had recollected himſelf a little; ‘It is not for Agrippa, ſaid he to her, to afford protection, within the territories that are under the ſubjection of Caeſar, to a daughter of the King of Parthia. Caeſar may be ſaid to protect you, and I may contribute my ſervices to his protection; but it concerns me ever to be ſuppliant and ſubmiſſive to you, and to account my ſelf your vaſſal, rather than your Protector: under this qualification of vaſſallage, which I conceive honourable enough for me, and not under that other of protection, which I could not pretend to without inſolence, it may be lawful for me, upon equal terms, to engage againſt my Rival, and in this kind of engagement, I ſhall not ſeem very dreadful to a perſon, of whoſe ſide the victory is already declared.’

He would have ſpun out this diſcourſe to a great length, had not Candace, troubled to ſee the Princeſſe ſo engaged, ſtarted a queſtion to her, purpoſely to break it off, and, not long after, obliged her to quit Agrippa, and to participate of their converſation. It continued not long that night, for Eliſa and Candace, to oblige Marcellus and Agrippa to withdraw the ſooner, bid Cleopatra good-night; telling her, that, the better to recover the reſt ſhe ſo much wanted, it was but fit ſhe ſhould go to it ſomewhat ſooner then ordinary. Whereupon the two Princeſſes departed to their own lodgings, and Marcellus and Agrippa, having taken their leaves of them, left the room at the ſame time.

The two Princeſſes were no ſooner alone, but Eliſa acquainted Candace with the diſcourſe that had paſſed between her and Agrippa, and the Queen of Ethiopia, gave her an account at the ſame time of what ſhe had had that day with Cornelius. Whereupon they adviſed with one another what they ſhould do in that caſe, and ſpent ſome time in deliberating whether they ſhould acquaint their Lovers with that new emergency. They found very ſtrong reaſons on both ſides, as well to oblige them to do it, as to divert them from it, and they were abſolutely unreſolved what to do, when Artaban comes into the room. Tis, out of all queſtion, that Eliſa was infinitely deſirous to ſee him, yet could ſhe not look on him at ſuch an hour, without bluſhing at the freedom ſhe gave him; and though ſhe loved him to that degree which ſhe conceived her ſelf obliged to do, as well by way of recompence for his great ſervices, as out of her own inclination, yet had ſhe not ever granted him any favour that derogated from the ſtricteſt obſervances of honour and her ſex; and had not been perſwaded to this ſecret interview, but out of complyance with Candace, whoſe authority, rather then any thing elſe, ſatisfied her ſcruples, and prevailed with her to grant it in order to the interview which ſhe ſo much endeavoured between Caeſario and him. Candace, though ſhe had no leſſe devotion to vertue then the other, might preſume upon a greater liberty, and beſides, that ſhe could not ſee Caeſario but at ſuch hours, ſhe was abſolutely at her own diſpoſal, as well in regard of her perſon as her dominions. Add to that, that in her favouring Caeſario, and beſtowing on him her Crown with her perſon, as ſhe was reſolved, ſhe complyed with the will, and obeyed the commands of her father, who, in his life time, and at his death, had publickly declared ſuch an intention, and had abſolutely ordered it ſhould be ſo.

Eliſa entertained Artaban with her ordinary ſweetneſs and modeſty; and Candace, having [Page] treated him with all manner of civility; You are now ſatisfied, ſaid ſhe to him, that I am not much inclined to revenge, and that notwithſtanding the reſentment which your inconſtancy might well raiſe in me againſt you, I yet think it not much to procure you ſuch favours as you had not happy ever received before. I muſt indeed confeſſe, replies Artaban, that this favour is a pure effect of your goodneſſe; but ſhall not acknowledge, if I may be ſo free with you, that you had any great reſentment to ſtruggle with, for a loſſe you were not any way ſenſible of. The loſſe cannot be thought light, replies Candace, when one looſes ſuch a man as Artaban: but it hath been the pleaſure of our deſtinies to diſpoſe of us both otherwiſe, and for that reaſon it is but fit we forbear all reproaches. But I muſt tell you withal, that I have not been the inſtrument to procure you this ſight of Eliſa, beſides your expectation, without ſome little By-concernment; and that is, a requeſt that both ſhe and I make to you, that you and Cleomedon have an interview in this room, that you embrace one the other in our preſence, and if it be not impoſſible, become good friends, as your fair Princeſs and my ſelf are.

Artaban receiving this diſcourſe of Candace, with a great ſenſe of the obligation ſhe laid upon him; I am very much troubled, Madam, ſaid he to her, that you ſhould not make trial of the reſpect I have for you, by a teſt of my obedience, wherein I might find more difficulty, then there can be in that which you propoſe to me; for the friendſhip of Cleomedon is a thing, whereof the purchaſe is ſo advantageous, that I cannot entertain the offer you make me of it, otherwiſe then as are compence that you are pleaſed to allow me and not as a puniſhment that you impoſe upon me. I may add to this, that he hath put a late obligation upon me, which ought to have a greater infinn ceon my ſoul, hen that unreſoanable averſion which heretofore I ever found bandying againſt that affection which his vertue might raiſe in me for him, & I conceive my ſelf engaged to him in much more than my life amounts to ſince I muſt acknowledge the liberty of my Princeſs, an effect of the relief ſhe received from his valour, when ſhe was in the arms of Tigranes. Artaban, ſaid Eliſa to him, very much ſatisfied with his diſcourſe, aſſure your ſelf, you cannot anyway oblige me ſo much as by this kind of proceeding, and there is ſuch an union between this fair Queen and my ſelf, that it were very unjuſt there ſhould be any difference between the objects of our Loves. Cleomedon made in a manner the ſame anſwer, when we made the ſame propoſition to him; and accordingly, it is no ſmall ſatisfaction to me, to ſee that we ſhall find it no hard matter to eſtabliſh between you a friendſhip not unlike ours.

While Eliſa ſpoke in this manner, Candace, deſirous to favour Artaban all ſhe could, pretending ſhe had ſome buſineſſe to do in a cloſet, that was within the room, took occaſion to go into it for ſome time. Which interval the paſſionate Artaban making his advantage of, caſt himſelf at the feet of Eliſa, and embraced her knees, with all the moſt affectionate demonſtrations of that paſſion, which ſhe was already ſo well acquainted with; and whereas he could not expreſſe that tranſcendency of joy which then poſſeſſed him, otherwiſe than by confuſed and broken words, the fair Princeſſe thought his love more legible in that diſorder, than it had been in a diſcourſe well couched, and actions proceeding from the greateſt recollection. The preſence of Urinoe (for Cephiſa was walking upon the Terrace with Clitia in expectation of Caeſario's coming) hindred him not from giving thouſands of kiſſes to the fair hands of his Princeſſe; and this being the greateſt favour he could expect from her, ſhe could not deny it him in ſo favourable an opportunity, and that eſpecially after a ſeparation, which had cauſed her to bewail his loſſe with ſo many tears. Nay, ſhe had much ado to keep them in now, during the reflections ſhe made on it, and looking on him in the moſt amorous manner that could be; with thoſe very eies which had ſet him ſo much on fire; Ah Artaban, ſaid ſhe to him, what real afflictions hath your imaginary death coſt me! and what abundance of tears have I ſhed out of that cruel perſwaſion! Ah Madam, replies Artaban, how pretious ought I to eſteem that death, and how dear thoſe tears. The reſt of my life is no way comparable to that fortunate death, no, it was not either my life or death could deſerve thoſe tears, which compaſſion drew from your fair eies. But is it not time, added the Princeſſe, I ſhould know, by what adventure it came to paſs that you are now alive; or am I ſtill to be ignorant what good fortune it is that we are obliged to for your ſafety?

Artaban was going to acquaint her in what manner he had eſcaped drowning; but Eliſa, remembring her ſelf how that the night before, Candace would needs have her to be preſent at the arrival of Cleomedon, and being a little aſhamed that ſhe had ſuffered her to withdraw into the cloſet, ſhe called her, and entreated her to participate of their converſation as ſhe had done of the diſcourſe that had paſſed between her and Cleomedon, and underſtand, how Artaban had eſcaped the fury of thoſe waves into which he had caſt himſelf, ſince that in all likelihood the relation he was to entertain them with would not be ſo long but that he might well go through it before Cleomedon came in. Candace made her anſwer, that ſhe ſhould gladly hearken to any thing wherein ſhe thought her ſelf concerned, and after ſhe was ſet down by her; Madam, ſaies Artaban to her, ſince that there are but [Page] few daies ſince my falling into the Sea, I ſhall not need many words to acquaint you with what hath happened to me from that time, and ſhall not abuſe your attention long with an account of things of little conſequence.

It is not without ſome reaſon, continued he, ſpeaking to Candace, that you ſaid you were concerned in my ſafety, or at leaſt I may well ſay that you have contributed very much thereto, and conſequently that I am not a little obliged to you for it. To me replied the Queen, ſomewhat astoniſhed at what he ſaid? Even to you Madam, ſaid he, more then any other; and had it not been for that generous action which you did in ſetting Zenodorus's ſhip on fire, that action, I ſay, which carried in it a more ſhining demonſtration of your vertue then the fire you kindled on the water, I had infallible loſt a life; which I could not long have made good againſt the violence of the waves, being armed all over, my buckler hanging about my neck, and being at too great a diſtance from the ſhore to recover it by ſwimming, even though I had had nothing of armour about me. Their weight had once already forced me to the bottom, where I had rolled my ſelf for ſome time upon the ſand, when by violence of a Billow I was again brought up to the top of the water, where, as good fortune would have it, I met with a plank, half burned, of Zenodorus's veſſel, which ſtruck againſt my head, and, not long after, touched againſt my hand. Though my condition was ſuch that I had but little knowledge or apprehenſion left, yet made I a ſhift to do that, which they ſay is naturall to all men in the like extremity, which is, to faſten on any thing they can: and ſo, embracing the plank, which was thick and heavy, I did ſo well with the help of it that I got my head above water, and had the liberty to breath; inſomuch that, by degrees, I got it under me, in ſuch a manner, that it bore me up, with the help of my legs, which I moved to and fro, as if I were ſwimming, the beſt I could. But I was, withal, ſo weary, ſo much troubled with the water I had ſwallowed, and ſo loaden with my armour, that I could not hope to eſcape with that help alone, though I endeavoured with all the remainder of my ſtrength, to force the plank towards the ſhore.

Being in this extremity, it pleaſed the gods to direct certain Fiſher-boards whereof there are a many upon that coaſt, towards the place where I was, which was not very far from the ſhore. Thoſe that were in them taking notice of the gliſtering of my head-piece, and perceiving the top of my plume of feathers all wet, imagining what the matter might be, came up with one of their boats to my relief, and indeed it came juſt at the point that I ſtood very much in need of it, and was reduced to my laſt ſhifts. They took me into their boat, diſarmed me, and at the ſame time made me caſt up the ſalt water I had drunk, and when they ſaw I had a little recovered my ſelf they took me aſhore and brought me to one of their cottages. There was I forced, by reaſon of the hardſhip I had undergone, and the ſad condition I was in to reſt my felf for ſome hours, as being ſo ſpent, that I was hardly able to ſtand on my Legs.

I had not been there long ere the memory of my misfortunes began to torment me, and thereupon repreſenting to my ſelf how that I left the Princeſs under the power of a cruel Pyrate, and that I was without men; without veſſel, and knew not any way how to relieve her, my grief came upon me with ſo much violence, that I was in manner reſolved to go and ſeek, in the bowels of the Sea, that death, which I had with ſo much difficulty eſcap'd; and certainly I think, that, had I not been prevented by thoſe good people, I ſhould have executed that fatal reſolution; but indeed my weakneſſe was with all ſuch, that it was eaſie for them to keep me on a ſorry bed whereon they had caſt me, and where I had already paſſed away ſome hours.

I ſhall not trouble you Madam, continued he addreſſing himſelf to Eliſa alone, with a repetition of all thoſe words, which fell from me during the violence of my grief; and you may judge by the greatneſſe of a paſſion which you are well acquainted with, that there was, in the effects it produced, but very little moderation. The night was now drawn neer, when having recovered my ſtrength and ſpirits in ſome meaſure, I called for my cloaths which the Fiſher-men had taken off to be dried, and began to find my felf in ſuch a condition, that I would not by any perſwaſions be kept there any longer; when good fortune, being then my Friend, directs to the cottage where I was, a certain man, whom I knew to be Telamon, a perſon that acccompanied me in the quality of an Eſquire I immediately called him by his name, and the faithful Eſquire, tranſported with joy runs to me, and embracing my knees, asked me thouſands of times by what miracle I had eſcaped; but inſtead of anſwering him, I preſently asked him what was become of the Princeſſe? Telamon, perceiving with what earneſtneſs I preſſed that queſtion to him ſeveral times; My Lord, ſaid he to me, aſſoon as the Pirate, by the aſſiſtance of his men, was taken up out of the water, and brought into the veſſel, finding himſelf in a poſture able enough to purſue the deſign he had undertaken, as having been immediately recovered out of the water, he gave orders to be [Page] ſet aſhore at a certain place he appointed to them, and leaving the Princeſſe under the guard for his Lieutenant, he left the veſſel with a ſelect number of his men, to ſeek out, as they ſaid, a perſon that had made an eſcape the night before, after ſhe had ſet the veſſel on fire; he commanded his Lieutenant to have a care of the Princeſſe, and to expect his return at a place where he appointed him. For my part, having not the patience to ſtay any longer in the veſſel, I thought it my beſt courſe to leave it, with a reſolution to give you all the aſſiſtance I could if ſo be I found you capable of any, or to take ſome order for your interrement, in caſe I ſhould have found your body caſt up any where on theſe ſhores. Whereupon I came away with the Pirates, with Zenodorus's leave, after I had caſt my ſelf at his feet begging his permiſſion to look after the body of my Maſter; to do it the laſt honours it were capable of.

So that it ſeems then, ſaid I interrupting him, my Princeſſe is yet about the river, where ſhe is to expect the return of the Pirate, and that Zenodorus is come aſhore upon this coaſt, and is not yet returned to his ſhips. I can aſſure you, My lord, replied he, that he is not yet returned, and that he is reſolved, by what I have underſtood, to beſtow all the next day to ſind out the perſon that is eſcaped from him, and that it is impoſſible he ſhould have met with her ſince we came aſhore.

This account of Telamon filled me again with new hopes, as reſolved, that if I could meet with the Pirate, what number ſoever of men he might have about him, I would either die in the engagement with him, or force him to return the Princeſſe, out of a certain confidence, that either gods or med might afford me ſome aſſiſtance to carry on my enterpriſe. In order thereto, knowing that we were not far from Alexandria, where might easily be procured all things that were neceſſary, I gave Telamon ſome of the jewells I ordinarily carried about me, and which the Fiſhermen had not, as good Fortune would have it, taken out of my cloaths, when they dried them, and commanded him to make all the haſt he could to the City, and buy two horſes, charging him, by all meanes, to make choice for me of the beſt he could meet with all, what rate ſoever he might be ſet at. To which having further enjoined him to bring them me aſſoon as he poſſibly could, and to give notice that night to the Praetor of Alexandria of the arrival of the Pirates upon the coaſt, and the carrying away of the Princeſſe, I diſmiſſed him.

Telamon, with theſe orders, took his way towards Alexandria, while I remained, with ſome little hope to do ſomething, among the Fiſher-men, who would needs force me to take what poor entertainment they could afford me; and certainly; that nights reſt was no more then neceſſary for me to recover my ſtrength, and put me into a condition to be able to deal with thoſe enemies which I ſhould meet withall. But why ſhould I ſpin out my relation to ſuch a length? In a word, the next day about an hour after Sun-riſing, I ſaw Telamon coming with two horſes. So that having put on my Armour and beſtowed ſome of thoſe jewels I had left among the Fiſher-men, I got up on the better of the horſes, which I ſound, much to my content, very ſit for my turn; and having underſtood from Telamon that the Praetor had notice given him, and was ſending out veſſels to the relief of the Princeſſe, I reſolved to make a ſearch all about Alexandria. During all that day, it ran ſtill in my thoughts, that the onely way to relieve you, Madam, was, to meet with Zenodorus, and to become maſter of his liberty as he was of yours; and I thought ſo much the more likely to be effected, in regard that Telamon had aſſured me, that, the better to find out the perſon he was in queſt of he had divided his men into four parties, and conſequently had but very few about him.

I thought fit in the firſt place to ride up and down the ſhore and to viſit the woods, and all the places thereabouts, eſpecially wherever I obſerved the track of any horſe. I had ſpent in this manner the beſt part of the day to no purpoſe, when croſſing through a pleaſant valley, and perceiving a little rivulet, which took its riſe from a ſpring that was not far off, the thirſt I then was in, occaſioned as well by the heat the of the day, as the heavineſs of my armour, obliged me to alight, and to come to the ſpring, where happened that accident which you may have had an account of from Cleomedon, ſince you have already ſeen him. Tis very true, replied the Princeſſe Eliſa, we have ſo, and underſtood all the particulars of your combat; and I kn [...]w not how to forbear blaming you, for being ſo ready to give Cleomedon occaſion to come to blowes, ſince you had no ground to hate him, nor did pretend any thing to the Queen of Ethiopia.

Madam, replies Artaban, you may be pleaſed ſafely to aſſure your ſelf as of nothing but truth, that the condition I was in then was ſuch, that I had not any intention to engage Cleomedon to fight; but calling to mind the laſt words I had ſaid to him at our parting, wherein I made a conſident brag, that I ſhould one day be in a condition to meaſure a weapon with him without any prejudice to him, I thought my ſelf obliged to put him in mind of it, out of a fear he ‘[Page] might’ attribute that forgetfulneſs to any want of courage, and yet I endeavoured all I could to expreſſe it in ſuch terms, as could not have provoked him to fight, had he not been as forward as my ſelf.

Whereupon Artaban, having briefly run over thoſe paſſages which Caeſario had related before, acquainted them with what had happened to him ſince Candace's being carried away in their ſight the ſecond time; his engagement with Zenodorus's crue; his retreat to the houſe of Tiridates, and the abode he had made there, to their meeting at Tiridates's tomb.

He had juſt made an end of his diſcourſe, when Clitia came to give them notice that Cl [...]omedon was upon the Terrace, and immediately after, he come into the room with an amiable majeſtick deportment. He had hardly acquitted himſelf of his ſalutations to the two Princeſſes, when Artaban, who would needs do, with an obliging grace, whatever he conceived he ought to do, comes up to him, and ſaluting him with a civility ‘animated’ by all the expreſſions of a real greatneſſe of ſoul; ‘Generous Cleomedon, ſaid he to him, I have forborn too long from rendring you that which all men acknowledge to be your due. Since you have overcome that unjuſt repugnance which I had to do it, as well by the admirable vertue you are Maſter of, as by a late demonſtration of your generoſity, give me leave to approach you with abundance of remorſe for what is paſſed, abundance of reſpect for your perſon, and a more than ordinary earneſtneſſe to deſerve ſome place in your Friendſhip.’

Caeſario, who was reſolved to have done that to Artaban which Artaban had done to him, was ſomewhat troubled that he had been prevented, and entertaining his diſcourſe and action with a civility ſuitable to his; The friendſhip you proffer me, ſaid he to him, is a happineſs of that concernment, that it was but juſt I ſhould purchaſe it with the price of my blood, and as I could not charge any thing but my own misfortune with the backwardneſſe you were in to afford it me, before; ſo is it to my good fortune onely that I muſt attribute the preſent you make me of it now. I conceive, replied Artaban, that reſpect and eſteem which I have for you, due to your vertue, your birth, and your excellent endowments; and the earnestneſſe I have, freely and faithfully to ſerve you, to the aſſiſtances you afforded me by your valour, in delivering this great Princeſſe out of the hands of thoſe that would have carried her away. It hath been no ſmall ſatisfaction to me, replied Caeſario, that you were ſomething concerned in the ſervice I have done the Princeſſe of the Parthians, though it were ſuch as ſhe might have received from any man upon the like occaſion; but I have not forgotten the relief you gave me, when my horſe was killed under me in the engagement againſt Zenodorus's men. However it be, I conceive it a great happineſs, that theſe mutual civilities ſhould engage us to become faithful friends, and I promiſe, I ſhall never be found guilty of the leaſt violation of a friendſhip which I deſire may be eternal between us.

With theſe words, theſe two great perſons embraced one another, upon the commands of the two Princeſſes (the reſpect they had for them not permitting them to take that liberty in their preſence) and a little after, they looked one upon another with a mutual admiration, and were both equally ſatisfied as to the Friendſhip which they had contracted. Candace who was infinitely pleaſed with it, ſpoke to them therein; and Eliſa, who was extreamly ſenſible of the aſſiſtance which ſhe had received from Caeſario, joined her ſollicitations with the others, to eſtabliſh a perfect union between thoſe two great men. But they might very well have ſpared their endeavours to that purpoſe; for the behaviours of theſe two great ſouls was ſo mutually ingenious and cordial, that there was ſuch a perfect conſonancy between their words and thoughts, that it might be ſaid, their friendſhip was truely conſummate before they had in a manner made the firſt overtures thereof.

Theſe four illuſtrious perſons, all ſatisfied, though with ſome inequality, would have fallen either together, or ſeparately, into ſome pleaſant diſcourſe had not Candace bethought her ſelf that the Princeſſe Cleopatra was not gone to bed, out of an expectation to hear from them, and if ſhe had not had a great deſire to make her acquainted with Caeſario that night. Upon that reflection, having taken the Prince a little aſide (and at the ſame time left Eliſa with Artaban in an affectionate and pleaſant diſcourſe) ſhe diſcovered to him her deſires, that he would make himſelf known to the Princeſſe his Siſter, to whoſe prudence it were not unſafe to commit things of the greateſt importance, and repeated to him all the diſcourſes which ſhe had entertained her with, to prepare her thereto.

Coeſario very willingly condeſcended to the propoſition of Candace, as having already found it no ſmall difficulty to conceale himſelf from ſo amiable a Siſter, and having forborn it upon no other account than the ſubmiſſion he had for the Queen. Candace would have ſent word to Cleopatra of it; but ſhe was a little troubled that Art [...]ban ſhould be preſent, as not [Page] conceiving, that Caeſario would, before him declare a thing, the lea [...]t diſcovery whereo [...] would infallibly coſt him his life. She acquainted him with her thoughts to that purpoſe, and adviſed with him what courſe ſhould be taken to have things ſo carried as that Artaban might not be preſent at that action. But Caeſario's ſoul being too great to entertain the leaſt diſtruſt of ſuch a perſon as Artaban, and upon the firſt diſcovery the Queen made of her jealouſie, ſlighting that precaution, and lifting up his voice, purpoſely that he might be heard by all that were in the Chamber: There is no neceſſity, Madam, ſaid he to her, of any ſuch circumſpection when we have to deal with a vertue, ſuch as is that of Artabans. I know him ſo well, as that I would truſt him with ſomething more precious than my life, and therefore, ſince it is your pleaſure we ſhould ſee Cleopatra, I ſhall diſcover myſelf to her, before Artaban, with, as much confidence as before your ſelf.

All that were preſent were infinitely pleaſed with the ingenuous clearneſſe which Caeſario expreſſed; and Artaban, who had heard the words, and eaſily imagined the occaſion on which they were ſpoken, willing to return him an anſwer, not unworthy the good opinion he had of him; I muſt needs confeſſe, ſaid he to him, that this demonſtration of your generoſity is very great, wherein you are content to make a diſcovery of your ſelf to me, which, among perſons, of whoſe faith you were doubtful, might prove prejudicial to your ſafety; and I receive, with the reſentment I ought, a confidence, whereto I have not any wayes obliged you. But that you may be ſatisfied, that I am not abſolutely unworthy of it, and that you need not fear I ſhould abuſe it, now that you have aſſured me of your friendſhip, I am to let you know, that, even during that time, wherein I had the greateſt averſion for, nay, in the time of youth, which is not ordinarily over-apt to keep a ſecret, I have known your name and birth, and that you will not tell me a thing I know not, when you ſhall diſcover your ſelf to the Princeſſe your Siſter to be Caeſario, the ſon of Caeſar and Cleopatra.

This diſcourſe of Artabans, little expected by Caeſario, raiſed in him ſome aſtoniſhment, and might have put Candace into ſome jealouſie of Eliſa, had ſhe not immediately called to mind to ſome words which Artaban had ſaid to her, when they met at Tiridates's Tomb, whence ſhe might have imagined, that the birth and true name of Caeſario were not unknown to him. The Prince, upon this new expreſſion of true friendſhip, could not but admire the great courage of Artaban, who, notwithſtanding the ſtrange averſion he had ever diſcovered towards him, and that in an age which is not much inclined to the moderation of the moſt violent paſſions, had ſlighted the opportunity he had to prejudice his enemy, and obſerved that ſecrecy towards him, which he would not, without ſome difficulty, have found, even among his friends. And certa [...]nly his aſtoniſhment had been the greater at this kind of proceeding, if theſe characters of an elevated ſoul had been leſſe familiar to him, and if he had not found in himſelf an inclination to do the like towards Artaban.

However, he thought it but juſt to let Artaban know what eſteem and acknowledgment he conceived at ſo generous a carriage, and looking on him with an action, which in ſome meaſure expreſſed what his thoughts were employed about; I muſt needs confeſſe, ſaid he to him, that all things are admirably great in you, and that it will be a great injuſtice in fortune, if ſhe raiſe you not above Kings, ſince they are things you can pull down when you pleaſe. There are few perſons certainly would have made ſo little advantage as you have done, of a diſcovery, which might have proved ſo prejudicial to me in the world; but there are yet fewer would have effected thoſe great things which are in you the accompliſhments of your generous beginnings. But, may I preſume to ask you, by what adventure you ſhould come to the knowledge of that which all the World was ignorant of? A young man that had ſometime been a ſervant of yours, replied Artaban, and who ſince, as I have been informed, was killed in one of the battels which you fought in Nubia, having for me a very particular friendſhip revealed that ſecret to me, and there needed no more then the illuſtrious character I obſerved in your perſon to ſatisfie me that he told nothing but what was truth. If thoſe characters are able to work that effect, ſaid Caeſario to him I muſt needs imagine you to be the iſſue of the gods; and though you are not pleaſed to derive any recommendation from a birth, which you do not ſtand in need of to make you equal to the greateſt Princes that are, yet can I hardly be perſwaded but that yours is of the moſt eminent. Artaban would have made ſome modeſt return to this diſcourſe, when the Princeſſe Cleopatra, whom Candace had ſent for, comes into the room, the Princeſſes having not thought it fit that ſhe ſhould receive Caeſario's viſit in her own, becauſe of her women, to whom there was no neceſſity he ſhould diſcover himſelf.

The room, upon her coming into it, ſeemed to be filled with a new light, which dazled both Artaban and Caeſario, and though one of them had ſeen her that very day before, & that [Page] the other were her brother, and had ſpent his childhood with her, and that, to ſay better, they were both of them prepoſſeſſed by a paſſion, which till then had not permitted them to imagine any thing in point of beauty comparable to Eliſa and Candace, yet could they not ſmother the aſtoniſhment which they conceived upon this ſight, nor but acknowledge, though with ſome confuſion and repugnance, that all the beauties upon earth ought to give place to that of Cleopatra. Caeſario, tranſported with the affection which the blood and merit of that Princeſſe, inſpired him with, could upon the firſt ſight hardly forbear making diſcoveries thereof; but upon ſecond thoughts he reſolved to proceed after another manner, and to make that adventure contribute ſomewhat to the diverſion and entertainment of thoſe that were preſent.

Cleopatra was hardly gotten into Eliſas chamber, ere word was brought her that Prince Alexander, her brother, was come into her own, and that having left the King of Armenia, he thought not fit to depart the lodgings till he had wiſhed her a good-night. Cleopatra was going to ſend the Meſſenger back again with word that he ſhould ſtay a while for her, when Queen Candace knew it was Caeſario's deſign, to diſcover himſelf, as well to Alexander, as Cleopatra, entreated her to ſend for him, aſſuring her that there was none had the leaſt miſtruſt of him, and that Cleomedon was too much engaged by the aſſiſtance he had received from him to deny him the opportunity to ſee him.

Cleopatra, having done what the Queen deſired of her, ſaluted Caeſario and Artaban, with that ceremony which ſhe conceived ſhe ought to have obſerved towards two ſuch eminent men, and of whom ſhe had her imagination full, by the account had been given her of their gallant actions. She looked on them one after another, with a certain aſtoniſhment, as not knowing any one in the World whom ſhe could think comparable to them, but onely her own Coriolanus.

They were going to fall into ſome diſcourſe, when there comes into the room Alexander, upon the firſt ſight, ſomewhat at a loſſe to find that company there. Artaban and he had ſpent the evening together with Ariobarzanes, and it was not long ſince they had parted, after they had conceived, (confidering the ſmall abode they had made together) abundance of eſteem and reſpects one for another. But the ſight of Cleomedon, was it, that he was moſt aſtoniſhed at; and, having not ſeen him ſince he had left Tidaeus's houſe in purſuit of Cleopatra, he wond red much to find him in the ſame room with her. Yet was not his aſtoniſhment ſo great, but that he expreſſed the ſatisfaction he conceived it to meet with him; and after he had in the firſt place addreſſed his civilities to Eliſa and Candace, with much ſubmiſſion, he came to him, to let him know how glad he was to find him in a condition ſo different from that wherein he had left him, & craved his pardon, that, by reaſon of the urgent neceſſity that had called him away to the relief of Artemiſa and Cleopatra, he had been forced to leave him, and to recommend to other perſons the recovery of a health which he infinitely eſteemed.

Caeſario thought this diſcourſe ſo obliging, that he could not but make an anſwer ſuitable thereto; whereupon looking on Alexander and Cleopatra with an affection, which blood, obligation, and merit, had eaſily raiſed in him; No, it is I, ſaid he to the Prince, that ought, with much more reaſon, make my excuſes to you; and had you afforded me the time to put my ſelf into ſuch a poſture as that I might have followed you, the indiſpoſition I might have been in by reaſon of my wounds, ſhould not have excuſed me, for not bearing of you company, to relieve the Princeſſe Cleopatra. That was an affair, which I was more particularly obliged to look after, then you could have imagined; and beſides the engagement I ſtand in to the aſſiſtance I received from you, when my life was in greateſt danger, the remembrance of a perſon whom you have ſometimes eſteemed, and of whom I have undertaken to bring ſome tidings to the Princeſſe Cleopatra, and your ſelf, makes me concern my ſelf in your intereſts, with a very violent affection.

It is very true, replies the Princeſſe Cleopatra, that the Queen hath put me into very much hope that I ſhould receive by you ſome account of a perſon I have ſometime dearly loved, and it is out of that confidence, that ſhe hath been pleaſed I ſhould come t [...] her Chamber at ſuch a time that it may be ſome inconvenience to her. I muſt needs confeſſe that this promiſe of the Queens hath raiſed in me a curioſity which is more then ordinary to me, as well out of the imagination I have, that, from a great perſon, ſuch as you are, I ſhall underſtand onely great things, as out of a ſelf [...]lattery I have been guilty of that it might be a Beloved brother a perſon of excellent endowments, whom an amorous deſpair, forced from Rome about ſeven or eight years ſince, that you have ſomething to ſay to me. We are to learn whether he be dead or living, and it is not impoſſible, but that in his travels he might have met with you, and been of your acquaintance.

‘I am very much troubled, Madam, replied the Prince, that it is not in my power to give you the ſatisfaction you expected from me; for as to that brother you enquire of, I have not [Page] certainly any account to give you of him, nay, which is more, I never knew him. But I may haply have ſomewhat to acquaint you with concerning ſome other perſons of your houſe, who were no leſſe dear to you, and whom I have heretofore familiarly ſeen and converſed with in this City, before the ruine of Anthony, and Queen Cleopatra. And that you may be the ſooner convinced, obſerve well my face, and ſee, whether, notwithſtanding the change which ten years may have wrought in it, you can find ſome features like to thoſe of that perſon, who was brought up with you, and whom you dearly loved. I have been heretofore flattered by ſome with that reſemblance, and know not whether you have preſerved the Idaea of it ſo well, as to find there is yet ſomething left of it.’

Theſe words raiſed no ſmall aſtoniſhment in the children of Anthony, and Alexander coming up cloſe to Caeſario, who was purpoſely got near the torches, Cleopatra and he looked on him a long time with much earneſtneſs. It was about the tenth year of their age that Caeſario departed from Alexandria, and about the fourteenth of his own, ſo that, by reaſon, as well of the infancy of Alexander and Cleopatra, as the alteration, which (more remarkably then in any other degree of mans age) happens in the countenances of men between that of fourteen, and that of four and twenty, which was then the age of Caeſario, it might well happen, that the Princeſſe, and the Prince her Brother, could not, upon the firſt ſight, diſcover the face of their Brother, in that of Cleomedon, whoſe ſpeech, proportionably to the reſt, was altered, by growing bigger ſince their ſeparation. Yet was not all this alteration ſo great, nor their memories ſo weak, but that after what Cleomedon had ſaid, and the particular obſervation which he had obliged them to make; they would have known the Prince, had they not been carried away with the general opinion, that he had departed this world. Nay, after they had well conſidered his face, they, in a manner, knew him; but that diſcovery had no further effect on them, then to force out certain ſighes; whereupon the Princeſſe Cleopatra, aſſuming the diſcourſe after ſhe had looked on Alexander, to ſee whether he was of the ſame opinion: ‘I muſt needs acknowledge, ſaid ſhe to the Prince, that I find abundance of reſemblance between your countenance, and that of a Prince, with whom my Brother and my ſelf were brought up; and one that might have been much about your age, if the gods had thought fit to have continued him in life and health, and to preſerve him againſt thoſe powers, by which he received an untimely death.’

‘I am alſo very much ſatisfied, added Prince Alexander, that if our Brother Caeſario were living, he might be very like the brave Cleomedon. And though that from the age of fourteen years, which was that of Caeſario, when he dyed, to that of Cleomedon, which ſeems to be greater by nine or ten years, there happens more alteration, both in the bulk and countenances of men, then in all mans life beſides, and that it might be withal granted, that time may in ſome meaſure have worn away, out of our memories, thoſe Idaeas, which cannot be expected otherwiſe then imperfect in the minds of children, ſuch as we were then; yet can I not call them to my remembrance, without a certain conceit that I find them again in Cleomedon, and imagining to my [...]elf, that, if Caeſario were now alive, there would be a very great reſemblance between them. Nay, I am much inclined to believe, from the great hopes that were conceived of him, and the glorious bloud that ran in his veins, derived from illuſtrious anceſtors, that this reſemblance might have reached to the greatneſſe of courage, and that he would have thought it a diſhonour to come too far ſhort of that ſtupendious man, whom it was his glory to imitate in all things.’

The modeſty of the ſon of Caeſar, made him bluſh at theſe obliging expreſſions of the ſon of Anthony; whereupon, looking on him with a ſmiling countenance, ‘It is but juſt indeed I ſhould ſuffer any thing, ſaid he to him, from a Prince to whom I am obliged for an aſſiſtance that preſerved my life. But ſince you and the Princeſſe Cleopatra are pleaſed to flatter me ſo pleaſantly, with ſo advantageous a reſemblance, I muſt in requital aſſure you, that it is yet greater in all things then you imagine it, and that I am not onely, as to my inclinations, comparable to Prince Caeſario, but alſo that my fortunes have been abſolutely ſuitable to his. I ſhould put you to ſome aſtoniſhment, ſhould I tell you, that, as he, ſo I was dearly loved by Alexander and Cleopatra in their younger years, That I was loved as tenderly as he was by the Queen your mother, and that her indulgence towards me was as great as what ſhe expreſſed towards him; that as he, ſo I alſo left you to ſeek out my ſafety in Ethiopia, after the downfall of your houſe; That I was born as well as he of an unfortunate Queen, and am ſon to the greateſt that ever was of mankind; and, in a word, I am ſo extreamly like him, that I might even in Alexandria preſume to own the name of Caeſario, if by ſuch an acknowledgment I ſhould not put you to the hazard of looſing him once again.’

[Page] Theſe words of Caeſario raiſed ſuch a diſtraction in the ſouls of Cleopatra and Alexander, that neither of them being able to comprehend any thing of it, could do no more then look on him that had ſpoke them, with a ſilence which argued their aſtoniſhment, much more then any verbal expreſſions could have done. The ſon of Caeſar had ſuffered them to continue a while in that poſture, when he ſees Eteocles coming, in whom he had cauſed Clitia to call from the Terrace, where he had left him. Whereupon, reaſſuming the diſcourſe with an action which held the Brother and the Siſter equally in ſuſpence; ‘That you may be abſolutely ſatisfied, ſaid he to them, that my fortunes have been in all things conformable to thoſe of Caeſario, behold the man that brought me up, and who preſumes that he hath been of the ſame name, was of the ſame Birth, ſame Country, and ſame countenance as the Governour of Caeſario. If you look on him with more earneſtneſs then you have done for ſome daies paſt, when he was with you in that very houſe where I received your aſſiſtances, you will eaſily obſerve that reſemblance, and he is a perſon of ſuch an age, as wherein ten years cannot make ſo great an alteration, as they may in that wherein one paſſes from infancy to a more advanced age.’

While he thus ſpoke, the eies of Cleopatra and Alexander were fixed on the countenance of Eteocles, and it being very certain that it had undergone much leſſe alteration then that of the Prince, they immediately found therein all the features of that of Et [...]le, with whom they had ſometime been ſo familiar, as having been one that had carried them thouſands of times in his arms, and had been brought up in the houſe, as ſon to the faithful Apollodorus, the dear favorite and confident of Queen Cleopatra. Whereupon both the Prince and Princeſſe cryed out, that it was really Eteocles, and immediately turning to the Prince with an aſtoniſhment much greater then what they were in before, by reaſon of this laſt circumſtance: Cleomedon, ſaid the Princeſſe to him, for heavens ſake, keep us not any longer in the diſturbance which you have raiſed in us, and let us know that Caeſario is living, to tell us ſo much himſelf. Tis onely his death that abates that confidence which we raiſe from all the other circumſtances, and if Caeſario were living, I ſhould be immediately ſatisfied that you were he.

Should he diſcover himſelf to be Caeſario, in any place that is under the juriſdiction of Auguſtus, replyed the Princeſſe, there is ſo little expectation of any Fortune thereby, that i [...] were hard to ſuſpect ſuch a confeſſion ſubject to any impoſture: but it is withall a th [...]g ſo glorious to be born of Caeſar and Cleopatra, that without an exceſſe of baſeneſſe, a man cannot diſclaime it, and there is ſo much ſatisfaction to Caeſario, to meet with a Brother and Siſter, great and amiable as Alexander and Cleopatra, that no conſideration in the World can oblige him any longer to conceal from them, a brother they have dearly loved, and one that hath continued towards them the tender affection he ever had for them.

With theſe words, he came near Cleopatra, with his arms ſtretched out, and that fair Princeſſe ſoon ſatisfied thoſe that were preſent, that ſhe knew him to be her brother, by receiving from him, and returning him thoſe careſſes which never had paſſed between her and any, but thoſe that were of that neer relation. Alexander alſo received and returned the like, by the command of Eliſa and Candace, whoſe preſence obliged them to a greater reſervedneſſe. But, notwithſtanding all that bloud might perſwade the children of Anthony to, and the joy it muſt needs be to them to meet with a loſt brother, in the perſon of ſo great a man as Cleomedon, yet was not all enough to diſpell their aſtoniſhment, and this adventure ſeemed to be ſo great, and ſo full of miracle, that to be fully ſatisfied, it was but neceſſary they had the aſſiſtance of Candace, Eliſa and Eteocles, who very freely acquainted them with the ſecret of Caeſario's life: for as to the great actions he had done under the name of Cleomedon, they were in ſome meaſure known to Alexander, and abſolutely to Cleopatra, by the relation which Candace had made thereof to her.

When they were fully convinced of theſe truths, their joy diſcovered it ſelf by all the effects it could produce in moderate and affectionate diſpoſitions, as theirs were; and it had not haply been greater, though they had ſeen this very brother returning in that pomp and magnificence, which he might have hoped from his former fortune, when, even in his infancy he had been proclaimed King of Kings, by the commands of Anthony, and Queen Cleopatra. Then was it that Cleopatra, notwithſtanding all her reſervedneſs and modeſty, could not forbear entertaining ſo great a brother with embraces fit to be envyed by all men; and that Alexander expreſſed the agitations of his heart, by the moſt earneſt demonſtrations, that a ſincere affection could produce in a noble ſoul as his was.

It was alſo during theſe pleaſant intervalls that the fair daughter of Anthony, giving thouſands of kiſſes to the Queen of Ethiopia, gave her infinite thanks, with tears, which the exceſs of joy & affection drew from her fair eies, for his preſervation, and for the preſent ſhe made of her ſo great a brother, and thence took occaſion to celebrate her generoſity, and the [Page] extraordinary goodneſſe ſhe had expreſſed, in beſtowing her precious affections on a Prince whom fortune had not left any thing ſhe could have taken away from him, and raſing him up to a Crown whereby he might recover himſelf into the dignity of his Fathers. What, ſaid Alexander, is that invincible Cleomedon, who gained ſo many battles in Nubia, and whoſe reputation, notwithſtanding the interpoſition of ſo many Provinces, eclipſed the glory of our moſt famous Captains, no other then the ſame Caeſario, on whom, in our in fancy, we had beſtowed ſo many tears, and in that dead Brother, do we recover again a Brother, whoſe glory may darken that of his Father?

When the firſt demonſtrations of this happy reacquaintance were over, they all joyned together in a more moderate converſation; ſo that Artaban taking occaſion to expreſſe his concernments in the joy of Cleopatras children, no leſſe then if he had been of the ſame Bloud, made them conſider with a certain admiration, that character of greatneſſe, which the gods had put upon him. They thought it no ill courſe to moderate the diſcoveries of their joy, out of a fear the cauſe might come to be known; which if it ſhould happen, it could not be without bringing Caeſario's life into imminent danger. And conſidering withall that the night was in a manner quite ſpent, and that ſuch long ſittings up might, in time, raiſe ſome ſuſpicions, the deſire which the Princeſſe Cleopatra and Alexander had to enjoy yet for ſome longer time, that happy re-acquaintance, and that which Caeſario had to underſtand the fortunes of Cleopatra, whereof he had but an imperfect account, were not ſo great, but that, though not without ſome violence done to themſelves, they appointed it to be the entertainment of the night following, thoſe that were concerned in the ſafety of Caeſario, thinking it not ſo ſafe to truſt it to the day.

They parted therefore, though with much unwillingneſſe, and Alexander and Cleopatra were extreamly troubled that the ſon of Caeſar ſhould take his retreat, in a lone houſe not much frequented, which Eteocles had provided for him in one of the moſt ſolitary skirts of Alexandria, as conceiving there would be leſſe notice taken of his going in and out there, then in that of Tidaeus without the City, where he had ſpent ſome dayes before.

But before they parted, Artaban and Caeſario confirmed the reconciliation they had made, by words full of the greateſt expreſſions of a real friendſhip, and reciprocally promiſed one one another all the aſſiſtances, which according to the poſture of their fortunes, they ſhould be able to afford one the other. The two Princeſſes they ſerved, were extreamly ſatisfied thereat, and when they were alone, the Daughter of Anthony paſſing to her own lodgings, they went into their beds, to crown the extraordinary accidents of that day with a pleaſant reſt.

The end of the Third Book.

HYMENS PRAELUDIA; OR Loves Maſter-peice. Part. X.
LIB. IV.

[Page]

ARGUMENT.

[...]oluſius coming in wounded into Alexandria, is entertained by Cornelius, and, upon his entreaty, brought to Marcellus and Cleopatra, whom he entertains with his own Hiſtory. The noble deportment of Coriolanus towards him after his defeat, his honourable diſmiſſion from Mauritania, and his ungrateful reſentments of ſuch extraordinary civilities. He is overtaken by Theocles, a diſcontented Noble man of that country, and with him enters into a conſpiracy to do Coriolanus all the miſchief they can. Voluſius, not daring to come to Rome, as having exaſperated the Emperour againſt him, by the loſſe of Mauritania, makes friends to Tiberius, who, (being an enemy to Coriolanus, and Servant to Cleopatra) undertakes his readmiſſion into Caeſars favour, with promiſes of readvancement. Theocles is drawn in to perſonate an Embaſſy from Coriolanus, to Auguſtus, for the obtaining of Julia, ſo to make a difference between Coriolanus, and his friend Marcellus and Cleopatra; which proves in ſome meaſure effectual. Voluſius, ſlighted by Tiberius; falls into contempt, and ſickneſſe, which having recovered, he leaves Rome, and, ſome time after, meets with Tiberius at Brunduſium, whom he puts in mind of his former promiſes, and goes along with him and Theocles for Alexandria. They, conceiving ſome jealouſie of him, plot his death, which is attempted by Theocles and his men, but he is reſcued by an unknown perſon, who having killed Theocles, and delivered him, proves to be Coriolanus, whom he acquaints with what he had done againſt him. Marcellus and Cleopatra are extreamly glad and troubled at the relation of Voluſius and Marcellus extreamly grieved for the injuries he had done Coriolanus, goes to ſeek him out, reſolved not to return till he had found him.

THe fortunate meeting with a Brother, ſuch as Caeſario was, had raiſed in the Princeſſe Cleopatra ſuch a ſatisfaction, as, ſince the imaginary infidelity of Coriolanus, ſhe had not been cāpable of, whence it came, that ſhe paſſed over that night with more delight, and took more reſt than the precedent. Now, as the beſt part of the night was ſpent ere ſhe lay down, ſo was it accordingly very late ere ſhe awoke in the morning, inſomuch that thoſe who knew not any thing of her long ſitting up, would not have little wondered ſhe had ſlept ſo long, had they not imagined that the trouble and hardſhip ſhe had gone through, for ſome daies before, might require a more than ordinary repoſe.

'Tis a common obſervation, that, it is ordinarily at our waking in the morning, we make the moſt natural reflections on the conditions and accidents of our lives. She accordingly had no ſooner opened her eies but the Idaea of her late adventures preſented it ſelf to her remembrance, and as ſhe was of an excellent good nature, ſo that ſympathy which her meeting with Caeſario had raiſed in her mind, was the firſt effect that was produced there. Her thoughts were, with no ſmall ſatisfaction, taken up with that fortunate rencounter, as looking on it as a thing extreamly advantageous, to find a Brother, whom ſhe thought dead ſo many years before, changed into a Brother ſo great, ſo amiable, and ſo conſiderable, as well for his vertue, as the greatneſſe of his actions. She reflected on the noble accidents of his life, the ſtrange Fortunes ſhe had run through, and fixed her conſideration on the preſent poſture of his affaires, which in all probability was ſuch as promiſed him a ſafe harbour, againſt all thoſe tempeſts whereby he had been [Page] toſſed up and down for the ſpace of ſo many years, and ſeemed to be an eſtabliſhment, ſuch as gave him not any occaſion to envy that of his Anceſtors. The conſideration of her Brothers concernments had that effect [...]on her which it might be expected they might have on the beſt ſiſter in the world, and ſtruck her thoughts with ſo much delight, that for ſome time ſhe could hardly make any reflection on her own: but at laſt ſhe could not keep them off any longer, but they muſt needs do a violence to her memory, and the Idaea of her unfortunate Coriolanus preſented it ſelf to her in the ſame poſture as ſhe had ſeen him the day before. Her firſt imaginations repreſented him to her in that terrible poſture, wherein he had forced out of the veſſell thoſe that fought for her deliverance: but there being not ſo much ſatisfaction in this, as in the reflection on the other accidents that ſucceeded it, ſhe ſoon quitted it, and imagined to her ſelf a ſight of the Prince in that mortal ſurpriſe wherein he was upon his firſt knowledge of her, and fell into a ſwound upon the deck; as alſo in that undaunted poſture wherein he had defied the King of Armenia, and was engaged himſelf alone againſt ſo great a number of Enemies; and laſtly, ſhe thought on him in that ſubmiſſive poſture, whereinto he had put himſelf before her and Marcellus, to clear his innocency. 'Twas upon this laſt reflection that ſhe faſtened her thoughts more than any, as deſiring not ſo much any aſſurances of the valour of Coriolanus (whereof ſhe had ſufficient experience) as of his innocency, whereof ſhe had been ſo long in doubt and whereof either the certainty or uncertainty occaſioned all the happineſs or unhappineſſe of her life. She had ſo well engraven in her memory all the words which fell from that poor Prince, that, notwithſtanding the diſturbance ſhe had been in, while he had ſpoken them, there had not ſo much as one ſliped out of her remembrance. And finding them all very pregnant and full of conviction, it was a certain imaginary pleaſure to her to be in a manner perſwaded, that it muſt needs be innocence and truth that put them into the mouth of that Prince, to convince her of that errour, wherein ſhe had paſſed over ſo many ſad daies. Alaſſe! with what ſatisfaction, and with what tenderneſſe did ſhe repeat them over and over, and how did ſhe make it her main buſineſſe to heighten thoſe circumſtances that any way made for him) All indeed were very ſtrong for him, from the time that ſhe firſt opened her eies to truth, and the diſcoveries of that pretended infidelity; and ſhe could not but aknowledge her credulity, in having too eaſily been perſwaded to a belief of things, that were contrary to reaſon and common ſence. She could not find the leaſt favourable imagination to perſwade her that Coriolanus ſhould fall in love with Julia, being then abſent from her, when, even in her preſence, and during the time that ſhe expreſſed a great affection towards him, he had ever ſlighted her, and that the Prince ſhould ſo much court the friendſhip of Auguſtus, ſhe thought yet more improbable, and that he ſhould proffer himſelf to be tributary to him, when he had by open hoſtility recovered a powerfull Monarchy; when he had refuſed the ſame friendſhip, at a time when he was not maſter of any thing but his ſword, and could not expect any thing but by his meanes and aſſiſtance. She called to mind in what termes he had vindicated himſelf with ſo much apparent reaſon, and found ſo much eviction in all, that there needed not much▪ abſolutely to juſtifie him in her appreheſion.

During theſe pleaſant intervalls ſhe opened her ſoul to give admiſſion to that joy, which, of a long time before, could never have the leaſt entertainment there, but it was at the ſame time very much abated, by a cold reflection on the miſerable condition, to which that Prince was reduced, as having loſt the Kingdomes he had conquered, and being deprived of all ſupport and relief in the world, through her inflexibility towards him. Theſe reflections, equally divided between grief and joy, drew many a ſigh out of her breaſt, and this was the entertainment of her thoughts▪ all the time ſhe lay in bed after her awaking, and while ſhe was dreſſing.

She was juſt upon the point of going out of her chamber, to go into that of Candace's (whom ſhe now looked on as a Siſter to whom ſhe was engaged for life and fortunes of her Brother, and who, as well as the Princeſſe of the Parthians, had lain longer in bed then ſhe had) when Prince Marcellus comes to give her a good morrow. Cleopatra entertained him as a beloved Brother, but what confidence ſoever ſhe might have of his prudence and generoſitie, yet did ſhe not think it fit to truſt him with the ſecret of another, though ſhe had with her own, and ſo made not the leaſt mention to him of Caeſario, though ſhe had not the leaſt jealouſie, that any conſideration whatſoever might induce Marcellus to do him any ill office. This Prince, after the firſt civilities were paſt, being ſate down by her; Siſter, ſaid he to her, I am to acknowledge to you, that during all this night, the Idaea of th [...] diſconſolate Coriolanus never forſook me, and that I have ſpent the greateſt part of it in finding out, as well in his actions, as his words, an innocency whereof I am more then half convinced. This Prince, who was ſometime ſo dear to me, and whom it is not yet in my power to hate, comes and engages my heart with the ſame armes, whereby [Page] he had ſo well maſtered it before, and methinks I find again, not onely in his countenance, but alſo in his words and all his actions, that greatneſſe of ſoul which we ever obſerved in him, and withall that confidence which never appeares where there is a certainty of crime; and of all this I am ſo much aſſured, that I cannot, without an extraordinary violence, be perſwaded, he hath been really unfaithful towards us.

Cleopatra, in whom whatever were favourable to Coriolanus had already taken place, could not hear this diſcourſe of Marcellas, without being moved to ſo much compaſſion, that a beautifull dew began to break forth at her eies. Whereupon, having continued ſilent for ſome minutes, in ſuch a ſuſpence as eaſily diſcovered the diſturbance ſhe then ſtruggled with; Brother, ſaid ſhe to Marcellus, the acknowledgement you have made to me, is ſuch, that I conceive my ſelf obliged to let you know, that my reflections have been abſolutely conformable to yours, and that I find ſo many demonſtrations of innocence in all the procedure of Coriolanus, and ſo much reaſon to fortifie what he would have perſwaded us to, that the opinion we had conceived of his infidelity, hath now with much ado any probability with us. Coriolanus, added the Prince, cannot be juſtifiable in your apprehenſions, but he muſt be ſo in mine too, and as we charge him both but with one and the the ſame crime, wherein we are both equally concerned, ſo can he not be innocent as to what relates to you, but he muſt be ſo too as to what relates to Marcellus. Ah Siſter! if this fall out to be true, what remorſe ſhall I not feel within me while I live, for being ſo ready to hate a Prince ſo worthy the affection I had for him, and one, that, notwithſtanding the cruell diſcoveries of my hatred ſeems to have continued his inclinations towards me? What reparations am I not obliged to make him, if he be innocent, or rather; what blood can waſh off the crime I have committed againſt him?

Cleopatra was going to make the Prince ſome reply, and their converſation might haply have been more earneſt and tender, as being engaged upon a ſubject wherein both thought themſelves much concerned, when Cornelius comes into the room, and drew near them with a countenance, intimating that he had ſomething of newes to acquaint them with. After the ordinary ſalutations paſſed between them, I am very glad, ſaid he to them, that I have found you together, for I have charged my ſelf with a requeſt that is made to you both, which is, that you will be pleaſed to grant an hour of private audience to a certain man I have left in the outer-room, and one whom the ſad condition he is in might well have diſpenſed from coming hither, if the things he hath to acquaint you with, were not of very great conſequence.

This diſcourſe of Cornelius made Cleopatra look on Marcellus, as it were to ask his advice, and Marcellus by another look ſeeming to leave it to her what anſwer to make, ſhe told him, that he might bring in what perſons he thought fit, and that the Prince her Brother and her ſelf ſhould very readily afford him the audience he deſired of them. Upon theſe words Cornelius went out of the room, leaving the Prince and Princeſſe in ſome impatience, and withall ſome diſturbance at the adventure; and not long after, he returnes leading a man whom he helped to walk, and one that ſeemed brought very low through ſickneſs, or by reaſon of ſome wounds.

Cleopatra and Marcellus knew not, upon the firſt appearance, who it might be; but afterwards, having looked a little more earneſtly on his countenance, they, without much difficulty, knew him to be Voluſius, who had ſometime been Praetor of Maritania, before it had been recovered from him by Coriolanus, the ſon of Juba, whom that Prince had generouſly ſent back, after he had overcome and taken him Priſoner, and who, upon his coming to Rome, had ruined the fortunes of that Prince, as to Cleopatra, by acquainting that Princeſſe, Marcellus and all Caeſars Court, with the pretended infidelity of Coriolanus, and the deſign he had for Julia, and preſenting to the Emperour a perſon of eminent quality, very conſiderable in Mauritania; who gave out that he was come thence expreſſe upon that negotiation. Marcellus was a little aſtoniſhed at the ſight of the man, whoſe miſchievous reports had brought him to very ſad extremities: but the Princeſſe was put into ſuch a diſturbance upon the return of a man, who had been the deſtruction of all her happineſſe and enjoyments, that, having not the power to riſe off the chair whereon ſhe ſate, though ſhe ſhould in civility have done it, out of a conſideration of the qualities of Cornelius and Voluſius, ſhe fate ſtill, as it were in a ſtrange ſuſpence and diſorder.

Voluſius took very much notice of her deportment, and the perplexity ſhe was in; but being well acquainted with the occaſion of it, he was not at all aſtoniſhed thereat, and thereupon taking a chair, by the order of Marcellus, who was ſenſible of his indiſpoſition, and during the trouble Cleopatra was in, thought fit to do the civilities of her chamber, he made a ſign to Cornelius, whereupon, knowing his meaning, he went out of the chamber, to give them the greater privacy, and withal thought it not amiſſe to divert the viſits of Eliſa, Candace, and other perſons that otherwiſe might have diſturbed their converſation▪ Voluſius, being [Page] ſuch a condition, as required ſome reſt, continued ſilent for ſome time, though Cleopatra and Marcellus ſeemed to be in expectation of what he had to ſay to them. But at laſt having prepared himſelf to ſpeak, and ſeeing about the Princeſſe onely Camilla, who had obliged the reſt of the women to withdraw into the cloſet, and who might be admitted to hear the diſcourſe he was to make; Madam, ſaid he, ſpeaking to the Princeſſe, I ſhould ſpeak to you and to Prince Marcellus in another poſture, then that I am now in, and coming to make an acknowledgment of the crime I have committed againſt you, I ſhould caſt my ſelf at your feet, to beg a pardon from you, which I neither hope nor deſerve to obtain, were I not diſabled by two wounds I have about me, ſuch as have hardly left me the ſtrength to come to you, and which will prove, for ought I know, a certain revenge for the injury I have done you. Onely my remorſe, and the promiſe I have made to do it, force me to diſcover to you things that ought rather to be concealed from all the World; and though I muſt introduce into my diſcourſe, perſons, whoſe power is much to be feared; yet ſhall I not forbear, ſince that in a few daies, I ſhall either be in a condition not to fear it. or if the gods think good to continue my life, I am more willing to ſee it expoſed to ſome danger by my confeſſion, then be perpetually perſecuted withremorſes which make it much more inſupportable to me. Be pleaſed to afford me your attention to the diſcourſe I have to make to you, and it is my earneſt prayer to the gods, that it may in ſome meaſure repair the miſchief I have done, and reſtore that happineſſe and fortune which I have unfortunately diſturbed. To this effect was the diſcourſe of Voluſius and, perceiving, that, inſtead of making any anſwer, Cleopatra and Marcellus hearkened very attentively to him, he reaſſumed the diſcourſe in theſe terms.

The Hiſtory of VOLUSIUS.

WE are ſatisfied by experience, that both the remembrance, of good turns, and that of injuries, have a different operation, according to the different character of thoſe ſouls where they are entertained, and that, as there are ſome minds wherein offences make but a very light impreſſion, much lighter then that which good offices might make in them, ſo, on the other ſide, there are ſome, in whom the greateſt benefits cannot ſmother the leaſt injuries, or to ſay better, who, not much ſenſible of obligations ſaid upon them, have nevertheleſs eternal reſentments for injuries. That I have been worſted and diſgraced by Prince Coriolanus, I muſt attribute it meerly to his valour and my own unhappineſſe, and that I was nobly treated by him, it was the effect of his pure generoſity: and yet the impreſſion of the injury filled my ſoul in ſuch manner, that it leaves not any place for that which the generous entertainment ſhould have had there, and oppoſed the reſentment it ſhould have conceived thereof, that ſo I might be the more abſolutely hurried into contrary reſolutions.

I doubt not, Madam, but you have heard, how that, having been ſeveral times defeated in the perſons of my Lieutenants, I was at laſt overthrown in my own, and, through the valour of the ſon of Juba, having loſt a battel, which in all probability I ſhould have gained, I was by the ſame valour caſt to the ground, and taken priſoner. You have alſo further underſtood, how that after ſome daies impriſonment, ſuch as was ſweetned by all the kind entertainments which I could have received from a brother, or the beſt friend I had, the ſame Prince, whom, by all manner of injuries I had obliged to treat me with cruelty, forgetting all, out of an admirable generoſity, and comforting me in my diſgrace with the moſt obliging words could fall from man, gave me my liberty without any condition, load [...]d me with preſents of great value, and furniſhed me with ſhips and men to bring me to Rome, or any other place where I would my ſelf. It might in all probability be expected, I ſhould have been ſenſible of this treatment, as much as I had been of my misfortune; but having, through my diſgrace, beſides the fame I might have acquired in my former years, loſt the government of two great Kingdoms, (a very high fortune for a private man) and the hope of finding again among the Romans an eſtabliſhment comparable to that I had loſt, the grief I conceived thereat, had ſo cankered my ſoul, that I was not able to entertain thoſe expreſſions of the goodneſſe and clemency of the King of Mauritania, with the leaſt diſcover of gratitude. However I pretended to be extreamly ſenſible thereof, as I ought to have been, of a favour I ſhould not have expected, and I received, with my liberty, the other effects of the magnificence of that Prince, with thoſe demonſtrations which might well perſwade him that I was not inſenſible thereof. I went a-board with a ſoul half burſt with grief, and I carried with me into the ſea [Page] an affliction grown ſo violent, through the change of my fortune, that there was nothing able to afford me any ſatisfaction. And yet I am apt to imagine that my grief would have been ſatisfied in being only a torment to my ſelf, without producing any effect prejudicial to the fortune of my Conquerour, if ſomething of chance, and the ſollicitations of other perſons had not furniſhed me with the occaſions to do it, and that at a time wherein my ſufferings were not aggravated by any deſign of revenge.

The third day after my departure, I was overtaken by a Veſſel; that came after me from Mauritania, and he that was Commander of it being come aboard mine, to give me a viſit, was known to me, to be a perſon of very great quality among the Moors, named Theocles, whoſe Father had had under King Juba, the Father of Coriolanus, the greateſt places in the Kingdom, and the governments of greateſt importance. But it happening upon the death of King Juba, that Theocles revolted to the Romans, and ſided very particularly with me, as having not the leaſt remainder of love for the Royal blood, and that further he had expected till the iſſue of the war, without declaring himſelf for his Prince, as the greateſt part of the Moors had done, young Juba, coming to the Throne, had accordingly ſlighted him, though he had not any way diſobliged him, nor taken away any thing he was poſſeſſed of, and in the diſtribution of the Governments & charges which he beſtowed on thoſe whom he thought moſt worthy, and had expreſſed moſt affection towards him, he conceived himſelf not at all engaged to prefer Theocles, whoſe pretenſions were great, ſuitably to his quality, and the high rank his Father had lived in before him.

Theocles, thinking himſelf hardly dealt with, and taking it very impatiently that his ſoveraigne ſhould prefer other perſons before him, ſuch indeed as were inferiour to him in birth, but much more conſiderable than he, by their ſervices & their fidelity to their Prince, would needs leave Mauritania, and lurk among the Enemies of his King, and bring over with him among the Romans his reſentments and deſire of revenge. So that having taken ſhip the ſame day that I departed, the third after, he comes up to me, and coming out of his own Veſſel into mine, he gave me a viſſet, making the greateſt expreſſions he could of the affection he had for me. Now this man being he that of all the Moores I had held the greateſt correſpondence with, and his diſcontents being not unknown to me, I was extreamly glad to meet with him, and having underſtood from him, that the reſentments he had againſt his Prince were the occaſion why he left the Country to follow me, and to go along with me to Rome, this conſonancy of thoughts made me the more confident of him, and raiſed in me a certain affection for him, and engaged me to promiſe him all the friendſhip and aſſiſtance, amongſt the Romans, that I could poſſibly help him to.

Thus reſolved, we continued our voyage together, and in the ſame Veſſel; though we made his to follow us, and that very day Theocles acquainted me at large with all I knew not, that related to his affaires, and disburthened himſelf of all that lay upon his heart; but with ſo much aggravation and animoſity againſt his Prince, that, though I were really his Enemy, and well pleaſed to meet with a man that loved him not, yet could I not in my Soul approve the procedure of his Subject, and that one that had no ground given him of diſcontent. However, I diſſembled the apprehenſion I had of it, as thinking it not amiſs to encourage him in that exaſperation, againſt a man I loved not: and ſo mutually communicating our reſentments one to another we kept on our voyage, and, having very good weather, came at laſt to Brunduſium, where we landed. Here it was that I thought fit to make ſome abode, to make ſome diſcovery what poſture my affaires were in at Rome; and knowing well enough that the loſs of Mauritania happened partly through my fault, as having not only by tyranny and miſ-government, but alſo by the liberty I had given the Souldiers to do them thouſands of injuries, given the Moores occaſion to riſe in the behalf of their Prince, and partly by reaſon of my neglect of preventing that revolt in the firſt eruptions thereof, and, by that negligence, given Coriolanus leaſure to fortifie, and put himſelf into a condition to reaſcend the Throne, which he would have ſound very much difficulty to do, had I uſed all the diligence I ought to ſmother that evil at its firſt breaking forth; the Conſcience I had of this truth troubled me extreamly. By which put into a fear of the diſpleaſure of Auguſtus, whom a loſs ſo conſiderable as that of two great Kingdoms might very much exaſperate againſt me, and not doubting but that there were a many perſons about him both very ready, and very likely to do me any ill office, I thought it no prudence to to to Rome, till I had before been aſſured what I was either to hope or fear upon my coming thither.

To that end I ſent one of my men with Letters to thoſe Friends whom I had at Rome, wherein I intreated them to ſend me word truely and without flattery how I ſtood in the favour of Caeſar, and what entertainment I was to expect from him, after the misfortune that had happened to me. The Meſſenger got to Rome, and ſome few daies after returned thence [Page] with ſome of my Friends; who came to ſee me at Brunduſium, and theſe did not onely heighten the diſtruſt I was in before, but withall told me poſitively, that there was no coming for me to Rome, where I was extreamly ill ſpoken of, till I had in ſome meaſure vindicated my ſelf; that the Emperour was prepoſſeſſed with an opinion very diſadvantageous to me; and that if I did not employ certain powerfull perſons that had much intereſt in him; there was not onely very ſmall hopes I ſhould ever recover my former fortune, but they thought there was no great ſafety for my perſon, and accordingly adviſed me, till the tempeſt were laid by ſome perſons I ſhould employ to do it, to continue at Brunduſium, where I had the advantage of the ſea if I ſhould be put to any extremity.

This diſcourſe, made to me by perſons whom I could not any way ſuſpect, and whoſe Friendſhip I had great experiences of, put me to more than ordinary diſtractions, inſomuch that I reſolved not to leave Brunduſium, or look at Rome, till the Emperours indignation were appeaſed. To effect that, I writ a large Manifeſto, in order to my juſtification, wherein I laid down all the reaſons that made any way for me, and endeavoured to elude all accuſations that were put up againſt me, and having delivered it to my Friends they returned to Rome to ſet on work all thoſe perſons who we were in hopes might prevaile any thing with Caeſar, and thoſe ſuch as had moſt power and authority with him. I durſt not expect any thing from either Octavia or Marcellus, as being not ignorant that there had ever been a very great friendſhip between that Prince and the King of Mauritania. I had as little confidence of the mediation of Agrippa, whom I had ever obſerved an enemy to thoſe Governours, who by their miſcarriages had exaſperated the nations they were to governe againſt them, and ſo thought it my onely courſe to addreſſe my ſelf to Livia and Tiberius who had ever been enemies to Coriolanus, and whoſe intereſt with Caeſar was not inferiour to that of any other whatſoever.

I thereupon imagined, that my Friends, by the meanes of Tiberius, might ſet the Empreſſe on work who could do any thing with Auguſtus, and it was altogether that way that I adviſed them to uſe their utmoſt endeavours. They departed in order to the deſign, and I remained ſtill at Brunduſium very much diſquicted endeavouring what I could to ſhake off my affliction by the company of Theocles, who would needs ſtay there with me, and expreſſed a very great engagment in my concernments. Some daies were paſſed ſince the departure of my Friends, when one of them returnes to me, to aſſure me, that he had not onely managed the buſineſſe with much ſucceſs with Tiberius, and had diſpoſed him to engage the Empreſſe, his Mother, to endeavour my juſtification; but alſo, that that Prince, after he had with much ſatisfaction embraced the occaſion to do me any favour, had ſent, him to diſpatch me from Brunduſium, and to bring me privately to a houſe that belonged to a Friend of Tiberius's, in the mid-way between Rome and Brunduſium, where I ſhould meet with Tiberius himſelf, and where he would diſcourſe with me more freely concerning the ſtate of my affaires, and expreſſe the carneſtneſs he had to ſerve me therein. I received this newes with no ſmall ſatisfaction, and though I could not but attribute this eartieſtneſs ef Tiberius to his envy againſt Coriolanus, much more then to any Friendſhip he might have for me, yet muſt I needs embrace this occaſion of recovering my ſelf very ſeriouſly, never examining out of what motive it might proceed.

I left Brunduſium in the night, accompanied by Theocles, who would by all means go along with me, giving out that I went another way quite different from that which I took, nay to make it the more credible ſent ſome part of my equipage that way, leaſt it might have been diſcovered, that I had any interview with Tiberius, who had indeed ſent me inſtructito that effect by my Friends. I came to Clunium, which is the name of that houſe, ſeated in a ſolitary place, ſuch as a man might wiſh for a ſecret interview. Tiberius came thither the ſame day, having onely a ſingle perſon with him, and left Rome in the night, and that with ſo much ſecrecy that there was not the leaſt notice taken of his departure. The condition I am in, and the deſire I have not to abuſe your attention, obliges me to contract my relation, and therefore, to be as brief as I can, I ſhall onely tell you, that Tiberius, whoſe ſubtle wit bends it ſelf to any thing it would be at, entertained me with extraordinary careſſes, and very kindly received Theocles, after I had acquainted him with his quality, and the miſ-underſtandings there were between him and Coriolanus. Whereupon, falling into diſcourſe about my misfortune, he comforted me with the kindeſt expreſſions that could be, by inſtancing in many great perſons to whom Fortune had been as malicious, and telling me, that I ought to have this ſatisfaction in my diſgrace; that what diſcourſes ſoever my enemies might raiſe againſt me, yet was there not any durſt charge me with any want of courage or valour. Then did he expreſſe the infinite deſires he had to ſerve me, and, to make my peace with Caeſar, and reſtore me to my former favour and fortune, to employ not only the little intereſt that he had himſelf, but alſo [Page] that of the Empreſs his Mother, which, whatever people might talk, was far greater than either Agrippa's or Marcellus's, telling me withall, that he was confident, upon the account of that Friendſhip which ſhe had for him, that ſhe would not onely do what lay in her power, but that ſhe would effectually prevaile with Auguſtus to condeſcend to what ſhe deſired.

I made anſwer to this diſcourſe of Tiberius; and his noble proffers with all the diſcoveries of a kind reſentment I could poſſibly give him, and after I had told him ſeveral times, that I had not deſerved theſe demonſtrations of his goodneſs, I made a proteſtation to him, that I would ſacrifice the life and fortunes, which I ſhould be obliged to him for, to ſerve him, and that no conſideration in the world ſhould make me quit his intereſts. After I had ſeveral times repeated this diſcourſe to him; I do not doubt, ſaid he to me, but that in a noble ſoul, the ſenſe and acknowledgment you are to have of the ſervice I am to do yo, will produce the effect you promiſe me it ſhall; beſides that there is ſome reaſon our intereſts ſhould be joyned together, ſince we have one common enemy that hath ruined our fortunes, and hath croſſed all the happineſs and enjoyments of my life, by all the obſtacles he could lay in my way. I conceive you are not now to learn Voluſius, what misfortunes have happened to me through the means of this African, who, not content to have diſputed Cleopatra with me, upon the ſcore of his own good Fortune rather then any other advantages, hath baſely attempted my life, and almoſt reduced it to the laſt gaspe by a wound he gave me at unawares. It is my buſineſs to be revenged on him, and I cannot do it better than by joyning with you who are oblieged to be his enemy; but, with my revenge, I ſeek the poſſeſſion of Cleopatra, without whom life it ſelf is unſupportable to me. I hope with your aſſiſtance, eaſily to compaſs both, and if you will do but what lies in your power to do, you may aſſure your ſelf that there ſhall not be any thing which I ſhall not both undertake and execute to give you ſatisfaction.

This diſcourſe of Tiberius, inſtead of putting me to any trouble, raiſed in me no ſmall joy, by reaſon of the conſormy which I found there was between his ſentiments and mine at that time, and accordingly, returning him an anſwer, with a certain alacrity, whence he inferred how ready I was to do him any ſervice that he ſhould put me upon, ‘My lord, ſaid I to him, I ſhall think my happineſs much greater than I could ever hope it would have been, if to the advantage which I expect from your protection, you adde that which I ought to expect from any employment wherein I may ſerve you. For, though the Prince of Mauritania were not mine Enemy, yet ſo much am I engaged to your generoſity, that there is not any thing which I ſhall not undertake to facilitate, both your revenge, and the poſſeſſion you ſo much deſire of the Princeſs Cleopatra. Be pleaſed therefore only to let me know how you will diſpoſe of me in order thereto, and think me unworthy the aſſiſtances you promiſe me in my misfortune, if I endeavour not to merit them, by the earneſtn [...]ſs I ſhall expreſs in promoting your intereſts.’

‘Now, now is the time, replied Tiberius, and, as my affaires ſtand at the preſent, there is nothing can contribute more to my happineſs, then to perſwade the Princeſs Cleopatra, that Coriolanus hath forgotten her, now that he is gotten into the Throne, that matters of policy have ſtifled his affections, and that, to ſecure his acqueſts, he ſeeks other alliances than thoſe of a ruined houſe, ſuch as is that of Anthony, but theſe things muſt ſhe be perſwaded to by authentick proofs, and ſuch circumſtances as ſhall not leave her any thing to doubt of. As for the means how it may be done, I come to adviſe with you as a perſon whoſe teſtimony in this caſe ſhe cannot miſtruſt, provided ſhe hear nothing of our interview; and I find there is yet much leſs difficulty to effect it then I had at firſt imagined, by the account you have given me of the diſcontents of Theocles, his quality among the Moors, and the deſire he hath to be revenged of Coriolanus. I can aſſure you, ſaid I, interrupting him, that Theocles ſhall do any thing that we ſhall put him upon, and that he is ſo ſtrangely exaſperated againſt Coriolanus, that there is [...] conſideration ſhall ſtave him from doing that Prince all the ill offices that li [...] [...] power.’

Tiberius recollected himſelf a little upon this diſcourſe; but at laſt rejoyning to it; ‘If what you ſay be true, replied he, I ſee an infallible expedient to do that effectually which I had projected. The deſign, at firſt ſight, you will think requires much confidence, eſpecially as to Theocles, whoſe aſſiſtance and agency in it is abſolutely neceſſary; but when you look farther into it, you will find there's nothing of danger, and yet the action, as to us, ſhall be ſo meritorious, that all our houſe and relations ſhall periſh, before you be expoſed to any inconvenience, for having done me this ſervice.’

‘Know then, that Coriolanus hath been ſometime heretofore, very dearly loved by the Princeſs Julia, inſomuch that it was the perſwaſion of many people that Coriolanus was not inſenſible of that affection. Marcellus himſelf grew not a little jealous of it, ſo for that it had almoſt made a breach in that Friendſhip which hath ever been ſo prejudicial to my affaires. When we have once facilitated your acceſs to Caeſar, and brought you into [Page] the ſame reputation with him as you were in before, you may repreſent to him, that Coriolanus hath not ſet you at Liberty, and treated you with ſuch extraordinary endearements, but upon condition that you ſhould do him all the favour you could with Caeſar, in relation to the deſigne he had to demand the Princeſs Julia, and preſent Theocles (whoſe rank and quality might well ſuit with an Embaſſie, to him as a perſon commiſſionated to that purpoſe. To that effect, Theocles in an equipage conformable to that employment, wherein there ſhall be nothing a wanting as to matter of expence, may addreſs himſelf to Caeſar, with credential Letters under the great ſeal of Mauritania, which it will not be hard to find at Rome, among thoſe of diverſe other Kingdoms, that have been brought thither after their reduction into Romane Provinces, and propoſe unto him in the name of his King; That if, with the Peace which he ſhould be deſirous to have with him, he would alſo beſtow on him the Princeſs Julia in marriage, he would ſubmit to him, as all other tributary Kings did, and would take his Kingdoms as dependent of the Empire. This propoſition muſt be made with all the ſolemnities requiſite to ſo great an Embaſſie: and in regard we are at a great diſtance from Mauritania, ſo that there is not any commerſe between us and that Country, and that as things ſtand at the preſent there's little hope we ſhall have any, it is impoſſible we ſhould be diſcovered. And though it may be thought ſomewhat unlikely there ſhould be ſo ſudden a change, and ſo beyond all expectation, in the affections of Coriolanus, yet there happens daily things no leſs ſtrange, which, notwithſtanding their diſtance from probability, are yet neighbours to truth, and there will be thoſe whom it will not be hard to perſwade, that his Ambition hath made him forget his Love, and that in the condition he is now arrived to, deſirous of a reſt he never yet met with, he could no way better effect it than by making a peace, and courting the alliance of Caeſar, of whom he might expect the former upon the conditions propoſed, though he took him not into the latter. And we ſhall find it a matter of ſo much the leſs difficulty to make Cleopatra ſenſible of his infidelity, for that I have it from very good hands, that, ſince his departure, ſhe hath not heard any thing from him, and that ſhe hath already conceived no ſmall jealouſie of what we would perſwade her to. By this intrigue, I ſhall not only turn that love which Cleopatra hath for Coriolanus, into a higher degree of averſion for him, which is the only rub that lies in my way to happineſs: but I ſhall alſo diſſolve that Friendſhip which Marcellus hath for him, by making him believe that Coriolanus, addreſſing himſelf to Julia, whom he loves, and looks on as deſigned for him, is no leſs perfidious to him then to Cleopatra. And by that means, I ſhall deprive our Enemy of a Friend, whoſe intereſt with Caeſar hath hitherto been the greateſt obſtacle I have had to ſtruggle with; and inſtead of thoſe ſupplies which he ſecretly receives from him, and the good offices he daily does him with Cleopatra, he will have the greateſt indignation, and moſt irreconcileable hatred that can be againſt him. So that, to arrive to the felicity I aim at, and to make my revenge the more compleat, I ſhall not be oppoſed either by the love of Cleopatra, or the Friendſhip of Marcellus, which will be both deſtroyed by an artifice that cannot be diſcovered in many years.’

I hearkned with a great deal of patience to this diſcourſe of Tiberius, and ſound in it many things not eaſily digeſtible, as ſuch as muſt needs bring us into many inconveniences; but I overcame the greateſt part of the difficulties I ſhould meet with, by the great deſire I had to purchaſe his friendſhip and protection. Whereupon, aſſuming the diſcourſe when he had given over ſpeaking; My Lord, ſaid I to him, though your deſign ſeems to carry in it much danger, and requires no ſmall daringneſs in thoſe that are employed in it, yet all muſt be hazarded to ſerve you, and we ſhall not be diſcouraged by any conſiderations whatſoever from effecting your ſatisfaction. But I ſhall take the boldneſs to propoſe it to you, whether it were not fitter to demand ſome other perſon rather than Julia, ſo not to draw on you the diſpleaſure and intereſt of Marcellus, whom we muſt viſibly engage againſt us, by demanding of Caeſar a perſon whom he is in love with, and that is deſigned for him. By this demand, replies Tiberius, we break the friendſhip that is between Marcellus and Coriolanus, which it concerns me moſt of any thing I do; But we do not thereby any way injure Marcellus, and you do not run the hazard of encuring his diſpleaſure, though you may well be aſſured that your party ſhall not be weaker then his, after the union of our intereſts, & conſidering what you may expect from our houſe) for, as it is not hard for you to imagine, there is little likelihood that this perſonated Embaſſy of Theocles from Coriolanus, ſhould any way prejudice Marcellus, or that Caeſar ſhould prefer the allyance of that African, his Enemy, before that of his Nephew, whom he loves no leſs than if he were his own Son, and deſigns to be his ſucceſſor. No doubt, all he will do, will be to laugh at the extravagance of Juba's demand, but though the effect it will have upon him, will ſignifie nothing, in Cleopatra and Marcellus, it will do all that I expect it ſhould: ſo that I am in ſome hopes to enjoy Cleopatra long before the truth be diſcovered. And if ever it ſhould come to light, I promiſe you, that through the power of the Empreſs, who will be abſolutely for us, we ſhall reconcile all, it [Page] being to be performed that the Emperour will not be much diſpleaſed at an artifice, which hath no deſign in it, but that of aſſuring me of the enjoyment of Cleopatra, and is not prejudicial to any but his greateſt Enemy.

To theſe, Tiberius added a many other reaſons to encourage me to engage in his deſign, ſo that there needed not much to enflame the diſpoſition I was already in to ſerve him, into a reſolution to do any thing he would have me, and by his own natural eloquence, and the inclination I had of my ſelf to be perſwaded, he took off all the difficulties I could make to my ſelf when he firſt made his propoſition to me.

After I had reiterated the proteſtation I had made to him, we called Theocles, to whom Tiberius repeated all thoſe things he had ſaid to me, and without any difficulty brought him to a reſolution to undertake any thing, which he the ſooner was perſwaded to, as well by reaſon he was naturally miſchievous, and revengeful, but withal very indiſcreet and inconſiderate, as by the hopes he was put into by Tiberius, of great fortunes and aſſiſtances among the Romans. At laſt he reſolved to endeavour any thing ſhould be propoſed to him, and made no difficulty to perſonate the Ambaſſadour of his King, and to take all his inſtructions from Tiberius. We ſtayed together all that day, and the beſt part of the night, to take all the order requiſite in our deſign, and when we had ſetled all things, and thought our ſelves fully inſtructed, Tiberius departed from that houſe to go and endeavour my peace with Auguſtus; having deſired us not to ſtir thence till we had heard from him; but with as much ſecrecy as might be, leaſt there ſhould be any ſuſpicion of our interview. We accordingly ſtaid there as he had ordered us, while in the mean time Tiberius, having made a full diſcovery of his deſign to the Empreſs, and repreſented to her, that all the happineſs of his life conſiſted in the hope he was in to enjoy the Princeſs Cleopatra. Livia, who had a very great tenderneſs for him, after ſome few difficulties were ſatisfied, engaged in our deſign upon you, and promiſed him all the aſſiſtances ſhe could afford him to effect it. He thought it not fit to make the leaſt diſcovery of it to his Brother Druſus, as knowing him to be a Prince of a candid and open diſpoſition, and conſequently would not have approved thoſe artifices, ſo that all the perſons acquainted with, and concerned in our plot, were only Livia, Tiberius, Theocles, and my ſelf. For as to the perſons we were to make uſe of, we eaſily perſwaded them to what we would have had all others to believe. Livia ſollicited my readmiſſion into the Emperours favour with ſo much ſucceſs, that ſhe ſoon diſpelled thoſe clouds of reproaches and accuſations which my adverſaries had raiſed againſt me; and yet ſo ordered all things, that Tiberius was not any way ſuſpected to have any hand in it, pretending, that what ſhe did, was upon the importunity of ſome of my friends, who were perſons of very conſiderable quality in Rome. So that as ſoon as Tiberius underſtood that I might have acceſs to the Emperour, he ſent to me by a truſty perſon, even the very ſame that had accompanied him in the interview, that I ſhould come to Rome, and without any fear prepare my ſelf to put in execution what we had undertaken. We departed thence, Theocles, and my ſelf, and got thither much about the ſame time as our retinue and equipage, which we had ſent for to Brunduſium; but before I preſented my ſelf to Caeſar, we had another ſecret conference with Tiberius, and having underſtood from him how ſtrong our party was, by reaſon of the Empreſſes being of it, he further acquainted us, how that he had in his hands the great ſeal of the Kings of Mauritania, and the order he had taken for the liveries of the Ambaſſadours, and for all other things that were requiſite to our deſign. The next day, I waited on the Emperour, who, ſuitably to the hopes that Tiberius had put me into, entertained me with abundance of courteſie, imputing my unhappineſs to fortune only, and ſeeming to be ſatisfied with the reaſons which had been given him in order to my juſtification. And though he diſcovered nothing ſo much in his diſcourſe, as the violent averſion he had for Coriolanus, yet did I ſtill give him the greateſt commendations imaginable, celebrating his valour, and acknowledging the extraordinary civilities I had received from him, in ſuch terms as eaſily diſcovered that I was far from being his Enemy. For thus had Tiberius and my ſelf ordered the buſineſs to be carried, it being reſolved that Theocles and I ſhould ſpeak well of him every where, ſo to take off all ſuſpicion men might conceive of any evil deſign that we might have againſt him. The firſt time I was brought to the Emperour, I gave him only an account of my own affairs, as alſo of thoſe of Mauritania; but in the ſecond audience I had, which was when all things were ready and ripe for Tiberius's deſign, I had ſome diſcourſe with him about Theocles's commiſſion, and demanded audience for him.

But here Madam, and you my Lord, continued Voluſius, looking on Cleopatra and Marcellus, I am now come to that part of my relation, which, being to give you an account of things you are but too well acquainted with already, will accordingly be troubleſome to you. For you know as well as my ſelf how we were entertained by Caeſar, as alſo with what contempt he looked on the Embaſſy of Theocles, & in a word, all the particular circumſtances of our negotiation. You alſo beſt know what influence our deſign had upon your ſelves, in [Page] ſome meaſure anſwering the expectations of Tiberius; yet ſo, Madam, as that, to his misfortune and my unhappineſs, he made not that advantage thereof he was in hope it might have produced, ſince that though you ceaſed to love a Prince whom you conceived inconſtant to you, yet did it not occaſion the leaſt change in you as to what thoughts you had of Tiberius; nay, on the contrary, the averſion you had had for him, ſeemed to be far greater then it was before, upon this accident.

At this paſſage Voluſius made a little ſtop, as if he had gone through the firſt part of his relation; and Marcellus perceiving, that the Princeſs, having ſummoned all the forces of her reſolution and conſtancy, to keep up her ſpirits at this re [...]teration of her cruel afflictions, was, nevertheleſſe, forced to give paſſage to certain tears, doing himſelf a little violence to avoid expreſſing the ſame weakneſs; It is but too true, ſaid he to Voluſius, that your barbarous combination produced effects but too deplorable, and that if the crafty Tiberius made no advantage of it, through the juſtice of the gods, who have ever a puniſhment for ſuch treacherous deſignes; he drew nevertheleſſe this ſatisfaction from it, that he filled our ſouls with a mortal grief, and that it did me more miſchief then you expected it ſhould, in regard of that ſtrange influence it had on the diſpoſition of the unconſtant Julia, which it might have had on that of the generous Cleopatra. Tis ſhe, Voluſius, whom you have not yet juſtified, though you haue aſſured us of the fidelity of Coriolanus, and though Tiberius and your ſelf have overreached us to the prejudice of that poor Prince, who, you tell us, had not really ſo much as thought of Julia; yet hath that unmindfull Princeſſe appeared ſuch upon that occaſion as ſhe had done upon diverſe others before, and the feigned expreſſions of the love and pretended deſign of Coriolanus, drew from her very earneſt ones of the reflux of that affection which ſhe had ſometimes had for him. Ah my Lord, ſaies Voluſius, reaſſuming the diſcourſe, entertain not any ſuch thought, and aſſure your ſelf, if you dare credit a man acknowledging himſelf guilty of ſo great a cheat, that Julia hath ſhewn her ſelf upon this emergency, no leſſe conſtant then Coriolanus, and that ſhe entertained with abundance of contempt what we would have perſwaded her to, as to the affection of Coriolanus. The gods are my witneſſes that I have not in the leaſt contributed to the occaſions of your jealouſy, but was told by Theocles, after he had received orders from the Emperor to leave Rome within ſome few daies, that Tiberius, who had made him his abſolute creature, and had promiſed him a ſecure refuge, though he ſaw him but very privately, and that in publick he pretended not the leaſt acquaintance with him, would needs, out of an extraordinary ſuggeſtion of malice, have him give you ſome occaſion of jealouſy, the more to enflame the reſentment you might have againſt the King of Mauritania, This was to be done by the means of one of Julia's women, who, being corrupted by preſents, was to give admittance two nights ſucceſſively, into the lodgings of that Princeſſe ſo to put you into an imagination that he had ſecret conferences with her. But he hath proteſted to me, with many imprecations, that he never ſaw the Princeſſe, and that he had not ſpoken to any but that onely woman, whoſe name is Acilia, if I miſtake it not, with whom he had paſſed over ſeveral hours in the Princeſſes Ward [...]obe, & whence he never came but at ſuch hours, as there muſt needs be notice taken of him.

Cleopatra having wiped her eies, looking on Marcellus with a very ſerious countenance, I know not, brother, ſaid ſhe to him, whether you dare truſt me as far as you wou'd Voluſius. But if the late diſſatisfactions which you have expreſſed your ſelf to be in as to Julia, proceed meerly from thoſe ſecret interviews which ſhe hath been ſuſpected to have had with Theocles, they are very unjuſt, and beſides that the Princeſſe coming to underſtand it after your departure, hath ſufficiently cleared her ſelf in my preſence, as alſo by the acknowledgments of Marcella and Antonia your Siſters, who ſpent thoſe two nights with her, I can, for my own part, aſſure you, that during the repreſentation of all this pretended infidelity of Coriolanus, ſhe expreſſed nothing but a very great diſpleaſure and indignation againſt him. I ſhould have acquainted you with as much, had you not been gone from Rome without taking any leave from us, and muſt further let you know, that according to my apprehenſions of it, you cannot any longer juſtly charge with lightneſſe a Princeſſe, who, in your abſence, though ſhe had reaſon to take it very much amiſſe, hath ever expreſſed a firm and faithfull affection towards you. At theſe words of Cleopatra, Marcellus, who repoſed no ſmall confidence in any thing came from her, ſeemed to put on another countenance, and looking on her with an action, wherein ſhe might diſcover the change they had wrought in his heart: Ah Siſter, ſaid he to her, how much does the aſſurance of a perſon ſuch as you are, fortifie that of Voluſius, and what ſufferings and afflictions had I avoided, if I had been acquainted with what I now hear from your mouth, and which I cannot but give credit to, by reaſon of the authority which you have over my belief, with as much confidence, as if I had it from the relation of Voluſius. For my relation, replyed Voluſius, you have no more reaſon to ſuſpect it as to this particular, then you do as to the other truths which you have received from me: and if you will but afford me your patient audience to the end, you [Page] you ſhall find, that, conſidering the intereſt which makes me ſpeak, it is impoſſible I ſhould entertain you with any thing but what is true. The Princeſſe and the Prince having, upon thoſe words, expreſſed their readineſs to give him the attention he deſired, he thereupon reaſſumed his diſcourſe, whereof Marcellus hearkened to the ſequele with much more ſerenity of thoughts then he had done to the former part.

When Tiberius firſt engaged me, with Theocles, to be inſtrumental in the cheat he had reſolved to put upon you, my readineſs to be drawn in, proceeded not ſo much from the diſſatisfactory reſentments I had conceived againſt the King of Mauritania, as the neceſſity I then ſtood in of his aſſiſtance, to be readmitted into favour with Auguſtus, and the expectation he put me into, of the protection of Livia, his own, and that of all his friends, for the recovery of my Fortunes which I had loſt, with the government of Mauritania. He put me into ſome hopes, that, by the recommendations of Livia, I might be entruſted with other employments, not inferiour, or leſs conſiderable, then that, nay haply with the ſame again, if the Emperour brought that Kingdom under ſubjection.

He performed theſe promiſes he had made to me in ſome part, and, as I have told you, he made my peace with Caeſar, before he got me to do any thing in the deſign, wherein I was to ſerve him. But when he perceived that the artifices he had made uſe of, anſwered not his expectation, and that though they had proved ſo fortunate as to ſatisfie you both of the infidelity of Coriolanus, and conſequently deſtroy or divert the affection you have had for that Prince, yet would not that diverſion prove any way advantageous to himſelf, nor raiſe in the Princeſſes heart thoſe inclinations which were loſt as to Coriolanus, he immediately grew cold, not minding my concernments at all, or the great hopes he had, not long before, put me into. I was ſenſible of that change of dis diſpoſition by many circumſtances, and took notice of it with no ſmall diſſatisfaction. However, at the firſt I took all things with abundance of patience, as not thinking it very ſtrange, that the diſtraction Tiberius was in, which was ſuch as made him leſſe careful of himſelf, might well make him reflect but little on his friends, and that, conſidering with himſelf what little poſſibility he was in to gain your affections, Madam, at a time where he was in a manner confident not to meet with any difficulty, as having no Rival to ballance his addreſſes to you, his humour ſeemed to be ſomewhat changed from what it was, and diſcovered ſome remiſſion of that earneſtneſs which he had before expreſſed to do me all the favours I could expect from him. But when I ſaw that his coldneſſe encreaſed more and more, and that the Empreſs did me not any good office with Caeſar, I began to be troubled, and to give entertainment to that remorſe which ever attends guilt, when a man reaps not the benefit which had encouraged him to the commiſſion of a crime.

However Tiberius thought fit, out of policy, to flatter me ſtill with ſome ſlight remainders of hope, and held it no prudence to make an abſolute breach with me, out of a fear that the diſcontent I might conceive thereat, ſhould engage me to diſcover the truth of what had paſt. Upon theſe conſiderations was it, that he, being prodigal enough of his kindneſs and careſſes, when there is any thing of concernment to himſelf, entertained me with civilities, ſuch as, in appearance, where the moſt obliging in the World. But I perceived that in effect, he thought but little of me, and minded me no more then as a complice, in the baſe trick he had put upon you, and one that he could gladly have wiſhed out of the World, ſo to be rid of a fear of being ſometime or other betrayed. His carriage was not the ſame towards Theocles, and knowing him to be a perſon of miſchievous inclinations, and one fit to be put upon any enterpriſe, he had held him in a very fair correſpondence to be made uſe of in a deſign he had, and to be employed, as I have told you, to perſwade Prince Marcellus that the Princeſs Julia treated privately with him upon the negotiation, he was ſent thither upon, from Coriolanus. When the Emperour had ſent him an order [...]o leave Rome, he ſent him to a houſe of his own, within a daies journey from the City, and there kept him ſecretly, till the time of his departure, which was within few daies after. You know how he left Rome, in a manner alone, without any attendance, and went his waies, ſo obſcurely, that it was not known what deſign he was gone upon, nor what way he had taken at his departure. He gave out, ſome daies before, (as I alſo heard my ſelf) that his intention was to find out Coriolanus in the midſt of his dominions, and to be revenged by his death, for the wound he had received from him, ſince the Emperour had denied him all other waies of ſatisfaction, and thoght not fit to truſt him with the command of that Naval army which he had ſent againſt him, under the conduct of Domitius Aenobarbus, and I was confirmed in the confidence I had that he was gone away upon that reſolution, when I underſtood that he had taken Theocles along with him, who was well acquainted with the Country, and might accordinglyly very much facilitate the execution of his enterpriſe.

[Page] The departure of Tiberius put me into no ſmall aſtoniſhment, as being a thing that came not within my expectation, for I found my ſelf, by that means, much to my diſcomfort, deprived of that little aſſiſtance which I was as yet in hopes to receive from him. That which put me into a greater neceſſity of it, was, that, by the concernment I had in Theocle's negotiation, I had drawn upon me your diſpleaſure, my Lord, with that of all your houſe, and that of Anthony's, which are the moſt powerful of the Empire, and againſt which I could not hold out long, but by the intereſt of Livia. Not my Lord, that I ever received any diſcourteſie either from your ſelf or the Princeſſe, or that you did me any ill office that ever I could hear of; but it was not hard for me to take notice that you were all but little pleaſed with me, and I was not ignorant that you were in a capacity to do me a diſpleaſure whenever you had a mind to do it. For your part, my Lord, you ſoon put me out of that fear, by your departure ſome few daies after Tiberius, which was almoſt after the ſame manner, and, as moſt people were of opinion, with the ſame deſign; but the Princeſſe Octavia ſtaid behind, as alſo the Princeſſes your Siſters, and divers other perſons of great credit with Caeſar, who were all very much diſſatisfied with me. Livia and Druſus were indeed able to counterballance that credit of theirs; but Livia countenanced me no longer, when Tiberius once forbore his ſollicitations on my behalf, and Druſus, a perſon of a more then ordinary vertue, finding haply little inclination to any ſuch thing in me, and having at my firſt coming conceived a prejudice againſt me, expreſſed not the leaſt friendſhip towards me.

Thus was I, in a manner, diſcarded by all, little eſteemed by Caeſar, who had not entertained me but upon the mediation of Livia, and abuſed by thoſe that ſaw me fallen, through my own negligence, from that noble employment, and favour of fortune wherein I ſeemed to have been ſo well ſetled. My ancient friends, nay my own relations began to ſlight me, and not to endure my company without ſome violence; ſo that inſtead of continuing in the hopes I had conceived to be reſtored to my former condition, I found my ſelf in a probability to waſte away my life, not onely in the condition of a private man, but withal, in that of one of the moſt unfortunate of mankind. The reflection I made on this alteration filling me with melancholy and deſpair, began to reinflame thoſe regrets in my ſoul, which I might well conceive for the abuſe I had done to ſo great a Prince, and made me look on my preſent fortune as a viſible effect of Heavens juſtice, whom I had incenſed againſt me, by an unreaſonable deſire of revenge, and the carrying on of a baſe and unworthy project. I made all the friends I could for ſeveral employments, which were all denyed me, though they were ſuch as I might well pretend to; and I found at laſt that there was no living for me in Rome, but with the contempt even of thoſe perſons who had ſometime adored my greatneſſe. This conſideration ſtuck ſuch arrows in my heart, that, at laſt, being no longer able to hold out againſt my affliction, I fell into a long and dangerous ſickneſs, which I was ſtrugling with when Caeſar left Rome to go that vaſt progreſs he intended through the Empire, and from which he is not yet returned.

I ſhall not trouble you with the particulars of my ſickneſſe which kept me faſtened to my bed in a manner ever ſince that time, and during which there have happened very ſtrange and great revolutions, eſpecially in Mauritania, which, upon the abſence of its valiant Prince, whoſe preſence might have maintained it againſt all the World, is fallen under the power of Auguſtus. Hearing this news at Rome, grief ſeized me afreſh, as reflecting on the promiſe I had been fed with by Tiberius, to be reſtored to that government, if ever it were reduced. At laſt, after a long and dangerous ſickneſs, I made a ſhift to leave my bed, much about two months ſince; and conceiving, that change of air, might contribute ſomewhat to the recovery of my health, I departed from Rome, and went to ſpend ſome time in certain houſes I had ſtill left me in Italy. When I was grown to ſome competency of ſtrength, I would needs take a further progreſs, and after I had ſpent ſome time in viſits among my friends, (if I may ſay that in my misfortune I had preſerved any) I went to a certain houſe belonging to Mummius, diſtant from Brunduſium about an hours riding. There had I ſtaid two daies, when, by ſome that belonged to Mummius, who went almoſt every day to Brunduſium, I underſtood that Tiberius was newly arrived there. I was a little ſurprized at that news, nay, ſo far, that I was in ſuſpence what courſe I ſhould take, as not knowing whether it were then a fit time for me to waite on him, to put him in mind of the promiſes he had made to me, and to acquaint him with the ſad condition I was reduced to, or ſit down in the perſwaſion I was of that he had abſolutely forgotten me. But at laſt, ſome little ſcantlings of hope, that he would in ſome meaſure perform what he had promiſed, encouraged me into a reſolution to ſee him. Accordingly, I went to Brunduſ [...]m, and preſented my ſelf to him, at a time, that in all probability he was not much taken up with any thoughts of me. Tis generally known what a great maſter he is in the art of diſſimulation, yet could he not ſo diſguife himſelf at my firſt appearance, but that I could [Page] eaſily peceive he was ſomewhat at a loſſe to ſee me there, and that I was not the welcomeſt perſon in the World to him. But after a while recovering himſelf and his artifices, he entertained me with abundance of ſeeming obligation, even to the making of a many excuſes to me that he had left Rome without giving me notice of it, and ſwearing that that injury, (if it were any) was no more then he had done to all the World beſides, thoſe only excepted whom he had taken along with him, and that he had concealed his deſign from all, that ſo it might not be in the power of any to prevent it.

Finding him in ſuch a poſture of civility towards me, I thought it a fit time, in plain terms, to acquaint him with the miſerable condition I was then in as to point of fortunes, and did ſilently reproach him with a certain baſeneſſe, in that he had forſaken me, after I had upon his account engaged my ſelf in an action, which had raiſed me enemies among the moſt powerful perſons about the Emperour. I alſo took occaſion to put him in mind of the promiſe he had made me for my recovery of the government I had loſt, if it came within the power of Auguſtus.

Tiberius diſſembled the vexation which this diſcourſe muſt needs put him into, and affirming that the ſtill perſiſted in the ſame reſolutions, he told me that the reaſon of his ſtay at Brunduſium, was, to learn by thoſe that he had ſent to Rome, in what place he might meet with the Emperour, who, as he had underſtood, was ſo far gone in his progreſſe as into Aſia, out of a deſign he had to viſit the Provinces of the Empire. That as ſoon as his people were returned, his reſolutions were to put to ſea again to overtake Auguſtus's Court, where he promiſed me to endeavour all that lay in his power with him and the Empreſſe to reſettle me in Mauritania, in the ſame condition I had been in before.

Seeing him in this humour, though I durſt not be over-confident of his promiſes, I entreated him that he would be pleaſed to take me along with him in that voyage, and give me leave once more to try, whether I could recover my ſelf out of the wretchedneſſe of my fortunes by his protection and aſſiſtance. Tiberius entertained that requeſt with a countenance wherein it was viſible that he thought me a trouble to him. Yet durſt he not deny it me out of a fear, as I have had good ground to imagine ſince, leaſt ſuch a diſappointment might oblige me to diſcover the combination and the deſign we had to circumvent you; which it ſeems he was very loath ſhould take any air, though he had not made that advantage thereof which he expected. He therefore was content I ſhould accompany him, inſomuch that having ſome three daies after received from Rome the account he expected, and the accommodations he had ſent for, in order to his retinue, I went abroad, by his permiſſion, taking along with me but a ſmall number of ſervants that had attended me to Mummius's houſe; and ſo we directed our courſe towards Alexandria, whither he had underſtood that the Emperour was to come within a ſhort time, and to make ſome ſtay there.

I had forgot to tell you, that I found Theocles with him, in very good terms, as to matter of truſt and intimacy, which I was at firſt very glad to ſee: but not many daies after I perceived that the good inclinations which that Barbarian had ſometimes expreſſed to me, were in a manner loſt, & that I was much more an eye-ſore to him then to Tiberius. I underſtood from both, that they had been in Mauritania, to endeavour, by any means they could, the death of Coriolanus, it being, it ſeems, the judgment of Tiberius, that he might compas it any way whatſoever, without any prejudice to his honour, after the treatment he had received from that Prince in Rome, & the courſe he had taken to be ſatisfied of him by other waies, if the Emperour had thought it good to beſtow on him the command of the naval army which he had deſired. They further told me, what trouble it was to him that he had not met with him in his own Kingdom, and that after they had ſought him up and down in others the next to it, he thought it beſt to take his way back again to Rome, out of an imagination he might be ſecretly returned thither to ſee the Princeſſe Cleopatra.

Though I was no friend to Coriolanus, as I think I had ſufficiently made it appear, yet this perfidiouſneſs of Theocles could I not but conceive a horrour at, perceiving it to be ſuch as egg'd him on to compaſſe the death of his Prince; and this troubled me ſo much, that I could not forbear diſcovering it to him, ſo far as that I could not any way approve of it. It was no doubt an imprudent action in me, and the Barbarian conceiving himſelf diſobliged not onely forbore all further correſpondence with me, but raiſing ſuſpicions in Tiberius of me, he had ever and annon private conferences with him, which I muſt not be admitted to, and accordingly gave me occaſion to miſtruſt there was ſomething a-brewing againſt me.

Thus we kept on our voyage wich proved proſperous enough till that yeſterday we landed upon this river, at a little City which is diſtant about three hours riding from this place, Tiberius, it ſeems, being unwilling to come up into the port of Alexandria, out of a deſign, as he told me, to come into the the City undiſcovered. In order to that reſolution he told us that we muſt be divided into ſeverall parties the better to avoid going in ſuch a [Page] number and equipage as might occaſion any diſcovery, and thereupon ordered me to go before with Theocles, ſeven or eight of his men and but two of mine, aſſigning Theocles a place in Alexandria, where it was appointed we ſhould all meet at night. We got on horſeback (I all this time not having the leaſt miſtruſt of the wicked deſign they had upon me) and rode a good way diſcourſing of indifferent things, the diſtance which was between Theocles and my ſelf being not come to that height as to hinder us from diſcourſing together. At laſt being come into a wood, which from the river ſide reaches ſome ſtadia into the neighbour-hood. Theocles began to rip up the former diſcourſe we had together ſome daies before, concerning the ſervice he would have done Tiberius, in the deſign he had undertaken to be the death of his own Prince; and told me he very much wondred, I ſhould diſapprove his proceeding being guilty of an action that was no better, and had my ſelf engaged him in a cheat; which he had never been drawn into but by my advice and encouragement. Though I might well imagine that Theocles fell not upon that diſcourſe but with a deſign to quarrell with me, and find a pretence without infamy to Tiberius to put in execution what they had baſely plotted againſt me, yet did I not reflect on it ſoon enough, and accordingly could not forbear telling him, that there was a vaſt difference between an action wherein we had been jointly engaged (though truely conſidered, it were very horrid) and the deſign to mura King in his own Kingdom; and that there was the greater difference between thoſe two actions, in regard of us, by as much as that I was a Roman and he a Subject to Coriolanus

This barbarous wretch, who, what anſwer ſoever I had made, would have found the pretence he was ſo deſirous of, pretended to be tranſported with indignation at this diſcourſe, drew his ſword and ran at me with all the fury he could. I ſhould have been but little frighted at his action, if all thoſe that were about him had not done the like, and with the ſame labour ſatisfied me, that Tiberius had not beſtowed that guard on me but to give me my death. Of my two men, the more affectionate loſt his life at my feet, and the other frightned ſaved himſelf by getting into the wood, ſo that I was forced to ſtand alone to the fury of thoſe cruell Butchers, who came about me and gave me two great wounds. No queſtion, but a thouſand more had followed to diſpatch me out of this world, and I ſaw it was to no purpoſe to think to lengthen my life by a fruitleſſe reſiſtance, when it pleaſed Fortune to direct into that part of the wood a man armed all over, mounted on a very ſtately horſe, and attended onely by an Eſquire. He made a little halt to ſee what was done, and perceiving he had but little time to looſe, if he would ſave my life, after he had anticipated his coming by a great outery, and in few words reproached my enemies with baſeneſs and cowardice, he ran in among them with a fury to which nothing can be compared, and having with the ſhock of his horſe overthrown the firſt he met within his way, he ſet upon the reſt with ſuch eagerneſs as ſhewed he was nothing daunted at their number. And whereas they, as well as I, had no other armes then their ſwords, he ſpent very few blowes which either carried not death along with them, or made thoſe they met with uncapable of fighting any longer. Theocles aſtoniſhed at this miraculous relief, and perceiving there was no poſſibility to make an end of me till he had rid his hands of the ſtranger, endeavoured with the aſſiſtance of his men to diſpatch him. But as it happened, he ran upon his own death, for that valiant man having received upon his buckler the blowes he made at him, ran him clear through the body, and ſo he fell down to the ground, and immediately breathed his laſt. His companions were but weak in their endeavours to revenge his fall, and finding themſelves reduced to one half of the number they made at firſt, and that by the ſame hand, they were quite diſcouraged, and placed all their ſafety in their flight.

Finding my ſelf reſcued in that manner from thoſe unmercifull enemies, though very much weakened by the two wounds I had received, I made a ſhift to come nearer my deliverer, to give him thankes for his aſſiſtance; and it happened at the ſame time, that he, feeling himſelf very much heated, either by reaſon of the ſultrineſs of the ſeaſon, or the action he had been in, put up the viſour of his head-piece to take in a little freſh air. I had hardly faſtened my eies on his countenance, but I was in a manner dazzled by the luſtre and goodlineſs of it, and thereupon looking on him a little more earneſtly, I knew him to be that perſon to whom I had been ſo cruelly perfidious, the valiant King of Mauritania.

It is impoſſible I ſhould repreſent to you the confuſion I was in, to find my ſelf obliged for my life to a Prince whom I had ſo baſely abuſed and to ſee that Fortune ſhould, after ſo ſtrange a manner, direct to my relief that perſon from whom of all men I had leaſt reaſon to expect it. An adventure ſo unexpected could not but tie up my tongue for a while, and ſtifling the diſcourſe I intended to disburthen my ſelf of by way of acknowledgment for the deliverance I was obliged to him for, I ſtood ſtill before him, mute, immoveable, and in the poſture [Page] of a man whom an exceſs of remorſe had deprived of all confidence. And it was certainly from my remorſe, rather than any fear, that this proceeded, as not knowing whether the injury I had done him, was come to his knowledge; but if I was aſtoniſhed to ſee him, he was no leſſe to meet with me, and calling me to mind by the idaea's he had ſtill in his memory of my countenance, and haply confirmed by the aſtoniſhment he obſerved in it, he ſtood ſtill, as well as my ſelf, like one loſt in ſuſpence and irreſolution. At laſt, the paſſion which produced that effect in him being much different from that which had put me into ſo great diſturbance, he ſoon recovered himſelf, and having viewed me with much more earneſtneſs then before; Are not you Voluſius, ſaid he to me, ſometime Praetor of Mauritania? I am the very ſame Voluſius, anſwered I, who am now obliged to you twice for this wretched life, as having once received it with my liberty, as a demonſtration of your generoſity, and being obliged to you for it now by the relief I have received from you when I was reduced to the laſt extremities. You might have added to that, ſaid he, that you are the ſame Voluſius, who being once before obliged to me for your life and liberty, have nevertheleſſe made me the moſt unfortunate man in the world, and by your perfidiouſneſſe have occaſioned me the loſſe of Cleopatra's affection, my Kingdom, and whatever ſhould make me in love with life.

This reproach put me to ſuch a loſſe, that I knew not what anſwer to make, whereupon caſting my eies on the ground with an action expreſſing the greatneſſe of my confuſion, I ſatisfied the Prince that I had nothing by way of juſtification to ſay for my ſelf. When he had looked on me for ſome time in that poſture; What injury ſoever I may have received from you, ſaid he to me, it troubles me not that I have been the occaſion that you are yet alive; but certainly, 'tis a viſible example of Heavens juſtice to reſerve the revenge of your perfidiouſneſſe to me who have been moſt injured thereby. Reaſſume the confidence which the conſcience of your crime ſeems to have deprived you of, and ſince I have ſeen you defend your life with courage enough againſt diverſe men at the ſame time, muſter up all you have, to defend it againſt one man alone, and give me not occaſion, by a feeble reſiſtance, to bluſh at the defeat of a man of inconſiderable va [...]our. Do not imagine I ſhall make uſe of the advantage I have over you, though the nature of the injury you have done me might very well induce me to wave that conſideration; and ſince you have nothing about you but a bare ſword I ſhall put off this armour, which if I ſhould keep on, the engagement were unequall.

With thoſe words he caſt off his head-piece and buckler, and was going to unhaſpe his cuirats, when, looking upon him with the countenance of a man already overcome, and one that prepared himſelf for voluntary death rather then a combate; My Lord, ſaid I to him, If theſe little remainders of life I have left me can any way ſatisfie your revenge, you may without any difficulty take them, nay, though I were much more in love with it then I am, you ſhould never ſee me defend it againſt you. This is the ſecond time that I receive it as your gift, and therefore preſent you with nothing but what was yours before, when I ſacrifice it to your juſt indignation. Beſides, ſhould I endeavour the reſiſtance which you would have me undertake, I have not ſtrength to bear me out in it, for I find my ſpirits iſſuing out with my blood with ſuch haſt that it is with ſome difficulty they afford me the leaſure to ſpeak to you; ſo that if you conſider the condition I am in, you may well take a juſt revenge on me, but not expect an honourable victory. Nor indeed is it from the ruine of a perſon infamous for his perfidiouſneſs and treachery that you ought to look for any glory, yet will it not be any reproach to you though you ſhould without any further combate run your weapon through a breaſt which I lay open to you, and which I offer up to your indignation, without any other regret than that of an incapacity tomake you better ſatisfaction for the miſchief I have been the occaſion of, and the injury I have done you.

While I ſpoke to this effect, the Prince perceiving my countenance grew more and more pale, and that my blood ran down along my cloaths in abundance, not onely moderated his juſt diſpleaſure, which would have armed him againſt me; but, paſſing from one extream into another, with a generoſity that is never met with in any ſoul but ſuch as his, he ſeemed in a manner aſhamed that he had been ſo ready to engage a man to fight that was weakened by ſo great wounds. Whereupon, compaſſion forcing its paſſage into that truely-royall heart through thoſe barricadoes of paſſion which for for ſome time had oppoſed it, he became tenderly moved at the wretchedneſſe of my condition, and, looking on me with a countenance, wherein there was not any thing legible of his indignation; Voluſuis, ſaid he to me, the injury you have done me is of ſuch a high nature that it is not to be ſatisfied with light reparations; but it is not in the condition you are now in that I can take my revenge on you; nor indeed have I been wont to fight my enemies when they are weakened by wounds, and incapable to defend themſelves. Far be it from me to take thoſe remainders of life you offer me, ſince that though you had many whole lives to give me, 'twere but little by way of reparation for thoſe cruel loſſes which I have ſuffered by your meanes.

With theſe words, out of a miraculous exceſs of goodneſs, he commanded his Eſquire [Page] to help me off my horſe, to view my wounds, and to ſtop my blood if it were poſſible, The officious Eſquire immediately obeyed his Maſters command, & having torn off ſome linnen from his own cloaths, he endeavoured to ſtop the blood which ran in abundance from my two wounds, & to recover me ſo far as that I might get hither, being not diſtant many ſtadia's

After I had received that aſſiſtance from him, turning to the Prince, who looked on the good office he did me without any expreſſion of animoſity; My Load, ſaid I to him, this miraculous goodneſs of yours does in a manner multiply my crime, and forces a grief upon me; ſuch as I ſhall not be able to ſhake off, but by the hope I am in, that the arrowes which the ſence of my crime, thruſts into my breaſt, will ere long put a period to my life. The gods know, that the remorſe I conceived at that, was the only thing which brought it into the hazard wherein you have ſeen it, and if I had not diſcovered to Tiberius a regret for the offence I had committed, and to Theocles a horrour for his perfidiouſneſs, they had never plotted that againſt me, which no doubt but this latter was to put in execution, as well to ſatisfie his own reſentments as to obey the orders of Tiberius.

The Prince interrupting me at theſe words, entreated me to clear up a little more that which I had ſaid ſomewhat obſcurely. Whereupon, to ſatisfie him, I made him a brief relation of what I have repeated to you more at large, as well in relation to the inſtructions we had obſerved in the carrying on of the treacherous deſign we had upon you, as to what had happened to me from my departure out of Mauritania to our then meeting. And when I was come to the cloſe of my diſcourſe, I ſhewed him the perfidious Theocles, who had newly breathed his laſt, and whom the gods by the miracles of their providence had reſerved to die by his hands, as a reward of the horrid attempt he had made upon his life.

The Son of Juba was very much aſtoniſhed at the wickedneſs of Theocles, whoſe face he knew, though ſomewhat disfigured by death. At laſt when I perceived that he was, what by my words, what by my deportment, perſwaded I was truely ſorry for what I had done, I am very unfortunate, ſaid I to him, that I can do ſo little in order to any reparation for my crime, and all the favour I deſire of the gods, is, that they would continue me the light of this life, but till ſuch time as that I have acquainted the Princeſs Cleopatra and Prince Marcellus with the cruel abuſe we have put upon them. I ſhall give them an account of the whole tranſaction, and will acknowledge it to all the World to my laſt gaſp. In a word, I ſhall endeavour to restore you to that innocence, which I have been the occaſion that you have loſt in the opinion of men, and I wiſh my blood ſpent upon no juſter an account then that of reſtoring you to that Kingdom, which I ſometime maintained ſo poorly againſt you. Accept, from a miſerable wretch, of what you can get for the expiation of his perfidiouſneſs, ſince you will not take thoſe poor remainders of life he offered you, and which ſhould have been ſacrificed to your revenge.

Theſe words were accompanied by ſo many expreſſions of a real and ſincere repentance, that the Prince, abſolutely ſatisfied that I was truely ſenſible of the hainouſneſs of my crime, was extreamly moved at it himſelf by the diſcoveries I had made thereof. Whereupon having continued ſilent a little while, as it were to recollect himſelf, and to conſider what he had to ſay to me; Voluſius, ſaid he, I heartily forgive you, the miſchief you have done me, and am ſatisfied with the death of this perfidious ſubject, whom the gods, by a miraculous conduct of their juſtice had reſerved to periſh by my hands, when I leaſt expected it. I refuſe not the proffer you make me to give an account of my innocence to Cleopatra and Marcellus. I am confident they have already entertained ſome apprehenſions thereof, and it will be your buſineſs to rid them of all thoſe which may be yet remaining in them of the infidelity wherewith I have been charged. I imagine not but that my juſtification is of as great concernment to me as the recovery of my Kingdom. I have made a ſhift to live without a Kingdom, aſſured of the affections of Cleopatra; but I would not be burthened with the keeping of a Kingdom, when I have been abhorred by Cleopatra. I ſhall intreat you to tell both the Princeſs and Marcellus, that I had deſerved they ſhould have made a ſtricter inquiſition into my crime, and conſequently been more concerned in my vindication before they had condemned me with ſo much ſeverity; and that they ſhould both of them have debated the buſineſs a little on my behalf, againſt apparences uncertain enough. How do I acknowledg my ſelf obliged to the gods that they have ordered things ſo, as that, before my death, I may let them know, I have not been perfidious either to my Miſtreſs or my Friend, and that, ſince I have recovered my ſelf from their reproaches by truth, they ſhall never hear of thoſe which I might make to them, meerly out of the love and reſpect which I ſhall have for them to the very last breath. Only you will be pleaſed to entreat the Princeſs to remember her ſelf, that, notwithſtanding my innocence, notwithſtanding my juſtification, I am no longer worthy to ſerve her, and that, though I might hope the recovery of her affections, yet durſt I not preſume to deſire they ſhould be caſt away on a wretch, perſecuted by Heaven and a croſs fortune, and one who hath not, all over the earth, any place he may call his own. Further, that time hath been I might, through the friendſhip and aſſiſtance of Caeſar, have hoped to be reſtored to a [Page] condition not much different from that of my Anceſtors; that after I had loſt Caeſars friendſhip, I had recovered a Kingdom wherein ſhe ſhould have reigned, had the gods and my cruel deſtiny been ſo pleaſed: But that now, being diſpoſſeſſed of all, all aſſiſtance, all protection, and all hope, it is not fit I ſhould lift up my eyes on a Princeſs, whom the greateſt Kings upon earth would think it a glory to ſerve, nor indeed ſo much as wiſh my ſelf beloved by her, ſince ſhe cannot affect me but upon a condition of her own unhappineſs, by involving her ſelf in the miſerable deſtiny of the moſt unfortunate of mankind; That all I have to do now, is to dye, ſo to put a worthy Period to this Tragedy, and that I ſhall be able to do, either by laying violent hands on my ſelf, after the example of the King my Father, or by Caeſars wrath, whereto I ſhall expoſe my ſelf without the leaſt fear, after I have offered up to my ill fortune a Victime which I am obliged to ſacrifice to her. That after that action, whatever may be the event of it, I ſhall endeavour to forbear diſturbing the enjoyments of a perſon that is a thouſand times dearer to me then the life which I beſtow to further them; and laſtly, that I make it my earneſt ſuit to the gods that they never be interrupted by the memory of a wretch, whoſe remembrance might haply occaſion ſome diſturbance in the felicities I wiſh her. With thoſe words, reaching forth his hand to me, he bad me farewell; and having commanded his Squire to help me up on horſe-back again to come for Alexandria, in order to the cure of my wounds, he took another way, and left me, much more troubled at his diſcourſe and the action of it, then I was at the danger and pain of my wounds.

Being gotten on horſe-back again by the aſſiſtance of his Squire, I took my way towards this City, much about the ſetting of the Sun, and came into it before it was quite dark, ſo weakened, that I was hardly able to ſtand. As to what hath paſſed ſince, I ſhall not trouble you. I was kindly entertained by Cornelius, who was my ancient friend, and ſeemed to be very much troubled at my misfortune; but it was not in his power to hinder me, out of any conſideration of health, which he preſſed very much, from leaving my bed, as ſoon as ever I underſtood, Madam, I might have acceſs to you, to acquit my ſelf of the charge I had taken upon me: and to clear to you and Prince Marcellus, the innocency of a Prince, who was never guilty of any thing but by the artifices of Tiberius and our combination, and who cannot juſtly be charged with any thing either as to his Miſtreſs or his Friend, but is the moſt conſtant and moſt generous of all men living. I acknowledge the goodneſs of the gods in the favour they have done me to acquaint you with this truth before I dye, and humbly beg it of them, that this diſcovery, which, proceeding from a real repentance I now make to you, may in ſome meaſure be thought a reparation of my crime. It hath produced effects too too important, and too too deplorable for me to hope any pardon from you, though I have obtained it from him, who hath been the greateſt ſufferer thereby, and whom I had offended moſt; but I fear me, I have received my puniſhment from thoſe that were my co-agents in it, and that I ſhall not long ſurvive the diſcovery of an action which muſt needs make me abominable in the ſight of all the World.

Thus did Voluſius put a Period to his diſcourſe; and though that towards the end of it he obſerved in the countenance of Cleopatra and Marcellus more compaſſion and grief then reſentment or indignation againſt him, yet, were it that he could not any longer endure the preſence of perſons whom he had ſo highly injured, or that his wounds troubled him, he would not make any longer ſtay in the Chamber, and, with ſome difficulty, making a ſhift to riſe off the chair he was ſate in, after he had, by a geſture full of humility, and the expreſſions of his grief, taken his leave of the Prince and Princeſs, he paſſed into the outer-room, where he found the perſons which Cornelius had left there to bring him back to his lodgings.

It were no eaſie matter to repreſent what poſture Marcellus and Cleopatra were in, upon this relation of Voluſius. They were at the ſame time ſubject to ſuch a diſtraction of thoughts, that it had been ſome difficulty to unravel them, and to make their confuſion capable of ſome order. Yet is it certain, that their firſt apprehenſions were thoſe of joy, and that neither of them could, without being infinitely glad, entertain the news, that Coriolanus had even been a conſtant lover, and a faithful friend, and that they could not any longer doubt of that innocence which they ſo much wiſhed. They looked one upon another during this firſt apprehenſion, and in their countenances expreſſed their mutual ſatisfaction. Cleopatra, as the moſt concerned in the buſineſs ſpoke firſt, and letting the Prince read in her eyes what her heart was ſo full of; Well Brother, ſaid ſhe to him, you ſee that Coriolanus is innocent, and that it was not without ſome ground that I was ſatisfied of it, before I had underſtood ſo much from the mouth of Voluſius. I acknowledge the indulgence of the gods, replies Marcellus, as great towards me in this, as in the greateſt favour they ever did me; and I take them to witneſſes, that what you and Voluſius have perſwaded me to of the conſtancy of Julia, hath not cauſed in me ſuch a ſatisfaction as what I have underſtood of the fidelity of Coriolanus. How, replyed the Princeſs, with a certain tranſportation not ſuitable to her ordinary moderation, it is then infallible, that Coriolanus, whoſe pretended infidelity coſt me ſo many tears, hath ever been conſtant [Page] to his Cleopatra; and that Princeſs, who, by her miſapprehenſion thought her ſelf condemned to eternal afflictions, may now re-aſſume thoſe joyes and hopes ſhe had before broke off all acquaintance with?

Here would ſhe have taken occaſion to open her ſoul for the reception of a paſſion, which, of a long time, had not had any entertainment there: but that joy was ſoon eclipſed by an interpoſition of grief, and a certain reflection which filled her heart with all the ſadneſs it was capable of, when ſhe thought on her cruel deportment towards that Prince, the deplorable effect it had produced, as having proved the occaſion of the loſs of his Crown, and of all her hopes, and that fatal reſolution which he had expreſſed to Voluſius, that he intended to take, and whereof he had given her ſome notice at their laſt parting. In a word, being thus convinced of his fidelity, ſhe could not call to mind the cruel entertainment ſhe had made him at Syracuſe, when, enflamed to the higheſt pitch of love, and thinking it a thouſand times more glorious to be her ſervant, then that ſo noble a conqueſt, and the recovery of his Kingdoms had made him, he had paſſed through thouſands of dangers, to come and offer her thoſe very Kingdoms; ſhe could not think on the cruel and injurious ſpeeches wherewith ſhe had received him, and the ſad condition wherein ſhe had left him, without a mortal wound in that heart which nothing but the love of that Prince could ever make any impreſſion in.

For that doleful reflection, calling to mind, how ſhe had met him in the Woods of Alexandria, the day that he relieved her with greater valour than ſucceſs, againſt thoſe that afterwards carried her away, and laſtly remembring the meeting ſhe had had with him in the King of Armenias's ſhip, whereof ſhe repreſented to her ſelf all the particulars, after another manner then they had appeared to her, while ſhe was ſtill prepoſſeſſed of her cruel miſtake, as well out of a conſideration of that long ſwounding, into which her ſight and words had put him, as the diſcourſe, full of a generous confidence he had made to her, and the admirable reſolution he had taken and gone through with, by fighting alone for her liberty, againſt ſo great a number of enemies, with ſuch prodigious valour, and by the laſt words he had ſpoken to her at their parting, wherein, as well as in his actions, his innocency was but too too apparent. And from theſe things, whereof her eies had been but too too faithful witneſſes, diverting her thoughts to others that were of no leſs conſequence, ſuch as the loſs of a great Kingdom which he had conquered for her, and which he neglected to maintain, through the deſpair ſhe had reduced him to; that which he had expreſſed when he caſt himſelf into the Sea, becauſe he would not ſurvive his diſgrace, and the ſhame he thought it, that he was not able to reſcue her from her Raviſhers; the miſerable condition he was brought to, having no place of refuge, no relief, nor any comfort in the World, and laſtly, the reſolution he had diſcovered to Voluſius and her ſelf, of his unwillingneſs to have her any longer engaged in his misfortunes, and to ſeek out the remedies thereof only in death, which, for a courage, ſuch as his was, it ſhould not be hard to find; ſhe could not faſten her thoughts on all theſe truths, which were but too importunate upon her memory, without giving way to ſuch a grief, as neither all her own great conſtancy, nor yet the joy ſhe conceived at the innocence of Coriolanus, were able to abate.

After ſhe had for ſome time ſmothered the diſordered agitations ſhe was in, being not able to hold out any longer, and conceiving ſhe might freely disburthen her ſelf before Marcellus, whom ſhe was confident of, and whoſe ſoul, during that time, was perſecuted by imaginations much of the ſame nature; Coriolanus is innocent, ſaid ſhe, breaking forth into a rivulet of tears: But, O ye Heavenly powers! ſuch is my cruel deſtiny, that Coriolanus cannot be innocent, but I muſt at the ſame time be the moſt criminal perſon in the World. That Prince, the moſt amiable, the moſt generous, and the moſt vertuous of men, hath continued inviolately conſtant to me, and hath ſtill perſiſted in the ſame perfect affection, which had at firſt taken in my ſoul; and yet, unfortunate wretch that I am, I have had the cruelty for to baniſh him my preſence as a Monſter; I have had the inhumanity to ſee him in a manner expiring at my feet, and never could be moved at it; and I have at laſt reduced him to ſuch extremities, as have proved the occaſion of looſing that Kingdom which he had deſigned for me, have made him a reſtleſs Vagabond all over the Earth, made him ſeek out precipices, and now make him reſolve to ſeek in death a Period of theſe deplorable miſeries, into which I, only I, have brought him. O Cleopatra, unfortunate Cleopatra! what pretence of joy canſt thou find in the juſtification of Coriolanus, ſince it muſt needs expoſe thee to the moſt cruel regrets that ever perſecuted guilty ſouls? It were much more for thy ſatisfaction, at leaſt, if it were not for thy ſatisfaction, it would be much more to thy advantage, that thy Coriolanus had been found unconſtant, and that thou ſhouldſt be found innocent thy ſelf; and ſince that thy innocence and his are things inconſiſtent, either he ought to be guilty, or thou have continued in the miſpriſion which thou hadſt been perſwaded to. O cruel Vuolſius! cruel in thy malice, and cruel in thy remorſe, thou art in both equally the meſſenger of death to me, and I find fatal poiſon in this appearance of life which thou bringeſt me, when thou [Page] telleſt me that Coriolanus is conſtant to me. Let us then, till death, bewail the misfortune which attends us as well in the one as in the other condition, and never entertain any comfort, ſince that is a kind of happineſs which guilty ſouls are never to expect.

Here the tears interrupted the courſe of her ſpeech, and fell from her in ſuch abundance, that ſhe was forced to allow them a free paſſage, and to let them expreſs ſome part of what ſhe felt within her. In that interval ſhe repented her of her laſt reflections, and aſſoon as ſhe was in a condition to reaſſume her diſcourſe; I crave thy pardon, ſaid ſhe, with a voice imperfectly accented with ſobs, I crave thy pardon, faithful Prince, for ſo unjuſt an apprehenſion, and what ever I may fear from my own remorſe, and the reproaches thou maiſt juſtly make me, yet muſt I needs acknowledge, that it is more ſatisfactory to me, nay a thouſand times more ſatisfactory to me, to be found criminal by thy innocence, then to be found innocent by thy infidelity, for I ſet ſuch a value on thy affection, that nothing can repair the loſs of it, nor counterballance the happineſs it were to me to recover it. I am content to be though guilty of all that the artifices of my enemies have occaſioned me to commit, and ſhall not ſeek for any excuſe, either in my errour or my repentance, but onely flatter my ſelf with this comfort, that thou haſt ever loved me, loveſt me now, and wilt love me to the laſt gaſp. It is not therefore in thy juſtification that I would be thought unfortunate, becauſe then the guilt lies on my ſide; but I acknowledge my ſelf unfortunate in the ingratitude I have expreſſed towards thee, in the misfortunes I have occaſioned thee, in the irrecoverabled loſſes I have cauſed thee, and the cruel reſolutions I have forced thee upon. It was by my means, that, at Syracuſe, thou wert reduced to thoſe extremities that brought thy life into danger; upon my account haſt thou loſt a Kingdom, which thou didſt deſign for me, thou haſt ſpent thy daies in wandring up and down the World with much miſery, thou hast ſought death among the Waves, and thou art ſtill reſolved to run thy ſelf upon death, meerly becauſe thou wouldſt not, either by thy preſence or memory, diſturb the enjoiments thou wiſheſt me. Ah Coriolanus, 'tis in that reſolution thou art unjuſt and cruel, no leſſe then I have been, and thou oughteſt not, by looſing thy own life, imagine to add any thing to my happineſs, ſince it is from thee alone that all the happineſs of my life is derived. Thou haſt but little acquaintance with Cleopatra, if thou canſt think the loſs of thy Kingdom able to abate any thing of the value I ſet on thee; I have ever preferred thy perſon before all the Monarchies of the World, and, ſuppoſing the condition thou art reduced to as miſerable as can be imagined, I would run fortunes with thee with no leſs ſatisfaction then if thou hadſt the univerſe at thy diſpoſal. Do not therefore court thy own death, Coriolanus, if thou doſt it not to rid thy hands of an unhappy woman, whom for her ingratitude thou haſt reaſon to abhor, or if thou propoſeſt to thy ſelf greater felicity in death then in Cleopatra, let us go to it together, and know, that, as well as thy ſelf, I am come from a houſe wherin the examples of voluntary death are but too too familiar, for me to be daunted at any ſuch thing.

With theſe words ſhe as it were opened the flood-gates to that grief, which was ready to over-run her, and caſt her ſelf on her bed, after a moſt pitiful manner, inſomuch that Marcellus, who had never ſeen her ſo unable to command her paſſions being aſtoniſhed at it, and riſing from the place wher he ſate, came to her with an endeavour to recover and comfort her. Is it poſſible, Siſter, ſaid he to her, that ſo unreaſonable a grief ſhould have ſuch a powerful influence on your imaginations, whom I have known with ſo much conſtancy reſiſt the aſſaults of a juſt affliction; and cannot you entertain an account of Coriolanus's innocency with ſome moderation, who have ſupported his infidelity with ſo much ſettledneſs and reſolution? Can it poſſibly come to paſs, if the affections of that Prince were ever dear to you, that you ſhould not, with joy, entertain this change of your condition, and that the remorſe you conceive at the miſcarriages that have happened through your miſapprehenſions ſhould have a more powerful operation on you, then the aſſurances of a fidelity which you have wiſhed with more earneſtneſs than you could have done any thing relating to your own life? Ah Siſter, if theſe muſt be the effects of your regrets, let them fall only upon me who am ore-burthened with crimes by the engagement I have had in your miſtake, for that it was upon my ſollicitation principally that you came to hate a Friend, who loved me beyond himſelf. It was I that travelled up and down ſeveral Kingdoms and croſſed many ſeas to find him out, purpoſely to diſpatch him, when in the mean time I was dearer to him than his own life, and that was it that all my attempts were bent to cut off, even while, by the force of his Friendſhip, he contributed to the execution of my deſign, by preſenting his naked breaſt to me to ſatisfie my cruelty. Let therefore all thoſe arrows of remorſe be ſtuck in my breſt, with all the care of the reparation we owe him, and take heed you do not incenſe heaven by not entertaining, with the acknowledgments you ought, a favour you have put up ſo many ſuits to the gods for. I entertain, Brother, replied the Princeſs this favour from the celeſtial powers, with all the reſentments I ought to have for it, and cannot but acknowledge, that there is not anything could be more dear to me than the innocence of Coriolanus: but Brother, after what manner would you have me conſider the miſerable condition whereto he is reduced, for my ſake and upon my account, and with what constancy can I hear of the fatal reſolution which he ſends me [Page] word he intends to take, to run upon death meerly to prevent his being any way a hindrance to my felicity? For what concerns his Fortunes, replyed Marcellus, what lowneſſe ſoever they may now be reduced to, it is not impoſſible but that they may be recovered to their former greatneſs, by ſuch another revolution as that whereby they were ruined, and that either by open hoſtility, or thoſe other ways he practiſed formerly, he may yet reaſcend into the throne of his Anceſtors. But ſuppoſing all this were nothing but pure matter of imagination, and ſhould never come to paſs, he hath thoſe Friends who will never have anything of fortune to diſpoſe of, which they ſhall not divide with him, and will diſclaim all they can pretend to in the world, if all be not common among them. For his fatal reſolutions, we muſt endeavour to divert him from them: and ſince that he is not far from this place, hovering hereabouts, in hopes to meet with Tiberius, I am in ſome confidence, that, ſeeking him out diligently, he may be met with. That care ought to be mine, and I accordingly take it upon me, and, in order to that deſign, I immediately take my leave of you, with this proteſtation that I will never return while I live, till I have met with Coriolanus, till I have obtained his pardon for the injuries I have done him, til I have acquainted him what favourable apprehenſions you have for him, and have brought him to thoſe terms wherein you would have him.

The fair daughter of Anthony, being extreamly eaſed and comforted by theſe kind proffers and expreſſions of Marcellus, would have made him ſome reply, when Queen Candace and Eliſa came into the room, and, immediately after, the Princeſs Artemiſa, attended by Alexander. Aſſoon as this company was come in, Marcellus, who was out of all patience to put the deſign he had undertaken in execution, withdrew without ſpeaking ought to any one, and ſo, that the Princeſs her ſelf could not otherwiſe than by a caſt of her countenance expreſs how infinitely ſhe thought her ſelf obliged to him for thoſe good intentions of his. Though ſhe had wiped her eies, yet could ſhe not hinder but that the three Princeſſes perceived ſhe had been a-weeping: and in regard they all had a very great affection for her, and that Candace and Artemiſa did not look on her otherwiſe than as an admirable Siſter, and the Princeſſe of the Parthians, as a perſon whoſe incomparable perfections had powerfully forced her heart and inclinations towards her, they diſcovered a certain emulation in expreſſing how much they were troubled for the grief ſhe was in, whereof they ſaw the marks very freſh in her countenance, and with much precipitation would needs know the reaſon of it. Cleopatra returned them many thanks for thoſe kind demonſtrations of their affection, and after ſhe had in few words expreſſed the reſentments ſhe had thereof, turning to the Princeſſe Artemiſa who was more particularly acquainted with the paſſages of her life than the other two, and had ſometime ſeen Coriolanus, and pleaded very much on his behalf, and conceiving ſhe might ſafely tell her what it was that lay ſo heavy on her heart, even before the two other Princeſſes, whom ſhe had not the leaſt ſuſpicion of, and who were informed, though ſomewhat more confuſedly, of the moſt important adventures had happened to her; Ah Siſter, ſaid ſhe to her, (yet not without a little violence, to keep in the tears that would otherwiſe have accompanied her words) Ah Siſter, how much were you in the right, when you maintained againſt me, that Coriolanus was not inconſtant, and with how much reaſon did you take his part againſt an over credulous perſon, and one whom her imprudent credulity hath made guilty of irreparable miſcarriages! 'Tis very certain, Siſter, he is innocent, and hath been cleared, even by thoſe that were the authors of the calumny raiſed against him. All the crime and all the remorſe doth now abſolutely fall to my ſhare, and if you have made any diſcoveries of grief in my countenance it was the effect of thoſe juſt regrets which I could not but conceive thereat.

Artemiſa ſeemed to be very much moved at this diſcourſe, and made anſwer to the Princeſs with very much earneſtneſs; But I pray Siſter, ſaid ſhe to her, what certainty have you of the news you tell me, what ſtronger arguments can you have received of it, than thoſe you might have derived from the diſcourſes and actions of Coriolanus himſelf, and in a word what is it that hath ſo ſtrangely convinced you of a thing, whereof you would not before admit of any ſatisfaction? Candace and Eliſa, who, among other remarkable adventures of Coriolanus, had alſo heard of the pretended infidelity laid to his charge, thought themſelves concerned in his juſtification, no leſs than Artemiſa was; and Alexander, who had ever had a very great friendſhip for the perſon, and abundance of reſpect for the vertue of that Prince, ſeemed to be no leſs deſirous to underſtand the truth of that buſineſſe. The fair Cleopatra thought it but juſtice to ſatisfie them all, and perceiving there were onely thoſe perſons in the chamber, ſhe gave them a brief relation of all ſhe had heard from Voluſius, inſiſting more particularly on thoſe paſſages that were of greater conſequence. So that having by that diſcourſe ſatisfied the noble company preſent of the innocency of Coriolanus; they were all extreamly troubled to underſtand what a deplorable condition that Prince was reduced to, and the ſad reſolutions he had taken thereupon. The gods have the praiſe, cries out the [Page] Princeſſe Artemiſa, for that they have been pleaſed to confirm a truth which I have ever maintained, and whereof all vertuous perſons were obliged to wiſh a perfect diſcovery: I had ever obſerved in all the actions and words of that great Prince what remorſe never permits in guilty Souls, and I would have hazarded my life upon the confidence I had of his innocency.

The Queen of Ethiopia, and the fair Eliſa diſcovered for the vindication of Coriolanus, a joy and ſatisfaction not inferiour to that of Artemiſa, though he was, as to his perſon, utterly unknown to Eliſa, and that Candace had not ſeen him, but for ſome few minutes in the combat wherein he had fought with Artaban againſt the companions of the Pirate Zenodorus. But Alexander was abſolutely over-joyed, as well out of a conſideration of his Siſter, as that of a Prince whom he had ever infinitely eſteemed; and having underſtood from his Siſter the deſign which Marcellus was engaged in to find him out, and ſo to divert him from his tragical reſolutions he proffered to go along with him, and intreated Artemiſa to give him leave to accompany Marcellus in ſo noble an enterpriſe. Artemiſa was content he ſhould, though ſhe could not look on his departure without ſome regret; ſo that Alexander immediately went out of the room, with an intention to find out Marcellus, and to join endeavours with him to recover Coriolanus out of his diſpair, and to reſcue that Prince out of the danger which he might fall into by coming too near ſo powerful an enemy as Caeſar was▪

The three Princeſſes, remaining ſtill with Cleopatra, endeavoured to perſwade her out of a grief wherto ſhe ſeemed to be inclined beyond all reaſon or moderation, & to covince her that ſhe ought to be more ſatisfied with her condition as it now ſtood, then as it was ſome daies before, ſince that the cauſe of her moſt juſt and ſenſible grief was taken away. To which, whe [...] ſhe would repreſent to them, how it troubled her to the very heart, that ſhe had treated with ſo much rigour a faithful and innocent Prince, and had brought him from a throne, into which he had recovered himſelf, to the wretched condition he then was in; Candace aſſuming the diſcourſe. ‘Madam, ſaid ſhe to her, the very regret you diſcover for your harſh treatment of the King of Mauritania, is, no doubt, reparation enough to him, and there needs no more to ſatisfie him and all the world, than to conſider the apparences whereby you were deceived, and which might indeed have deceived the moſt ſubtle and circumſpect perſons upon earth. And for his condition in reſpect of Fortune, which you ſeem to bewail ſo much, beſides what you may promiſe your ſelf from the Friendſhip which Marcellus hath for him, I dare proffer you both, in Ethiopia, not onely ſanctuary, but abſolute and ſoveraign Authority. For when the Prince, whom you know, ſhall once come to raign there, as I am much in hopes he will, I am confident he will not think it much to divide, with you, the power he ſhall have there, and think it not impoſſible but that with the aſſiſtances of his men and perſon, he may put Coriolanus into a condition to get once more into a throne which he had made a ſhift to recover without the helpes of his Friends.’

Cleopatra made anſwer to this obliging diſcourſe of Candace, with the greateſt acknowledgments that could be, embracing her with the greateſt affection imaginable. And the Princeſs of the Parthians, who could not make her ſo abſolute a proffer in the dominions of her Father, till they were fallen under her power, made a proteſtation to her, that if ever it ſhould pleaſe the gods that ſhe had the ſoveraignty there, ſhe might aſſure her ſelf of no l [...]ſs authority in her dominions than in thoſe of Candace.

The incomparable daughter of Anthony was, not without reaſon, very much raiſed up and elevated by the diſcourſe & proffers of thoſe fair Princeſſes, and they would thereupon have fallen into a long converſation. if Agrippa had not come into the room, after he had before ſent in his deſires of admiſſion. Being come in, he told them, that, by a letter he had received from Caeſar, he underſtood that he would be the next day at Alexandria, that all things were putting in order for his entertainment, though he had not ſent any notice that he expected a more then ordinary reception. He told Eliſa in particular, that the King of Media, was gone to meet him the day before; and that he was juſt getting on horſeback with the ſame intention, attended▪ by all the Roman Nobility, that came along with him to Alexandria. Whereupon he took leave of them and particularly of Eliſa by a paſſionate look, as having not, in that company, the opportunity of a more private converſation.

HYMENS PRAELUDIA; OR Loves Maſter-peice. Part. XI.

[Page]

LIB. I.

ARGUMENT.

Agrippa, attended by moſt of the Illuſtrious Perſons in Alexandria, goes to meet Auguſtus in his way thither. Prince Ptolomey, Druſus, and Lentulus come in, the night before the Emperour, impatient to ſee the Princeſs Cleopatra. Ovid's diſcourſe and judgment of Prudence, Modeſty, Reſervedneſs, Severity, Favours, and Compliances in matter of Love. The Princeſs Artemiſa, deſirous to have an account of the Loves of Lentulus and Tullia, he, upon the intreaty of Cleopatra, entertains them with the Hiſtory of his Adventures. Tullia's conſtancy in her affection for Ptolomey, notwithſtanding her reſolutions to conceal it, and his indifference for her. She is comforted by Emilia; told her Fortune by the Mathematician Thraſyllus, and conſtantly, though ineffectually Courted by Lentulus. Cicero, Tullia's Brother, by the ſollicitations of Lentulus, made Edile. Tullia writing a Letter to Emilia, falls a ſleep before ſhe had done; but it is finiſh'd, unknown to her, by Lentulus. She perſiſts in her ſeverity, upon which, deſpairing, he reſolves for the Wars of Pannonia; but ſhe, o'recome at laſt with the tranſcendency of his affection, and the Remonſtrances of Emilia, Scipio, and Cicero, commands his return, and entertains him ſuitably to his pretenſions; but the ſolemnity of their Nuptials deferr'd till the return of Auguſtus. Candace is viſited by Caeſario, who is deſirous to leave Alexandria, but for a time continues there, upon the intreaties of Cleopatra.

THough Agrippa had reſolv'd, in the deſign he had to meet Caeſar, to take along with him only thoſe of his own retinue, yet was his attendance very much augmented by the acceſs of divers Illuſtrious Perſons, who were guilty of an earneſtneſs equal to his, to go and ſalute the Emperor at the place where he was to lodge that night. Ariobarzanes, the new King of Armenia, having ſpent ſome part of the day in giving order for embalming the body of the unfortunate Artaxus, ſecretly brought the night before to Alexandria by Megacles, as alſo for the preparing of the ſhip wherein it was to be convey'd back to Artaxata, to be diſpos'd among the Monuments of his Anceſtors, after he had acknowledg'd the civilities of Megacles ſuitably to the account he had receiv'd of his vertuous inclinations from the relation of Artemiſa, who had given a very advantagious Character of him, conceiv'd the change had happened in his Fortunes, no diſpenſation for his waiting on Auguſtus, whoſe power he was upon ſome conſiderations oblig'd to, and to whom he thought himſelf bound to make acknowledgment of what he had receiv'd from his Predeceſſors, He was the more animated to proſecute that deſign by the remonſtrances of Prince Philadelph, (a perſon he now convers'd with no otherwiſe then as a beloved Brother, their noble inclinations having contributed very much to the cementing of an indiſſoluble Friendſhip between them) it being alſo the deſire of that Prince, to go along with him to ſalute Caeſar, before his arrival at Alexandria. There was a third perſon, who would needs make one with them, and was entertain'd with no ſmall ſatisfaction: and that was [Page] the gallant Artaban, whom the inconveniencies that ſtill hung upon him by reaſon of his Wounds, could not divert from undertaking that ſmall journey, nay he thought himſelf the more engag'd thereto, as well to render to the Majeſty of a perſon, who had made himſelf Maſter of the greateſt part of the World, what from the whole was but due to him, as out of the neceſſity he ſtood in of his protection, both in regard of the preſent poſture of his affairs, and the deſign he had to diſpute Eliſa, againſt the pretentions of Tigranes, and the cruelty of Phraates. But what moſt prevail'd with him, was, that Tigranes had prevented him in it, and might haply by his preſence and applications prepoſſeſs Auguſtus to his own advantage. Yet paſſed there not theſe tranſactions in his thoughts without a certain averſion, not much different from that which he had for the perſon of Caeſario: but not finding much ground to entertain any ſuch, he with the more eaſe overcame it, & ſo got on horſe-back with the two Princes his Friends, to cloſe with Agrippa, upon his departure out of Alexandria. Marcellus was gone ſome time before, but with much different reſolutions, and Prince Alexander had followed him, with ſome intentions not unlike his, Cornelius continued in the City, to put all things in order for the reception of the Emperour, it being his part only to come out the next day without the Gates with the Inhabitants, whom he had accordingly put into Arms. The Emperour had given order before hand, that he would not be receiv'd into Alexandria with the ſame magnificence as he had been in all the Cities of Aſia, out of a conſideration, That it was in that very City he had ruin'd the unfortunaie Anthony; but out of the reſpect he had for thoſe of his Children that were about him, and particularly for Octavia, who had been his Wife. he would not make his entry with ſuch Pomp as might revive in their minds the memory of their misfortunes, and would in ſome meaſure argue an inſulation on the change of their condition.

After the departure of the Princes, and thoſe other illuſtrious perſons that had left Alexandria, Cleopatra, Eliſa, Candace, and Artemiſa, after they had dined together, would needs give a viſit to Olympia and Arſinoe, whom, after his departure, they were in hope to find in the Lodgings of the King of Armenia, when looking out they ſpie thoſe two Princeſſes, who it ſeems had been more diligent than themſelves, and having taken their leaves of Ariobarzanes and Philadelph, were purpoſely come to the Palace to ſpend the remainder of the day with them. It might have been ſaid with as little flattery as untruth, That Fortune had, by a ſtrange ſort of accidents, brought into that place ſix the greateſt Beauties upon the earth; or rather that the Sun through the vaſt extent of his courſe ſaw not ſo much beauty, as he could have done in Cleopatra ▪s Chamber alone. It muſt indeed be acknowledged, that that admirable perſon had ſomewhat the advantage of the reſt, though in that of Elia's there were a greater delicacy, and in that of Candace no leſs Majeſty: That of Arſinoe, whom they could not forbear to call ſtill by the name of Delia, was ſomewhat inferior thereto, and yet the Earth could afford but few Beauties that had ſo ſudden, and ſo irreſiſtible an influence as that of Delia: In that of Artemiſa there was a certain mildneſs extreamly delightful; and notwithſtanding the alteration that had happened in that of Olympia, yet was it not hard to diſcover, that when it ſhould have recovered all its advantages, the world would have afforded but few with whom ſhe might not diſpute precedence.

Among perſons of ſuch extraordinary quality, there could not but be a converſation ſuitably excellent, which yet became ſomewhat the more pleaſant by the admiſſion of Ovid, who having no great inclination to ride abroad with the reſt, ſtay'd behind in Alexandria, as preferring an attendance on the faireſt Ladies before any thing in the world beſides. He told Agrippa that he ſhould ſee Caeſar the next day, and that he hoped not to want the ſight of him while he lived; but for what was at that time to be ſeen in Alexandria, 'twas a queſtion whether any part of the world could parallel. Virgil would alſo needs ſtay behind, as one intimately acquainted with Cornelius Gallus, a paſſionate lover of Poeſie, as may appear by thoſe remnants of his that have reach'd poſterity in thoſe excellent Eclogues, wherein under the feign▪d names of Tityrus and Menalcas he celebrates the Friendſhip that was between them. He came that day with Ovid to wait on the Princeſſes, though he were of an inclination much more ſevere then that of Ovid, and ſpent in other employments the greateſt part of that time which Ovid ſacrificed purely to his advertiſements.

This Noble Aſſembly was ſoon augmented by the acceſs of divers other perſons; and whereas the perſonage, the name, and birth of Cleopatra challeng'd a certain veneration in Alexandria, as having been the Royal ſeat of her Anceſtors, the place of her birth and education to the nineth or tenth year of her age, all the Ladies of quality, whereof the number▪ was very conſiderable, came to viſit her. Cleopatra entertain'd them with that attractive ſweetneſs which all the world ador'd in her, and it being not imaginable, that theſe viſits could be either given or received, without reviving in the Princeſs a reflection on her tender years, and, conſequently on [Page] on her fortunes, and the ruine of her houſe, that converſation muſt needs prove the occaſion of much ſadneſs to her, and force many tears from thoſe perſons who had ſeen her brought up, as it were in their boſoms, with ſo much luſ [...]re, and could not reflect on thoſe things but as freſh in their memories. She indeed did all that lay in her power to ſhift off all diſcourſe of that nature, and thoſe who took notice of her deſign endeavour'd accordingly to find out ſome other things to talk of.

When it was grown ſomewhat late, the Princeſſes finding the ſeaſon cool and fair enough to take a walk without any fear of being incommodated by the Sun, would needs ſpend the reſt of the day in the Garden, the beauties whereof were anſwerable to the magnificence of the Palace. They accordingly went thither, attended by a great number of Ladies, who could not be entertain'd in the Chamber, and with no ſmall ſatisfaction walk▪d up a [...]d down the fair and ſpacious walks thereof. They had taken ſome few turns when they ſaw coming into the Garden three men, whoſe amiable countenances rais'd a little aſtoniſhment in all that were preſent, and the ſight of them prov'd very pleaſant to the Princeſs Cleopatra, when [...]he perceiv'd them to be Druſus, young Ptolomey her Brother, and his Friend Lentulus, who out of an impatient deſire to ſee her, would needs give her a viſit before Caeſar's arrival. Cleopatra entertain▪d Druſus with all the diſcoveries of the real eſteem ſhe had for both his perſon and his vertue: She receiv'd Ptolomey into her embraces as a Brother ſhe had ever dearly loved; and treated Lentulus as a perſon of high birth, of great merit, and an intimate Friend of her Brother▪s and her Houſe. Druſus and his companions rendred to the Princeſſes, to whom Cleopatra preſented them, telling them withal their names, what was due to their quality, and might be expected from perſons that underſtood very well the punctilio's of Courtſhip. Which done, being again return'd to the fair Daughter of Anthony, they expreſt the trouble they could not but have conceiv'd at the accidents had happened to her, and the ſatisfaction it was to them to find her ſo well, after an alarm that had put Auguſtus's Court into diſorder, but particularly themſelves into the greateſt perplexity imaginable. Cleopatra having thank'd them for that expreſſion of their affection, and thereupon ask'd them what had occaſion'd the haſtening of their arrival; Druſus, to whom ſhe more particularly addreſs'd her diſcourſe, reply'd, Madam, ſaid he to her, The injury you do us in that demand is not to be diſſembled, ſince you might well imagine that nothing ſhould prevail with us to leave the Emperour, but an in patience of the honour to wait on you, after you had run through thoſe accidents whereby we had in a manner given you over for loſt. The firſt account we had thereof was not til the laſt night, and I can aſſure you, that the Emperor, the Empreſs, the Princeſs Julia, and all the moſt conſiderable perſons that are of their retinue were infinitely troubled thereat. For the Princeſs Octavia, and the Princeſſes her Daughters, 'twere not neceſſary we ſhould give you any account how far they might be concern'd therein: Cou'd their Sex have diſpenſed with their coming the ſame way and born with the inconveniences of ſo haſty a removal, you ſhould not have ſeen us before them, and it is only the hopes they are in to ſee you on the morrow that have ſatisfied their impatience in the mean time.

Cleopatra anſwered this diſcourſe of Druſus with the civility it deſerv'd, and perceiving that he prepar'd to preſent her with his hand for her more commodious walking, ſhe intreated him to render that ſervice to the Princeſs of the Parthians and Queen Candace, and having made a ſign to Ptolomey to do the like to Olympia and Arſinoe, ſhe recommended her ſelf with Artemiſa▪ [...] [...]e conduct of Lentulus. Ovid was gotten among the Ladies of Alexandria, and minded nothing ſo much as to proffer his attendance to the faireſt in his judgement, and to wait on her for the remainder of that day. The walk they were got into being very ſpacious, the ſix Princeſſes went all a-breaſt, and Cleopatra, who was not only deſirous, but thought her ſelf oblig'd to entertain Druſus, walking next to Candace, whom he had by the right hand, and addreſſing her ſpeech to him with that attractive grace, againſt which the moſt ſavage hearts had nothing that could ſecure them; Now that you have ſo well expreſt, ſaid ſhe to him, how far you thought your ſelf concern'd in my affairs, will you not give me leave in my turn to diſcover my concernment in yours; and do you not conclude me guilty of a little tardineſs, that I have no ſooner demanded of you ſome account of Antonia? Antonia, replies the ſon of Livia, with a certain air of gallantry, is ſtill the ſame Antonia; and as I think that expreſſion enough to tell you that ſhe is ſtill one of the moſt accompliſh'd perſons upon earth, ſo I conceive you need no more to infer, that ſhe is withal the perſon the leaſt compliant in the world. Nor indeed can I imagine, Madam, added he ſmiling, that the ſmall time paſt ſince your ſeparation conſidered, you ſhould conceive there can any great change happen in a ſoul ſo conſtantly fortifi'd, as that, in which I can hardly believe the over-turning of the Univerſe were able to work any.

The fair Princeſs could not but ſmile at that diſcourſe of Druſus, and looking on him with a more chearfull look then ſhe had ſhed that day before. ‘You ſee, ſaid ſhe, I make no difficulty to engage you upon that diſcourſe before theſe great Princeſſes, now [Page] that your deſigns are known to all the world, and that you are not guilty of any proceeding you would conceal. And therefore ſince we are gone ſo far, I ſhall tell you, that I am indeed very much perſwaded you are in the right, when you think Antonia's ſoul incapable of thoſe alterations whereto many others are ſubject; but that, as to the poſture of your affairs in relation to her, I do not conceive you your ſelf wiſh ſhe ſhould be; and as being of opinion, that Antonia is much more favourable to you than I ever expected her Humour could have been prevailed with to be, which yet you know I am the beſt acquainted with of any in the world. I muſt indeed confeſs, replyed Druſus, that I have much reaſon to be ſatisfied with my Fortune, and that it were to be unworthy of it, no [...] to acknowledg it far exceeds, not only my deſerts, but even my hopes. The Princeſs Antonia is pleaſed, out of compliance with their diſpoſal whom ſhe acknowledges a ſubmiſſion to, to give me leave to hope ſhe will not oppoſe my ultimate felicity, when thoſe perſons ſhall think it time it ſhould be conſummated: But certainly I am indebted for this Honour to the duty ſhe conceivs her ſelf ingaged to upon the account of her Vertue, without the interpoſition of any the leaſt favourable reflection of hers upon me. And whereas ſhe without any the leaſt repugnance ſubmits to the diſpoſal of Octavia, as to what I may expect from her, I am accordingly confident, that, ſhould my fortune happen to be otherwiſe than it is in the apprehenſion of the Princeſs her Mother, ſhe would without any regret receive from her a command never to ſee me again, and would with as little difficulty obey it. Nay I may further affirm, that ſhe never let fall any of thoſe ſpeeches which are the ordinary expreſſions of a tender heart, nor could I ever receive any of thoſe favours, whereby the hopes of a Lover may be improved. I may ſay the ſame of thoſe ſlight ones, which it would not derogate from the greateſt ſeverity to grant: and yet, all this ſuppoſed, if it may be lawful for me to retract, I quarrel not at my condition; and as we receive trivial preſents from covetous perſons with more acknowledgment then the profuſions of the prodigal; ſo do I imagine this little, coming from a perſon very thriſty of her favours, ſhould amount to as much with me, as all I were able to receive from a perſon of a more liberal inclination, who did her ſelfleſs violence in beſtowing much then Antonia ſhould in parting with what were moſt inconſiderable. Theſe ſentiments, replyed young Ptolomey, with a ſhake of his head, are very much conſiſtent with prudence and vertue, and I am confident theſe fair Princeſſes, and haply ſome others whoſe minds are diſtorted by theſe pernicious maximes, will not ſtick to approve them: but, for my part, ſince there is a difference between my inclinations and yours, as being one extreamly taken with mildneſs and compliance, and have a natural averſion for trouble, and whatever may prove the accaſion of any, I cannot but hope your pardon, with that of theſe fair Ladies, if I cannot cloſe with your judgment, nor yet with theirs, as ſuch, if I am not miſtaken as differs not much from yours. I think it no preſumption in my ſelf to affirm, I have as great a love for Vertue as any o [...]her, and that I infinitly eſteem it in the perſon I effect, but I expect it ſhould be a Vertue moderated by a certain ingredient of ſweetneſs, and that it be not of thoſe ſavage Vertues that admit of no civilization. In a word, Severity, palliate it with the faireſt names you pleaſe, is a qualification I do not find thoſe attractions in as haply you do; and am of opinion, that Ovid, whom, in the Art of Loving we are all to look on as our grand Maſter, will rather confirm my ſentiment then yours, and that if he hath diſcovered the ſeveral inclinations of thoſe Ladies among whom he hath diſpoſed himſelf, I dare engage for him he will not make his addreſſes to the moſt ſevere.’

Ovid coming up to them upon the hearing of his name mentioned, and having heard the ſeveral diſcourſes of Druſus and Ptolomey, thought himſelf obliged to engage in the converſation▪ and thereupon addreſſing himſelf to ‘Ptolomey, Neither you, nor I, ſaid he to him, ſhall well be able to eſtabliſh our Maximes here, & if theſe fair Ladies muſt be admitted Judges of the differences, 'tis out of all doubt they will give ſentence rather on Druſus's ſide than ours.’ And indeed, as I find not my ſelf furniſhed with ſufficient circumſpection to be a regular obſerver of theſe Maximes, ſo am I not on the other ſide ſo deſtitute as that I would abſolutely follow yours, as conceiving that between both there may be a mean found out, wherein ſuch perſons as are not over-hard to be pleaſed may meet with ſatisfaction. 'Tis not to be denyed, but that Wiſdom, Modeſty, and Reſervedneſs in the perſon beloved have a very powerful influence over a mind paſſionately devoted in Vertue, and that they imprint in it a reſpect whereby a ſincere Love is extreamly fortified: But the obliging careſſes, the attractive favours, and thoſe other demonſtrations of affection which we receive from the perſon beloved, are attended by a certain miraculous Vertue to improve a budding Love to maturity, and cultivate an affection already arrived to ſome growth. And as, according to the judgment you have given of it, I ſeem to be more inclined to this party then the other, I muſt needs, to make it moſt plauſible I can, add to what I have ſaid, that if I Love, ſuitably to the rate of things corporal, ſtood in need [Page] of any thing as nouriſhment in order to its augmentation, it is in what we call Favours, that it would find it, or it is in them at leaſt that it is wont to ſeek it; and that as it commonly ſubſiſts in ſome Hope of Happineſs, no leſs then in a confidence of the Merit which gave it its firſt birth, ſo is it infallibly conſequent, that whatever entertains and enlivens that Hope, affords it thoſe aſſiſtances without which it cannot grow to perfection. Now they are only Favours that are able to work that effect, 'tis from them we derive thoſe flatteries and inſinuations whereby we are inſenſibly immerſed therein. But however I may plead for Favours, I ſhall advance nothing derogatory from Prudence and Modeſty, and ſo admit of this regulation, That as to the Favours we are to be deſirous of, they ought to be ſuch as may be attendant on the qualifications aforeſaid, and not inconſiſtent with Vertue.

And where, I pray, ſaies Arſinoe, interrupting him, will you find there may be ſuch Favours granted in Love as Vertue can admit? Not indeed in the inclinations of the cruel Delia, reply'd Ovid, one that in ſtead of the Favours which the Vertuous Prince that ador'd her might but too juſtly have expected, hath wearied him with a thouſand diſcoveries of her cruelty, which treatment it cannot be ſaid ſhe was upon any conſideration of her Vertue oblig'd to. I am very confident, reply'd as roundly Arſinoe, that if I had been ever ſo little too liberal of that which you call Favours, towards the Prince that lov'd me, his affection, which I ever dearly eſteem'd, and was entertain'd by that little diſcretion which I had received from Heaven, would never have been ſo violent as to incline him to marry me, and to offer me with himſelf the Crown of his Fathers, at a time when he had no reaſon to look on me otherwiſe, then as a wretch caſt upon his Territories by a tempeſt, and more probably one iſſued from the dregs of a popular extraction, then of a rank equal to his own. What you ſay may poſſibly be true, replies Ovid, but if your Severity abſolutely wrought this effect, it having been your good fortune to have to do with the moſt conſtant and moſt amorous of all Lovers, 'twere but fit you withal reflected on all thoſe others which it was like to have produced, the dreadful misfortunes whereto you have expoſed him, and that particularly wherein it is not impoſſible he might have ſpent his whole life, if Hazard, and not your Prudence, had not put a period thereto by his happy meeting with you. So that when you have ſum'd up all, you will give me leave to tell you, there is a generous and innocent kind of Favours, which might have ſpared you both many a ſorrowful day, and which you might ſafely have granted him without any prejudice to your Vertue. It is of theſe only that I intended to ſpeak, not only becauſe the ſentiment conſequent thereto is the more noble, but alſo that it is really my judgment they are the more proper to entertain Love, then thoſe that proceed from an exceſs of Liberality (to keep to the expreſſions of Druſus) for beſides that I think it but neceſſary for the perſon belov'd to keep her ſelf in the eſteem ſhe expects from the Lover, in order to the continuation and conſervation of his Love; I am eaſily perſwaded that Satiety ſoon ſmothers Deſire, and that the abſolute poſſeſſion of what might have been wiſh'd, not admitting any further object of wiſhing, takes off the edge of that paſſion whence it firſt ſprung. There are many things which I might, from this queſtion, take occaon to inſiſt on, were it not that it is to be debated before ſuch Judges as are not likely to prove much favourable to Ptolomey's party: But I ſhall not preſs it any further, and think it enough, to maintain, that, as there are a ſort of criminal favours, ſuch as cannot be deſired of the perſon beloved, without running the hazard of her diſpleaſure, ſo there is alſo a kind of Favours (which I could particularize were I commanded to do it) levell'd only to keep in the flame of a Ver [...]uous Love, and conſiſtent with Prudence, though not with Severity.

Ovid could have ſaid much more upon the preſent difference; but he thought fitter to [...]orbear, as knowing that the greateſt part of thoſe that heard him would not have favoured his opinion; and imagining withal, that, in the preſence of ſo great Princeſſes, he could not be too reſerv'd and circumſpect, he thought it enough to whiſper Ptolomey in the ear, That he would have maintained his Cauſe after much another rate, had the buſineſs been to be debated before Julia.

There was upon this a ſmall interval of general ſilence, which Ptolomey taking advantage of, whiſpers Cleopatra in the ear; Siſter, ſaid he to her, you are extreamly inquiſitive into the affairs of Druſus and Antonia, and have not thought it worth your asking what poſture mine are in with Marcia. You betray ſo much indiſcretion this day, replies the Princeſs, ſpeaking ſomewhat louder then he had done to her, that I am loath to ask you any thing, leſt I ſhould engage you into the diſcovery of things that ſhall ſpeak as little reaſon as thoſe have fallen from you already. 'Tis therefore to be revenged on you, replyed the Prince, that I tell you I am much more in her favour then you could have wiſhed me, if I may meaſure your wiſhes by the humour you are in at the preſent: And if I could but be perſwaded never to depart out of her ſight, or would act the muſing and the melancholly Lover, I think it would be taken as a great ſign of the earneſtneſs of my affection. Cleopatra made no other anſwer to this diſcourſe of Ptolomey then that of a ſmile, telling him withal, That it was not handſome to whiſper ſo long before [Page] ſuch high company; and at the ſame time putting ſome queſtions to Druſus and Lentulus about what had paſſed in Auguſtus's Court ſince her departure thence, they both gave her ſome account thereof, and thereupon entred into a converſation, wherein Lentulus, who till then had ſpoken very little, took occaſion ſo to diſplay the riches of his Wit and Judgment, that it was the general acknowledgment of the company, that he was a perſon of very excellent parts. Artemiſa having view'd him a long time, and hearkened to him with much attention, being come up along with the company to a place where there were ſeats, and where all were preparing to ſit down, took the Princeſs Cleopatra a little aſide, and whiſpering her in the ear ſo as no body could hear, Sister, ſaid ſhe to her, I have ſeen the faces, and know the adventures of Druſus and Ptolomey, but I pray tell me whether this Lentulus be the ſame you made mention of in your diſcourſe, who by a ſtrange accident fell in love with Cicero▪s Daughter, that Tullia, who, after ſhe had by her cruelty occaſion'd the baniſhment of Julius Antonius, fell in love with Ptolomey? Cleopatra having told her that it was the very ſame, and withal given him the character of a very conſiderable perſon among the Romans, in regard as well of his birth as merit, Ah Siſter, added the Armenian Princeſs, are you not deſirous I ſhould know the conſequence and the ſucceſs of that love whereof you acquainted me with the firſt eruption, and which by its ſtrange beginning hath raiſed in me no ſmall curioſity? I do not know ſo much of it, replies the Daughter of Anthony, as that I dare promiſe you any great ſatisfaction by the diſcourſe I might entertain you with thereof; and I am abſolutely ignorant of what may have happened to them ſince our departure from Rome, where we left them, and whence he came within theſe few dayes, which haply is of greateſt conſequence: But if you are ſo deſirous of it, I am confident you may promiſe your ſelf ſatisfaction from Lentulus himſelf, and I think I may preſume ſo far upon him as to make the propoſition to him.

With that ſhe calls Lentulus to her, while the other Princeſſes were taking their ſeats, and having in few words acquainted him how that in the diſcourſe ſhe had made to Artemiſa of the Affairs of their Family, ſhe had not forborn to give her ſome account of his concernments in the adventures of Ptolomey, and that having inform'd her of the original of his Love to Tullia, an adventure ſo much beſide the ordinary rate, had raiſed in that Princeſs ſo great an earneſtneſs to know the ſucceſs thereof, that ſhe thought her ſelf oblig'd to intreat him to ſatisfie her as to that particular, in caſe there were nothing he would be deſirous to conceal; aſſuring him further that beſides the obligation he ſhould put upon her, he might abſolutely truſt himſelf to the diſcretion of that Princeſs, as one that had very much the faculty to conceal thoſe things, whereof the diſcourſe or diſcovery might prove either regretful or prejudicial to him. Lentulus, at the firſt ſtart of this diſcourſe of Cleopatra, ſeem'd to be a little ſurpriz'd thereat, but it was not long ere he recover'd himſelf: And being one that had abundance of reſpect and compliance for her, he proteſted it would be with no ſmall ſatisfaction to himſelf, that he ſhould endeavour to give her all the demonſtrations ſhe could deſire of his obedience: And that ſince the Princeſs Artemiſa was deſirous of the Hiſtory of his afflictions, he would ſatisfie her deſires when ever ſhe pleaſed to command him to do it, and ſhould be very glad to take that occaſion to expreſs the reſpects he had for her, and which he was ambitious to render as well to her merit as her friendſhip, and with that to the affection of Prince Alexander, whom he had ever had a very high eſteem of, and of whoſe adventures he had heard ſome part in his way towards Alexandria. Artemiſa made a civil return to that obliging diſcourſe of Lentulus, and having excuſed her curioſity by alledging her concernments in the adventures of a perſon of his worth, and a good Friend of Alexander's, they conſulted together about the time wherein this relation was to be made and having reſolv'd that it muſt of neceſſity be done that day, becauſe of the arrival of the Emperour, after which they ſhould have ſuch leiſure as they then had, it was concluded it ſhould not be put off any longer then to the end of their walking. And whereas the Princeſs Cleopatra was ignorant of ſome part of the Adventures of Lentulus, and thoſe, as ſhe told him, the moſt important, they reſolv'd that Artemiſa ſhould return along with her to her Chamber, where, after they had deſir'd that liberty of Candace and Eliſa, they would ſtay with Lentulus, and hear the relation he was to entertain them withal. The buſineſs was put in execution as it had been reſolv'd, and the fair Princeſſes having their recreation in walking an hour longer, thoſe that were lodg'd in the Palace returned thither, taking Artemiſa along with them; Cleopatra having perſwaded Olympia and Arſinoe, that it was out of a deſign ſhe had to bring her to the acquaintance of a Brother of Alexanders. In a word, they were no ſooner gotten into Cleopatra's Chamber, whither they were followed by Ptolomey, Druſus, and Lentulus, but ſhe acquainted Ptolomey how much their whole Houſe was indebted to Artemiſa for the ſafety of Alexander, and the extraordinary obligation which ſhe her ſelf ſtood in to that Princeſs; and the young Prince, who had underſtood [Page] ſomething of it, finding in the perſon of Artemiſa all things worthy his reſpects and the Love of Alexander, rendred that fair Princeſs whatever might be due to her from his Brother, and expreſſed the reſentment he had for her goodneſs, and the honour ſhe did their houſe, with all imaginable acknowledgement and civility. Which paſſed, he grew very impatient to know what was become of Alexander, whom he thought to have [...]ound in Alexandria, ſince that Artemiſa was there: But Cleopatra told him, that he was gone thence with Marcellus, and that ſhe was in hopes of his return thither that day, or at furtheſt on the morrow.

After this diſcourſe and ſome other, whereby Artemiſa and Ptolomey mutually diſcovered the reſpects they had one for the other, the Princeſs Cleopatra acquainted Ptolomey with the deſign they had to underſtand the adventures of Lentulus, upon which notice he took away Druſus along with him, and left them alone with Lentulus. Cleopatra, going to Eliſa and Candace, intreated of them an hour's liberty to ſatisfie the curioſity of Artemiſa, promiſing them to return immediately after Supper, and to paſs away the Evening with them. Being, after this precaution given, return'd into her own Chamber, where ſhe had left Artemiſa with Lentulus, they went all together into the Cloſet, taking onely Camilla with them; where being ſate, and having ſeated Lentulus near them, when he perceived they gave him attention, he began his diſcourſe (which Cleopatra ordered him to addreſs to the Princeſs Artemiſa, as the leaſt acquainted with his adventures) and ſpoke in theſe terms.

The Hiſtory of LENTULUS and TULLIA.

IT was no ſlight enterprize that I engaged upon when I undertook the ſervice of Cicero's Daughter, and had I examined apparences, I could have expected but ſmall ſucceſs in the diſputeof a Heart prepoſſeſſed before-hand by a ſtrong paſſion and that raiſed by a merit ſuch as that of Ptolomey, a perſon illuſtrious and recommendable for his Birth and Vertue, and one amiable in all things. Nor indeed was it any effect of my Will that enclined me to proſecute that reſolution, but I was dragged to the purſuance thereof by the importunity of a Paſſion, to abate which, all the oppoſition of Reaſon Proved ineffectual, as being ſo ſtrong, that diſarming me of all the aſſiſtances which the other might have ſupplyed me with to fortifie my ſelf againſt its violence, left me no other liberty then that of ſighing, and conſidering, to my grief, the ſad and ſudden change of my condition. Certain it is, that I went out of Lucullus's Garden, a place fatal to me for the loſs of my freedome, as really, and as paſſionately in love, as I could have been, had I, for the ſpace of ſeveral years, ſuffered under the influence of Tullia's attraction, and that I was as much metamorphoſed during thoſe few minutes, wherein was effected that engagement upon my ſoul, as if I had ſpent a conſiderable part of my life in the ſervice of that perſon, to whom my D [...]ſtiny had but newly enſlaved me. Thoſe things which ſhould have ſecur'd me againſt that growing Paſſion, contributed to my further engagement therein: For howere it muſt be acknowled'd that the fair Tullia was infinitely amiable, and really able to raiſe love in perſons much leſs inclined thereto then my ſelf, yet is it my opinion, that, of a long time, I ſhould not have ſubmitted to the yoke ſhe hath forced upon me, if, in that fatal inſtant, her beauty, though of a vertue to work a far more miraculous effect, had not received a certain ſupply from her grief that made it more attractive then ordinary, and afforded it thoſe forces, againſt which my heart could not make the leaſt reſiſtance. Thoſe tears, whereof all-her conſtancy could not obſtruct the paſſage, gliding from her fair eyes down her beautifull face, and which (contrary to their opinion who would attribute that effect rather to laughter and joy) gave a new luſtre to her beauty; the languiſhing ſweetneſs was ſo remarkable in her eyes and all over her countenance; the gracefulneſs of her ſinging, perfor'd with much Art, and heightned by an admirable voice; the words, wherein, notwithſtanding the eclipſe of her paſſion, ſhe diſcovered ſo much prudence, and ſo great vertu; in a word, ſo many ſeveral things having conſpired together to give my heart the fatal aſſault, wrought it in the firſt place into a certain tenderneſs, grief, and compaſſion, and afterwards reduced it into ſuch a poſture, as that it was in an abſolute incapacity to make [Page] the leaſt oppoſition againſt the imperious Paſſion that poſſeſt it ſelf thereof. In fine, Madam, I was in love, nay in an inſtant was eagerly in love with the beautifull, the afflicted and the paſſionate Tullia. Ptolomey, to whom I diſcovered my affection, at firſt made ſport at it, but afterwards bemoaned my Deſtiny. From that very firſt day was I grown a great lover of ſolitude, and I thought all company inſupportable, but that which I had then left. During the remainder of that day, and the night following, I imagined to my ſelf that Tullia was perpetually preſent, in the ſame condition I had ſeen her, as well engaged in the converſation ſhe had had with Emilia in the Arbour, as at my laſt meeting with her, when I had her ſwounding in my arms, and ſaw her breathleſs in Emilia's lap. The night which for that time had drawn a curtain over her fair eyes, and the paleneſs which during thoſe few minutes ſpread it ſelf over her countenance, ſeemed not to me to have taken ought from her Beauty: So that whenever I repreſented her to me in that poſture, and that it came into my thoughts it was for Ptolomey, an ungratefull obſtinate young man, who had ſeen her in that affliction without being moved to the leaſt compaſſion; O ye Gods, cried I, is it poſſible that Tullia, the object of my adorations, ſhould be reduced to theſe extremities for a perſons ſake who is not in the leaſt ſenſible of her ſufferings? and that he who is ready to die for her, dares not hope for any part of that which another ſo ungratefully diſdains! O Tullia, what cruel Deſtiny reigns over thee, that thou muſt love him that ſhuns thee, and art ſo inſenſible of his devotions that dies for thee! O Ptolomey, is there any neceſſity that thou ſhouldſt be poſſeſſor of a Good thou do ſt contemn, and that thy unfortunate Friend ſhould derive from that Good, which thou depriveſt him of without the leaſt enjoyment to thy ſelf, all his hopes, and all the happineſs of his life! O Lentulus, muſt thou needs fall in love with Tullia, whoſe ſoul is inſuſceptible of all impreſſions other then what it hath received for Ptolomey or ſhouldſt thou hate Ptolomey, who, though not chargeable with any ſuch deſign, will prove the occaſion of all thy unhappineſs.

Such and the like expreſſions did my firſt agitation break forth it ſelf in; whereupon making ſome reflections on the change of my fortune, I ſummoned all the aſſiſtances of my Reaſon, the better to fortifie my ſelf againſt it. Not that I could hearken to any conſideration that ſhould divert me from continuing my addreſſes to Tullia; if my own inclinations engaged me thereto, ſave onely that of the love ſhe was prepoſſeſſed with for Ptolomey, which misfortune onely removed, all things elſe ſeemed to encourage me in the ſervices I had for that excellent perſon, as well in regard of her diſpoſition, as her birth, and the equality of our conditions, which gave me much reaſon to hope a fortunate iſſue of my deſign; but that one obſtacle appeared ſo formidable and ſo cruel, that upon the leaſt reflection I made on it, I fell into a kind of irrecoverable affliction. There had been heretofore a very great enmity between our Families, upon occaſion, that one of our Houſe and Name had been unfortunately engaged in Catiline's Conſpiracy, which Cicero, during the time of his Conſul-ſhip, had diſcovered; inſomuch, that Lentulus, with Cithegus, and divers others of the nobleſt Families in Rome loſt their lives for it: But ſince Cicero s death theſe diviſions had been appeaſed; and though the familiarity between me and his Son was not very great, it proceeded rather out of the intractableneſs of his diſpoſition, then any reſentment might be left of our differences. So that looking on my ſelf as of a conſiderable rank among the Romanes, and ſufficiently advantag'd as to all thoſe things that come into the conſiderations of Marriage, I might with reaſon entertain a confidence, that Cicero and all Tullia's Friends would not have ſlighted me, had I acquainted them with the deſign I had to ſerve her, ſince they had before allowed of the addreſſes of Cecinna, who (I may ſpeak it without flattery to my ſelf) could not be preferred before me. But I ſhould rather have ſubmitted to the abſolute defeat of all my hopes, then endeavour the attainment of my felicity by that way: And though I had ſome reaſon to imagine, that Cicero would, the more to oblige me, have forc'd his Siſter to a compliance, as one that, notwithſtanding the prae-diſpoſal of her affection, would have out of Prudence, ſubmitted to his deſires; yet ſhould I have choſen rather to continue unfortunate all my life, then make a Conqueſt of Tullia by any other diſpoſal then her own, or owe my happineſs to any thing but her free inclinations.

And this manner of proceeding I thought very rational; for if, after I had applyed my ſelf to her Brother, Tullia her ſelf ſhould have refuſed to comply with his intentions, or that her Brother, ſenſible of her averſion thereto, would not have exerciſed the power he had over her to my ſatisfaction, I muſt have born all the ſhame and regret of ſuch an overture; and it, on the contrary, Tullia conforming her ſelf to the will of Cicero would have conſent▪ to my pretenſions, as it might be hoped from ſuch a prudence as ſhe was owner of, I muſt needs, with no ſmall regret, be aſſur'd, as being ſatisfi'd of her affection for Ptolomey, that, to proſecute my own contentment, I ſhould make a perſon I lov'd beyond my ſelf, the moſt [Page] unfortunate upon earth, and ſo might juſtly fear, that notwithſtanding all her vertue, I ſhould never have the abſolute poſſeſſion of a Heart which lay ſo ſtrongly engaged elſewhere. This Heart therefore was that I reſolv'd the conqueſt of, or rather to diſpoſſeſs it of the Love it was fortifi'd with for Ptolomey: and this reſolution I ſaw well enough could not be effectuated but through a many difficulties, it being no ordinary Maſter-piece in the Art of Love, to force out of a Soul an impreſſion engraven therein by an exceſſive merit, eſpecially ſuch a one as that of Tullia, who had expreſſed ſuch a height of conſtancy in the generous oppoſition ſhe made againſt the love of Julius Antonius, a Prince truly great and ſhining in all thoſe qualities that make a perſon amiable. 'Tis true, I could not but conceive a little weak glimpſe of hope from the aſſurance I had of Ptolomey's backwardneſs to meet her love, or rather from the profeſſion he had made to me, that he would never love her while he liv'd: and accordingly infer thence, that the great courage of Tullia would at laſt be tir d out by the diſdain of that young man, and that ſhe would endeavour to break thoſe bonds, which could not but make ſomething for my advantage. But Madam, be pleaſed but to favour me with a ſlight reflection on the ſtrange poſture of my affairs, and conſider how much I deſerv'd compaſſion. No queſtion, but it muſt needs be a great ſatisfaction to me, that Ptolomey would not love Tullia, and that I grounded not my happineſs on any thing ſo much as the a verſion he had for her: Yet were there certain intervals wherein the ſincere affection I had for her put me upon wiſhes much againſt my ſelf, as ſuch as wherein I ſhould be far from deſiring he might not love her: for, loving her beyond my ſelf how advantagious ſoever it might prove to me, I could not wiſh her perpetually unfortunate through the averſion of what ſhe ſo much affected. During thoſe reflections I knew not how I ought to demean my ſelf towards him; but certain it is, I durſt not, without a great violence to my ſelf, have intreated him to continue his cruelty towards a perſon whom I ador'd; and though I ſhould have been much troubled to ſee him earneſtly fallen in love with Tullia, yet had I ſuch a tenderneſs for her contentment, when my own was ſo much concern'd, that I never made it my requeſt to him that he ſhould not love her.

In the mean time, I thought it long to have another ſight of thoſe fair eyes that hath wounded me ſo deeply; but having no great acquaintance at Cicero'e houſe, but being well known to Emilia, and her Husband Scipio, of them it was that I expected ſome aſſiſtance, and conſequently to them was it fit I ſhould addreſs my ſelf. The firſt viſit I made to Emilia, I intended not to make any mention at all of Tullia, to prevent an imagination ſhe might conceive, that I viſited her onely out of ſome deſign I had upon her. But ſhe ſpoke of her firſt; and whereas the accident that had hapned to her in our preſence gave her occaſion enough to bring her upon the Stage, ſhe ſoon engag'd me upon that diſcourſe, and put me into no ſmall affliction, when ſhe told me that ever ſince that fatal day ſhe had lain very ſick, nay that her ſickneſs was not without ſome danger, as to her life. Had Emilia taken notice of my countenance when ſhe gave me thataccount of her, ſhe might have obſerv'd in it ſuch a change as would in ſome meaſure have acquainted her with what paſſed in my Heart. That I was extreamly troubled at the misfortune of her Friend was a thing I could not diſſemble, as what might have been attributed to pure civility and the reſpects I had for her; whereupon I took occaſion to tell her, That I had conceiv'd an infinite eſteem for that excellent perſon, and ſhould take it as a great obligation done me, might I [...]e admitted to wait on her in a viſit to that diſtreſſed Lady. Emilia told me that might eaſily be done, when Tullia's indiſpoſition were a little remitted, and that ſhe would take me with her, when ſhe were to be ſeen; but for that time her condition was ſuch, as that ſhe in a manner ſaw none but her ſelf, and hardly bore with the converſation of her neareſt hindred. In a word, Madam, it is not eaſily imaginable what ſtrange things paſſed in Tullia's thoughts at that time; and ſince my relation is to dilate it ſelf into an hiſtorical account of her as well as my ſelf, I ſhall acquaint you with that part thereof, which hath ſince come to my knowledge.

That excellent perſon, in whom a Paſſion raiſed by the indignation of Heaven might well diſturb her enjoyments, but neither alter her vertue, nor abate her courage, had been ſenſibly mov'd at the inſulting behaviour of Ptolomey towards her. And whereas there could nothing fall from him, but muſt be levell'd right at the Heart, the diſdain he had expreſt towards her, prov'd not onely the occaſion of her ſwounding and the weakneſs conſequent thereto, but alſo left in her mind an impreſſion of grief, which made the body feel ſome part of the indiſpoſition of the mind: inſomuch that ſhe was no ſooner retir'd with Emilia, but ſhe was put into a bed with a violent Fever, and for ſome days after was in ſome danger. I have been inform'd that the danger ſhe was in, as to point of life, ſuch as not a little alarm'd her Friends, ſeem'd to be very welcome to her, and that ſeeing her ſelf fallen into a misfortune, which ſhe look'd on no otherwiſe then a crime, ſhe thought her ſelf unworthy to live, and was deſirous to ſee the period of her life, that ſhe might ſee the end of a Paſſion, which, in her judgement, eclipſed all the glory of it, and [Page] muſt have darkned her memory with ſhame and confuſion. Her indiſpoſition therefore, producing in her mind an effect wholly contrary to what it was wont to do in other perſons, brought her a double ſatisfaction, partly through the ſupply ſhe expected from it againſt the grief ſhe was o'rburthened with, partly by reaſon of the convenience ſhe derived from it to humor her melancholy thoughts without the diſturbance of converſation and company, and the opportunity ſhe had to diſguiſe the diſeaſes of her mind with the appearances of thoſe of her body.

Hence came it, that during her ſickneſs, ſhe admitted few viſits, and unleſs it were thoſe whom ſhe muſt of neceſſity ſee, onely Emilia had acceſs to her. And whereas ſhe was the onely perſon ſhe admitted into the Cabinet of her moſt ſecret apprehenſions, to her alone was it that ſhe made her complaints, and disburthened her affliction, and of her alone did ſhe expect an an abatement thereof. You now ſee, ſaid ſhe to her, you now ſee me reduced to the condition I have ſo often wiſhed my ſelf, in ever ſince that inſupportable misfortune befel me which hath blaſted all the luſtre of my days, and wherewith you onely are acquainted. You ſee Death, which onely can furniſh us with neceſſary remedies, comes in to my aſſiſtance according to my wiſhes, and the need I ſtood in of him; and I hope that by his means you will be delivered from the ſhame which you may ſuffer through either my weakneſs or want of courage. The inſolent Youth, who triumphs over my heart and all the glory of my life, ſhall never know his victory, and ſhall not have the ſatisfaction either to laugh at my weakneſs, or hug himſelf in his own revenge. This life, which continued had expoſed me to ſuch miſcarriages as might have diſcovered to him my misfortune, and his own advantage, now draws towards its period, and it is already grown too inſupportable and odious to me, not to entertain the approaches of Death without abundance of comfort. O Tullia, had it been the good pleaſure of the Gods to ſhorten thy unfortunate thread but ſome few moneths before thou hadſt dy'd in the height of an unblemiſhed Glory! But thou wouldeſt not haply have wanted ſome deſires do live, whereas now thou are ready to loſe it, with a ſatisfaction equal to what other perſons are ſenſible of in the Meridian of their beſt fortunes.

To this effect was the diſcourſe ſhe made to Emilia, who, out of the ſincere Friendſhip ſhe had for her, diſſolved into tears to hear her ſpeak, and forbore not to make thoſe remonſtrances to her which ſhe thought any way likely to divert her from that averſion which ſeemed to have for life. But her diſcourſes wrought little on the apprehenſions of Tullia; and whereas, notwithſtanding the greatneſs of her courage, the wound ſhe had received gall'd the very bottom of her heart, ſhe could not put out of her thoughts, nor indeed forbear to ſpeak of him that had given it her; Ah my dear Emilia, ſaid ſhe, looking on her with a certain inſinuation of paſſion, could the cruel adverſary but have gueſſed at the true cauſe of the accident that's befallen me, how confident and fiery had he been, and, if I miſtake not his humour, how inſolently would he have trampled on a wretch, againſt whom he is exaſperated for the diſgrace of Julius Antonius! With what ſcorn would he have aggravated my unhappineſs, had he but known the advantage my cruel Deſtiny had given him over my heart; & with what preſumption would he not have looked on this deplorable change of my humour and fortune [...] I am of opinion, ſaid Emilia, to comfort her, that he would be have himſelf much otherwiſe, and that if he were ſatisfied of the affection you have for him, I do not think but he would be ſenſible thereof. Ah, my dear Emilia, replies the Daughter of Cicero, flatter me not, by telling me that which abates nothing of my grief! I am very confident that Ptolomey neither loves me nor ever will love me while he lives; but you have heard it from me already, and ſhall find me affirming it to the laſt gaſp, That, though I were really lov'd by him, yet would his affection contribute nothing to my content; that I ſhould ſlight it as I have done that of his Brother, and that he ſhould ſooner come to the knowledge of my death, then of the true ſentiments I have for him. Not that the pure hatred I have for his Houſe obliges me to this kind of procedure, or that I have not as much reaſon to hate the ſon of Cleopatra as the ſon of Fulvia; but my precedent actions are the rule whereby I regulate the ſubſequent; and that ſince I have dealt as I did with Julius Antonius, I ought to continue my conſtancy to the end, and die rather then remit any thing of it.

Theſe were her ordinary diſcourſes, the real expreſſions of her apprehenſions at that time; but not long after, what reſiſtance ſoever ſhe could make againſt that which ſhe called weakneſs, ſhe could not forbear falling into it. So that looking on Emilia with an aſpect not diſcovering any mark of that violence, which ſhe had but ſo lately expreſſed, ‘Emilia, ſaid ſhe to her, I deſire you by all the Friendſhip that hath paſt between us, to tell me, without any flattery, a thing I very much long to know, & I which cannot ask without confuſion; Did you obſerve how Ptolomey entertain'd the accident that happen'd to me for his ſake; and while I lay panting for breath betweens your arms, and in his preſence, ſaw you in his countenance any mark of grief or compaſſion? ſeemed he [Page] to be any way mov'd at ſo ſad a ſpectacle, or did he make a reflection upon it like that of his companion, whoſe countenance upon the firſt opening of my eyes I perceived bathed in tears?’ Emilia could not tell her truly that Ptolomey had ſeemed moved thereat as I was; and yet ſhe as much as lay in her power diſguiſed his inſenſibility, and endeavoured to repreſent with the greateſt advantage the ſervice which the Prince had done her upon that occaſion, though proceeding from pure civility. Though Tullia could not abſolutely beleive what ſhe ſaid, yet for ſome ſmall time ſhe hearkned, with ſatisfaction, to what flattered her humour; but afterwards returning to her diffidences and reſolutions, Flatter me no longer, my dear Emilia, ſaid ſhe, I muſt die, 'tis the only remedy I know to get out of my miſeries, and the onely one whereto without ſhame I can have recourſe.

Thus did Tullia paſs over ſome days, during which, through the little love ſhe had to life, ſhe really brought it into ſome danger: but ſhe was opportunely relieved, and by the continual attendance and conſolations of Emilia, her body and mind receiving ſome refreſhment, ſhe grew ſomewhat better, and within a ſmall time gave hopes of a perfect recovery. From the time that I firſt underſtood from Emilia that ſhe was ſick, I either ſent, or went my ſelf every day to Emilia's to enquire after her health: And Emilia having ſeveral times acquainted her with it, ſhe flattered her ſelf into an imagination, that Ptolomey, whom I daily converſed with, might be ſomewhat concerned in that civility; inſomuch that I have been told, that imagination, wherein Emilia confirmed her all that lay in her power, contributed not a little to her recovery.

As ſoon as any were permitted to viſit her, Emilia, whom I daily ſollicited to that purpoſe, took me along with her, yet repreſenting it to me as a very particular favour, and making me believe, that Tullia as yet ſuffered but very few perſons to come to her. She ſtill kept her bed, as being not thought ſtrong enough to get up, though her Fever had left her ſome dayes before: But even in the condition ſhe ſeemed to be in, though ſhe were very pale by reaſon of her ſickneſs, yet my love enlightening my eyes and imagination, repreſented her to me more beautiful then any thing that pretends to beauty. The ſight of her raiſed a little diſturbance in me, and her looking on me, bringing Ptolomey into her mind, it might be perceived ſhe was ſomewhat troubled and ſurprized. Coming near the bed, Emilia, who preſented me to her, aſſuming the diſcourſe; Lentulus, ſaid ſhe to Tullia, was ſo officious to releive you in that accident which occaſioned your indiſpoſition, that it is but juſt he ſhould be admitted among the firſt to viſit you, and that he ſhould congratulate the recovery of your health proportionably to the affliction he conceived at your ſickneſs.

I was in ſuch a diſturbance through the earneſtneſs of my Paſſion, or, to ſay better, at ſuch a loſs, that, not able to add any thing to Emilia's diſcourſe, I ſuffered Tullia to ſecond what ſhe ſaid, who gave me thanks as well for the aſſiſtance I had afforded her in Lucullus's Garden, as the tenderneſs I had expreſſed towards her during her ſickneſs, and the pains I had taken to viſit her. I replyed to her diſcourſe in the complements ordinary upon ſuch occaſions, and which I repeat not, becauſe that kind of entertainment deſerves not to be brought upon the Stage a ſecond time, nor indeed any thing of the converſation that paſſed between us at that firſt viſit, which was onely about things indifferent. Onely I am to tell you, that I went away much more ſick then I had been before; and that this ſecond ſight and the diſcourſes of Tullia widened my wound to above half what it was before.

Two daies after that viſit I gave her another upon my own account, and, by the converſation we had together, making experience of the admirable excellencies of her mind, if before I was in love, it might have been now ſaid, I had loſt my ſelf in it. No doubt, but my eyes, and certain ſighs which I was not able to keep in, might have given her ſome notice of what I ſuffered in my heart, but my tongue was far from the like confidence, as having put me into ſuch a fear at the firſt as made me dumb as ſoon I would open my mouth to diſcover my ſelf. I bethought my ſelf therefore to manifeſt my intentions by other ways more ſolemn then thoſe of diſcourſe; ſo that the day being come on which is celebrated the birth of Auguſtus by divers magnificent ſpectacles, wherein the young Nobility of Rome is wont to appear with abundance of ſplendour, and to adorn their perſons and their equipage with the Liverties of the Ladies they ſerve, I reſolved to make my appearance in the Shews with the Liveries of Tullia, diſpoſing of them all about, as well on my ſelf as my Chariot, and all the perſons of my retinue. I may preſume to affirm, that I was not to be numbered among thoſe that made leaſt appearances there, and if Druſus's magnificence had not obſcured all that was to be ſeen that day, I might haply have been obſerved as well as divers others,

[Page] The Colours of Tullia are white and green, which I interlac'd all about with her characters, diſpoſing them as well upon my Arms as upon whatever belong'd to me intermingled with Mottoes and Devices, which as they expreſſed my Gallantry, ſo were they alſo in ſome manner the demonſtrations of my Paſſion. I ſhall not need to trouble you, Madam, with any relation thereof, becauſe I doubt not but that the Princeſs Cleopatra hath given you a particular account of the magnificences of that day, ſince ſhe hath acquainted you with the Loves of Eruſus, who carried away all the glory of it. Ptolomey, who was preſent when I put on my cloaths, and took order for all things that day, and who onely knew what none elſe could imagine, of what I had in my thoughts, could not, though he withal bemoan'd my caſe, forbear laughing at the earneſtneſs I diſcover'd towards a perſon that was at ſuch a diſtance from the affection I might expect from her, and in whom haply he, by reaſon of his a verſion had not obſerv'd thoſe excellencies, which have prov'd Charms and Chains to me. Many perſons took notice in the ſolemnities of that day, that my appearance therein was in the quality of Servant to Tullia; though they were ignorant whether it proceeded from Love, or was a pure piece of Gallantry, as it might have hapned.

But the next day going to Emilia's, whom I conſtantly viſited, and whoſe favour it was my main buſineſs to acquire; as ſoon as ever ſhe ſaw me, You are very much to be commended, ſaid ſhe to me, for being ſo mindful of thoſe that are ſick and abſent, and I ſhall take occaſion every where to celebrate your Generoſity, which hath made you neglect ſo many fair Ladies that were in health, and preſent at the ſolemnities, to beſtow the honour of your magnificence on one that was abſent and indiſpoſed, whom we may be haply acquainted with. No queſtion but ſhe is of your acquaintance, reply'd I very ſeriouſly, but you were not very familiar with my intention, if you call that Generoſity which proceeds from a far more powerful cauſe; and I may very well have endeavour'd to beſtow one day with the greateſt ſolemnity on her to whoſe ſervice I have devoted thoſe of my whole life. Are you in good earneſt, replies Emilia, or is it yet a ſmall remainder of Gallantry whereof, to the honour of my Friend, you made ſo great oſtentation? I ſpeak to you, reply'd I, but with too much ſincerity; and as I dare acknowledge my ſelf to you guilty of a Paſſion full of love, innocence, and vertue, without derogating from the reſpect I owe you, ſo I deſpair not your pardon if I tell you, that I am and ſhall be while I live infinitely in love with Tullia.

Upon that expreſſion, Emilia putting on a ſerious countenance. I think my Kinſwoman very happy, ſaid ſhe to me, to have gain'd the affections of a perſon equal, as to worth and extraction, to Lentulus; and certainly I could not have wiſh'd any thing more to her advantage. But ſince the eſteem I have for you is extraordinary, and that I am truly tender of both your fortune and ſatisfaction, I conceive my ſelf oblig'd to tell you, that Tullia's mind is much different from the apprehenſion you may have of it; and it is much my fear, that, as things ſtand, you will not make thoſe advantages of your merit and the demonſtrations of you Love, which I could wiſh you might; and conſequently, though I am as much as may be a Friend to Tullia, I would adviſe you, if it be poſſible, to diſpoſe your affections elſewhere. This diſcourſe of Emilia added nothing to the difficulty I had foreſeen my ſelf, and aſſur'd of the ſincerity wherewith ſhe ſpake to me, I was the more inclin'd to make a further diſcovery of my condition to her, and to beg her aſſiſtance.

While things ſtood thus between us, comes in Scipio, of whoſe Friendſhip having a more then ordinary confidence, I made no difficulty to proceed before him in the diſcourſe I had begun to his Lady, & having repeated to him what I had already ſaid of my inclinations for Tullia, and proteſted to both, that that Paſſion ſhould never expire but with my life, I begg'd their aſſiſtance in a deſign whereat their Friend could take no offence, and to further my acqueſt of her Heart, which was the only thing I wiſhed in the world, as being reſolved not to make any application to her Brother, till ſhe ſhould approve my ſo doing, and favour my pretenſions her ſelf.

Emilia and Scipio liſtned to my diſcourſe with much attention and ſeemed to be troubled at the knowledge they had of my being thus engaged; but not both equally, in as much as Scipio, being ignorant of Tulliaes Paſſion for Ptolomey, and foreſeeing nothing might ſo much oppoſe my intentions as Tullia's ſeverity, conceived a hope that with time and a conſtancy of addreſſes it might be overcome: But Emilia, who knew much more then her Husband, judged otherwiſe of the buſineſs, and was almoſt at deſpair of all good ſucceſs. She alledg'd to me all the reaſons ſhe could, concealing onely thoſe which ſhe knew to be moſt preſſing and perſwaſive, to divert me from that affection. I knew them as well as her ſelf, but thought it not ſit to diſcover ſo much, out of an opinion that ſhe had not acquainted her Husband with that ſecret of her Friend, and a conceit, that it was yet too ſoon to give her an account of the knowledge I had of it. In fine, they promiſed me all the aſſiſtance which their intereſt with Tullia could procure, though Emilia ſufficiently diſcovered that it was with little [Page] hope of ſucceſs that ſhe made me that promiſe, and that it was apparent in the carriage of Scipio, that the unfortunate iſſue of the deſign he had been engaged in to ſerve Julius Antonius in his addreſſes to that inexorable Beauty, had much deterred him from undertaking the like employment for any other that ſhould pretend to her affections. And yet, they might both very well undertake to do me ſome favour in my affairs, without any injury to the Friendſhip they had for Tullia; and if I may be allowed to ſpeak it my ſelf, both as to birth, and whatever elſe is of importance in order to marriage, the advantage of the Match lay rather on my ſide then Tullia's; nor could Emilia, though ever ſo much concerned in her affairs, do any thing more truly advantageous for her Friend, then by endeavouring to wean her out of an affection contrary to her content, glory, and eſtabliſhment, to engage her into another, wherein ſhe might find whatever ſhe loſt in the other.

From that very day, did ſhe endeavour to repreſent, as a very great obligation, what I had done for her honour at the publick Shews, and to perſwade her, that it was not, as ſhe would needs interpret it, an effect of pure Gallantry. Tullia was as earneſt in the contrary opinion, and maintained very ſtifly, that there was yet leſs probability it ſhould proceed from any love to her, and that in all likelyhood I could not have fallen in love with a perſon I had no oftner ſeen, and whom, when I had, I had found in a condition more likely to raiſe compaſſion then love. After a long conteſtation, wherein Emilia thought it not fit to acquaint her with the confeſſion I had made to her; ‘I ſhould be very glad, added ſhe, pretending to comply with Tullia's judgement, my opinion ſhould prove falſe, and yours true; and whereas Lentulus is no doubt a perſon of very much worth, and deſerves a very good fortune, all that know him are obliged to wiſh for his ſake, that he would not addreſs his affections where they are ſo ſlightly entertained. You are much in the right, anſwers Tullia, and it is the greateſt misfortune could have happened to Lentulus, to love an unfortunate wretch that ſhall never be capable of any ſentiments for him, other then the eſteem due to his Merit, and one whoſe heart is already unhappily engaged for that remainder which ſhe expects of life. It may be hoped, replies Emilia, that that engagement will not bear date with your life, and beſides the aſſiſtance you may expect from your courage, it is not impoſſible but that the ſervices of ſome worthy perſon that caſts his affection on you will force out of your mind the memory of a man that neither loves you, nor you would by any means affect. Ah, my dear Emilia, replies Tullia, let's have no more diſcourſe of it! you are too well acquainted with my misfortune to be really of that opinion, nor is it for me to flatter my ſelf any longer in the miſery whereto I am reduced.’ With theſe words ſhe ſo burſt forth into tears, that Emilia, deploring her condition, was obliged to fall upon ſome other diſcourſe.

While Tullia continu'd thus in a fruitleſs conſumption for Ptolomey, I might be truly ſaid to die a gradual death for Tullia, and what was worſt, I lay ſtill dying, and durſt not open my mouth to diſcover to her the diſeaſe that haſten'd me to my Grave: Not that I am naturally a wanting as to confidence, or that I was afraid to offend Tullia, by acquainting her with the paſſion I had for her; but the knowledge I had of her unfortunate prepoſſeſſion benumb'd my heart upon the leaſt reſolve or reflection to that purpoſe, as knowing not in what manner I could diſcover my love to a perſon whom I knew pre-engag'd in another affection, and ſo far from being in a condition to entertain that which I had for her. Upon this conſideration I paſſed away ſeveral days in a languiſhing condition, and I think I ſhould have kept ſilence yet a while longer, if chance had not befriended me with that which I could not ſo ſoon have expected from my reſolution. Tullia was by this time recover'd, though ſtill languiſhing and melancholy by reaſon of the indiſpoſition of her mind, which ſuffer'd not the body to advance to perfect health; and though ſhe were extreamly given to ſolitude, yet could ſhe not avoid the entertainment of divers perſons that came to viſit her: Having always been very much inclin'd to Study and Learning, and that onely ſhe of her Houſe inherited ſome part of the knowledge and Eloquence of her Father, ſhe was particularly viſited by all thoſe who were remarkable for their skill and command in the nobleſt Sciences. Among theſe, the famous Mathematian Thraſyllus, whoſe reputation is ſo great all over the world, and whom the friendſhip and protection of Tiberius had engag'd to follow Auguſtus's Court, came often to ſee her, and conferred with her ſometimes of the diſcoveries he made in humane affairs by the help of his Science. One day we caſually met together at her Chamber, whither came alſo Emilia, and ſome other Ladies of her neareſt acquaintance, with whom I paſſed away the time while Thraſyllus was [...]n private diſcourſe with Tullia. I was at no great diſtance from him; and though I talked with Hortenſia, yet heard I ſome part of what he ſaid to Tullia. In fine, perceiving he went on very ſeriouſly in his diſcourſe, I hearkened to him more attentively, and heard, that after ſome words which I repeat not, ‘I ſhall not, continued he, conceal any longer from you, what I [Page] have found out of your Deſtiny and the ſtate of your Mind. No doubt, but you are paſſionately in love, and are alſo as paſſionately lov'd; but this love is not diſpoſed with with juſtice, in that, without making any one happy, it makes two perſons extreamly unfortunate.’ Thraſyllus, being a perſon better acquainted with the Stars then verſed in matters of Courtſhip and common civility, ſpoke theſe words with ſo little diſcretion, and ſo loud, that Tullia could not but imagine I had over heard them. A ſuddain redneſſe immediately ſpread it ſelf over her face, ſuch as ſince her ſickneſſe was not very ordinary there, and ſhe was in ſuch a confuſion of thoughts, that ſhe was abſolutely at a loſſe what to ſay, or what anſwer to make Thraſyllus. I know not whether the notice he took of it occaſion'd his parting from her; but leaving her, he comes up to Hortenſia whom I was in diſcourſe with, whereupon ſeeing Tullia diſengaged, I went to her, and left Thraſyllus with Hortenſia. Tullia continued ſtill in a thoughtfull penſiveneſs, having not conquered the confuſion into which the words of Thraſyllus had put her, or rather the perſwaſion ſhe was of that I had over-heard them, and the reflection ſhe could not but make thereon, drew from her certain ſighs, which ſhe ineffectually endeavoured to ſmother. I looked on her for ſome time in that poſture, and growing ſomewhat confident upon her ſilence, Madam, ſaid I to her, may I not preſume to ask you, whether your thoughts are not employed about the laſt words Thraſyllus ſpoke to you? Upon theſe words ſhe recovered her ſelf; and looking on me with a countenance languiſhing, yet not without mildneſs; It ſeems then, you over-heard, ſaid ſhe to me, what Thraſyllus ſaid to me, whence I perceive you make it your buſineſs to hearken to the diſcourſes of others, while you were thought engaged in the entertainment of Hortenſia? I have indeed, replyed I, over-heard Thraſyllus's diſcourſe, though not out of any deſign I had to do it; and indeed he ſpoke it ſo loud, that it was hard not to hear it to the place where I ſ [...]te: And if I am chargeable with indiſcretion for acquainting you with the notice I took of it, you ſhould pardon it, out of a conſideration of the concernment I have therein, and the skill I have in ſome meaſure to explain to you what you may haply think obſcure in it. I find it all ſo obſcure, replyed ſhe, that I do not apprehend any thing of it: But though I am well ſatisfied of Thraſyllus's experience and knowledg, yet do I not believe it alwayes infallible, nor think my ſelf obliged to trouble my thoughts to find out the explication of all he may ſay to me. The laſt thing he ſaid to you, reply'd I, is, in my judgment, of great conſequence, and contains ſomething myſterious; but without any direction of the Stars, I could my ſelf, and that with more certainty then Thraſyllus, have acquainted you with one half of what you have heard from him; and if I am ignorant who that felicifi'd perſon is that may deſerve your affection, I am on the other ſide but too infallibly certain, that it is Lentulus adores you, and Lentulus that dies for your ſake.

Tullia was a little ſurprized at theſe words; but not long after recovering her ſelf, I ſee then ſaid ſhe to me, that your knowledge of my Destiny is much below Thraſyllus's, or at leaſt that you diſſemble what you do know, and would ſpeak after another rate, if you were either better skilled in it, or ſpoke more ſincerely▪ For my ſincerity, reply'd I, you need not, I conceive, queſtion it, while I ſhall tell you things that ſtand in ſuch a complyance with probability; and for the knowledge of your Deſtiny, the intereſt I have in it makes me ſay that I am more ſeen in it then Thraſyllus. But without medling with the other part of his diſcourſe, wherein I find little likelihood, or at leaſt, little juſtice, I ſhall faſten only on that which I have undertaken to explain, and accordingly aſſure you, that I am the perſon meant by Thraſyllus, by whom you are paſſionately belov'd; but I ſhall withal proteſt to you, by whatever I think moſt ſacred, nay by your ſelf, whom I religiouſly adore, that nothing ſhall ever hinder me from being yours to the laſt gasp of my life.

This proteſtation I made trembling, and by all the action thereof diſcovering the reality and violence of the paſſion that forced me to ſpeak; and Tullia, who had heard it with a countenance more ſerious then ſhe expreſſed before, rejoyning to my diſcourſe with an exceſs of modeſty, ‘I am no more obliged, ſaid ſhe to me, to credit this confirmation, then I was your former diſcourſe; but ſhall tell you, that, having thoſe reſpects I have for you, 'twould be one of my greateſt afflictions it ſhould be true. What affliction, reply'd I with an accent ſubmiſſively paſſionate, can accrue to you from an Affection full of reſpect, innocence and vertue; and why will you envy me the glory, to ſerve you, a relation I prefer before the Empire of the World? You know, replies Tullia, that according to the diſcourſe of Thraſyllus, I am onely deſtin'd to make people unfortunate, and knowing you to be a perſon of excellent worth, as I do, nay further, being much obliged to you for the good offices you have done me, I ſhould be much the more troubled that unhappy lot ſhould fall on you, rather then ſome wretched perſon, whoſe fortunes & enjoyments I ſhould be leſs tender of. Ah! Madam, reply'd I, bewail not my Deſtiny, ſince it is in your power to make it what you pleaſe; & call to mind, that Thraſyllus told you indeed, that you make ſome unfortunate, but not that you cannot but make them unforunate, I am that unfortunate man & [Page] no doubt ſhall be ſuch, while my addreſſes are directed to you without any hope of acceptance; but if compaſſion, and the aſſurances I ſhall give you of my affection even to my death, may work upon your heart, I would not change fortunes with the happieſt perſon upon earth. I cannot, replies Tullia, give you any encouragement to hope for any ſuch change in my heart, without ſome deſign to deceive you: And ſince I really have too high an eſteem for you to be guilty of ſuch an intention, I am to deſire your reflection on the precedent part of life, that you may thence infer what humour I am of, and what reſolutions I may have taken. Further, added ſhe, with a ſigh ſhe was not able to ſtifle, my life is croſſed with thoſe misfortunes which are not yet come to your knowledg, and it will be your happineſs not to have to do with the perſon or fortunes of one wretched by decree.’

Theſe words were accented with ſo preſſing a Paſſion, that it was with much ado ſhe kept her fair eyes from giving but too too evident marks of her affliction, and the moiſtneſs which I perceiv'd caſt a certain clowdineſs about them, wrought ſuch compaſſion in my ſoul, as that, during that interval I deſired things prejudicial to my ſelf, and wiſhed Ptolomey loved her, that ſo ſhe might be the leſs miſerable. The ſad reflection I made on that cruel circumſtance of my fortune, tyed up my tongue for a time; and when I was preparing to ſpeak, Hortenſia and Thraſyllus came up to us, and for all that day after I could not faſten on any private diſcourſe with Tullia. I was not, I muſt confeſs, a little ſatisfied at what I had had, as imagining I had broke the Ice of my Affairs with much better ſucceſs then indeed I could have expected. And though Tullia, by her Anſwers, had endeavoured to put me out of all hope I might derive from her diſcourſes, yet had I not heard any thing from her which I knew not before, and methought ſhe had without any indignation, entertained the diſcovery I made to her of my affection. In fine, I flattered my ſelf into a perſwaſion, that my condition might be better then my expectation; and the very ſame day having viſited Emilia at her own houſe, after I had given her an account of all the diſcourſe had paſſed between Tullia and my ſelf, I endeavoured to make her comprehend, that, contrary to her opinion, I might entertain ſome hope. Emilia, who knew what the other concealed from me, and what I knew as well as ſhe, would not flatter me any longer, and thought it enough to ſay, that ſhe heartily wiſhed me in that affection, all the good ſucceſs I could propoſe to my ſelf, and which ſhe durſt not promiſe me.

While things ſtood thus, Tullia and I were equal in this, that we both paſſed away the time in languiſhing and penſiveneſs, according to the prediction of Thraſillus, ſo as that neither being happy, we were both in a miſerable condition. Onely I might be ſaid to have more freedome of paſſion, and more ſatisfaction then Tullia, in that I was not obliged to the ſame reſervedneſs as ſhe was, but at liberty to bemoan my ſelf, and to diſcover a grievance which ſhe took ſo much pains to conceal. Ptolomey onely knew it, but no further then chance had informed him, but he had concerned himſelf ſo little in it, that he hardly remembred any thing of it; and whereas he neither viſited Tullia at her houſe, nor came much to thoſe places where ſhe frequented, and that Tullia her ſelf, deſirous to conceal from him above all other perſons whatſoever, what ſhe ſuffered upon his account, avoided all occaſions of meeting him; his preſence could not afford her that abatement of her affliction which ſhe might have received from it, and which ſhe made it ſo much her buſineſs to avoid.

Thus were we both in a kind of a Love-conſumption, Tullia without hope, and without deſire, I with much deſire and little hope. Tullia, who had a certain eſteem for me, though it lay not in her power to allow me her affection, yet expreſſed not her averſion otherwiſe then by avoiding the occaſions of being with me alone, and ſhe did it in ſuch manner, that, knowing her engagement, as I did, I could not quarrel at her carriage towards me. Yet did it happen one day, that being at Emilia's, who was ſtill inclined to do me all the kindneſſe ſhe could, I was ſate all alone with her on her Friend's bed-ſide; and being unwilling to let ſlip that opportunity, as ſuch as I ſhould not eaſily have recovered, after I had looked on her with all the inſinuation of a reſpectful Paſſion, ‘Is it poſſible, ſaid I to her, that in the diſcovery I have made you of what I ſuffer for your ſake, you ſhould find any thing ſo criminal as to deſerve the puniſhment you inflict on me; and ſhall I not be allowed further diſcourſe with you, becauſe in what I have ſaid I have ſpoken too truly? The opinion I have of you, reply'd ſhe, is ſuch, that I cannot imagine you guilty of the leaſt diſſimulation or falſhood; and you might on the other ſide have obſerved, that in what I told you, I have not diſguiſed the truth. Ah Madam, replyed I, I have but too too well obſerved it: And might it pleaſe the Gods, that, in the prediction you have given me of my misfortune, you had ſpoken leſs truly! But O Heavens! is it poſſible, that all the aſſurances I give you, and may be able to give you, of the moſt conſummate affection that ever was, ſhould not any way move you; or am I born with defects ſo odious, as that I may not hope any entertainment of the ſervices which I ſhall render you while I [Page] live?’ ‘Lentulus, ſaid ſhe to me, with an aſpect wherein appeared nothing diſobliging, though it were ſad it is not to be attributed to your defects that I comply not with your hopes, ſince I muſt acknowledge all things in you conſiderable enough to deſerve a better fortune then what you imagine to your ſelf in my affection: if your not-advancement in your deſign proceed from defects, they are in my Diſpoſition, not in your Perſon; and I would intreat you to be ſo far aſſured it is ſo, as not to hate one whoſe incapacity to love you is the pure effect of her misfortune. Ah! Tullia, cryed I, adorable, and cruel Tullia! if what you ſay be true, the whole prediction of Thraſyllus muſt alſo be ſuch, and you will give me leave to be your remembrancer, that he ſaith not, You are were paſſionately beloved, till after he had ſaid, You were paſſionately in love. If it be ſo (replyed ſhe bluſhing, and putting one hand over her eyes) I think you ſo much the more unfortunate; for if my ſoul hath already received another impreſſion, you will find it no ſmall difficulty to efface it. If Thraſyllus be creditable in the whole (replyed I) I ſhould not deſp [...]ir the doint of it; for it is evident from his diſcourſe, that that affection was not mutual, and that it is very unlikely, that with all the merit and courage you own, you can always obſtinately love a perſon by whom you are not beloved. And there indeed I ſuſpect there may be ſome falſhood; for I ſhall never be perſwaded there can be any man whatſoever ſo happy as to be loved by you, without having purchaſed your affection by demonſtrations of his own; nor any ſo inſenſible, as being loved by you, ſhould not paſſionately love you again. I am not (replies Tullia) ſo well opinioned of my ſelf as you ſeem deſirous I ſhould be, and if I could love perſons of whoſe affection I had not received any aſſurance, it may alſo happen that the ſame perſons would not love not me, though they were loved by me; and that much more probably, if they are ſuppoſed ignorant of my affection. And is it ſo eaſie a matter with you (replyed I) to conceal▪ your affection from a perſon you can love, and ſo; without any neceſſity, do your ſelf ſuch a violence as would make you truly unfortunate? If it were (replied Tullia) to a perſon, who might lawfully claim it, both by the demonſtrations of his own, and the conſent of thoſe to whom I am to ſubmit my ſelf, I ſhould make no great difficulty to let him know what were or ought to be approved of all the world: but if through the malice of my fortune I had conceived an inclination which ought not to be approved, and which I ſhould condemn my ſelf, there's nothing ſo certain as that I ſhould conceal it while I lived, though that violence to my ſelf ſhould coſt my life. I hope (added I) the gods will be more merciful then to ſuffer that to happen and proteſt to you in their preſence, that this wiſh proceeds not ſo much from any concernment of mine as yours, that your ſufferings would be as inſupportable to me as my own; and that I ſhould not be more unhappy in the affliction it would be to me to love you without any hope of being loved by you, then in what I ſhould ſee you ſuffer in loving a perſon by whom you ſhould n [...]t be beloved again.’ Theſe ſentiments (ſaid ſhe) ſpeak abundance of Goodneſs: but there is a thing called Juſtice alſo, and if that misfortune ſhould befal me, you would have much more reaſon to bewail my condition, then attribute your own misfortune thereto. I ſhall, what lies in my power, endeavour to prevent it, that I may not put you to the trouble of that obligation. Ah Madam (ſaid I to her, with a ſad accent.) I much fear this misfortune is already happened, and that there is ſome ground I ſhould be aſſured of it, as well from the diſcourſe of Thraſyllus, as all you have ſaid your ſelf. For, in fine, if it were not ſo, what other reaſon could oblige you to tell me that the obſtacle of my happineſs is, in your diſpoſition and not in my perſon, and that your incapacity to love me is to be attributed onely to your misfortune, ſince you have a heart that may be moved, and that it is known you were not inſenſible of the affection of Cecinna? Thoſe who were better acquainted with me then you are (replies Tullia) know that I had no love for Cecinna till his death, becauſe it was upon my account that he came to it, and that all the ſentiments I had for him proceeded meerly from pity, without the contribution of any other Paſſion; and that as to my reſolution to marry him, it was, according to my duty, out of compliance to my Brother, who was more fit to appoint me a Husband then I to chooſe one. And if your Brother (ſaid I ſomewhat haſtily) deſigned me to the ſame happineſs, would you not oppoſe his diſpoſal? I ſhould ſtill do what in duty I ought (replies Tullia) but your Vertue ſecures me as to any ſuch deſign, & the knowledg I have of it frees my me from all fear that you will take that courſe to poſſeſs your ſelf of a perſon, to make her unfortunate while ſhe lives. Your belief as to that point is rational (replyed I) and how violent ſoever I may be for the enjoyment of that happineſs, I ſhould certainly refuſe it, though 'twere offered, if I were to receive it otherwiſe then through your own inclinations. Nay further, Madam, (added I with a ſigh) I ſhould in my own judgment be very unfortunate▪ ſhould I contribute ought to your being ſuch, and I am ready arrived to ſome degrees of it, in that I heard thoſe cruel words which have left me neither hope, nor love for life. That you are in Love, Madam, is a thing out of all queſtion, pardon me the Paſſion that forces me to tell it you; and if you were not in love, you would not fear to be unfortunate with a man that adores you, and you acknowledge worthy ſome eſteem.

[Page] Theſe laſt words I ſpoke with an action full of heat and earneſtneſs, inſomuch that Tullia was for ſome time at a loſs what to reply, as being doubtful how ſhe ought to take them. At laſt, endeavouring to diſſipate or diſſemble ſome part of the confuſion ſhe conceived thereat; ‘'Twould very much trouble me (ſaid ſhe to me) the world ſhould think of me as you do; but if the opinion you are of any way furthers your recovery out of the misfortune you ſuffer, contrary to my deſires, far be it from me to be diſpleaſed thereat. And indeed it may well become your Prudence ſo to ſubdue your Paſſion, as to forbear further hoſtility againſt a Heart which you believe pre-engag'd in another affection, & that a Heart wherein impreſſions are not ſo eaſily either entertained or remov'd. Be it then your buſineſs, let me intreat you; & know, ſince you pretend to underſtand me ſo well, that if I love not any thing, I will continue in that condition while I live; and that if I do affect any thing, death only ſhall put a period to that affection. I am already of that mind (replyed I) but that cruel knowledge contributes nothing to my recovery, as it was your deſire it ſhould, nay, haply, had it preceded my Love, it had not been able to hinder the birth thereof. I ſhall give over ſpeaking to you, if you command it; I ſhall forbear ſeeing you, if my preſence be burthen ſome to you: but, Tullia, I ſhall never ceaſe loving you, till I ceaſe living, and my heart ſhall preſerve, as inviobly as yours, the impreſſions it hath once receiv'd. If it be ſo (ſaid ſhe to me) I ſhall bewail you, Lentulus; 'tis all I can do for you; with this proteſtation, which I make with all ſincerity, That, I feel my own unhappineſs growing the heavier upon me, proportionably to the knowledge I have of yours.’

Our converſation had continued ſome time longer, had it not been interrupted by the arrival of Octavia, who came to viſit Emilia, accompanied by the Princeſſes Antonia and Marcia, Druſus (whoſe affection for Antonia was publickly known and approv'd by all) and Prince Ptolomey, who could not deny his attendance on Marcia in that viſit, though he knew Emilia to be very much Tullia's Friend, and that he was in ſome danger to meet her there. I cannot well repreſent unto you how much I was ſurpriz'd to ſee Ptolomey come into a Room where Tullia was: But Tullia's diſturbance was much greater; and if all preſent had obſerved it, as Emilia and my ſelf did, who knew the cauſe thereof, 'tis to be fear'd, ſhe would have been at a ſtrange loſs what to do. Her colour chang'd twice or thrice in a few moments, which was ſeconded by agitations and extraordinary diſturbances, but ſhe recovered her ſpirits, out of an opinion ſhe had, that thoſe who might obſerve it, would have attributed it to the averſion ſhe had ſufficiently expreſſed for the Children and whole Houſe of Anthony. Yet did ſhe not ſeem any way deſirous to leave the Room, as well out of a reſpect to Octavia, who for her Rank and Vertue was generally honoured no leſs then the perſons of Livia and Caeſar himſelf, as out of the ſatisfaction ſhe could not but take (though much againſt her deſires) in the ſight and preſence of her amiable enemy. But if her ſoul, upon this accident, notwithſtanding the reſiſtence ſhe made againſt it, gave entertainment to certain motions of joy, which forced their paſſage through her reſolutions, ſhe preſently after found occaſion enough to render her ſelf up to the mercy of that affliction, at whoſe command ſhe for ſome time before had abſolutely been. For Ptolomey that day forgetting even natural civility, whether out of a fear to diſpleaſe Marcia, who continually eyed him, or ſutably to his own inclination, which was much at a diſtance with Tullia, gave her not ſo much as a word or look, not engaging in any converſation where ſhe was concerned; and indeed ſo behaved himſelf towards her, that though I were more jealous of him then all the world beſides, and ſhould have been glad at the returns he made to an affection that occaſioned all my unhappineſs, & wherein I could not fear any thing ſo much as that it might raiſe any in him, yet could I not forbear being diſſatisfied with his carriage, ſenſible in ſome meaſure of the grief he occaſioned in the ſoul of the afflicted Tullia; and during that time, hating him for the contempt he expreſſed towards a perſon I adored, and whom I ſaw, by his diſdain, expo [...]ed to a violent diſ-enjoyment of her ſelf. Nor indeed was I long able to diſſemble my reſentments of it; and having made a ſign to him to retire into a Gallery that lay near Emilia's Chamber, I immediately followed him; and after we had walked a while without any diſcourſe, looking on him with an action wholly paſſionate, ‘It muſt certainly be (ſaid I to him) that you are the iſſue of ſome Affrican Lion, and not of Mark-Anthony, whoſe inclinations were full of ſweetneſs and love; unleſs your breaſt were petrified, you could not treat as you do one of the moſt excellent and moſt amiable perſons in the World, who exceſſively loves you, and whoſe affection would not haply be ſlighted by any other whatſoever.’ Ptolomey hearkened to me with ſome aſtoniſhment, and thereupon aſſuming the diſcourſe with an action leſs ſerious than mine; ‘Is there any difference between you and your wits, (ſaid he to me) or is this the return you make for what I do in order to your enjoyments, and out of the tenderneſs I have for our Friendſhip? Have you quite forgotten your being in love with Tullia, not conſidering that I am too much your Friend to become your Rival;’ and that you entertained [Page] with an exceſs of ſatisfaction the promiſe I made you never to love her while I liv'd? It was indeed a ſatisfaction to me (replied I) out of a concernment ſuggeſted by my Love, and which I cannot but acknowledge; but I cannot with any enjoyment ſee her afflicted, pining, amd unfortunate by your treatment of her. Well Lentulus, (ſaies Ptolomey ſmiling) I muſt confeſs I have not behaved my ſelf civilly towards a perſon ſo excellent, and one in whom you concern your ſelf ſo much; and therefore, to give you greater aſſurances of my Friendſhip, I will love her with all my heart, for your ſake.

Though Ptolomey ſpoke this in jeſt, yet knew I not well how to take it, by reaſon of the weakneſs I was fallen into: But recovering my ſelf out of it, You are pleaſant, Ptolomey, (ſaid I to him) and make ſport with the misfortune of a Friend, whoſe fortune deſerves compaſſion: Fall in love with Tullia, if your inclination prompts you thereto, and aſſure your ſelf I ſhall not be much more unfortunate in the defeat of my hopes that way, than I am through Tullia's malicious Deſtiny. I do not intreat you to love her, as not conceiving my ſelf in a capacity to direct your inclinations to do it, nor being haply as yet reſolv'd to ſacrifice all my hopes to her happineſs: But my humble ſuit is you would not hate her, nor aggravate, by your diſdain, the affliction it is to her to love you contrary to her diſpoſition. It ſeems then (replies Ptolomey) that you are not well reſolv'd what to ask, nor were it on the other ſide any great Prudence in me to expect much reaſon among perſons ſick of your diſeaſe. Aſſure your ſelf that I do not hate Tullia, and that I ſhall never hate what you think worthy your affection: but know, that it is to ſerve you, that I carry my ſelf as I do, and that if I did otherwiſe, I ſhould haply do more miſchief in one day, than you would recover again in divers years. You are inſolent in your Victory (ſaid I to him) but you are not well acquainted with the diſpoſition of Tullia, which it is poſſible may be ſuch, as that if you had much more affection for her then you have, you would not make any advantage of that which ſhe hath for you. I am willing to believe it ſo, (replies Ptolomey) and for that reaſon, as well as for ſome others, I once more promiſe you never to love her while I live. I was going to make him ſome reply, when upon the ſudden he was called to attend the company that brought him thither. I returned into the Chamber with him, and making no ſtay, took my leave, obſerving ſuch a cloud of ſadneſs in Tullia's countenance, that I concluded it not fit for me, while ſhe continu'd in that humour, to importune her with my viſits.

About this time Cicero her Brother ſtood for the Dignity of Edile, one of the moſt conſiderable places of truſt among the Romans, and imployed the intereſt and ſollicitations of all his Friends to obtain it. No queſtion but his Rank might warrant his pretence thereto; but beſides that his perſon lay under ſome contempt, by reaſon of certain imperfections of his underſtanding, and that he was not generally belov'd, there were Competitors that were more powerful than he, as ſuch as were more conſiderable at Rome for their worth and ſeveral other reaſons; ſo that it was commonly believed he could not deſiſt the proſecution of that attempt without ſome diſhonour to him. I thought my ſelf oblig'd to lay hold on that occaſion to ſerve him, though 'twere meerly to do ſomething that Tullia might take kindly at my hands; ſo that reſolv'd to take his part againſt all pretenders, though at ſome other time I ſhould have been more like to ſerve thoſe that oppoſed him. I ſollicited all my Friends, whereof upon that occaſion I found a conſiderable number that ſtuck cloſe to me, and proſecuted the buſineſs ſo hard my ſelf, that I got the mediations of Druſus, Marcellus, nay of Agrippa himſelf to the Emperour and Senate, and with their aſſiſtance things were carried on with ſuch eagerneſs, that notwithſtanding the credit of our adverſaries, and all the rubs we met with in our Deſign, it came to a glorious period, and Cicero was created Edile, contrary to the general opinion, and to their confuſion that oppoſed it. This Honour bred a conſideble quarrel between him and Metellus, the moſt powerful of his Competitors, who no doubt was of greater credit then he, and would have carried the buſineſs by the number of Friends, had I not over-power'd him with mine, who in all the Briars of that difference were too hard for thoſe of Metellus, and forc'd him to an accommodation with Cicero, who by that means got the better of the day, both as to his pretention to the Edile-ſhip, and the difference. He was ſoon made ſenſible that all his good ſucceſs was the effect of my appearance for him, and though he was more inclin'd to pleaſure than any thing that was noble, yet was he not awanting in point of gratitude, and omitted nothing whereby he might expreſs his reſentment of the good offices I had done him, and which raiſed him to a more conſiderable Rank in Rome then he had been of before. He was not ignorant of the affection I had for his Siſter, though I had never ſpoken to him of it; and having obſerv'd without any diſſatisfaction the firſt diſcoveries I had made thereof, finding afterwards the advantage of my Alliance, he, after that obligation, was very earneſtly deſirous of it, & would gladly have offer'd me, if he durſt, what he knew I ſhould have deſir'd of him in relation to Tullia. 'Tis true, ſhe took kindly the ſervice I had done her Brother, and Houſe, as much as could be expected from a rational perſon, as ſhe was; but it is as certain, it was not without affliction that ſhe [Page] thought her ſelf oblig'd to a man ſhe could not love, and that ſhe ſigh [...]d, out of a regret that ſhe could do ſo little for one to whom ſhe imagin'd her ſelf ſo much engaged. In all the diſcourſes we had upon that occaſion, ſhe expreſſed abundance of gratitude and deſires to acquit her ſelf towards me by all the aſſurances of a high eſteem ſhe could give me; but ſhe confined her ſelf to thoſe terms, inſomuch that I had no great hopes ever to raiſe in her any other ſentiments for me.

For ſome time I ſupported this unhappineſs of my condition, and oppoſed the malice of my fortune with all the courage I could command; but at laſt I began to flag, or, at leaſt, grew ſo far unable to bear the weight of my Love, that all the aſſiſtance He could afford me was not enough to ſecure me againſt the cruel attempts of my paſſion. I fell into a ſad & melancholy humour, and my Friends vainly expected in me that chearful livelineſs which they had ſometime affected me for, and which made me one of the firſt in all divertiſements ſuitable to perſons of my age. The companies I had been moſt taken with, grew burthenſome to me, and now I was altogether for ſilence, ſolitude, and obſcurity: I was not to be ſeen at the Emperour, as Octavia's, nor at the Princeſs Julia's, or any of thoſe noble Aſſemblies whereto I was wont to run; nay it was with ſome difficulty that I could afford a few minutes in the company of Craſſus, Servilius, Albinus, and Ptolomey, my moſt intimate Friends. They all bewail'd my misfortune, which as to ſome part they were acquainted with, and did all lay in their power to diſengage me from that fatal paſſion, wherein I had ſo loſt my ſelf. The Emperour himſelf ſpoke to me of it, and employed others to do the like ſeveral times, and the Empreſs, the Princeſs Julia and Octavia did all they could to diſſwade me from loving one whoſe cruelty had already wrought too too fatal effects. There was yet a ſtronger reaſon then all theſe, which they might have alledged to me; but they knew it not, and I did all I could to conceal it from the world. In fine, the body began to participate of the indiſpoſition of the mind, and my countenance ſuffered a change ſuitably to that of my humour. It was a certain ſatisfaction to me to obſerve the paleneſs of it, as conceiving it might have ſome operation on the inexorable Tullia: But when I thought to make my advantage of that change in my face, ſhe made me obſerve as much in hers, & would perſwade me by that ſight and her diſcourſes, that I ſhould not with ſuch obſtinacy proſecute an affection for her, when ſhe was upon the point to deſtroy all her Beauty, and whatever ſhe might have had that were amiable either in body or mind. Her diſcourſes and the ſincerity I imagained to my ſelf therein, very much aggravated my affliction; and many times the compaſſion I had for her misfortune made me ſuſpend all ſentiment of my own. During theſe intervals, I was ſeveral times ready to diſcover to her what I knew of her love to Ptolomey, and conſidering the extremities I was reduced to, I conceived there was not any reaſon could oblige me to diſſemble it any longer: but the fear I was in to diſpleaſe her, had in my ſoul the maſtery and command of all other conſiderations. And calling to mind that I had heard her ſay, in the fatal converſation that paſſed in Lucullus's Garden, that ſhe would run upon her own death, if ſhe thought her paſſion were diſcoverd, I had ſome ground to believe, that a diſcourſe of that nature muſt needs reduce her to the utmoſt of affliction, eſpecially if I ſhould tell her that Ptolomey himſelf had the knowledge thereof, which of all things was that ſhe ſtood moſt in fear of.

During the time I was yet in ſuſpence how I ought to behave my ſelf as to that circumſtance, I went one day to ſee her at her Brothers Houſe. Having all the freedom I could deſire to come thither, and that with the conſent of Cicero, who entertained me as the beſt Friend he had, I went up ſtraight into her Lodgings; and having paſſed through the outer Room, and gone into her Chamber, yet not met with her, I went into her Cloſet, whereof the door was half open, where I imagined ſhe muſt needs be, I indeed accordingly ſound her there, ſate in a great Chair near the Table. Though I had made ſome noiſe at my coming in, yet did ſhe not look about to ſee what the matter was, or ſtir from the place: which obliging me to come nearer her, at leaſt ſo as that I might take a view of her face, I perceiv'd ſhe was fallen aſleep in her Chair, & that as ſhe was writing, becauſe ſhe had the Pen ſtill in her hand, and a Letter half writ lying by her, which it ſeems drowſineſs had not ſuffered her to finiſh. The poſture I found her in, raiſing in me a greater confidence then I ſhould have been guilty of, had ſhe been awake, I came up cloſe to her, and looking very earneſtly on her face, I perceived a moiſture over her cheeks, nay obſerved that under the eye-lids, that ſeemed to be ſhut, the tears found a paſſage, notwithſtanding her being aſleep, and fell into her boſom, attended ever and anon with certain ſighs, and they interrupted by certain words obſcurely pronounc'd, which made me conclude, that even during her ſleep, her mind had not that reſt and ſerenity which others are wont to derive from it.

That ſpectacle wrought ſuch a tenderneſs in me, that how much ſoever I might ſtand in need of pitty my ſelf for my own ſufferings, I could not but forget them at that inſtant to be the more ſenſible of thoſe of Tullias, and could not forbear the ſhedding of ſome [Page] tears, as it were, to accompany thoſe that fell from her. Then I faſten'd my ſight, not without a mortal affliction, on the paleneſs of her countenance, and the change which that malicious Paſſion wrought therein; and the ſilence obſerv [...]d in that place af [...]ording me the opportunity to make even the ſaddeſt reflections I could, I was ſo ore-burthen [...]d therewith, that not able to make any further reſiſtance againſt my affliction, and having hardly the ſtrength to ſtand, I fell down along a Chair at one end of the Table, whence, I could not eaſily ſatiate my eyes with the ſight of that beloved Countenance, whereof the paleneſs, and the change happened therein, had not, to my apprehenſion, depriv [...]d it of ought that re [...] dred it amiable. Whereupon fixing my thoughts on that ſad object, I accompanied with a ſigh every tear that fell from her, and not able to reflect on their cauſe, without engaging at the ſame time an over-violent affliction; Precious tears (ſaid I to my ſelf) but unjuſtly and ungratefully ſpilt, muſt you fall to the ground with ſo little reaſon and ſo little effect, you that proceed from a ſource ſo full of light and knowledge, and might ſoften Marble, or what elſe is moſt hard and inſenſible? Ah! faireſh Eyes (added I with ſuch tranſports as it were impoſſible for me to expreſs) faireſt Eyes, whoſe influence commands my heart, which the envious Lids cannot conceal from me, ſhed no more tears for an ungrateful and inſenſible perſon whom you cannot move, and leave that employment for the unfortunate Lentulus, whoſe miſeries require an inexhauſtible ſource of tears, and who, while he lives, is bound to bewail the misfortune of Tullia, and his own unhappineſs.

This reflection I could not diſmiſs without abundance of tears to accompany it, ſaying withal many other things to my ſelf upon the change of her countenance which I could not obſerve without extremity of grief. And yet all the weight of it I then felt was not enough to hinder me from taking a freedome which I never had done; ſo that ſeeing Tullia's fair hand not far from me, I had not that command of my Paſſion as to forbear putting it to my mouth, and kiſſing it with much earneſtneſs. All this did not awake Tullia, as I had much reaſon to fear it might, and it was my happineſs as things ſtood that her former watchings had been ſo great as to put her into a founder ſleep than ordinary, and that ſhe did not ſurprize me in an action, which no doubt but ſhe would have been diſpleaſed at. Wo is me! (ſaid I to my ſelf, having recovered out of the fear I had been in) What a ſtrange condition am I in? I tremble for having ſtollen this innocent favour from Tullia though aſleep, and he who hath ſtollen her heart is hardly ſenſible of his conqueſt, and triumphs without m [...]king any account of what would make Lentulus the happieſt man in the world. After I had beſtow'd ſome few minutes more on theſe ſad conſiderations, caſting my eye on Tullia's Letter that lay by her unfiniſh'd, the concerment I conceived I had in whatever ſhe might either write or think of, encouraged my curioſity to venture on that which could not be done without violence to diſcretion, and made me caſt my eye on that which was written. I did it without any difficulty, & drawing the Letter gently to me, ſo as Tullia might not awake, I found there in theſe words.

TULLIA to EMILIA.

MUſt I be ſo unfortunate, my deareſt Emilia, as to paſs away a whole day without ſeeing you, when you know that all the comfort, all the enjoyment I deſire, proceeds from you alone, and that you are the only perſon to whom I bemoan my ſelf againſt that diſturber of my Quiet which the Gods have in their indignation thought ſit to ordain my tormentor? That paſſion, which you call a revenging God, and that I term the unjuſt Tyrant, wreaking his malice on an innocent Heart, hath tortur'd me ſince yeſterday according to the rate of his ordinary violence, and that image, which in all reaſon ought to be ſo abominable, and yet through my misfortune is ſo dear to me, would, this laſt night, hardly afford me a few minutes reſt. However, my dear Emilia, you may rejoyce, my ſufferings will at laſt have a period, and I hope to carry my Reputation with me to the Grave pure and untouch'd, ſince the only ſtain it hath received is known only to Emilia, and that my death will prevent the diſcovery which the World might have made of my weakneſs, ſhould my life be ſpun out any longer. Till that hour, ſo much my heart's deſire to ſee, overtake me, favour me with the comforts of your ordinary goodneſs, and aſſiſt with your advice a diſorder'd Reaſon and an unſetled Mind.—

Thus far had ſhe proceeded, and it is probable, that drowſineſs had ſurpriz'd her at that paſſage of her Letter, and that it was through her precedent watchings, whereof ſhe complain'd, that ſhe was now fallen ſo faſt aſleep. I ſeveral times read over her imperfect Letter, whereat I was extreamly troubled, and yet when I had done, I knew not whence it came, I felt a ſecret inſpiration encouraging me to finiſh her Letter according to my apprehenſions, continuing where ſhe had left off, and by that means diſcover to her, better then I durſt preſume to have done by diſcourſe, that I was not ſo far ignorant of the ſtate of her ſoul [Page] as ſhe imagined. In fine, without much reaſoning on the motive might incline me thereto, or a rigorous examination, whether I did not by that action in ſome meaſure derogate from the reſpect I ought her, and had ever obſerved towards her, I took Pen in hand, and continued immediatly after what ſhe had written, not leaving any diſtance, no more then if it had been finiſh'ſt with her own hand, endeavouring withal to imitate her writing as much as lay in my power. The words I added to hers were theſe.

Shall I ever continue an obſtinate Love towards an inſolent young Man who inſults upo [...] the advantage he hath over my heart, an enemy that ſlights me, that ſhuns me, and who mak [...]s the paſſion I have for him contribute to the revenge which you ſo often put me in mind of; and ſhall I not at length entertain the Love of the faithful Lentulus, who dies for me, and whoſe ſidelity cannot admit any abat [...]ment, either for the inſenſibility I have expreſſed towards him, or tha [...] cruel pre-engagement of my heart? This love for him who ſo ungratefully ſhuns me, and this averſion for him that paſſionately loves me, are they qualifications ſuitable to my courage, my generoſity, and that glory which I have ever ſo highly valued? and is there any neceſſity I ſhould eſpouſe miſery for my life, by perſiſting in the purſuance of an unjuſt [...]ffection, and ſhun that quiet and thoſe accomodations which would be offered me upon the ſubmiſſion of my inclinations to the diſpoſal of a rational Affection.

I writ down theſe words, though I could not my ſelf imagine to what end I did it: And in regard there had not paſſed any Letters between Tullia and my ſelf, and conſequently that the was not much acquainted with my hand, I thought ſhe might be ſome time to ſeek whoſe it ſhould be. And ſo, deſirous to know what would be the effect of this adventure. I returned the Letter to the place where it was before, and riſing without any noiſe, I went out of the Cloſet as ſoftly as I poſſibly could, and went away with as little notice taken of me as I had come in. For Tullia's Women being in a Wardrop, where they hadlocked themſelves in, when Tullia retired into her Cloſet, it being their cuſtom to leave her to the ſolitude ſhe was ſo deſirous of, I got away without being obſerved by any but the Servants of Cicero, who had nothing to do with Tullia.

Some time after my departure, as I underſtood ſince by Emilia, ſhe awoke, and that in ſome diſturbance by reaſon of certain Dreams ſhe had been troubled with during her ſleep. When ſhe had ſhaken off all ſleepineſs, ſhe remembred that ſhe had left her Letter unfiniſh'd and being in an humour to make an end of it, ſhe takes the Pen in her hand, and caſt her eye on the place where ſhe had left off: But when when ſhe was going to write down what was then come into her thoughts, ſhe ſaw that without any diſcontinuance the Page was full; with ſome what that took up part of the other ſide. At firſt ſhe thought ſhe had been deceiv'd, and forgot that ſhe had finiſhed her Letter before ſhe fell aſleep; but having better obſerv'd the writing, ſhe was ſatisfi'd it could be none of her own, though I had endeavour'd to imitate it as much as lay in my power. This ſhe was ſo ſurpriz'd at that ſhe ſeem'd to be uncertain whether ſhe were awake or no; and rubbing her eyes to ſhake of the remainder of her drowſineſs, ſhe look'd on it with more earneſtnes, and found that indeed they had not deceiv'd her: But if that ſight put her into ſome diſorder, you may thence imagine, Madam, what aſtoniſhment ſhe was in when ſhe had read the words I had written, and thereby underſtood, that the ſecret of her heart was diſcovered, or at the leaſt that it was not unknown to the perſon that had finiſhed her Letter. Once reading ſhe thought not enough, but looking over the words one after another with attention, ſhe found them ſo ſuitable to the ſtate of her ſoul, that for ſome moments ſhe was of opinion that her good Genius had written them, to raiſe her out of the miſery wherein ſhe was, and put her into the courſe ſhe was to take. During that reflection reviewing all the word one after another, What compaſſionate Deity, ſaid ſhe, takes this care of my wretched fortune upon him, and ſo officiouſly puts me in mind of my duty, at a time when all my courage could not have done it? Ah! it is ſome God, no doubt, ſince it is a God alone could dive into the ſecret of my heart, and in ſuch a manner inſpire me with the ſentiments which I ought to be directed by. Who, but a God, could make me ſpeak with ſo much truth and reaſon, at a time when my reaſon was eclipſed, and the knowledge of the truth my torment?

She might have continu'd longer in that imagination, had ſhe given leſs credit then ſhe does to vulgar opinions, and the perſwaſion which a weaker mind might have conceiv'd upon this commerce of the Gods with men: But ſhe, being of a ſolid and ſharp-ſighted judgment, ſoon quitted that conceit, and put it out all doubt that her Letter had been finiſhed by the hands of a Man. This aſſurance put her into an extraordinary affliction; and as by all the words the perſon of Ptolomey was pointed at, though I had not named him, ſo was ſhe fully ſatisfied that the Writer of them, was acquainted, even to the leaſt circumſtances; with her misfortune, and certainly knew that it was for Ptolomey that ſhe languiſhed and ſuffered all ſhe did. O what a torment was this perſwaſion to her! and what confuſion and grief [Page] was [...]t to her to find the Paſſion ſhe was ſo deſirous to ſmother, and which ſhe firſt of any condemned with ſo much ſeverity, expoſed to the knowledge of men! The Affliction ſhe conceived thereat drew from her thoſe complaints, which, out of a fear to importune you with a frivolous relation, I forbear to repeat; and when ſhe had disburthened her ſelf of all her grief ſuggeſted to her, returning to her Letter, and attentively examining all the words I had written, ſhe drew from it the muſt fatal conſequences imaginable to her quiet and ſatisfaction. Yet could ſhe not but approve what ſhe read, and conceiving a regret that ſhe had not her ſelf written what ſhe allowed ſo rational; O thou (ſaid ſhe) who ever thou art, that mak [...]ſt me both think and ſpeak ſo well what no doubt I ſhould have thought and ſaid, if Reaſon had ſtill the command of my Soul, pardon my weakneſs if it be in thy power, and ſee into my heart, whereof thou knoweſt the ſecret tranſactions, whether I am in a capacity to be directed by thy inſpirations. Thou mak'ſt me ſay to my ſelf, what thou conceiveſt, and what all the world ought to conceive of my misfortune and my duty, & I find but too much juſtice & truth in what thy hand writes for me: But where ſhall I find ſtrength to put it in execution, ſuitably to my knowledge and allowance of it, and what aſſiſtant Deity will guide me through the way thou ſhew [...]ſt me?

Having beſtowed ſome time on theſe penſive recollections, ſhe beſet her ſelf to find out the Author of that adventure: By the Characters of the Writing ſhe ſoon concluded it could not be Emilia, whom the could with leſs diſturbance ſuſpect to have done it then any other whatſoever. From the ſame reaſon ſhe alſo inferred it was not her Brother, who was the perſon of all the world ſhe ſtood moſt in fear of: and after theſe two reflecting on me, ſhe imagined, from the advantage it was to me to perſwade her to a compliance with what was was written, that it might proceed from me rather then from any other. Yet could ſhe not make that judgement without ſome difficulty, as well out of the reſpect and diſtance I always had obſerved towards her, which ſeemed in ſome meaſure to plead againſt the freedom I had taken, as out of a confidence ſhe had, that I knew nothing of her ſecret, and the little probability there was I ſhould have diſſembled what I knew, there being ſo much reaſon I ſhould diſcover it: and being on the other ſide unwilling to ſuſpect Emilia ſhould have revealed it to me, though ſhe knew her to be much my Friend, and perpetually ſollicited her on my behalf; yet deſirous to find out the truth, ſhe called her Women to her, and asked them, Whether they had ſeen any one come into her chamber and ſo into her cloſet while ſhe was aſleep. They aſſured her, as they truly might, that they had not ſeen any one; and having ſent them to ask the ſame queſtion of ſome other of the Servants, as Fortune would have it, they came to thoſe that had not ſeen me and conſequently could give her no ſatisfaction.

In this perplexity was ſhe when Emilia enters her Cloſet, whom ſhe no ſooner caſt her eye on, but commanding her Women to withdraw, ſhe gave her an account of her adventure, and ſhewing her the Letter as far as her own writing reached, ſhe afterwards made her read what I had written, and put her to ſuch a ſurprize, that Emilia for a good while was not able to ſay one word to her. She had often ſeen my hand, and though I had at that time a little diſguiſed it, yet was it not ſo much, but that at laſt ſhe diſcovered it; but not without much aſtoniſhment at the words I had written, whereby ſhe concluded, as Tullia had done before, that I was not ignorant of her Friend's paſſion. She would not acknowledge to her it was of my writing nor did ſhe ſo deny it but that Tullia had ſome ſuſpicion it might; ſo that ſhe left her in a doubt inclining to the truth. If it be Lentulus (ſays Tullia at laſt) as I believe it can be no other, by what adventure could he have come to the knowledge of my misfortune, or what Daemon hath diſcovered to him what I onely made you privy to? For, in fine, my deareſt Emilia, what Friendſhip ſoever there may be between you and Lentulus, I ſhall never ſuſpect you have diſcovered this ſecret to him, and you are but too well ſatisfied of the reſolution I had made ever to have concealed it, ſo to avoid this affliction. I cannot onely proteſt to you (replied Emilia) both in the preſence of all the Gods, and by the ſacred Friendſhip that's between us, that I never made the leaſt mention of any ſuch thing to him, and that I have concealed it from him with as much circumſpection as you could have deſired; but I can alſo with the ſame proteſtations aſſure you, that he never, either in his diſcourſes or actions, made the leaſt diſcovery of his knowledge thereof. And thence I infer, that either it was not he writ theſe words or that he is the moſt diſcreet and reſpectfull perſon in the world, as being one had ſuch a command of himſelf, as, in an affair of ſuch concernment to his felicity, and a paſſion ſo violent as his, to conceal a thing whereof he might have made ſo great advantage; not onely from you, who, upon the account of his affection, would have pardon'd it, though he had not done it, but alſo from me who am ſincerely his Friend, & much deſirous to ſerve him in the Paſſion he hath for you. If he hath had that reſpect (replies Tullia he ſhould have continued it to the end, and ſpared me an affliction which I ſhall never be able to ſhake off; for, in fine, Emilia, I cannot eaſily be perſwaded that Lentulus ſhould ever come to the knowledge of what ſentiments I have for Ptolomey, but I muſt withall conclude that Ptolomey, whom he daily viſits, and between whom there is [Page] the greateſt familiarity imaginable, muſt know as much as he: and if it be ſo, Emilia, I am reſolved upon death, this laſt imagination puting me into ſuch a diſturbance, as will never allow me the leaſt ſerenity of mind or thoughts. Though Lentulus (replies Emilia) ſhould have known the affection you have for Ptolomey, I durſt engage for him he never made the leaſt diſcovery thereof; and not to mention the reſpect he hath for you, his Prudence is ſuch that he would not make a Rival of a Friend, and what is more, a Rival whom he knew to be loved, which muſt be the greateſt misfortune he could have fear'd. If Lentulus alone hath taken notice of my misfortune (replies Tullia) my affliction will be ſo much the leſs out of a conſideration that if he knows it, it may be a means to divert him from further purſuance of the fruitleſs affection he hath for me; but I can hardly believe Ptolomey is ignorant of it, and am the rather confirmed in that perſwaſion from theſe words, That he makes the paſſion I have for him contribute to his revenge, which he could not have ſaid of him, if that Paſſion had not been known to him. It ſhall be my buſineſs (ſays Emilia to her) to ſift this buſineſs out of Lentulus, and I am confident I ſhall know the truth of him. She urged many things to her, to perſwade her, that in that adventure, there was nothing ſhould create her any new affliction; and finding in what I had written occaſion to ſpeak on my behalf, ſhe managed it to my beſt advantage with much earneſtneſs, and omitted nothing which, out of the compaſſion ſhe had for her and me, and her Friendſhip towards both, ſhe could or ought to have ſaid.

In the mean time I was come home to my own houſe, orewhelmed with affliction no leſs for Tullia's ſufferings then my own: And I was hardly retir'd into my Chamber, but Ptolomey was brought in, coming to give me a viſit. How great Friends ſoever we might have been, I could not look on him that day but as the Author of my misfortunes, though I was not unſatisfied of his innocency; and he had not ſaid many words to me, but interrupting him with ſome precipitation, ‘Ptolomey (ſaid I to him) there is no longer any mean for me in the extremity whereto I am reduc'd, and you muſt of neceſſity either love Tullia, or be the death of Lentulus. You may indeed wonder to ſee me ſeek to thoſe remedies for the preſervation of my life which in all probability are more likely to haſten my death: but know, that Tullia's life is much dearer to me then that of Lentulus, and that I die much more cruelly by the miſeries of Tullia then I can do by my own, While I have had any hope to deprive you of the heart you ſo much diſdain, I could not have deſir'd, nay was in ſome fear you ſhould have lov'd Tullia, but now I find that nothing can divert her from the Love ſhe hath for you, and that the averſion you have for her onely makes her the more unfortunate, without contributing any thing to her recovery, of two Evils which my malicious Fortune preſents me with, I ought to chooſe the more ſupportable, ſince it were better for me to be unfortunate through the averſion Tullia hath for me, or rather the incapacity ſhe is in to beſtow on me a heart which is yours, then the regret I muſt conceive to ſee her unhappy, without making any advantage of her unhappineſs. That miracle of her Sex for underſtanding, wiſdome, and excellent endowments, hath loſt all, forgotten all for yourſake, and that Beauty, which was conſiderable even rmong the greateſt, is defac'd by affliction and moulders away to utter ruine. Love, Ptolomey, love the amiable Tullia, both for my ſake and your own. There cannot any thing under Heaven be more worthy your affection, ſince your Brother, a perſon as great in all things as ever any among the Romanes, did not onely judge her worthy his own, but did that for her averſion which I deſire of you for her love.’

Ptolomey was ſo much amaz'd to hear me talk after this rate, that he knew not at firſt how he ſhould take my diſcourſe; But perceiving with what earneſtneſs I ſpoke, he concluded my words proceeded from my heart. Yet was a while to ſeek what anſwer he ſhould make me; but at laſt putting on a more ſerious countenance then he was wont to do in any thing concern'd me, as conceiving it more ſuitable to the condition he ſaw me in, then ſtood with his divertive humour; Lentulus, ſaid he to me, I ſhould be much troubled the misfortune which diſturbs your Reaſon ſhould make a breach in our Friendſhip; and ſince I am ſo unhappy as to do you any prejudice contrary to my intention, I will do all lies in my power to ſerve you in all the good offices you can hope for from the beſt of your Friends. I ſhould find it a difficulty to make any ſerious anſwer to your diſcourſe, were I not from many diſcoveries ſatisfi'd, that you feel no leſs affliction then you expreſs in your words: but I ſhould find it much more to believe that you really deſire me to love Tullia, were I not aſſur'd of your being a great Lover of ſincerity and truth. I cannot promiſe you I ſhall love Tullia, and beſides that it will haply be prejudicial to your quiet, you know that theſe inclinations are not in our power, and that it is not unlikely it would be as hard for me to love her as you find it not to do ſo. My Soul is not much ſubject to Paſſions of this nature, and if it could be, you know that what hath paſſed between me and Marcia, and the great obligations caſt upon me by Octavia, are ſuch, that it ſhould be in ſome meaſure my care not to ſhew my ſelf unworthy thereof by my ingratitude. For [Page] theſe reaſons, but indeed much more out of a reſpect to the Friendſhip I bear you, I ſhould not put you into any hope that I ſhall love Tullia: But this I dare promiſe you, That if you deſire it, my behaviour towards her ſhall be much otherwiſe then it hath hitherto been, that I will viſit her if you think fit, and that I ſhall have as much compliance and civility for her, as a man can expreſs towards thoſe perſons he moſt highly eſteems. Nay I might tell you, that I would pretend to love her for your ſake, but that you know diſſimulation is wholly inconſiſtent with my diſpoſition, though I did not make it a conſcience to abuſe a perſon you love, nor believe it againſt your intereſt, that Tullia ſhould be perſwaded I had any affection for her.

This was the tenour of Ptolomey's diſcourſe to me, and I found ſo much Prudence and Reaſon in it, that I thought I could not rationally deſire more of him: and before we parted, I took him upon the promiſe he made me, that he would ſee Tullia, if ſhe deſired it, either at her Lodgings, in caſe ſhe could oblige Cicero to allow his Viſits, or at Emilia's, and do what lay in his power to flatter her affliction, and reſtore her to her former enjoyments. He made me this promiſe, telling me that I knew not what I deſired, and that it was not for my advantage he ſhould expreſs any ſubmiſſion to Tullia: But I reiterated to him what I had already ſaid, and proteſted, that loving Tullia much beyond my ſelf, I would endeavour her ſatisfaction though with the loſs of my own, and would much rather be unfortunate alone, then ſee her perpetually ſuch.

The next day Emilia ſent a Meſſage to me to come to her, to be acquainted with ſomething ſhe had to ſay to me. I preſently imagin'd it was about the words I had written in Tullia's Letter, and ſo went to her with an intention not to conceal any thing from her that ſhe ſhould be deſirous to know. I was no ſooner come, but ſhe related to me all that had paſſed at Tullia's ſince my coming thence, & intreated me with the ſame ingenuity to acknowledge, not whether I had written the words, for that ſhe doubted not but I had, but by what means I could have learn'd the engagement of Tullia's inclinations, and how I could have concealed my knowledge of it from her, if it were true that I had known it any conſiderable time. I made her anſwer with a freedom ſuitable to her own, and after I had begun my diſcourſe with a complaint I made to her, that ſhe her ſelf had not given me the leaſt notice of a thing ſhe knew ſo well, I continued it with a relation of the adventure which Ptolomey and my ſelf had met with in the Gardens of Lucullus, which had given birth to my paſſion; of the deſign we had to follow them, and to over-hear their diſcourſe when they were retir'd into the Arbour, and where they had had that converſation out of which we diſcover'd Tullia's Love, whoſe very expreſſions I gave her, as alſo the laſt words of the Song which Tullia had ſung, and which I had well remembred ever ſince.

Emilia interrupting me, and crying out at that paſſage of my diſcourſe, What, Lentulus (ſaid ſhe to me) is it then certain that Ptolomey heard as well as your ſelf all the converſation we had together in the Arbour, and that as well as you he knows what ſentiments Tullia hath for him? He knows fully as much as I do, (ſaid I to her) nor did he miſs a ſyllable of all you ſaid one to another, though he had not been ſo attentive but upon my intreaty, and ſeem'd not to be any thing moved there at. O unfortunate Tullia, (replies Emilia) how would thy affliction multiply if thou knew'ſt this cruel circumſtance of thy misfortune! Lentulus (continued ſhe turning towards me) for Heaven's ſake make not the leaſt diſcovery to Tullia of what you have acquainted me with; ſince you may be confident, that if ſhe knew but what I have underſtood from you, ſhe will never entertain the leaſt comfort. After what you have written in her Letter, it cannot be be ſaid you are ignorant of her affection for Ptolomey; but it ſhall be my buſineſs to perſwade her, that you have it partly from Thraſyllus, who hath by his Art diſcover'd many thinge, as ſhe may be likely to imagine from what he ſaid to her himſelf, and that you gueſſed at the reſt by her countenance and actions, as well at the firſt meeting with her in Lucullus's Garden, when ſhe fell into a ſwound between us, as in the viſit which Ptolomey made us ſince with Octavia. There's probability enough in theſe ſuggeſtions, and it is known, that intereſſed perſons, ſuch as you are, may well take notice of ſuch things as thoſe that are indifferent, make not the leaſt reflection upon.

Having ſo ſaid, ſhe took occaſion to commend my Prudence and reſervedneſs in keeping ſo well the ſecret of her Friend, and that one I was my ſelf ſo much concerned in: but her aſtoniſhment was much greater, when I acquainted her with my intention to oblige Ptolomey to love her, as chooſing rather to be deprived of all my hopes, and with them of my life, then any longer to be a ſpectator of the miſeries of a perſon I adored. And when I afterwards gave her an account of the diſcourſe I had had with Ptolomey the day before, ſhe cries out, looking on me with a certain admiration, This Goodneſs (ſaid ſhe) this perfection of Love is beyond all example; and if Tullia comply not with your deſires upon the repreſentation I ſhall make her of it, I think her the moſt unfortunate perſon in the World. I ſhall not fail to preſs very [Page] home to her this ſtrange effect of the trueſt Love that ever was; yet ſome palliation muſt be uſed, as by perſwading her that you have obliged Ptolomey to ſee her, and to demean himſelf with all civility and complaiſance towards her, though he knew not any thing of the affection ſhe hath for him: And be confident, Lentulus, that in doing much you have hazarded nothing and that Tullia will be highly engaged to you for your good intentions. But if I know any thing of her humour, it is not to be feared you will receive any prejudice thereby, ſhe being reſolved never to ſee Ptolomey. I neither can nor will deny that ſhe hath that affection for him, which is known to you as well as my ſelf, and could I have done it without betraying the truſt repoſed in me by my Friend I had diſcovered this ſecret to you long ſince: But I can aſſure you, that what effects ſoever that Paſſion may produce, it will onely prove her torment, yet ſo, as that he who is the cauſe of it ſhall not make any advantage there of, and that ſhe would rather die, then make the leaſt diſcovery of it to him.

To this Emilia added ſome other diſcourſe, whereby ſhe made a perfect repreſentation of the nature of Tullia's Paſſion, and the ſtate of her ſoul, ſuch as I have already deſcrib'd it. I inſiſt too much on the relation of particulars of little conſequence, and to ſhorten it therefore, I am to tell you that ſhe went the ſame day to ſee Tullia, ſatisfi'd her it was I, had written at the bottom of her Letter, and ſo gave her an account of all things, not indeed punctually according to the truth, but as we had concluded together, to afflict her the leſs. This Tullia look'd on as a ray of comfort darted from above, and it was a great abatement of her affliction, to underſtand that her Paſſion was unknown to Ptolomey, and that I had no other knowledge of it then what I derived from the words of Thraſyllus, and appearances remarkable onely by a perſon concerned as I was. Upon the aſſurances which Emilia gave her of it, ſhe was in ſome meaſure appeaſed, and recovered out of the fear ſhe had been in, and was not a little ſatisfi'd I had entertained an opinion that might cure me of my Paſſion, as ſhe had ever deſired. But when afterward ſhe came to hear that inſtead of diverting Ptolomey from loving her, as in all reaſon and prudence I ought to have done, I would needs, out of a motion of generoſity, as Emilia repreſented it to her, have ſacrificed my own quiet that ſhe might enjoy hers, and condemned my ſelf to eternal miſeries to put a period to hers, by endeavouing to oblige Ptolomy to love her, &, in a word, that without diſcovering to him the affection ſhe had for him, I had made him promiſe to viſit her, and addreſſe himſelf to her with all ſubmiſſions and civilities, leaving the reſt to the influence of her Beauty; the rarity of ſuch a demonſtration of Love wrought in her more paſſionate ſentiments for me then ſhe had conceived at all thoſe I had made her before. So that having looked on Emilia for ſome time, with a ſilence that proceeded from her preſent aſtoniſhment; You acquaint me (ſaid ſhe) with an effect of Lentulus's Love no leſs extraordinary then my own fortune, ſuch as it would be as hard a matter to find examples of as of my misfortune. I was never ſo ſenſible of it as I am upon this occaſion, ſince it leaves me not in a capacity to acknowledge, as I ought, and indeed as I wiſh ſo unheard of a diſcovery of Love and Goodneſs of Lentulus. Whence you may ſafely aſſure him, that he ſhall ſuffer no prejudice by it, and that inſtead of deſiring Ptol [...]mey ſhould come to ſee me, and render me civilities, as he hath procured he ſhall, I promiſe never to ſee him while I live. You may therefore give him notice, to forbear all further violence to the inclinations of Ptolomey upon any account of mine; aſſure him, that I conceive my ſelf as much obliged to him for what he hath endeavoured to do, as if I had thence derived a [...]l the ſatisfaction he would have procured me, and intreat him to bewail my misfortune, which ſuffers me not to do that upon this occaſion, which I ought and haply ſhould be glad to do.......... At which words making a ſudden ſtop, ſhe could not forbear to expreſs the compaſſion and tenderneſſe wrought in her. Inſomuch that a little after taking a Handkercher to wipe away certain tears which this dolefull conſideration forced from her fair eyes; O Lentutus, (added ſhe) what an unfortunate Planet are we born under, and how are we obliged to bemoan one the other, that we have ſo blindly and ſo unjuſtly diſpoſed of our affections!

Though it was with much ſincerity, and a deſire to effect it, that I had proffered to do Tullia that cruel ſervice ſo deſtructive to all my hopes, yet was it no ſmall ſatisfaction to me, that ſhe had refuſed to accept it, and that I had met with an opportunity to expreſſe my Love to her by a diſcovery ſo extraordinary. I gave Ptolomey thanks for what he would have done on my intreaty, and acquainting him with Tullia's reſolution, I perceived he took it not unkindly to be diſpenſed the violence he would have done himſelf to pleaſure me. This happened about the time of Auguſtus's departure from Rome in order to that great Progreſſe from which he is not yet returned, when he took with him the Empreſſe, the Princeſſes, Julia, Octavia, your ſelf and all your Houſe, and all the moſt conſiderable perſons of the Empire.

No doubt but I had attended him among others of my age and quality, if my Love would have permitted it, and that I could have left Tullia, who was reſolved not to ſtir from Rome. The Emperour excuſed me upon the account he received of my misfortune, and all my Friends at their departure expreſſed the regret it was to them to leave me in that deplorable condition. Emilia ſtirred not, no more then Tullia, much to my ſatisfaction, [Page] as having onely her with whom I could remit ſomewhat of my grief by the account I daily gave her of the effects it produced upon my thoughts, and the aſſurance I had of the good offices ſhe did me with her Friend, as much as lay in her power. Tullia alſo entertained me with as good a countenance as ſhe could, expreſſed a higher eſteem of me then of any other that came to viſit her, and endeavoured to make me apprehend, that it was not without abundance of affliction to her, that ſhe was in an incapacity to acknowledge the Love I had for her. She purpoſely forbore all mention of Ptolomey, and what ever had paſſed wherein he was concerned: and out of the reſpect I bore, I would not hint at any diſcourſe of that nature, ſo that without any explication we mutually knew the apprehenſions one of another, and bemoan'd one the other, without being able to comfort our ſelves. My dolefull diſcourſes mov'd her to compaſſion, yet were not ſo effectual as to change her inclination, my ſighs alſo many times produc'd the ſame effect: and when any one ſlipt unawares from her in my preſence, ſhe bluſh'd, and look'd downwards, out of a confuſion ſhe was in, that the cauſe thereof was not unknown to me. She would never oppoſe the belief I was in of her love to Ptolomey, becauſe ſhe was very glad I found in it ſome aſſiſtance againſt a Paſſion that had made me ſo miſerable: nor would ſhe on the other ſide make any acknowledgement thereof, as being not conformable to the height and ſeverity ſhe had ever obſerved.

About this time, Cicero, invited by the pleaſantneſs of the ſeaſon we were then in, would needs go and paſs away ſome time at the fair Palace he had near Tuſculum; and I believe he was the rather induced to take that diverſion upon the intreaties of Tullia, whoſe melancholy repreſented to her the ſolitude of the Countrey as what was more pleaſant then the great companies and meetings of Rome, for which ſhe had naturally no great inclination. Tullia entertained that news with a great deal of joy; but it produced a much different effect upon me, inſomuch that Cicero, to whom my Paſſion was not unknown, obſerved ſo much grief in my eyes, that he could not but pitty me, And having a great affection for me, and conceiving himſelf very much obliged to me, he thought fit to abate the affliction he ſaw I conceived thereat, by a ſecond Propoſition, and intreated me to go along with them, and paſs away ſome few days at their Houſe, where he promiſed to contribute to my divertiſement as much as lay in his power. Cicero made this propoſal to me after ſuch a manner, as I could not but infer it was his deſire I ſhould accept of it; yet before I made him any anſwer, I caſt my eye on Tullia's countenance, as it were to ask her conſent, and not obſerving in it any thing repugnant to her Brothers propoſition, I accepted it, but with much more joy then I durſt expreſſe to him. Accordingly having prepared my ſelf for that ſhort journey, ſome three days after I went along with them, and arrived at that Houſe one of the moſt pleaſant in all Italy, which Marcus Tullius their Father had made the moſt magnificent he could, omitting nothing that might any way add to the ornament of it. I was appointed Lodgings whereof the windows looked into a Garden curiouſly kept and embelliſhed with ſpacious Walks, large Rivolets, Fountains, and what ever Art could add of advantage to Nature. I was treated by Cicero with all the demonſtrations of Friendſhip imaginable, nor was Tullia thrifty of the civilities I might expect from her being in h [...]r Brothers Houſe. But there was little in all this to ſatisfie ſuch a Paſſion as mine; and ſenſible of the ſmall acqueſts I made on Tullia's mind, which, notwithſtanding all the kindneſſe ſhe had for me, was immoveable in it's firſt affection, I gave way to my grief in ſuch a manner, that it was as much as I could do with all the courage I had received from Heaven, to keep my ſelf from deſpair▪ In fine, my grief grew ſo violent upon me, that it made my life hatefull to me, and ſuggeſted me with a reſolution to haſten the period of it by engaging in ſome War. This put me upon thoughts of a voyage, with a deſign never to return again, and to find from the point of ſome favourable Sword the remedy of my misfortune. I was caſting about my departure, when Cicero, obſerving the change of my humour with much diſſatisfaction, was moved to compaſſion thereat, and conceiving himſelf extreamly obliged to me for the ſervice I had done him, he would exceed ordinary formalities to find out ſome way to comfort me. Upon this account, having one day taken me alone conſulting my own penſive thoughts, and walking along a row of Trees which as a kind of Hedge parted two Walks, he would needs diſcover his mind to me, and obſerving on my countenance the track of certain tears which I had ſhed not long before, What, Lentulus, (ſaid he to me) are you reſolv'd ever to live at this diſtance with the beſt of your Friends, and never to gratifie either their intreaties, or the grief they take at your change, with the leaſt compliance? It is (replyed I) one of the moſt cruel effects of my unhappineſs, to communicate it to my Friends, as if it were not ſufficient I ſhould be miſerable alone, but the perſons that of all the world I wiſh moſt happineſs to, muſt be within the laſh of my miſeries.

Theſe words fell from me with an action ſo dolefull that Cicero was extreamly mov'd thereat, and in that condition, not able to keep in any longer what till then he had out of [Page] ſome conſideration of civility concealed; Lentulus, (ſaid he to me) the condition I ſee you in troubles me ſo much, that I cannot be any longer ſtav'd off by ordinary conſideration, ſince they are contrary to the intentions I have to eaſe you, if it lies in my power: nay though I ſhould run the hazard of being thought by you an indiſcreet and raſh perſon, yet can I not forbear acquainting you with my thoughts, and charging you with a groundleſs obſtinacy, in ſuffering me to be ſo much a ſtranger to yours, at a time when you cannot urge any reaſon obliging you to that reſervedneſs, after the good offices I have received from your Friendſhip. 'Tis generally believed, and my opinion is conſonant to that of the many, that you are in love with Tullia, and that it is from the affection you have for her, that this change in you proceeds, whereat all your Friends are ſo much caſt down. Beſides the general opinion, I think I have obſerved it by ſeveral marks, which it were to diſclaim, had you any ſuch deſign. Having this confidence, I cannot but extreamly wonder at your carriage towards me, and knowing, as no queſtion but you do, the eſteem I have for your perſon, the obligation I ſtand in to your Friendſhip, and all the other motives which ſhould engage me to approve your inclinations for my Siſter, I cannot comprehend upon what ground it is, that you chooſe rather to languiſh miſerably, and to ſuffer as you do, if appearances may credited, then to open your mind to me, as your Friend and Tullia's Brother, and let me know the neceſſity you may ſtand in of my aſſiſtance, to prevail with a Siſter who hath ever had a religious ſubmiſſion for my diſpoſal of her. You cannot from any circumſtance or reaſon imagine I ſhould any way oppoſe you; nay, though I were not, as I am oblig'd to you, I muſt needs be ſenſible, that, out of conſiderations of the nobleneſs of your bloud, and the worth of your perſon, the affection you have for Tullia cannot be otherwiſe then advantageous to her. Give me then ſome account of your reſervedneſs and diſſidence, and aſſure your ſelf, that if the power I have over my Siſtor may help to diſpel this cloud of ſadneſs that afflicts us, you ſhall have reaſon to be as much ſatisfi'd, as ever you were in your life.

To this effect was Cicero's diſcourſe to me, to which he added ſeveral other things full of affection, and whereby I perceived that it was to no purpoſe for me any longer to conceal a truth which he was fully acquainted with. I therefore reſolved to acknowledge it, though without any hope of comfort from that acknowledgement, or advantage from the offers he made me. So that having continued in ſuſpence a good while without making him any anſwer, Cicero (ſaid I to him at laſt) there is as much generoſity in your proceeding, as you imagine to your ſelf there is ſtrangeneſs in mine, as indeed there might be in effect, if I had not reaſons ſtrong enough to excuſe it: But to anſwer you with a freedom equal to your own, I ſhall acknowledge that you have believed nothing but truth, when you believed that I adored your Siſter, and that the Paſſion I have for her hath occaſioned all the change you have obſerved in my perſon. 'Tis true, Cicero, I am infinitely in love with the fair and vertuous Tullia, and I ſhall with an inviolable fidelity proſecute that Love to the laſt gaſp. Nay, I will tell you further, that in the Love I have for her, there is nothing that required ſo great ſecrecy, or that ſhould oblige me to conceal it from you; that I have had ſo far a confidence in your Friendſhip, as to believe you would further my deſign, and that I have expected the conſumation of my happineſs in the enjoyment of Tullia from your onely aſſiſtance. But, this ſuppoſed I ſhall further declare to you, ſince I needs muſt, That having made it my main deſign to conquer Tullia's heart▪ I had reſolved to do it purely by the batteries of my Love and reſpect, and receive it from her affection rather then your aſſiſtance, which I would not by any means deſire of you while I thought it contrary to her inclination. Theſe I have endeavoured to render favourable to me, before I implored your aſſiſtance, and have had that reſpect for Tullia, as by my ſervices to gain her favour before I employed the authority of her Brother. My endeavours have indeed met with little ſucceſs, and all the demonſtrations of my Paſſion have not been able to move a mind which I would gain by Love and ſubmiſſions. If Fortune hath been contrary to my deſign, or rather, if I have not had thoſe endowments which might deſerve Tullia's affection it is but juſt I ſhould ſmart for it, and not ſeek my happineſs by ſuch ways as ſhe might take offence at. And though what you offer is to be preferred before the Empire of the Univerſe, yet ought I not to make any advantage thereof, ſince I cannot entertain a thought to do it, without conſidering that I make unfortunate a perſon I adore, and whoſe ſufferings I ſhould be much more ſenſible of then what you now ſee me expoſed to. Quarrel not therefore at my ſilence, ſince it proceeds but not from the tenderneſs I have for a quiet a thouſand times more dear to me then my own; & if you love me, bewail my fate inſtead of proffering me an aſſiſtance I cannot accept. The period of my miſery draws nigh, and therewith conſequently that of my life, and I ſhall have the ſatisfaction to have ſuffered even to death, without charging Tullia with any thing, or embracing any advantage that might diſpleaſe her, to compaſs my own happineſs.

Cicero hearkened to my diſcourſe with much aſtoniſhment, and when I had given over ſpeaking, ‘Your procedure (ſays he to me) hath too much obligation in it for a perſon that's too ungratefull, and if my Siſter hath not anſwered, as ſhe ought, the demonſtrations of your affection, ſhe muſt needs be her ſelf prepoſſeſſed by ſome Paſſion that diſturbs her Reaſon. I have very much ſuſpected it by the change I have obſerved both [Page] in her diſpoſition and countenance, and I ſhould haply have been the more confident of it, if I had not heretofore known her mind to be far from all manner of engagements. It is certainly at this preſent more then ever, (ſaid I, much troubled to find him inclining to that opinion) and as the concernment I have in her inclinations makes me the more vigilant to obſerve them, ſo I can aſſure you, there's no man in the World ſo happy as to be lov'd by Tullia, and that I can charge my unhappineſs upon nothing ſo much as the general averſiſhe hath for all our Sex, or at leaſt for a Paſſion which ſhe can raiſe in us, but not be ſenſible of her ſelf. No certainly nothing can be the object of her love, as there is nothing that deſerves to be lov'd by her; and you cannot, without aggravating my affliction, entertain the leaſt ſuſpicion of any ſuch thing.’

This I ſhould have preſſed further, as being unwilling to leave him in that opinion, knowing that Tullia would be extreamly troubled at it, if there had not appear'd at the other end of the walk, certain perſons that were coming towards us. Whereupon I being deſirous of ſolitude, and conſequently loath to engage in that Company, intreated Cicero to go and entertain them, and leave me to the freedom of my walk. Cicero, to humour me, did ſo, whereupon coming to a place where there was a paſſage into another Walk, I left that I was in before, with an intention, out of that alſo to ſteal into ſome more private place. But I was hardly gotten into the other walk, but I unexpectedly met with the fair Tullia, who having walk'd on the other ſide of the Paliſade and hearkened to our diſcourſe, had overheard all we had ſaid, without miſſing a word of it. I was not a little ſurprized at that meeting, and Tullia reading my aſtoniſhment in my countenance, ‘Pardon me (ſaid ſhe to me, with an attractive mildneſs) if I trouble your ſolitude, and take it not ill that I have over-heard all the diſcourſe you have had with my Brother: I have found in it ſo many expreſſions of Goodneſs; Wiſdom, Diſcretion, and an Affection which I have not deſerv'd that the ſervice of ten years could not have gain'd ſo much upon me; and you may thence imagine, that I am no leſs to be bemoan'd then you, ſince my misfortune is ſuch as ſuffers me not to make any advantage of an affection, which no doubt would exchange my unhappineſs to a proportionable degree of felicity.........’

At theſe words ſhe made a ſtop with an action attended by a certain confuſion, and obſerving I ſtill had my eyes fixt on the ground without making her any reply, ‘I know (added ſhe) that you are acquainted with my misfortune, and notwithſtanding that out of intereſt or reſentment you might have publiſh'd it, you have not onely concealed it from all the World, but have chaſed away the jealouſies which my Brother had conceiv'd thereof. Nor have you caſt a ſlight obligation on me in the contempt of his proffers, becauſe they are contrary to my unhappy inclinations; and theſe effects of your goodneſs I have ſuch a reſentment of, that if you knew what ſtruglings paſs in my ſoul upon your account, no doubt you would not charge me with an exceſs of ſeverity.’

I found ſomewhat in theſe words which to my apprehenſion made more to my advantage then any thing ſhe had ſaid to me before; and attributing them to pure acknowledgement and her gratitude, whereof I had already receiv'd ſeveral aſſurances, I conceiv'd I ought to entertain them no otherwiſe then the reſt. Whereupon lifting up my eyes to faſten them on her countenance, with an action wholly paſſionat, ‘I do not charge you with any thing (ſaid I to her) and I appeal to both Gods and Men. That all I bewail is my own misfortune, without the leaſt repining thought againſt you. I have undergone it hitherto with all the conſtany Heaven was pleaſed to afford me; but now my ſtrength is ſpent, and I am reduc'd to ſuch neceſſity, as to imagine there can be no remedy for me but onely in Death. I need not haply go any further then my own grief to find it; but the effect might prove ſo ſlow as to tire my expectations, ſo that I muſt be forc'd to court it in thoſe wayes wherein ſo many great perſons have have met with it. I will go and ſpend in a Military employment the unfortunate remainders of a life that was ſo odious to you; nor is the Univerſe ſo peaceable, as not to afford War enough to diſpatch one, whom his miſeries have long ſince ſacrific'd to Death.’

Theſe words I utter'd with ſuch an action as produc'd ſome effect on Tullia's mind already ſoftened into compaſſion, ſo that when ſhe was going to make me ſome anſwer, ſhe perceiv'd coming into the Walk where we were, Cicero and the company newly arriv'd, who came along with him to find us out. Yet not willing to leave me without ſome reply, in thoſe terms of deſpair wherein ſhe ſaw me, ‘No Lentulus (ſaid ſhe to me) do not think of any ſuch reſolution, the Gods have haply ſome compaſſion reſerv'd for us, and will work ſome change in our fortunes.’ Theſe few words were all ſhe could ſay to me, nor had I the time to reflect much upon them, by reaſon of the coming up to us of Cicero and thoſe that were with him, whom we found to be Scipio and Emilia, and two other Ladies of Tullia's more intimate acquaintance, that came from Rome to viſit them.

[Page] The arival of Emilia and Scipio brought me all the conſolation I was at that time capable of; but my condition was ſuch, as that joy could not make any impreſſion on my mind▪ And though I entertained both with all the kindneſs and careſſes I was able, yet did they diſcover what obſervation they made of my affliction, by what they expreſſed themſelves▪ Cicero, a lover of pleaſure, even to exceſs, endeavoured above all things the diverſion of the company he had in his Houſe, and for the ſpace of two days I endeavoured compliance, to avoid diſguſting my Friends, as alſo to find in Tullia's laſt expreſſions ſome ground to hope: But my Melancholy having infected all my apprehenſions, and left in my ſoul nothing but ſadneſs and diſtractions, I could derive no more encouragement from them then I had done from the precedent, as proceeding from a compaſſion whereof ſhe had given me many fruitleſs marks, ſuch as had nothing common with Love. Emilia would perſwade me to the contrary, when I gave her an account of it, and endeavoured, as having, as ſhe ſaid, obſerved ſomewhat more then ordinary in her Friends diſpoſition, to re-inforce my heart with a new ſupply of Hopes: But Deſpair having poſſeſſed it ſelf of the place, it would have proved a hard attempt to get in any. So that at laſt, not able to endure company, nor reſiſt the violence of my affliction, I thought it my only way to proſecute the deſign I had reſolv'd on ſome days before, and engage in the War then breaking forth in Pannonia. I thought it beſt to depart thence without taking leave of any one, and forbear going to Rome (though I was not ſufficiently furniſhed with things neceſſary, yet had enough for one, defi'd Death ſo much, that he cared not how ſoon he met with him) as not doubting but that Cicero, and Scipio, and all my Friends would uſe all poſſible endeavours to divert me from my Deſign, and put ſuch rubs in my way, that it would prove hard for me to execute it. To this end, Cicero having appointed a Hunting-match the next day, I thought a fairer opportunity to be gone could not be expected, it being likely no notice would have been taken of my departure, and that, having given my people order to expect me with my Horſes at a place I ſhould appoint them, upon the way I intended to take, I might eaſily ſlip aſide, and meet with them, without any bodies obſerving it, before night. For the reſt, I referred my ſelf to the diſpoſal of my Deſtiny, that which was moſt occurrent to my thoughts being, that I was, without any further conſideration, to run upon my own Death. Having thus ſetled all things in order to my Deſign, I writ that night a Letter to Tullia, to be delivered to her after my departure, whereof the words were theſe.

LENTULUS to TULLIA.

I Am now preparing for my death, inexorable Tullia! ſince it is the only remedy I can imagine wil put a period to my misfortune; and I ſhall not complain either of that Deſtroyer of Man-kind, or of You, if, while I die for your ſake, I have the happineſs to pleaſe you, after I had diſpleaſed you while I lived. I charge you not with my misfortune, but ſacrifice what I am now going to loſe, in ſome meaſure to the grief I have for yours. The Gods know that if the remedies that ſhould abate it had been poſſibly attainable, I ſhould gladly have ſacrificed the remainders of my quiet to gain them, and that I ſhould have reſiſted my own misfortunes, had they not been multiplied upon me by a fatal conjunction of yours. If the Fates reſerve you for a better Fortune, I heartily pardon them their malice to me: And as my Mind was diſſeated out of my ſelf to be the more conſtantly attended on you, ſo is it for you alone that it breaths out its laſt wiſhes, and that it deſires of the Gods you may find that which I never could for my ſelf. Farewel, faireſt Tullia! I haſten to my death without any regret, other than that of being eternally baniſhed your preſence; and ſince Death it ſelf can never force your fair image out of a faithful Mind, have the compaſſion to beſtow ſome few minutes of your precious remembrance, on the memory of the unfortunate Lentulus.

Having written this Letter, and given ſome order to my people about my departure, yet without acquainting any of them with my Deſign, I went to bed, and having paſſed away the night in ſuch diſturbances as you may well imagine, I got up in the morning long before any of thoſe whom the love of Hunting had awak'd. How fully ſoever I might be ſetled in my reſolution, yet could I not ſee Scipio and Cicero without ſome motion of grief and tenderneſs, when I bethought my ſelf I was ſo to leave them as never to ſee them again: But my Deſpair having the abſolute command of my Soul, tyrannizing over all other impreſſions it might be capable of, I ſoon ſilenced thoſe that were any way contrary to my Deſign, and having given my Letter to one of my men whom I was to leave behind, with order to deliver it to Tullia two hours after our departure, I got on Horſe-back with the reſt, and [Page] follow'd them to the place where the Hunters met. It was not long ere a Stag was put up, and Cicero and Scipio being out of emulation earneſt upon the purſuit, thought it not ſtrange, that, conſidering the weak condition I was in, I ſhould lag a little behind, and were gotten a vaſt diſtance from me, without the leaſt jealouſie of my Deſign.

When they were gotten out of ſight, after I had with the tears in my eyes, mutter'd ſome few words, whereby I took my laſt leave of them, I wheel'd about, and made towards the way I had reſolved to take, intending to lodge that night at Vellium, where I had appointed my people to meet me, and whence I ſhould have ſent one to Rome, with order to meet me three days after at a place to be named to him, with what Equipage were thought neceſſary for me. To ſpeak clearly and truly, I knew not well what my intention was, as having not determined any thing but with much confuſion, though this for one thing I had fully reſolv'd, never to appear among men again, and to go and run upon a death that ſhould prove much leſs cruel to me then the life I was ſo weary of.

As I rode along taken up with thoughts, I called to mind the Deſtiny of Julius Antonius, who ſix or ſeven years before had taken the ſame courſe for the ſame Tullia, and left Rome with ſuch another intention as mine, and had not been heard of ever ſince. Having made a compariſon betwixt his Fortune and mine, and reflected on the conformity between them; ‘Well, (ſaid I, lifting my eyes to Heaven) ſince it is the Deſtiny of thoſe that love Tullia, to go and ſeek in Death the determination of their afflictions, let us ſubmit our ſelves thereto without repining, and be not much troubled to meet with a Fortune ſuitable to that of Julius Antonius.’ While my thoughts were entertained with theſe ſad reflections, getting ſtill further from the place where I had left my Friends, I was ſurpriz'd by a violent ſhower of Rain, which in a ſhort time made its way through my cloaths, and met me as far as that liquid ſubſtance could find a paſſage. The condition I was in took off much of the reflection I ſhould have made on that inconvenience, as to the body: but at laſt it grew ſo great a Tempeſt, together with Thunder, Lightning, and impetuous ſhowrs of Hail, that it was impoſſible to follow any way; ſo that inſenſibly ſtraying out of that which I was in, and not able to get into it again, I followed another, which inſtead of carrying me further, brought me nearer Cicero's Houſe. At laſt, not able to go any further, and my Horſe being in a manner tired by reaſon of the Hail and Tempeſt falling heavy upon him, I was forced to turn into certain houſes, which I perceived not much out of the way, to ſtay till the violence of the weather were over: but it continued till night come on, and then it began a little to abate. I was forced to take up my Lodging in that place, and the people of the houſe having me to bed, offered me of what they had, and very carefully dryed my cloaths. The remembrance of my misfortune, the perpetual torment of my memory, kept me awake all night, and falling aſleep about the break of day, through wearineſs and diſtraction, or rather my Deſtiny ſo ordering it, I reſted many hours together without ever waking, and it was grown ſo late when I opened my eyes, that ere I could get my cloaths on, and be ready to take Horſe, the beſt part of the day was paſſed. In fine, having enquired out the way I had miſſed, I found my ſelf extreamly ſtray'd, and that to return into that which led to Vellium, I muſt go a vaſt way about, which took up my thought for ſome time longer. But it was the Gods and my good Fortune that thus ordered things, for that whilſt I was yet at a ſmall diſtance from the place where I had lain, having heard the noiſe of Horſes behind me, and turning about to ſee who were coming, I perceived Scipio and Cicero riding for life after me, and who had almoſt come up to me ere I had diſcovered them. 'Twere hard for me to expreſs the confuſion I was in at their arrival, nay I ſuffered my two Friends to embrace me ſeveral times, and tell me many things relating to my Paſſion, ere I could recover my ſelf ſo as to make them one word of anſwer. At laſt, Cicero, ſhaking off the diſorder whereunto they were put by that which they had cauſed in me; ‘What L [...]ntulus, (ſaid he to me) can you with ſo much cruelty abandon the deareſt of your Friends? Nay, you forſake (added Scipio) the perſon you moſt adore, Tullia, that Tullia who deſires your preſence, and ſends after you. It is my perſwaſion (replyed I, with a very doleful countenance) that my Friends may haply be troubled at my departure; but for Tullia, I think her reſentments of it are ſuitable to what ſhe conceived at all the other effects of my misfortune: And if you have no other Artifice to perſwade me to a value of the life I am ready to caſt away, your attempts will prove ineffectual. Lentulus (replyed Cicero) imagine not there is any Artifice either in our procedure or diſcourſes; Tullia is of ſuch an humour as you would deſire her to be of, and ſhe is not only ſenſible of what ſhe owes you, but alſo reſolved to return it you without any violence. And whereas (added Scipio) we do not haply deſerve you ſhould give credit to our diſcourſes, we bring you greater aſſurances of a truth which you would not abſolutely believe upon our report.’ With theſe words he preſented me with a Letter, which I received, and opened without being able to utter one word, and which I preſently knew to be [Page] of Tullia's writing. My mouth was upon it as ſoon as my eyes, though I knew not yet what it contained, and a little after, in a trembling poſture, and with a [...] action ſo amorouſly paſſionate, that my two Friends were moved to pitty thereat, I read in it theſe words.

TULLIA to LENTULUS.

I Thought the laſt words I ſpoke to you had diverted you from your Deſign; but ſince they have not proved ſo effectual, I employ all the power you have given me over you, to bring you back again. Return Lentulus, if it be true that you love me; and if you can forget what is paſt, as I deſire you would, aſſure your ſelf that for the future my acknowledgements ſhall be conſonant to your deſires.

O Gods! (cryed I, upon the reading theſe few Lines) is it poſſible theſe words ſhould come from Tullia's heart; or dare I believe my eyes, and my Friends who would convince me of ſo unexpected a change? This firſt tranſport being over, I ſeveral times read over Tullia's Letter, and thereupon opening my heart for the entertainment of Hope, gently making its way into it; It cannot be otherwiſe (added I) then that theſe words, which have ſuch a ſoveraign vertue for the preſervation of my life, muſt come from the hands of Tullia: but who can ſecure me that ſhe writ them not meerly out of compaſſion, or that it is not an effect of her Brothers authority, which I would not owe my Fortune to, if it be contrary to Tullia's inclinations.

It would be long, great Princeſſes, ere I ſhould make an end, ſhould I repeat all that my different Paſſions put into my mouth upon that occaſion. And becauſe it is now time to conclude this tedious relation, I ſhall only tell you, that my two Friends, having born with my tranſports and firſt diffidences, both proteſted to me, that Tullia's Letter was the effect of her own pure inclination; that it was indeed true, that Cicero had ſpoken on my behalf, and had expreſſed to her the deſire he had to ſee me better treated and ſatisfied then I had been, but that in his diſcourſe he had employed perſwaſion rather than authority: That Emilia and Scipio, ſince their arrrival joyned with him to convince that inexorable ſpirit, and that beyond all hope, they had obſerved in it thoſe diſpoſition▪ which they looked not for; that it was much in ſuſpence upon the very receipt of my Letter, and upon the reading of it ſo moved, that they could hardly have deſired a greater effect in a mind as much inclin [...]d to love, as that of Tullia had ever been averſe from it: ſo that they were at no great pains to perſwade her to do what they would, to write that Letter, and to promiſe ſhe would entertain my ſervices for the future as favourably as I could deſire ſhe ſhould. In fine, Madam, they by their diſcourſes reduc'd me from the extremity of affliction to that of joy, & forcing out of my mind all the dreadful reſolutions I had received in there, they brought me back to Cicero's Houſe, ſo chang [...]d, that I was hardly taken to be the ſame man. I ſaw again my faireſt Tullia, with a joy it is impoſſible for me to expreſs to you, though not abſolutly free from confuſion; I embraced her knees with tears, and tranſports, which the preſence of ſo many perſons could not oblige me to forbear; and the Gods were pleaſed I ſhould obſerve in her the change my Friends had perſwaded me to expect. She bore with the firſt diſcoveries of my Paſſion, without expreſſing her acceptance thereof otherwiſe than by looks full of mildneſs; and when ſhe could ſpeak to me without being heard by any but Emilia. You ſee, Lentulus, (ſaid ſhe to me) the effect of that compaſſion which the Gods have had on us, and which I gave you ſome aſſurance of upon the firſt ſentiments I had of it! My mind is now delivered, through their aſſiſtance▪ from the torment it was before unjuſtly expoſed to, and I ſhould tell you that I have reduced it to an acknowledgement of your vertuous affection, as I ought to do, could I believe you have forgotten my weakneſs, and continued your eſteem for a perſon you have ſometime thought in ſome meaſure worthy it. I ſhall think it an obligation if you attribute it to the diſpoſal of Heaven, or to ſome extraordinary misfortune, rather than to the natural currant of my inclinations; and I am apt to hope you will make no other judgement of it, when you ſhall have known me better.

I made ſuch anſwer to this diſcourſe of Tullia's as whence ſhe might be ſatisfied, That the knowledge I had had of her unhappineſs was ſo far from raiſing any impreſſion in my mind that were prejudicial to her, that it had given me rather an admiration of her Vertue, ſeeing her oppoſe and ſubdue, with ſo much glory, an enemy that any other would have been cru [...]h'd by: And I prevailed ſo far with her, that ſhe quitted all the ſcruples ſhe might derive from that imagination. Whereupon I perceived, that from time to time her mind became more and more free from that malicious paſſion, till at laſt there was not the leaſt track left of it, ſhe being, without any repugnance, willing to ſubmit to her Brothers diſpoſal, [Page] which was to put a period to my ſufferings by a Marriage. In fine, all things became as favourable, as they had been contrary, to my deſigns; and my felicity had been conſummated, had it not been thought fit, for many important conſiderations, which I could not except againſt, that we ſhould defer it till the return of Auguſtus; and Tullia told me ſhe was very glad of that delay, to the end I might be the more fully ſatisfied in that interval, whether there remained in her any thing of her affection for Ptolomey. Since that time returning to Rome, I ſpent my time with as much pleaſure and enjoyment as I had had affliction before that happy change: And when I was grown ſo confident of my Fortune as to defie all uncertainty of it, I thought my ſelf obliged to take a journey after the Emperour, to repair my paſt neglects, and appear before him in a condition ſuitable to my birth, and the rank I had lived in before.

Thus did Lentulus conclude his Relation, to the great ſatisfaction of the two Princeſſes, who could not, without expreſſing their gladneſs thereat, underſtand the happy iſſue of his Loves. Eſpecially Cleopatra; to whom the worth of Lentulus was known, congratulated the happy change of his Fortune, and intreated him to afford her a place in Tullia [...]s Friendſhip, whoſe Vertue ſhe had ever had an eſteem for, though ſhe had through her cruelty loſt a Brother. Lentulus anſwered that obliging diſcourſe of the Princeſs with much reſpect, and not long after perceiving the Princeſſes ready to go to Supper, he took his leave and went to find out Druſus and Ptolomey at the Praetor's, who entertained them that night. That evening they again viſited the Princeſſes, who received their viſit in Eliſa's Chamber, whither preſently after came Olympia and Arſinoe to ſpend the Evening with them.

After their departure, and at the accuſtomed hour, Caeſaria made his viſit to Candace, with the ſame circumſpection as the former nights; and this time Cleopatra having taken a more particular knowledge of her Brother, & obſerved in him thoſe many marks of greatneſs, which ſhe could not at the firſt have done, entertained him with all the Friendſhip he could expect upon the account of either blood or deſert. He was deſirous to leave that ſuſpected Countrey, and to take his fair Queen along with him; but Cleopatra, who was loath to loſe him ſo ſoon, after ſhe had beyond all expectation met with him, repreſented to him, that ſince Caeſar was to come in the next day, 'twas fit Candace ſtayed his arrival, and diſcovered her ſelf to him, ſince that there was no reaſon ſhe ſhould fear the Emperours preſence, with whom neither ſhe nor any of her Predeceſſors had had any difference; and that it might be dangerous for her to depart ſecretly, after ſhe had made an unknown abode there that might have raiſed a jealouſie of her, and cauſe her to be ſtayed in her way; ſince it was not to be doubted but Cornelius would, out of revenge, oblige the Emperour to purſue her, if there were any apparent reaſon for it. Caeſario and Candace, to whom the friendſhip and preſence of Cleopatra were but too dear to be quitted without grief, complyed with theſe conſiderations, and that the more freely, out of a confidence that Caeſario could not be diſcovered in Alexandria, where the report of his death was credited for the ſpace of ten years, and where he had not been known by his own Brothers, beſides the care he took to conceal himſelf as much as might be. Cleopatra thought not fit that day to make him known to Ptolomey, conceiving it would be time enough ſome days after, upon a more favourable opportunity. After a viſit of two hours, he retired, and the Princeſſes being gotten to bed, devoted the reſt of the night to ſleep, as far at leaſt as their different reflections would give them leave to entertain it.

The end of the Firſt Book.

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA; OR Loves Maſter-peice. Part. XI.
LIB. II.

[Page]

ARGUMENT.

Auguſtus maketh his entrance into Alexandria, accompanied by Alcamenes the great King of the Scythians, and all the Princes that had gone to meet him. He is received at the Palace by the ſix incomparable Princeſſes, Eliſa, Candace, Cleopatra, Artemiſa, Arſinoe, and Olympia. He pretends v great eſteem for Artaban, and promiſes him all favour againſt the pretenſions of Tigranes. All the moſt conſiderable perſons about the Court meet at Julia's Lodgings, where Agrippa makes a further diſcovery of his paſſion for Eliſa, Cornelius of his for the Queen of Aethiopia. Auguſtus takes notice of Agripa's inclinations for Eliſa, and promiſes, him the utmoſt of his aſſiſtance to gain her; ſpeaks to the Princeſs on his behalf, but ſhe continues conſtant to Artaban, ad diſcovers to him what diſcourſe had paſſed between her and the Emperour and Agrippa, whom he reproaches with the injuſtice of his proceeding toward him, and entertains with his reſentments thereof.

THE next day by Sun-riſing, all the Inhabitants of Alexandria were in Arms ready to march out to meet the Emperour, who was to make his entrance into the City ere the day were to far ſpent; & though, out of the reſpect he had for Octavia, and the Children of Anthony, he was not deſirous any Solemnity ſhould be uſed at his coming into a place where the unfortunate Anthony and the great Queen Cleopatra had, after they had ſeen the ruine of their Houſe loſt both their lives; yet did it not hinder but that Cornelius ſet himſelf in the head of what Horſe there were in Alexandria, and diſpoſed the Infantry without the Gates under the command of his Lieutenants. All other things that were uſually done upon the like occaſions were purpoſely omitted, ſo that there was little to be ſeen of that Pomp which had been obſerved in all the other Cities of the Empire, where Caeſar had been received after his departure from Rome. All the great Princeſſes that were in Alexandria, behaving themſelves upon this occaſion, according to the advice Agrippa had given them the day before, & which they had received from him, as grounded on the inſtructions he himſelf had ſent him by the Emperour, expected him all together in the Palace, with a reſolution to receive him in the Court, and ſalute him as ſoon as he were alighted. Druſus, Ptolomey and Lentulus kept them company in that attendance; but it proved not long, it being hardly Noon when Auguſtus was come into Alexandria. Heaven rung again with the acclamations that were made at the name of Caeſar, and yet the people who were the Authors thereof, could not behold his coming into their City, without reflecting on that more dreadful entrance he had made ten years before, on the fatal day, wherin Fortune decided the Empire of the Univerſe on his ſide.

The day happening to be very fair, the Emperour, purpoſely to prevent the emulation and diſcontent that might have riſen among ſo many great Princes, who equally pretended to places in his Chariot, came on Horſe-back from the place where he had lodged the night before, and in that p [...]ſture was attended, or environed by the moſt celebrious company the world had ever beheld. The Majeſty of his Perſon was no doubt conſonant [Page] to the greatneſſe or his Fortune, nor could it but raiſe a certain veneration, to look on the greateſt of Mankind, or, to ſpeak modeſtly, the Maſter of the greateſt part of the Univerſe, and one that had made himſelf ſuch, by the aſſiſtance which his Fortune had deriv [...]d from his Prudence and his Sword. Yet were not the eyes and obſervance of the ſpectators ſo abſolutely faſten [...]d on him, as not withal to have directed them on the countenance, and indeed the whole Parſonage of a Prince that rode on one ſide of him, and whoſe attractive aſpect carri [...]d with it the admiration of all that ſaw him. Beſides the beauty of his face, and the goodlineſſe of his deportment, which might juſtly conteſt with whatever had come moſt accompliſh [...]d from the hands of Nature, his perſon was remarkable for ſomething above the ordinary rate of men, and not miſ-becoming the character of one of the Heroes, or Demi-Gods of Antiquity. But if the excellence of his outward perſon drew the eyes of all upon him, the general a [...]oniſhment was much greater when it was given out, that it was the great Alcamenes, the Monarch of the Scythians; a perſon ſo famous, that, notwithſtanding the diſta [...]ce and little commerce there was between his and other Nations, his adventures and glorious actions were confuſedly ſpread over the Univerſe, and could hardly be credited by thoſe that heard them, as being more ſuitable to the fables of the Greeks, the [...] any confidence with ordinary events. Caeſar, conſidering in him the greatneſs of his Actions, with that of his dignity, and the obligation he had put upon him, contrary to the ordinary proceeding of ſuch Kings as were not tributary to him, to come and viſit him after ſo obliging a manner, and to afford him his company part of his journey, did him the honor which he had never done to any, and treated him in all things as his equal. Nor indeed had he reaſon to do otherwiſe, for that, not to preſs the extraordinary worth of Alcamenes, it was but juſt that Auguſtus ſhould put ſome difference between one of the greateſt Kings in the world that had not the leaſt dependance on the Empire, & thoſe Princes that were his vaſſals & Tributaries.

After Alcamenes, rode along about Caeſar, but without any order, Ariobarzanes the new King of Armenia (one more co [...]ſiderable for the ſweetneſſe of his perſon, and his admirable qualities, then for his new dignity) Tigranes King of the Medes, Archelaus King of Cappadocea, Philadelph Prince of Cilicia, Polemon King of Pontus, Mithridates King of Comagenes; and among all theſe Kings a man ſo remarkable, that the want of Crowns abated nothing of thoſe marks of greatneſſe; which were more obſervable then the Royal Dignity. 'Twas the great Artaban, whoſe perſon was made up with ſuch a conſummate perfection, and in whoſe countenance, notwithſtanding the natural fierceneſs of it, there was ſomething ſo attractive, that the eyes of all were faſten'd on him, and that not without exclamations and viſible diſcoveries of aſtoniſhment and admiration. Nay, the Emperour himſelf was ſo ſtruck therewith, that he was not able upon the firſt ſight to deny him what all the world acknowledg [...]d due to him; and having underſtood afterward, that it was the famous Artaban, on whoſe Sword depended the fates of Empires, and whoſe noble reputation he had ſo often heard of, he looked on him as a miraculous perſon, and entertained him, not only equally with, but indeed as much beyond what he had, thoſe Kings that were of his attendance, as his vertue was above theirs. He diſcourſed with him almoſt all the way, but with no ſmall diſcovery of the eſteem and reſpects he had for him, cauſed him to ride cloſe by him all that day, and by all manner as it were of familiarity he manifeſted the reſpect he had for his vertue. The indignation, madneſs, and confuſion which Tigranes conceiv'd thereat was apparent in his countenance, in ſomuch that he deſpair'd of any good ſucceſs of his affairs, though the Emperour had entertain'd him with much kindneſſe before the arrival of Artaban, and had promiſed to do him all the juſtice he could expect. King Ariobarzanes, whoſe vertue, excellency of perſon, and great qualities, were not inferiour to thoſe of the moſt accompliſh [...]d perſons, and of whoſe noble actions the Emperour had deceiv'd an account from the mouth of Agrippa, had been entertain'd by him with all expreſſions of eſteem and Friendſhip: nay, Caeſar having conſider'd him, not only as one of the moſt valiant, and moſt amiable Princes upon earth, but as one raiſed up from the Grave, and that had eſcap'd a death, which according to the general opinion had ſnatch'd him hence, as he was, upon his orders, coming to Rome to be brought up near him, he had received him with more then ordinary kindneſſe, and congratulated his arrival to the Crown, by the death of a brother whoſe late actions had incenſed him, and promiſed him the protection that he afforded thoſe Kings, who, be [...]ng his Allies, he had moſt reſpects for,

Prince Philadelph, whoſe advantages were not inferiour to thoſe of the reſt, and who, for the no [...]le adventures of his Loves to Delia, whereof Agrippa had taken the pains to give Caeſar an account, and his gallant actions againſt Artaxus and the King of Parthia, had deſerved the love & eſteem of all the world, had alſo had his part in the careſſes of the Emperor, & with no ſmall ſatisfaction, heard from his own mouth, that he would be his mediator to the king his father for his marriage with the Princeſs Arſinoe, or would openly protect him againſt his violence, if he could not gain his conſent. Archelaus & he, out of a conſideration of neighbourhood [Page] and the ancient Friendſhip that had paſſed between them, could not ſee one the other again without much ſatisfaction: and whereas the King of Cappadocia was a Prince of very great worth, the Friendſhip that had been between them ſuffered not the leaſt breach of violation through abſence or the ſeveral Paſſions their minds had undergone the diſtractions of. All theſe Princes rode along with Caeſar without any order or rank, and with them the great Agrippa, the vertuous Mecenas, and divers others of the moſt conſiderable of Aguſtus's Court, and among all the Romans. The Empreſs, the Princeſſes, and all the Ladies that were come along with them, followed at the diſtance of ſome Stadia, and before they were got near Alexandria, the Emperour was come into the Palace, and alighted at the foot of the great Stairs.

He was hardly gotten off his Horſe, but his eyes were dazled with the nobleſt object the world could afford, in the ſight of the ſix admirable Princeſſes that came to ſalute him: and as there was nothing that could come into competition with their beauty, he was accordly ſo amazed at it, that he had for ſome time loſt all the advantage of motion, and was in a certain ſuſpence as to the reception he ſhould give them. During which, Agrippa, coming up to him, directed him to the fair Princeſs of the Parthians, whoſe Hiſtory he had entertained him with, and whoſe intereſts he had very much recommended to him; and the Daughter of Phraates, though ſhe might diſpute for precedence with all the Princeſſes upon earth, yet ſenſible how far ſhe ſtood in need of Caeſar's protection, againſt the pretenſions of Tigranes, and cruelty of Phraates, would caſt her ſelf at his fee [...]; but the Emperour, perceiving her intention, prevented her, and having held her up in that action he ſaluted her as the Daughter of his equal, and a Monarch who had never ſubmitted to the Romane power. Eliſa having entertained Caeſar's civility with abundance of ſubmiſſion, and a ſweetneſs particularly recommendable in her, lifting up to view his countenance thoſe fair eyes, which out of modeſty ſhe had till then kept faſtned on the ground; ‘My Lord (ſaid ſhe to him) there now ſtands before you a Princeſs of the bloud of the Arſacides, caſt by a tempeſt upon your Territories, and whom the deſire of ſaluting the great Caeſar, and the deſign of begging his protection hath ever ſince detained. I am oppoſed by, and ſtruggle with a malicious Fortune, and ſuch other Powers as againſt which it is only yours that can ſecure me. 'Tis at your feet that I caſt my ſelf for ſanctuary, and I hope you will not deny it me, ſince the intereſt of my Countrey and the Houſe I come of could not diſſwade me from deſiring it of thoſe who were the greateſt and moſt powerful enemies of both.’

With thoſe words ſhe offered again to do her ſubmiſſions to Caeſar: but the Emperour, who at the ſight of thoſe admirable Princeſſes had ſhaken off all the Romane gravity, not permitting it, Fair Princeſs (ſaid he to her) you ſhall receive from us all you have deſired, ſince all the Monarchs upon earth are obliged to attend you with their ſervices and aſſiſtance againſt thoſe Powers that oppoſe you. Fear not any thing, now that Fortune hath directed your Addreſſes to us, but be confident, that notwithſtanding the bloudy Wars and the enmity between our Nations, you ſhall find among the Romans that quiet and ſecurity which you have not among the Parthians.

Theſe few words were all he ſaid to her, nor had Eliſa the time to make any anſwer thereto, by reaſon that Cleopatra, deſirous it ſeems, upon Candac's intreaty, to prevent Cornelius's deſign to preſent her to Caeſar, comes up to him with that fair Queen by the hand. The Empereſſe was no leſs amazed at the Majeſty of Candace then he had been at the beauty of Eliſa, and going to turn to Cleopatra to be informed of the name and quality of that excellent perſon, the Queen her ſelf, after ſhe had ſaluted him as Eliſa had done, looking on him with an action not unſuitable to the greatneſſe of her courage; ‘My Lord (ſaid ſhe to him) there is not any one can acquaint you with what I have not diſc [...]vered to any; but it were unjuſt for me to conceal my ſelf from the great Caeſar, after the refuge and ſafety I have found in his Dominions. I am Candace, Queen of Ethiopia, whom a traverſe of Fortune, inſupportable as that of the Princeſſe of the Parthians, caſt upon the Coaſt of Alexandria, and who, though by a happy change, reduced to a condition to return into her own Countrey, yet thought not fit to leave yours before ſhe had rendred to the great Emperour of the Romans, what he juſtly may, upon the account of his Dignity and his Vertue, expect from all the world beſides.’

Caeſar was a little ſurprized at firſt hearing of Candace's name; and though Agrippa, when he gave him an account of all the remarkable tranſactions in Alexandria had not forgot to acquaint him with the adventure of that excellent Queen, and particularly to give a diſcription of her beauty, as one that might pretend as much to it as any in the world, yet could he not give him her name, as being indeed unknown to him. Cornelius was no leſſe aſt [...]niſhed at that diſcovery of the Princeſs whom he adored, and could not without a paſſing grief reflect on her being of ſuch a Rank in the World, as in a manner blaſted all the [Page] hopes he had conceived of obtaining her. All thoſe who had all this time been ignorant of Candace [...]s Dignity, were not a little aſtoniſhed to underſtand it from her own mouth; but the Emperour, having ſoon overcome that which at the firſt apprehenſion he had expreſſed thereat, and returned to the Queen what he thought due to her upon that diſcovery of her quality; ‘Madam (ſaid he to her) I am extreamly glad at the ſervices that may have been done, by any related to me, to ſo great and ſo fair a Queen as your ſelf, and no leſs, that I am in a condition to offer you, as well in Alexandria, and through the whole extent of the Empire, whatever you can deſire of an Allie, whoſe greateſt ſatisfaction it ſhall be to render you what your M [...]rit and Dignity may juſtly challenge.’

Having ſo ſaid, he turned towards Cleopatra whom he had not yet ſaluted, and embracing her with all the tenderneſs he could have expreſſed, if Julia had been in her place, he, by the moſt kind and obliging diſcourſes in the world, diſcovered the joy he conceived at her return and her liberty, the affliction he had been in for her loſs, and the reſolution he had taken to purſue the King of Armenia to the end of the world, and to bring utter deſolation by Fire and Sword into his Countrey, if the juſtice of the Gods had not overtaken him. Cleopatra perceived by that diſcourſe, that Agrippa had given Auguſtus an account of ſome things that had paſt, and accordingly imagined, as indeed it was true, that he had ſo ordered his Relation as to attribute all to the aſſiſtance of Marcellus and Alexander, without making any mention of Coriolanus. Agrippa had not been awanting as to that point of circumſpection, and by perſwading Caeſar, it was by Marcellus's valour that Cleopatra had been recovered out of the hands of Artaxus, he had over-burthened him with joy by the tidings he brought him of Marcellus's ſafe return. Cleopatra, having entertained the careſſes of the Emperour with all ſubmiſſion and acknowledgement, made place for Olympia, Arſinoe, and Artemiſa, who were preſented to him by Ari [...]barzanes, Philadelph, and, by reaſon of the abſence of Alexander, Ptolomey. His admiration continued ſtill at the ſight of ſo many excellent beauties, though the chiefeſt the world ever afforded had been bred up at his Court, and he rendred thoſe fair Princeſſes, whoſe names were told him, and whoſe principal adventures he had been informed of, what a Prince high-born, and full of gallantry, as he naturally was▪ could have done upon ſuch an occaſion. He took occaſion to celebrate Olympia for what ſhe had done and ſuffered for Ariobarzanes, to thank Artemiſa for the ſafety of Alexander, and, directing his diſcourſe particularly to Arſinoe, the ſtory of whoſe loves he had been extreamly moved at, to ſay many pleaſant things to her, to the great reputation of Delia.

When he had rendred to theſe ſix admirable perſons, what, he thought due to them, turning towards King Alcamenes, who ſtanding near him looked on thoſe miraculous beauties with an aſtoniſhment he could not expreſſe; You have ſuffered ſo much (ſaid he to him) and done ſuch extraordinary things for a handſome Woman, that it muſt needs be concluded that Beauty hath no mean influence upon you. If it be ſo, as no doubt but it is, you ſhould not be a little ſatisfied with your coming hither, there being few places in the world where you might meet with ſo much Beauty, as you now find in Alexandria. I am not onely perſwaded (replyed the King of the Scythians, who ſpake the Roman Language as perfectly as he did his own) that the whole earth cannot parallel what now appears to our eyes, but am inclined to believe, that, putting all the paſt Ages together, it hath not produced any thing comparable thereto, and the gods expreſſe the care they have of your glory & greatneſs, when they make it ſo much their buſineſs to glean together from the ſeveral quarters of the World, whatever it hath that's moſt fair, to adorn and embelliſh your Court withal.

They were in theſe terms, and the Emperour, raviſhed at the objects that in a manner captivated his ſight, had not yet bethought him of going up the ſtairs, when came into the Court the Chariots of the Empreſs, and thoſe of the Princeſſes that accompanied her. Livia was in her own, with the Princeſs Octavia, the Princeſs Antonia her Daughter, & Terentia, Mecenas his Lady, whom the ſubtil and politick Livia pretended abundance of kindneſs for, though ſhe was not ignorant of the love which Auguſtus had for her. In the ſame Chariot was alſo the Queen of Celicia, who not many days before was come to Auguſtus's Court, having brought along with her the Princeſs Urania her Daughter, and the vertuous Andromeda her Daugher in Law. After that came in Julia's Chariot, wherein was that Princeſs, and with her the diſcreet and fair Andromeda, the beloved Siſter of Philadelph, Urania, Siſter to Archelaus, who had ſometime been deſigned a Wife for Philadelph, and the excellent Cipaſſis, whom Julia treated with no leſs ceremony then ſhe did thoſe were born Princeſſes. Then came in that of Octavia, wherein were Agrippina, Marcella, and Marcia, and with them Sabina and Sulpitia. In that of Terentia, which came in next were Helvidia, Virginia, Hortenſia, and Servilia; and after theſe came in ſeveral others wherein were the moſt conſiderable of the Romane Ladies, who would needs accompany Livia in her progreſs.

[Page] As ſoon as the Empreſs was alighted out of her Chariot, the Emperour went towards her, leading in one hand the Princeſs Eliſa, and in the other the Queen of Aethiopia. Livia was no leſs aſtoniſhed at their beauty, then Augustus had been! and Mecenas, who had helped her out, having acquainted her with their names before they were come up to her, ſhe entertained them as perſons of a quality equal to her own, and gave them a reception full of civility and obligation: and having not permitted the ſubmiſſions which they would have made to her, ſhe re [...]terated the proffers which the Emperour had already made to them, with a grace and inſinuation particular onely to her. That done, ſhe received Olympia, Arſinoe and Artemiſa, whom being preſented to her, ſhe was made acquainted with, and entertained with an equal mildneſs and ſeveral times embraced the Princeſs Cleopatra, t [...] more to expreſs the ſatisfaction ſhe conceived at her liberty. Julia, Octavia, and the Princeſſes her Daughters, entertained them with no leſs ceremony, and though Julia might with ſome jealouſie look on thoſe Beauties which in ſome meaſure eclipſed her own, yet being naturally of a m [...]ld and ſprightly diſpoſition, ſhe was not clouded with the leaſt melancholy or diſturbance at this interveiw, & entertained theſe illuſtrious perſons with the greateſt freedome and kindneſs imaginable: and her careſſes were more particularly directed to the Princeſs Cleopatra, whom ſhe ſeveral times embraced, congratulating her happy recovery, with all the demonſtrations of a real and true Friendſhip. But ſhe was forced to reſign her to the embraces of Octavia, Antonia, and her Siſters, who by thouſands of kiſſes, and words accompanied with tears of joy, diſcovered to her, what affliction they had conceived at her misfortune, and how glad they were at the happy iſſue of her ſhipwrack and captivity. Octavia kept her a long time in her arms, with expreſſions of tenderneſs and affection equal to thoſe ſhe might have found in a true Mother; and when ſhe had done, ſhe left her to the fair Antonia, for whom ſhe had had a very particular affection, and whom ſhe had truſted with the knowledge of her moſt important ſecrets.

But if Friendſhip produced theſe effects between thoſe admirable perſons, with much more reaſon might it be expected in the meeting of Philadelph with his beloved Siſter, the amiable Andromeda: and if the Prince of Cilicia was ſurprized to ſee her, and with her the Princeſs Urania, whoſe affections he had ſlighted, to addreſs himſelf to Delia, the prudent Andromeda was no leſs aſtoniſhed, ſo much contrary to her expectation, to meet with that ſo much deſired Brother, whoſe abſence ſhe had bewailed with ſo many tears. The firſt eruption of her joy was in a ſudden out-cry; but when ſhe began to expreſs her ſelf in careſſes and words proceeding from the tranſcendency of Paſſion, ſhe finds her ſelf embraced, and turning towards the perſon from whom ſhe received that kindneſs, ſhe perceived, with an aſtoniſhment much beyond the former, that ſhe was between the arms of Delia. Her ſurpriſal had been much leſs, if ſhe had been the night before with Auguſtus, when Agrippa gave him an account of what was moſt remarkable at Alexandria: But having not had the leaſt notice of it, that unexpected interview raiſed ſuch a diſturbance in her, that it was a long time ere ſhe could find words to expreſs her thoughts of it. She thereupon quitted her Brother, to return Delia the expreſſions ſhe received from her of her Friendſhip; and when the aſtoniſhment ſhe was in permitted her to ſpeak, What means the kind Deities (ſaid ſhe to her) to make me ſo happy, as not onely to meet with that Philadelph whom Delia had taken away from us; but I muſt, with Philadelph, find that Delia whom he had loſt as well as we! You are not miſtaken, Siſter, (replied the Prince) you indeed ſee that inexorable Delia, and which is more, you will find her ſuch by birth, as that you will think it no leſs honour to entertain her alliance, if you may obtain it, as you ſometime thought you did her in the proffer of yours.

Arſinoe and Andromeda were going to make ſome reply, but they were interrupted by thoſe that thronged in, and were forced to expect the mutual account they were to give one the other at ſome more convenient time and place; and Philadelph, after he had ſaluted the Princeſs Urania with very much reſpect, went to do his duty to the Queen of Cilicia his Step-mother, who, notwithſtanding the ancient quarrel ſhe had againſt him, received him with expreſſions of a cordial affection.

The Palace of Alexandria, which ſome years before had been the Royal Seat of the Ptolomeys, enriched and embelliſhed by the magnificence of a long ſeries of great Monarchs, was one of the moſt ſumptuous, and moſt ſpacious Houſes the earth ever was proud of; ſo that all the Court of Auguſtus, at leaſt, all thoſe perſons who out of a conſideration of their quality might expect Lodgings in the Emperours Palace, found conveniences enough here▪ The King of the Scythians, and after him, all the Princes that were about Caeſar, had ſumptuous Lodgings appointed them, and the King of Armenia, who with the Princeſſes his Siſters and Prince Philadelph had taken a Houſe in the City, left it, upon Order from Caeſar to come and lodge in the Palace. Eliſa and Candace, being unwilling to part, had kept the Lodgings they were in before; but Cleopatra left hers, to be near [Page] Octavia, whom ſhe was wont not to be at any great diſtance from, and it was taken up by the Queen of Cilicia and the two Princeſſes, her Daughter and Step-daughter.

The numerous retinue of ſo many Princes was diſpoſed up and down the great City of Alexandria, which ſeemed then to be rather the Metropolis of the Univerſe, then the principal City of Egypt, and more proud of the abode of Caeſar and ſo many illuſtrious perſons, then of that of ſo many Kings as had reign'd there, and the glory of its Founder. People immediately reſort thither from all parts of the Univerſe, and the report which was ſcatter'd abroad of Auguſtus's intention to continue there ſome time, brought thither ſome out of all Na [...]ons upon earth. The Emperour finding himſelf accompany'd by ſo great a number of [...]e moſt conſiderable perſons, of both Sexes, that the world could afford, and particularly by the King of the Scythians whom he had more then ordinary reſpects for, the Princeſs of the Parthians and the Queen of Ethiopia, whoſe Territories had not any dependance on the Empire, reſolv'd to treat them with all magnificence, and entertain them with thoſe divertiſements which the pomp of the Romans had invented, ſuch as Races perform'd by Horſe alone, or with Chariots, and Duels fought by the Gladiators aamong themſelves, or with ſavage Beaſts, which he cauſed to be brought every where after him, and whereof there was already come a great number to Alexandria.

The very ſame night there met a magnificent Aſſembly at the Princeſs Julia's Lodgings, where, to the ſound of a great number of Inſtruments, that illuſtrio [...]s company danced all thoſe Dances, which, from the Greeks and other Nations, had been derived to the Romans, and which for that time prov'd the chiefeſt of their divertiſements. Julia appeared more chearful then [...]he would have been at that meeting, to comply with the Order ſhe had received from Caeſar, though that by reaſon of the abſence of Marcellus, her ſoul ſeemed to be in a mourning poſture; but a mourning indeed ſuitable to her humour which was not overſuſceptible of the moſt preſſing griefs. Thouſands of Torches convert Night into Day, to comply with the enjoyments of the nolleſt company that the Sun through all the period of his courſe caſt his all-ſearchi [...]g eye upon. The King of Armenia, and the two Princeſſes his Siſters, were diſpenſed from being there, by reaſon of the late death of Artaxus, though the whole Aſſembly were extreamly deſirous of the preſence of Delia. Theſe famous beauties, the chieffeſt haply the Earth could afford, appear'd that night with all the advantages they could derive from either ornament or dreſſing; and whereas Eliſa and Candace had not at Alexandria all things requiſite, ſuitably to their quality, the officious Cleopatra, whoſe external beauty and internal excellencies were beyond all emulation and envy, made proviſion for their dreſſing, and furniſh'd them with all they could deſire, to heighten that by forreign ornament, and accomodations, whereof Nature had been ſo liberal to them. Nor was their appearance in that admirable company, otherwiſe then as that of two bright Stars, raiſing an admiration not onely in thoſe that had not ſeen them before, but even in thoſe that had ſeen them in another condition, though with ſome inequality, Eliſa's fairneſs giving her ſome advantage over the complexion of Candace, to whom the Torches were ſo much the leſs favourable. Julia indeed was the moſt glorious object there, as well by reaſon of her natural beauty, as the ornaments whereby ſhe had advanc'd it, and adding to the luſtre of her countenance the ſprightlineſs of her eyes, the freedom, gallantry and inſi [...]uation of her action and deportment, ſhe for a long time inhanc'd to her ſelf the obſervance of the whole Aſſembly. Antonia, though with leſs Art, appear'd no leſs beautiful then ſhe, and by the command and modeſty of her looks, ſhe produc'd as great effects as Julia had done by all the ſurprizing management of hers. Never was there any thing ſeen that expreſſed more modeſty, and at the ſame time more attraction; nor yet was ever Vertue ſo well diſcover'd and acted in external apparences, as in the countenance, nay indeed the whole perſonage of Antonia. Her Siſters, Agrippina, Marcia, and Marcella▪ fair and ſumptuoſly dreſt, had alſo thoſe that approv'd them; And Terentia, Wife to Mecenas, the worthy object of Caeſar's affection, and whoſe beauty was not much inferiour to the moſt accompliſh'd, ſhewed her ſelf with a more then ordinary luſtre. Andromida, and Urania, among beauties that darkened all near them, were thought very hanſom; and the lovely Cipaſsis, having, upon Julia's command, dreſt her ſelf that night, appeared with ſo many advantages, that there were hardly in that miraculous company, and conſequently not in the whole Univerſe, above two or three Beauties that could be preferred before hers. Sulpitia, Sabina, Hortenſia, and divers other illuſtrious Roman Ladies, diſcovered, both by their countenances and their clothes, abundance of Magnificence and beauty: but that, what was moſt remarkable in this ſo famous Aſſembly, how beautiful or admirable ſoever it might be was darkned, or at leſt eclipſed by the celeſtial beauty of the incomparable Cleopatra, was the general acknowledgement of all; having that night, upon the command of Octavia, put on cloaths far richer then ſhe was ordinarily wont to wear, though there were but little conformity [Page] between the poſture of her Soul at that time, and thoſe external diſcoveries of Gallantry, ſhe heightened the luſtre of the cloaths by ſcattering about them part of thoſe precious ſtones which the Queen her Mother had ſometime made oſtentation of with ſo much ſumptuouſneſſe and prodigality. But they added not ſo much to her beauty as they loſt of their own by being ſo near her, it being the general opinion of the whole Aſſembly, that the fire of her Diamonds was much leſs ſparkling then that of her eyes. Her perſon and deportment ſeem'd to be wholly directed by the hands of the Graces, it being impoſſible an eye ſhould faſten it ſelf on that delightful object, without raiſing in the ſoul a joy whereby it was heightned & tranſported. Thoſe on whom ſhe darted her directer looks, could not receive them without being dazled thereby; and thoſe to whom ſhe ſpoke, ſeem'd as if they were charm'd into ſilence and aſtoniſhment.

But though the ornament of the Aſſembly lay moſt on the fairer Sexe, yet could it not be ſaid that the men had been wanting as to what might be expected from them, and accordingly many of them thought it not unſeaſonable to make oſtentation of their magnificence and endowments in the moſt illuſtrious Aſſembly of the Univerſe. King Alcamenes, who was about the thirtieth year of his Age, and betrayed no leſſe youthfulneſſe and gallantry in his inclinations then he had done when, in Dacia, under the name of Alcimedon, he had gain'd the affections of Menalippa, appear'd there all Gold and Precious Stones, and heightning the ſweetneſſe and Maje [...]ty of his look, by ornaments ſo far different from the ancient meanneſſe of the Scythians, he raiſed aſtoniſhment in thoſe, who, though well acquaint [...]d with the Pomp of the Romans, had not ſeen any thing equally ſumptuous, and gave all that were preſent occaſion to reflect on what they had heard related of his miraculous Adventures. The amorous Druſus preſented himſelf with a magnificence nothing inferiour to that of the Scythian King, and as to property of perſon, exactneſſe of carriage, and indeed whatever was taking and amiable, there being few with whom he might not diſpute precedence, the company look'd on him, with much delight and approbation. Agrippa, who for ſome years before ſeem'd to have ſhaken hands with that kind of gallantry, the more to mind matters of War, and the government of the Empire, re-aſſuming, out of the Love he had for Eliſa, his more youthful inclinations, ſhew'd himſelf amongſt the moſt magnificent of the Aſſembly, and added to his high and martial look the Ornament of that Gold and Diamonds he had before contemn'd. Archelaus came in alſo ſumptuouſly clad, and though the memory of Antonia had prov'd a great affliction to him, and had cauſed him a long time to neglect his perſon, yet had he for ſome days before minded himſelf more then he was wont to do, and ſuffer'd himſelf to be o'recome by the inclination he felt growing in him for the fair Princeſſe Andromeda, Siſter to Philadelph. Tigranes, in whom reſentment and indignation were more powerful then the love of Gallantry, came to the Aſſembly without any thing extraordinary as to Ornament, and would not have been there, had it not been for fear of diſpleaſing the Emperour, who ſeem'd to have deſired his preſence. Mithridates King of Comagenes, groaning ſtill under the grief he had conceived at the loſſe of Antonia, yet made his appearance among the reſt pompouſly enough; and Polemon King of Pontus in a condition not much different. Domitius preſented himſelf clad to the height of Roman magnificence, to the eyes of Agrippina, whom he ſerv'd, and was upon the point to marry: and young Ptolomey, as much to pleaſe his own humour as to honour Marcia, who paſſionately loved him, had not abated any thing of what the [...]iches of habit and deportment could add to that of his countenance and perſon. Craſſus, a perſon very conſiderable among the Romans, as well for a many excellent qualities, as the famous Victories he had gained not long before againſt the Baſternae, whoſe King he had killed with his own hands, in the head of his Army, undergoing the griping of a [...]ecret love, where [...]n he had Auguſtus himſelf for his Rival, had not omitted any thing might render him acceptable in the ſight of Terentia; and Lentu [...]us, though at a great diſtance from the object of his affections; Ovid, gallant enough as to accoutrements & perſon; A [...]binus, Cinna, Emilianus, and divers others of the moſt eminent Romans, preſented themſelves ſo much the more ſumptuouſly, out of an emulation of magnificence. But among all thoſe whom Gold, Precious Stones, and Diadems made the more remarkable to thoſe that were preſent, Artaban, a perſon in all likelihood hewen out for the Wars and the overturning of Empires, made his appearance as it had been in the head of an Army, yet raiſed no leſs love and admiration in thoſe who looked on him, then he did terror in his enemies when he was upon his march towards them. The Emperour who knew what condition he was in, and what accident brought him to Alexandria, had, in order to this Aſſembly preſented him with a ſumptuous habit, which he durſt not refuſe, ſo that the handſomeneſſe of his perſon heightned thereby, he ſeemed to be ſomewhat more then humane. and drew to himſelf the reſpect and affections of all that were preſent. The fredome of his carriage, and [Page] his ſtature ſomewhat above the ordinary rate of men, diſcovered it ſelf with all its beauty, and that natural fierceneſſe that was ſo obſervable in his eyes, and all his deportment, was upon this occaſion moderated by ſuch an attractive mildneſs, as yet through which there viſibly broke forth ſomething great and Majeſtical. Whence it came to paſſe, that in this illuſtrious Aſſembly he was reſpected beyond even thoſe that were of Royal dignity, inſomuch that in imitation of Julia, all the Ladies were extreamly deſirous of his converſation, and to do him all the honour imaginable. O what a ſatisfaction was it to Eliſa to find her affection countenanc'd by ſo general an approbation; and what regret and affliction to Tigranes, to ſee, even in his preſence, ſo much honour done to him whoſe competition was ſuch a torment to him, and whom meerly for the want of a Crown and Royal extraction he had imagined ſo much below him! Agrippa himſelf, notwithſtanding the greatneſſe of his ſpirit and vertue, could not without ſome inclination to envy, look on ſo powerful a Rival, but wiſhed Fortune had raiſed againſt him one of the greateſt Kings in the world rather then ſuch a Corrival. Alcamenes, and he, who indeed might with reaſon diſpute all things, look'd on one the other without any emulation, and finding themſelves mutually worthy one anothers Friendſhip, they both embraced it with equal earneſtneſſe and inclination. Alcamenes, who, though a great King himſelf, ſet a lower value on Royalty then Vertue, and withal laugh'd at the unjuſt cotempt which his Competitors expreſſed towards him, having, even while he ſojourn'd in the Court of Dacia as a private perſon under the name of Alcimedon, entertained him, to the confuſion of thoſe that envy'd him, with as much reſpect and acknowledgment as if he had been King of a Monarchy equal to his own; and after many words, whereby thoſe two great Souls aſſur'd one the other of an indiſſoluble Friendſhip, Alcamenes taking him by the hand, ‘I enter into Friendſhip and Alliance with you (ſaid he to him) as King of the Parthians: I doubt not but you will one day attain that Crown; and if to carry on, or maintain you in the juſt pretenſions you may have thereto, the aſſiſtance of your Friends be requiſite, I ſhall be ready to ſerve you in the Head of a hundred thouſand men.’ This he ſpoke ſo loud, that it was heard by Tigranes; but whether out of the reſpect he had for Auguſtus, or ſome other conſiderations, he pretended not to have heard it, though he conceived ſuch a grief and indignation thereat, as he found it no ſmall difficulty to diſſemble. Artaban anſwered ſo noble a proffer with the reſpect and ſubmiſſion he had for vertuous Princes, by whom he was not ſlighted, and, by the after-converſation he had with the Scythian King, made him ſenſible, that all he had receiv'd from Fame of the greatneſſe of his courage, was below the truth. Nor is it hard to imagine, that all thoſe perſons of ſo many different Nations that then were in Alexandria could diſcourſe together notwithſtanding the difference of their Languages, ſince that it was a general ambition in all Kingdomes, eſpecially thoſe that had any commerce with the Empire, to learn the Roman Language, and that there were few conſiderable perſons in the world who were not very skilful in it.

This Aſſembly, how admirable ſoever it might already be, would have ſeemed much more noble to the Emperour, if Marcellus had been there, his abſence being onely that which, in his apprehenſion, hindred it from being compleat. Livia had the ſame reflections for Tiberius, whoſe preſence out of a maternal deſire ſhe could not but wiſh; and Cleopatra and the Queen of Ethiopia, having with juſtice commended it in her, whiſper'd one another in the ear, that that Aſſembly would be abſolutely conſummated in the preſence of Coriolanus and Caeſario, could their ſeveral Fortunes have permitted it. The Emperour had been inform'd of Marcellus's return, and thence imagin'd, that ſince his laſt departure, whereof he was not able to gueſſe at the occaſion, he could not be gotten far, and the Princeſſe Cleopatra, having that evening had the opportunity of ſome diſcourſe with Julia, aſſur'd her, that Marcellus was not far from Alexandria, and that he had ſhaken off that jealouſie out of which he had left her, upon the confeſſion of Voluſius, whoſe arrival ſhe gave her an account of, as alſo of the Artifices of Tiberius, and the innocence of Coriolanus. Yet thought ſhe not fit to tell her that that Prince was ſomewhere about Alexandria, though ſhe was confident, that upon her knowledge of it ſhe would not do him the leaſt ill office; and they together concluded it unſeaſonable as yet to make any diſcovery of the baſe Artifices of Tiberius, by reaſon of Livia's being concern'd therein, and the confuſion ſhe might be likely to conceive thereat.

During the entertainments of ſo gallant an Aſſembly, wherein ſo many illuſtrious perſons endeavour'd to expreſſe their Courtſhip and noble diſpoſitions no leſſe then their Magnificence, Agrippa having continu'd ſome time at the back of Eliſa's Chair, and none preſuming to interrupt the diſcourſe he had with her, out of the reſpect which all bore him, had the opportunity to entertain her with his paſſion, more favourably then he had had any time before: Yet out of all the converſation he had with her, could he not derive the leaſt hope, [Page] though the Princeſs, whoſe inclinations were naturally full of mildneſs, took no offence at him, as ſhe might haply have done at any other, for whom ſhe would not have had the ſame compliance. King Alcamenes entertained the Princeſs Cleopatra, and Artaban had a long diſcourſe with Julia, who could not but admire all things in him. Cornelius finding an opportunity to come near Candace, and looking on her with a reſpect which the knowledge he had of her quality, added to what he had for her before, upon the account of his affection; Madam (ſaid he to her) I come to demand your pardon for the faults which out of my ignorance I may have committed againſt you: But had you been pleaſed to diſcover your ſelf, I ſhould have endeavoured to render you what is due to ſo great a Queen. I am eaſily inclined to believe (replyed the Queen very ſharply) that I was not known to you, and if I had, to imagine your carriage had been much otherwiſe towards me then it hath been for ſome days paſt▪ But ſince you have put an obligation upon me, which nothing can force out of my remembrance, I am willing to forget your paſt miſcarriages, out of a confidence you will not be guilty of any the like hereafter. Ah Madam! (reply'd the Praetor) It is not for that offence that I beg your pardon, nor can I think my ſelf criminal for a thing I neither can nor ſhall ever repent me of. That which I charge my ſelf with as moſt injurious to you, is, That I have omitted thoſe formalities which are to be obſerved towards ſo great a Queen; but you could not certainly take offence at a paſſion, which a Goddeſs, were there any ſuch among us, would think innocent: If therefore that be the offence I ſtand guilty of, I ſhall die in the guilt of it. Cornelius (ſays the Queen, looking very diſdainfully on him) Caeſar is now in Alexandria, force me not to repreſent theſe injurious proceedings of yours towards me; and know, that I would not ſuffer from himſelf the unjuſt freedom you take with me.

With theſe words ſhe turned away from him, and engaged her ſelf in the converſation of Alcamenes and Cleopatra who was ſate cloſe by her. Cornelius was at ſuch a loſs, that he found it no ſmall difficulty to diſſemble the confuſion he was in and after he had continued a while in ſuſpence what countenance to put upon it, he left the place where he was, and went to Tigranes, whom he found no leſs diſcontented then himſelf, and with whom he held a great correſpondence.

All this while was Alcamenes in diſcourſe with Cleopatra, whoſe celeſtial Beauty and tranſcendent Wit he thought worthy the greateſt admiration, and the Princeſs, in whom the relation of the prodigious Adventures of that Prince had raiſed no leſs, took occaſion to expreſs the ſatisfaction ſhe received in her Captivity from the relation Megacles had made of [...]is miraculous Adventures even to the leaſt particularities. Whereupon having given him thoſe commendations which he could not without ſome difficulty receive from ſuch a Princeſs as Cleopatra; It muſt certainly be acknowledged (ſaid ſhe to him, with a grace which it was impoſſible to meet with in any other) that what we have heard related of the fabulous Heroes of ancient times, is incomparably below the miracles of your life: But forbearing to mention thoſe prodigious acts of valor, whereby you have acquired ſo vaſt a reputation, you will give me leave to celebrate in you that admirable fidelity of your affection, as ſuch as whereof all the paſt Ages cannot afford us a like example.

The King of the Scythians could not forbear bluſhing at that diſcourſe of the Princeſs, and anſwering her with an exceſſive modeſty; If my actions (ſaid he to her) have raiſed me into any degree of reputation among Barbarians, they cannot ſignifie any ſuch thing, when they come to the knowledge of perſons among whom the greateſt are ordinary; and I ſhall withal preſume to tell you, that we deſerve not any commendation for doing things which we are but too much obliged to, and ought to obſerve towards the ſoveraign Miſtreſſes of our Souls to the laſt gasp of life. But Madam (added he) I did not imagine that the accidents of my life had come to your knowledge, as conceiving that Fame had otherwiſe employment enough to acquaint the world with the miracle of Cleopatra, too much haply to trouble her ſelf with the adventures of a Scythian. And indeed I muſt do her that right, as to aſſure you, that ſhe hath in ſome meaſure done you the juſtice ſhe ought, and that what I underſtood from her of you, in Nations that lie at a great distance from this, hath not been one of the leaſt motives to put me upon ſeeking of that in Caeſar's Court which cannot be ſeen in all the Univerſe beſides. Ah my Lord, (replies the Princeſs) you honour me too much, and you give me what I expected not from you for ſuch truths as are but too much due to your ſelf! I know not the reaſons you had to undertake a journey whence we derive ſo great advantages, but you cannot perſwade me, you ſhould come out of your own Territories, to ſeek for any thing greater then your ſelf, or more beautiful then Queen Menalippa. Not, I muſt confeſs (added ſhe, by a graceful diverſion to bring about the diſcourſe to ſuch a ſubject as her modeſty could better bear with) but that in ſome intervals I have been much inclined to quarrel with that fair Queen, or at leaſt could not without impatience reflect on that cruel miſtake which produced ſuch horrid effects, and made her with ſo much earneſtneſs endeavoor to put a period to a life a thouſand times dearer to her then her own. [Page] And you will alſo give me leave to tell you, (replyed the Scythian, ſpeaking ſomewhat lower) that I have not conceived a leſs affliction and reſentment, when I underſtood that a Prince the moſt amiable and moſt vertuous among men, after he had deſerved your kindneſſes, as far as they could be deſerved by extraordinary endowments and great actions, rendred himſelf afterwards unworthy thereof, by a change that armed againſt him the reſentments of all the world, and gave us occaſion to conſider, either with indignation or pity, the blindneſs and weakneſſes of all men.

Alcamenes obſerving the diſturbance which this diſcourſe of his had raiſed in the thoughts of Cleopatra legible in her face, it repented him that he had medled with that ſubject. And he ſecretly condemned the indiſcretion he thought himſelf chargable with, when the Princeſs no longer able to ſuffer the injury done Coriolanus's innocency though ſhe thought it no fit ſeaſon to divulge it, after ſhe had done ſome violence to a ſign which would force its paſſage out; My Lord (ſaid ſhe to him) there is ſometimes a vaſt diſtance between apparencies and truth, and it is ſo ordinary with Time to diſcover what the malice of men would diſguiſe that he whom we charge with inconſtancy, will be found much more unfortunate in it then guilty of it. It ſhould be one of the heartieſt of my wiſhes (replies Alcamenes) it were ſo, and could he clear himſelf of that crime, I ſhould gladly contribute any thing that lay in my power to moderate or put a period to his misfortune: For in fine, Madam, the account I had received of the noble actions of his life had raiſed in me ſuch an eſteem and affection for him, as would hardly afford any entertainment to a belief of the infidelity he is ſo much reproached with, and made me wiſh his innocence, though it were with the loſs of many things I ſhould highly value. If it be my happineſs ever to ſee him again (replies the Princeſs) I ſhall acquaint him with this expreſſion of your of Goodneſs; and durſt I ſpeak any more on his behalf, I ſhould preſume to tell you, that he is Maſter of thoſe excellent endowments that might render him worthy thereof. Alcamenes conſidered this diſcourſe as proceeding from the excellent diſpoſition of Cleopatra, as on which a juſt reſentment could not produce any effect contrary to her own generous inclinations.

While he thus entertained her, filling her with admiration at his perſon and deportment, Julia treated Artaban with thoſe inſinuating careſſes whereby ſhe often engaged hearts leſs conſtant then that of the faithful Servant of Eliſa: and whereas it ran into her imagination that ſhe never had met with any thing more worthy her eſteem, and was one that could not do her ſelf the leaſt violence as to matter of converſation ſhe treated him in the moſt obliging manner in the world, and made no difficulty to tell him, that Eliſa would be very much to blame to prefer any Tigranes whatſoever before ſuch a perſon as he was. Thoſe expreſſions coming from ſo great a Princeſs, wrought in him a ſubmiſſion equal to the confidence he took upon him when he had to do with thoſe that ſlighted him, and he received the honour ſhe did him with ſuch an excellent grace, that ſhe was more and more confirmed in the good opinion ſhe had of him.

Druſus was not a wanting in his attendance on Antonia, whom none pretended to but himſelf, though there were many that envyed his good fortune: But being withal a perſon generally beloved and eſteemed, all in a manner congratulated his ſatisfaction to find himſelf treated by the fair and diſcreet Antonia, as favourably as the ſeverity of her vertue would permit. Ptolomey was very obſervant towards Marcia. Archelaus waited on the Princeſs Andromeda, nay, Tigranes, though with much violence to himſelf, had ſome diſcourſe with Urania.

The beſt part of the night was ſpent when they gave over dancing, whereupon this illuſtrious company ſeparated to go to their ſeveral reſts. They all went to their ſeveral Lodgings, out of the ſame deſign, yet did not all equally find that which they were ſo deſirous of. Moſt of the Princes went along with the Emperour, to ſee him abed; and after they were all departed, and that there was onely Agrippa, according to his ordinary cuſtome, left with him Auguſtus looking attentively on him, and obſerving the viſible change of his humour, his countenance and all his behaviour, could not conceal from him his thoughts of it. And in being ordinary with him to diſcover his heart to him upon all occaſions, ‘Agrippa ſaid he to him, with a ſmile, and in a way drolling enough, have I not that place in your affection, as that you will acknowledge a truth if I my ſelf have diſcovered it, ſince it is well known to you, that I have not had any thing ſo ſecret or of ſuch importance as I was not willing to communicate to you?’ Agrippa, who imagined what he would be harping at, made no anſwer to his diſcourſe, ſo that the Emperour confirmed in his opinion by that ſilence, ‘I ſee (ſaid he to him,) what your deſign is, you would have me much more a ſtranger to this then to all your other adventures, whence I am the more ſatisfi'd of what I was already in a Manner confident of: But think it not much to truſt me upon this occaſion, ſince I have made you privy to all the important emergencies of my life,’ and confeſs, if you love me, whether the Princeſs [Page] of the Parthians hath not deprived you of that indifference and freedome which had hitherto ſtood in defiance againſt all the Romane Beauties? Ah my Lord, (replied Agrippa, with a confuſion he was not able to ſmother) what actions of mine have given you occaſion to conceive any ſuch opinion? 'Twas apparent (replied the Emperour) in all you have either done or ſaid in my preſence ſince your firſt ſight of that Princeſs; in the account you gave me of her beauty and adventures; in the paſſion which made you ſo earneſt in your diſcourſe, when you deſired my protection for her; in your officiouſneſs to entertain her all ‘this night, to the prejudice and diſſatisfaction of other perſons, to whom no doubt but you had reſigned that imployment,’ had you not been too much concerned in it: in the change I have obſerved in your countenance while you were ſpeaking to her, in your amorouſly paſſionate look, in the gallantry and magnificence of your Cloaths beyond what you were wont to affect: To be ſhort, in all the alteration might have been obſerved in you, ‘even by perſons no way concerned in your affairs.’

This diſcourſe of the Emperour put Agrippa ſomewhat to a loſs, as not being able without a certain confuſion to reflect on the notice he had taken of his paſſion, and that at a time, when he had disburthened himſelf upon his ſhoulders of the Government of the Empire. But being conſident withal that he could not but have an indulgence for a paſſion which he was ſo much ſubject to himſelf, and imagining he could not long conceal from him that which was ſo great a torment to him, he reſolved to acknowledge it with the beſt countenance he could, and encouraged by the aſſurance he was in of his affection; ‘My Lord, (ſaid he to him) were the reſpect I have for you conſiſtent with eluſions and diſſimulation, I ſhould haply endeavour to conceal that which your diſcerning obſervation hath but too too eaſily diſcovered; nor is it without ſome confuſion I am forced to avow, that, at a time wherein it was moſt requiſite ſome aſſiſtance of Wiſdome ſhould have ſecured me againſt the Paſſion which you have by ſo many marks diſcovered, I have been o'recome by it through too weak a reſiſtance. 'Tis true, my Lord, ſince I muſt of neceſſity acknowledge it, I am in love, I am deſperately in love with the Princeſs of the Parthians, and my heart hath ſubmitted, contrary to my intention, to thoſe powers which upon the firſt ſight diſarmed it of all its ſtrength. I know this weakneſs were not excuſable if it were voluntary, and that I ſhould have made all the force I could to oppoſe the violence of a paſſion, no way conſiſtent with reaſon. It would have been expected that the weight of the employments you honour me with, and my affairs of greater conſequence ſhould have diverted my thoughts from any ſuch thing; and if I muſt be enſlaved to Love, it ſhould have been for any one rather then a Princeſs born of a Houſe in hoſtility with the Romane name and Empire, a Princeſs, next to the Princeſs Julia, the greateſt in the World, & a Princeſs that is Heir to a Monarchy, the attainment whereof a Roman, and a private perſon cannot with any likelihood of ſucceſs, propoſe to himſelf: But, my Lord, I have been ſurprized, and have to no purpoſe had recourſe to the aſſiſtance of my Reaſon in an affair wherein it cannot be allowed any power. It very much troubles me (ſays the Emperour to him) to find you defeated by that Paſſion in the manner you repreſent it to me; and that not onely becauſe it diſturbs your quiet, dearer to me then my own, but that withal thwarts the deſign I had to bring you as near my ſelf as I could, by the alliance of ſome perſon of no great diſtance in bloud to me: But ſince the tenderneſs I have for you is equal to that I have for Marcellus or my ſelf, and that all I either do or can do for you, is below what may be due to a perſon who by his extraordinary actions hath in ſome meaſure raiſed me to the great Fortune I now enjoy, I will, contrary to my inclinations, and without any regard to my intereſt, endeavour your enjoyment and ſatisfaction. Eliſa is not the leſs amiable becauſe ſhe was born among our enemies, and I ſhall not oppoſe the union of our Empires, if it may be eſtabliſhed by this alliance. Nay, on the contrary, you may well imagine I ſhould be infinitely pleaſed, could I raiſe you to the Throne of thoſe great Monarchs, who have ſo long diſputed ſuperiority and Empire with Us: Nor ſhould the Dignity of Eliſa deter you, ſince that, conſidering the Rank you are of, that which you ought to be of upon the account of your Vertue, and the Friendſhip I have for you, there's nothing in the Univerſe above you. Be confident, Agrippa, your pretenſions to Eliſa are moderate and juſtifiable, ſince you might have pretended to Julia, and that ſhe ſhould never have been any man's but yours, had I not deſigned her for Marcellus, or that he were not living to enjoy her. Be not then diſcouraged at theſe difficulties, but confident there's nothing you may not overcome by your own great merit, with our aſſiſtance.’

Auguſtus added to this, much other diſcourſe, full of the greateſt expreſſions that could be of a tender Friendſhip, and Agrippa who had hearkned to them with ſuch tranſports and reſentments, as he was not able to expreſs, would have caſt himſelf at his feet, if the Emperour, who had long before forbidden him all ſuch carriage, had not prevented it. Agrippa [Page] made his acknowledgements with the greateſt demonſtrations of gratitude, declaring withal, that rather then be thought unworthy the honour he deſigned him for, he reſolved never to ſee Eliſa again, and to endavour by an eternal abſence, his own death or recovery. But Caeſar, knowing he could not take any ſuch reſolution without doing too great a violence to himſelf, ſuch as haply might have proved fatal to him, would by no means hear of that propoſition, and thereupon telling him that he ſhould be no leſs in his affection if he married Eliſa, then if he were matched to Julia, he ſaid his commands on him to joyn endeavours with him in order to the purchaſe of his own quiet, and to hope all things with his aſſiſtance. Agrippa ſubmitting himſelf to the will of Caeſar, and complying with his deſires, My Lord, (ſaid he to him) now is it that I am of all men the moſt unfortunate, in that the aſſiſtance of Caeſar, from which I might promiſe my ſelf all things, I can upon this occaſion make no advantage of, as not being able to employ it againſt the fortune of a man for whoſe vertue I have ſo much respect. Did not the affection I have for Eliſa over-ballance it, I ſhould never have been induced to croſs his deſigns. The reflection I make on the merit of Artaban, and the advantage he hath over the inclinations of Eliſa, diſcourages me more then all the pretenſions of Tigranes. 'Tis a Rival, whoſe admirable endowments upon the firſt ſight of him, forced my eſteem and affection, and it is out of ſincere reſpect which I have for him, that I have ſolemnly promiſed Eliſa, not to diſpute her affections againſt him otherwiſe then by Love and Services, without offering the leaſt violence by any authority derived from Caeſar. Thus am I diſarmed of whatever I might hope of aſſiſtance, & having nothing but merit and ſervices wherewith to oppoſe a man who by thoſe wayes hath already deſerved all things, I may very well doubt the iſſue of a combat which I undertake againſt him with ſo much diſadvantage.

'Tis true, (replied the Emperour after he had continued ſilent a little while) take all mankind, it will be hard to pick out ſuch a dangerous Rival as Artaban, or one more worthy the affections you would deſpute againſt him; and I ſhall tell you withal, that out of the eſteem I have conceived for his worth, I could wiſh it were any other man's fortune that we were to cruſh; but when Agrippa's ſafety and ſatisfaction lies at the ſtake, all other conſiderations vaniſh. We will endeavour to find out ſome other wayes to ſatisfie Artaban's ambition, ſince we muſt oppoſe him in his Loves, and conditionally he will quit his pretenſions to Eliſa, I will pamper him with thoſe Honours and Dignities which ſhall give his very deſires a ſurfet. It was imprudently done to engage your ſelf to refuſe my aſſiſtances; and though you have promiſed not to receive them, you cannot hinder my deſign to afford them you. No, my Lord, (replies Agrippa) I cannot fruſtrate the effects of your goodneſs, the expreſſions I receive whereof are too precious and too glorious not to be acknowledged; but it is not in my power to make any advantage thereof, as reſolved to keep the promiſe I have made Eliſa, as well out of the reſpect I have for her, as the violence it is to my nature to take the advantage of my fortune againſt a man, who, for his vertue, is more worthy of it then my ſelf. It ſpeaks a more then ordinary generoſity in you (replies the Emperour) but not over-much reaſon: Go and take ſome reſt if you can, and let me take that care for you which you will not for your ſelf.

Upon theſe words he bid him good night, unwilling to hear what he would have ſaid further againſt himſelf, on the behalf of his Rival. Agrippa withdrew, with a ſoul engaged in a tempeſt of different reflections, not knowing whether he ſhould rejoyce or not, at that kindneſs of the Emperours, who deſirous, contrary to his intentions, to make him happy, would have in ſome ſort engaged him to a breach of his word, and the generous reſolution he had taken. Being in this uncertainty, he paſſed away the night with a certain reciprocality of hope and joy, which though his Vertue would not admit, yet could not his Love but entertain them with ſome delight. All the illuſtrious Perſons that were then in Alexandria paſſed it alſo diverſly, according to their ſeveral conditions; and Candace was one of the leaſt ſatisfied, as having not ſeen her Caeſario that night, as ſhe had done the precedent, and foreſeeing it would be much more difficult for him to wait on her during the time ſhe intended to ſtay in Alexandria, then it had been before.

The next day, as ſoon as the Emperour was to be ſeen, all the Princes and the moſt conſiderable perſons were expecting his appearance. The King of the Medes was one of the firſt to wait on him, out of a deſign to have ſome diſcourſe with him about his own concernments before the preſs would be too great: And the Emperour having entertained him with a ſeeming kindneſs, he in a long diſcourſe acquainted him with what had all this while lain ſo heavy on his heart. He in the firſt place repreſented the great deſires he had ever had to ſerve him, as he in duty ought, and the ſubmiſſion he had had for his commands, as well in the differences there had paſſed between him and the King of Armenia, as upon all other occaſions that had offered themſelves. Then he comes to complain of the injuſtice had been done him, by forcing and ſtill detaining from him, againſt all right and all appearance of reaſon, a Princeſs, whom by his Ambaſſadors he had married, and that with the conſent of her [Page] Father. To this he added the ſatisfaction he conceived, to find her in a place where he feared not any injuſtice, nor yet any prejudice on the behalf of his enemies, & ſo concluded with adeſire that he would do him that juſtice which he never refuſed any, & order his Spouſe to be delivered to him, as he would do for any, though ever ſo inconſiderable, upon the like occaſion

Auguſtus gave him the hearing with much patience, but, being now engaged to promote the paſſion of Agrippa, and that withal he thought it no juſtice to force the inclinations of a Princeſs of the equality and worth of Eliſa, after he had given him leave to ſay all he would, Tigranes (ſaid he to him) You have had ſome grounds to be aſſured that I ſhould do you no injuſtice, and you ſhall find from me whatever you can with reaſon expect: I ſhall not give way that any ſhould take away or detain from you the Princeſs of the Parthians, and I ſhall put her into your hands, as ſoon as ſhe ſhall be willing to go along with you. To that end you are at liberty to diſpoſe her thereto as ſoon as you ſhall think fit, and you will find no further obstacle if you but once get her conſent: But you ought not to hope, and I imagine you do not, that to further your deſign I ſhould do her any violence, both in regard the action in it ſelf would be contrary to the equity which I ſhall punctually obſerve, and that Eliſa is a perſon of that Rank as neither can nor indeed ought to give me that freedom. This is a thing you know as well as my ſelf: And you may take notice further, that if Marcellus were in your condition, I ſhould treat him no otherwiſe then I do you; and that were it my own Son, had the gods been pleaſed to have bleſſed me with any, I would not, to oblige him, offer any violence to ſuch a Princeſs as that of the Parthians. 'Tis the leaſt ſhe can hope, to be at liberty in a place where ſhe demands my protection: you have the ſame freedome, and if you can gain her conſent; you ſhall meet with no other oppoſition.

To this effect was the diſcourſe of Auguſtus to him, as who knew well enough how contrary the inclinations of Eliſa were to the affections of Tigranes; ſo that the afflicted King of Media growing pale at the hearing of thoſe words, received them no otherwiſe then as the Sentence of Death, though he had in all likelihood already foreſeen ſome part of his misfortune: Nor could he diſſemble the affliction he conceived thereat; and looking on the Emperour, though with a certain reſpect, yet ſuch as through which his reſentments were eaſily diſcernable, What, my Lord, (ſaid he to him) do you think it any violence to permit a Husband to take his Wife to him in your Territories; and what rank ſoever Eliſa may be of, do you think it any force done her by putting her into his hands on whom her Father and all her Friends have beſtowed her, with all the ceremonies and ſolemnities ordinary upon ſuch occaſions? Had ſhe been born in any place within my jurisdiction (replies Auguſtus) or any Kingdom dependant on the Empire, I might have diſpoſed of her according to your deſires, but being the Daughter of a Monarch over whom we have no power or authority, and being ſuch in her perſon as nothing is able to exempt even my ſelf from the reſpect due to her from all men, you ought not to think it ſtrange I ſhould leave her to her own diſpoſal, and be unwilling to do that for you, which certainly I ſhould be loath to do for my ſelf. 'Tis enough, my Lord, (replied the Median) and you cannot better aſſure me that you have reſolved my ruine then by telling me that you leave my fortunes at the diſpoſal and mercy of Eliſa. The intentions ſhe hath towards me I am very well acquainted with, and ſince ſhe hath left me her lawful Husband, to wander up and down the world with Artaban, I doubt not but that for the ſame Artaban's, ſake ſhe will ſhun me to the end of the world. ‘But, my Lord, is it poſſible, that an Emperour ſo great and ſo juſt can ſo eaſily ſacrifice the enjoyments and glory of a King, whoſe Life and Crown hath ever been at his diſpoſal, to the ſatisfaction of a Souldier of Fortune, whom I have my ſelf raiſed out of the duſt to the honour he hath ſo unworthily abuſed:’ a Souldier, I ſay, whoſe moſt conſiderable actions have been done in the ſervice of your enemies? That Souldier (replies Auguſtus) is not to be ſlighted by thoſe who have any regard to Vertue, and there are few Kings in the world to be preferred before him, if it be referred to the judgement of the greateſt men. What he hath done againſt you for the enemies of the Roman Empire, cannot prevail with me to abate ought of the eſteem I have for him, and you are the perſon that of all men have leaſt reaſon to think ſo meanly of him. But what ere he may be, it matters not, you may take this further from me, that it is not any way to promote his deſign, that I leave the Princeſs Eliſa at the liberty of her choice; and that I ſhall not interpoſe between you as to what concerns her affections Prevail with her, if it be poſſible, by love and ſervices, and uſe all imaginable induſtry to gain her, violence onely excepted, which I abſolutely forbid you in my Dominions, both againſt her and againſt Artaban, and which you cannot make uſe of without rendring me your enemy.

The Median King, ready to burſt with grief and exaſperation at this diſcourſe, was going to reply, haply with a violence which might have incenſed him, when the Emperour perceives coming into the Room, Ariobarzanes King of Armenia, Prince Philadelph and King Archelaus, and as he was turning towards them to ſalute them, comes in King Alcamenes. Caeſar leaving Tigranes, went to entertertain him, which he did with the civility [Page] he was wont to expreſſe towards him, telling him it was his deſign to give him a viſit in his own Chamber, and that it troubled him he was prevented. Alcamenes received that civility of the Emperour with a ſubmiſſion accompani'd by all the marks of a real Greatneſſe of Soul, and after ſome diſcourſe together, the Emperour having word brought him that the Empreſſe was ready, and that all the Princeſſes were with her, went to her Lodgings, follow'd by all that noble company. She being one of the moſt ingenious and underſtanding of the Sexe, and able to manage the Government of the Empire as well as the greateſt men, the Emperour had more then ordinary compliances for her, and ſhe received them with ſuch an admirable deſign and artifice, that taking no notice of his Amoretto's both towards Terentia and other Ladies whom he had lov'd, ſhe accordingly made it her main buſineſſe to ſatiate his ambition which was the predominant paſſion in him, and flatter Auguſtus's humor in ſuch manner as that ſhe might continue her authority over him, and be in a condition to raiſe her Sons to the height of advancement. When this noble company entred her chamber, all the Princeſſes were there, and the Emperour having very ſubmiſſively ſaluted them all, ſaid to every one of them ſome word by the way, relating either to her Beauty or Adventures; and not long after perceiving that the King of the Scythians was fallen into diſcourſe with the Empreſſe, he comes up cloſe to Eliſa, and having an affection for Agrippa equal to that he had for Marcellus, he would not put off to another time the good office he intended to do him as to what regarded that Princeſſe. Out of which deſign, beginning to ſpeak very low to her, whereupon thoſe that ſtood by, out of reſpect retiring to ſome further diſtance, as conceiving it was his deſire that his diſcourſe ſhould not be heard: (Madam ſaid he to her) the laſt thing I did, was to plead your right againſt the great pretenſions of Tigranes; I have cruſh'd the ſtrongeſt of his hopes, by telling him that you were free and at your own diſpoſal in our Territories, and I am confident I have this day loſt one of my ancient friends for your ſake.

This diſcourſe of Auguſtus could not but be very much to the ſatisfaction of the Princeſs, inſomuch that deſirous to expreſſe the reſentment ſhe had of his favours; ‘My Lord, (ſaid ſhe to him) though I ought to have hoped all things from your Juſtice, I am now to acknowledge my obligations to be abſolutely to your Goodneſs, nor can you make a greater demonſtration thereof, then in your protection of a Princeſſe, Daughter to an Enemy, againſt a Prince, who how unjuſt ſoever he may be, hath better deſerved your favour and ſupport then ſhe hath. There is not any in the world, (replies the Emperour) can better deſerve the reſpect and ſervices of all men then your ſelf, and therefore I expect not the leaſt acknowledgement from you of a thing I ought to have done, and which no doubt I ſhould have done, though you had not been the moſt accompliſh'd Princeſſe in the Univerſe. Not (added he, after a ſhort interval of ſilence) but that the reſentment you expreſſe thereof raiſes in me a great ſatisfaction, and that it were my deſire you ſhould think your ſelf oblig'd to me, that I may with the greater confidence beg a favour of you, after I had done you a ſervice. My Lord, (ſays the Princeſs to him, ſomewhat aſtoniſh'd at his diſcourſe) you may lay what commands you pleaſe on thoſe perſons that are in a capacity to obey you; but I cannot imagine how a Princeſſe, whom Fortune hath not left any thing but what ſhe receives from your goodneſſe, can do any thing in order to your ſervice or ſatisfaction. Tis in your power to do much (ſaith the Emperor to her) both as to what concerns my quiet and my happineſſe, ſince you can by your compaſſion preſerve me a Friend thats dearer to me then my own life, and that one that dies for you. Wonder not, Madam, (continued he, obſerving in her countenance the diſturbance which his diſcourſe had raiſed in her thoughts) that I ſpeak to you ſo ſoon with ſo much freedome: the inconvenience is very preſſing when it ſtrikes at no other place then my heart, which makes me the more impatient to tell you, that Agrippa, by making you a preſent of himſelf, hath preſented you with one half of Caeſar: Were the affection I have for him leſs then it is, or were he not my other ſelf, I ſhould never have had the confidence to ſpeak to you for him, to the prejudice of the generous Artahan, for whom I have an eſteem as great as his own Virtue. I cannot but acknowledge all things ſo great in him, that I think nothing above his deſerts; but if, out of that tranſcendency of courage which he hath upon ſo many occaſions expreſſed, he could comply with the fortune of my Friend, I ſhould take ſuch care of his own, as to put him into a condition above the envy of the greateſt Kings. You ſee what I have ſaid as to what concerns Artaban: And for Agrippa, I am to tell you, that deriving in ſome meaſure my Greatneſſe from him, I ſhall be as glad to divide it with him; that Julia ſhould be his, were ſhe not deſign'd for Marcellus, and that I ſhall raiſe him to that height of Greatneſſe, that the Univerſe ſhall not afford a greater then himſelf.’

Here Auguſtus broke off, to ſee what effects his diſcourſe produc'd in Eliſa, as alſo to give her time to make him ſome anſwer; but ſhe was ſo ſtrangely at a loſſe, that ſhe knew not [Page] how to expreſſe her ſelf, and ſo continu'd mute and immoveable, with her eyes faſtened on the ground. The Emperour perceiving the diſorder ſhe was in, and conceiving he had made a fair ſtep into the buſineſſe, would not preſs her any further, nor ſtay for an anſwer from her, which upon thoſe firſt diſturbances of her apprehenſions he could not hope would be very favourable. So that reaſſuming the diſcourſe, ‘I do not expect (continu'd he) you ſhould at the preſent acquaint me with your intentions; but having here all the freedome and command you can deſire, you may take your own time to reſolve on what you ſhall think moſt convenient. Onely let me intreat you, not to let Agrippa know any thing of the diſcourſe hath paſſed between us, ſince that, out of the reſpect he bears you, he abhors the kindneſs I would do him; and I may confidently tell you, he would never enjoy any ſerenity of thoughts again, ſhould he once come to know I had ſpoken to you on his behalf.’ Which having ſaid, the Emperour left her, and coming to Candace, diſcourſed with her ſome time, that the leſs notice might be taken of any private converſation he had had with Eliſa. Having done with Candace, he went to Arſinoe, and from Arſinoe to Olympia, whom he found excellent good company.

In the mean time, Eliſa, o repreſſed with grief, and not able, out of any conſideration of the great perſons then preſent, to ſmother it, no ſooner perceiv'd Candace diſengag'd, but wringing her gently by the hand, and by her carriage diſcovering ſhe had ſomething to impart to her, prevail'd with her to leave the Room, and to go into their own Lodgings. Whither aſſoon as they were come, Candace reading the diſtraction of her thoughts in her countenance, very haſtily asked her the reaſon of it; and Eliſa, who on the other ſide was as impatient to tell her, and to ask her advice in that emergency, acquainted her word for word with what the Emperour had ſaid to her, and diſcovered ſo much grief with the delivery of her diſcourſe, that it was not hard for Candace to imagine her almoſt at the loweſt degree of affliction. It was indeed my perpetual diſtruſt (added the fair Princeſs) that Fortune would not continue me long in the condition you ſaw me in theſe two laſt days; nay, from the firſt diſcovery of Agrippa's affection, I fore ſaw the Tempeſt it was likely to raiſe againſt me. There could not any thing more dreadful have happened to me, ſince that, where I was in hope to find harbourage, I am moſt to fear a wrack. Aſſiſt me now with your advice faireſt Queen, not in order to a deliberation whether I ought to comply with the deſires of Auguſtus, (for as to that point I am reſolved what to do, that is, not to be ſhaken with proffers far greater then any he hath made) but to inſtruct me how I ought to behave my ſelf ſo as not to exaſperat the Power whereto our Fortune hath ſubmitted us, and to aſſure Artaban of what he may expect from me, without diſcovering the affection I have for him [...] all the world.

Candace, who thought her ſelf nearly concerned in all the traverſes of Fortune her Friend was engaged in, was extreamly troubled at this laſt, and after a ſmall interval of ſilence; ‘Faireſt Princeſſe, (ſaid ſhe to her) what's happened to day I do not at all admire; and all thoſe who know what place Agrippa hath in the eſteem and affection of Caeſar, do not much doubt he will leave any thing undone wherein he may ſerve him. You muſt therefore oppoſe his authority with a mild reſiſtance, and ſo elude his hopes as not to exaſperate him, in expectation that either he may change his humour, or that Fortune may find out a way for us to get out of his power, without falling into that of Tigranes which by his protection you ſo much avoid. Mean time, I adviſe you, to acquaint Artaban truly how things ſtand and not to conceal from him any longer a thing he muſt know, & may haply find out ſome remedy for.’

Eliſa, who approv'd Candace's diſcourſe, was going to make her ſome reply, when Artaban comes into the R [...]om. He had obſerv'd their departure from Livia's Lodgings, and was glad of that occaſion to ſee his Princeſſe, out of that preſſe of company wherein ſhe had perpetually been ever ſince the arrival of Auguſtus. He came in very confident upon the hopes he had conceiv'd from Caeſars kind entertainment of him, and the publick preferrence he had made of him before Tigranes, and it was with much ado that he had that command of his modeſty as to forbear the diſcovery of his advantages before his Princeſſe. But his ſelf-ſatisfaction ſuffer'd a ſtrange abatement, when he ſaw in her countenance the ſymptomes of an apparent grief, which raiſed a cruel inquiſition in his thoughts, yet without once reflecting on what was the true cauſe thereof. He was ſtill in ſuſpence, when that Princeſſe perceiving the trouble he was in, and having already taking up her reſolution, endeavour'd to remit ſomething of her affliction, and deſirous to moderate the ill news ſhe had to tell him by the joy he would conceive at the diſappointment of Tigranes; ‘Artaban (ſaid ſhe to him) it is the pleaſure of Heaven to order us a viciſſitude of happineſſes and misfortunes, that we may from the latter learn a moderation in our joy, and from the former derive a comfort in our afflictions; I hope we have not much to fear as to the perſecutions of Tigranes; but there are at the ſame time others riſing againſt us that are much more [Page] dreadful, whom I am to give you an account of, according as I am adviſed by the Queen, who is not onely acquainted with all my thoughts and reſolutions, but hath withall the goodneſſe to concern her ſelf in my Fortune.’

Whereupon ſhe repeated to him all Auguſtus had ſaid to her, as well as to what concern'd Tigranes as Agrippa, and if it raiſed in him a tranſient joy to hear that he was ſecure, as to the pretenſions of the King of Media, it gave him on the other ſide a mortal grief, to underſtand, that he had in the perſon of Agrippa the moſt powerful enemy he could have feared, a Rival whoſe intereſts the Emperour was already engag'd to promote with no leſs earneſtneſſe then if they had been his own. In effect, he ſeem'd ſtruck at this news, as it had been a Thunderbolt, inſomuch, that that great courage which nothing could ſhake, ſeem'd to entertain this laſt aſſault of Fortune with leſſe conſtancy then he had expreſſed in all the other accidents of his life. He was little troubled at thoſe traverſes of Fortune which Tigranes might engage him in, out of the aſſurance he had of her favourable inclinations; but the powerfulneſſe of Agrippa was formidable to him, and raiſed in him the greateſt fear that his Heroick ſoul was capable of. Yet was it not the authority of this new Rival that moſt afflicted him; and it being not difficulties and dangers that his heart could be danted with, the misfortune was the more inſupportable to him that ſhould raiſe him a Rival, whoſe vertue he had conceiv'd an eſteem for, and to whom he thought himſelf obliged for the aſſiſtance he had received from him againſt Tigranes.

The grief he was expoſed to upon this cruel turn of his affairs, put him to ſuch an aſtoniſhment and ſilence, as that the Princeſſe, having thus broke through the firſt difficulty, acquainted him with what he little ſuſpected before, the diſcourſes had paſt between her and Agrippa, and the diſcoveries he had made her of his affection. At laſt, faſtening his eyes on the fair countenance of his Princeſſe, ‘Madam, (ſaid he to her) the news you tell me is very cruel and inſupportable, and among all the misfortunes I could expect from a malicious Deſtiny, I cannot imagine any ſo great as what I am threatned with in the love of Agrippa: 'Tis a Rival whoſe power is abſolute in the Empire and the favour of Auguſtus; yet am I much more afraid of his virtue then his intereſt, nay, I could wiſh him more powerful ſo he were leſſe vertuous. 'Tis to me the moſt dreadful unhappineſs imaginable, to engage againſt a Rival, whom furniſh'd with ſo many excellencies you cannot contemn, and whom for the greatneſſe of his worth, and the aſſiſtance I have receiv'd from him, I ſhall find it no ſmall difficulty to hate. In fine, Madam, fear looks at me on all ſides, and certainly in this laſt act of my misfortune, I ſhould fear every thing, were I not a little relieved by the confidence I have in your favour, and if I may be but allow'd to hope till that fails me, I ſhall never think my ſelf miſerable. You do well, (replies the Princeſs) to build the greateſt hopes you can on the affection I have for you, ſince you may aſſure your ſelf, that though Agrippa were much more conſiderable by his authority, and more eſteemble for his virtue then he is acknowledged to be, neither the one nor the other ſhall work any thing on my heart to your prejudice. I may very well be able, upon your account, to oppoſe their pretenſions whom Heaven hath not given any legal power over me, ſince I have preſum'd, for your ſake, to oppoſe the will and diſpoſal of my Father and my King, whom I had not ſubmitted to but through violence. And who can aſſure us, Madam, (replies Artaban) that the ſame or a like violence will not be practiſed againſt us now, ſince you are expoſed to the mercy of a man that hath an abſolute power over the greateſt part of the World, that governs the Empire with a great deal of Lenity, now that he is gotten into a peaceable undiſputed poſſeſſion thereof, but one that hath ſlighted no advantages, nor boggled at any thing where he met with reſiſtance. You ſee after what manner he takes to heart the quiet & concernments of Agrippa, but you may withal perceive, how that, through the affection he expreſſes to his Favourite, his deſigns have a further reach, and that it is much leſs his buſineſs to make Agrippa happy in the enjoyment of Eliſa, then to bring into ſubjection to the Roman Eagle the proud Empire of the Parthians, which hath ſo long ſtood out againſt his uſurpation. I am of your opinion, as to that particular, (replies Eliſa) and it is to conſult with you about ſome remedy how it may be prevented, rather then to afflict you, that I have been the Author of ſuch bad news to you. To think you can oppoſe Caeſars authority (replies Artaban) while you ſhall continue in his Court, or be within his Dominions, is an imagination raiſed upon very ſlight grounds; and if the tempeſt ceaſe not of it ſelf, it will be hard to avoid it otherwiſe then by an eſcape, to find ſome retreat out of the juriſdiction of the Roman Empire. I expected (ſays the Princeſs to him) to have been more ſecure here then in any other place, as conceiving there were not any other monarch upon earth beſides Auguſtus, that durſt protect me againſt the power of the King my Father: But this misfortune tells me that all my hopes are defeated, and did I but know where to find a refuge, or how to ſeek it with reputation,’ I ſhould make as little ſtay here as I poſſibly could. But in that deſign I meet with difficulties which I cannot without horror think on; for, beſides that it is much to be fear'd that [Page] the King of Lybia my Uncle, where I had propoſed to my ſelf a retreat, may be afraid to draw againſt him the Forces of Phraates, or indeed that he is too weak to ſtand out againſt him, if ſo be he hath that Friendſhip for me as to oppoſe him upon my account, I know not by what means, and in what condition I ſhall undertake that journey, nor to the conduct of what perſons I ſhould truſt my ſelf: For in fine, Artaban, imagine not it can be honourable for me, after what the world now knows of our inclinations, to wander up and down with you, and to give mine Enemies occaſion to report every where, That I ſhun my Father and my King, to run fortunes with a perſon whoſe pretenſions and love to me he does not approve of. Be not aſtoniſhed at this diſcourſe (continued the Princeſs, obſerving in the countenance of Artaban the effect it wrought in him) it proceeds not from any indirect intention, or abatement of the affection I have for you; ſince that after the aſſurances I have already given you of it, you may well expect all thoſe which I may, without injury or Vertue, afford you for the future. Nay, I ſhall for your ſake go even beyond what you can lawfully deſire of me; for I ſhall not only oppoſe the authority of Auguſtus, what effects ſoever his Friendſhip for Agrippa may produce, but alſo ever while I live defie all ſubmiſſion to that of Phraates, while his intentions ſhall be prejudicial to you. You ought not to preſs me any further, nor will, if you ſet any value on my reputation, but reſt ſatisfied with the aſſurance I give you, that I will be yours, when I honourably may, whether it happen upon the change of the King my Fathers reſolutions, or that of my own condition; and that if I may not be yours, I will never be any other mans with my will.

Artaban hearkened to this diſcourſe of Eliſa with ſuch a reluctancy of agitations, as might well raiſe in him different reflections on his affairs, and was going, though with the reſpect he ever obſerved towards her, to urge ſomething againſt what he thought moſt inſupportable in her reſolution, as to what concern'd him, when Candace, who withdrew from them during their diſcourſe, though ſhe uſed not that reſervedneſs out of any jealouſie they had of her, comes up to them, and ſhewed them the King of Scythia, who with Druſus and the Kings of Cappadocia and Comagenes were coming into the Room. The two Princeſſes received with abundance of civility the viſit of theſe illuſtrious perſons; but Artaban, thinking nothing ſo burthenſome as company in the affliction that poſſeſſed him, paſſed through the throng and departed, no body taking any notice of it. He took ſome few turns upon the Terrace, and going thence into a private Gallery, where for a while he found the ſolitude he was ſo much deſirous of, he would needs walk there ſome time to comply with the cruel paſſion that tormented him. Being of a diſpoſition extreamly impatient of all injury and injuſtice, he could not reflect on that which he conceived Agrippa had done him, without a violent reſentment: and his great courage never inſpiring him but with thoſe things that were greateſt and moſt full of danger, his firſt apprehenſions inclin'd him to thoſe reſolutions which a highly paſſionate Lover might take againſt a Rival: But faſtening his thoughts at the ſame time on that vertue of Agrippa, for which he had conceiv'd a great affection, and withal on the aſſiſtance he had received from him in an occaſion wherein his life was in danger, he found to his no ſmall affliction, that his reſentment would not be ſuitable to his deſires, and the greatneſs of the diſcourteſie done him.

Having upon theſe reflections walked a while, in the poſture of a man cruelly diſturb'd, ‘O Fortune (ſaid he) thou favourable Deity to my fame, but eternall diſturber of my quiet, was there nothing remaining, whereby to trouble it with more ſucceſs than formerly, but to raiſe againſt me a Rival, dreadful for his power, but much more dreadful for his vertue; a Rival to whom I am oblig'd, and whom, notwithſtanding the injury he does me, I muſt eſteem and cannot hate? Wert thou not ſatisfied with the miſeries thou hadſt brought upon me, through ingratitude and cruelty, but thou muſt arm deſert and civilities againſt me to make my condition the more deplorable? Or couldſt thou not raiſe againſt me thoſe Rivals againſt whom I might have employ'd, without any regret or repugnance, that valour which enables me to diſpute all things which the greateſt upon earth? O Agrippa (added he preſently after) why didſt not thou ſuffer me to defend againſt Tigranes, my life and my pretenſions, if thou wert reſolved to engage me in a greater misfortune than that whereto thou ſaweſt me expoſed? Or why doſt thou now conſider, that the injury thou doſt me is much beyond the ſervice I have received for thee, and that,’ though at the preſent I am the object of mens contempt & Fortune's diſgrace, yet I ſhould be ſuch an Enemy and Rival as were not to be ſlighted, if the eſteem I have for thee ſuffered my reſentments to act all their freedom and violence? ‘But why (ſaid he, recalling what he had ſaid) may not any thing be fear'd from the juſt reſentments of an exaſperated Lover; & what obligation can out weigh the affront I receive from a man that would ſacrifice my enjoyments & my life to his unjuſt pretenſions? Ah Artaban! happy & unhappy according to the fantaſtick humours of Fortune, but ſtill conſtant, ſtill invincible in her moſt [Page] inſupportable revolutions! Call to mind thy life paſt, let the reflection of thy former glory cheriſh thy preſent hopes, and deſpair not of aſſiſtance from that courage which never yet forſook thee.’

Thus did Artaban entertain himſelf, being ſo ſtrangely retired into his melancholy thoughts, as not to perceive a great number of men that were come into the Gallery till they were within two paces of him. Agrippa was in the head of them, and with him, Prince Philadelph, King Polemon, Lentulus, Ovid, and divers others, whom Agrippa carried with him to dinner. The ſight of Agrippa coming ſo unexpectedly upon him, forced Artaban to a change of countenance, which Agrippa perceiving, and finding him in that poſture, ſuſpected what the occaſion might be, and was in a manner confident that he knew of his affection; but it being a thing for which he was prepared, and imagining that his paſſion could not long be, kept ſecret, he proſecutes his deſign according to the reſolution he had taken, and coming up to Artaban with a countenance, wherein, notwithſtanding their competition, was obſervable the true eſteem he had for him, he asked him why he courted ſolitude where his company was ſo generally deſired, and intreated him to come and dine with the Princes he carried along with him, and by his preſence to make that company more illuſtrious. But Artaban was not in a condition to comply ſo far with him, though out of the eſteem he ſtill continued towards him, he entertained the invitation with much civility, and intreated his excuſe, telling him he was obliged to be at the King of Scythia's whom he had already promiſed, though he thought he ſhould not keep his engagement with him, as being partly reſolved to retire to his own Lodgings. Agrippa thought himſelf obliged by his diſcourſe to ask him the reaſon of the alteration he obſerved in him, and having taken him ſome paces aſide from the company, he intreated him to acquaint him therewith, that he might ſerve him if it lay in his power: But the fierce Artaban, who had much ado to contain himſelf, ‘I ſhall acquaint you (ſaid he to him) with what you ſo much deſire to know, when ever you ſhall afford me a more private audience; and though there be not any perſon here whom I any way ſuſpect, yet are they not engaged in a deſign, as you are, to enquire into things wherein they are not any way concerned.’

Agrippa diſcovered in theſe words ſome part of Artaban's meaning; and though he were much troubled thereat, and prepared himſelf for the confuſion which he could not but conceive at the complaints he expected to fall from him, yet ſaw he there was a neceſſity to break the Ice, and being as deſirous it ſhould be done than as at another time, he intreated Lentulus and Ovid to conduct King Polemon and Prince Philadelph to his Lodgings, where he would immediately wait on them himſelf; and having intreated thoſe Princes to give him leave to take a turn or two with Artaban, he cauſed all the company to withdraw, ſome attendance only accepted, who according to their diſtance, kept at the other end of the Gallery. Artaban being thus left alone with him, and deſirous above all things to keep within the limits of that moderation which he was willing to obſerve, after he had been ſilent a while; ‘I doubt not (ſaid he to him) but you very much wonder at my confidence, and that in a place where you have all power, you may think it ſomewhat extraordinary, that a miſerable ſtranger, diſcarded by all manner of ſupport, and at a loſs of all aſſiſtance ſave that of his own courage, and which is more, a ſtranger that hath been obliged from the firſt minute he ever ſaw you, dares make his complaints to you, and charge you with injuſtice. This procedure will haply confirm you in the opinion ſome have conceived of that preſumption which hath many times brought upon me the indignation of thoſe Kings who owed either the recovery or ſettlement of their Crowns to my Sword: But ſince you are not free from nay, to my unhappineſs, but too too ſuſceptible of the paſſion that makes me ſpeak, you will not haply wonder at my diſcourſe, and will haply acknowledg, that no conſideration either of your vertue, your quality, or the obligation you have caſt upon me, ought to tie up my tongue at a time when it is your deſign to defeat me of a fortune I had purchaſed by ſo many hardſhips, a fortune I ought to diſpute againſt all the world to the laſt gaſp of my life. What,’ generous Agrippa! (continued he, looking on him with that noble fierceneſs which made ſuch a diſtance between him and other men) can you in whom Vertue hath ever ‘found protection and ſanctuary, you, of whom I particularly expected it, when reduced to circumſtances that well deſerved it, can you be guilty of an inhumanity ſo great as that you would deprive me of a happineſs which I was unwilling to owe any but your ſelf, though till then I had ow'd it to thoſe ſervics and actions which have raiſed me to ſome reputation among men, a happineſs, which I was not ſo confident of upon the account of my ſervices, as the aſſiſtance I had promiſed my ſelf from you? I was by the relief of your arms reſcued out of the hands of my enemies, I ſeek my ſanctuary in the arms you ſtretch out to me, and I recommend to you a fortune which you ſeemed willing to favour in a place where all is at your diſpoſal; and yet it is from you that comes the ruine [Page] which I feared not from Tigranes, and you deliver me from a weak enemy, to engage with the moſt powerful could have riſen againſt me. O that it were but the pleaſure of the Gods that this misfortune had happened to me from any other then Agrippa! Or why hath not the malice of my fortune ſtired up againſt me a Rival, for whom I might have conceived a hatred and reſentments proportionable to the injury he had done me? It were not by complaints that I ſhould endeavour to aſſwage my grief, no, I would make him know, that he who endeavours the ruine of Artaban, muſt not think he engages himſelf upon a ſlight enterpriſe.’

This was the tenor of Artaban's diſcourſe, which fell from him with a great earneſtneſs and impetuoſity, though he had endeavoured to be very moderate with Agrippa, whom he had a more than ordinary reſpect for. And on the other ſide, Agrippa, who could not hear him without betraying ſome diſturbance, and feeling a certain remorſe within him, giving way to his diſcourſe with much meekneſs, as ſoon as he had made an end; ‘Generous Artaban (ſaid he) I make no queſtion but you obſerve in my look ſome diſorder, for having fallen into a misfortune which hath given you a ſeeming juſt cauſe of diſpleaſure; but indeed it more deſerves your pity, then the reproaches you have given me. I acknowledge Artaban, that I love the Princeſs of Parthia, I, nor can, nor will diſſemble it; yet let me proteſt to you, that the love I bear her is not an effect of my will. I ſummoned my Reaſon to my help out of my reſpect to you, and the eſteem I have of your Vertue begot in me a mortal affliction, to behold that which I cauſe in you, though more through my misfortune than inclination. Beſides all this, I muſt tell you, and the Princeſs her ſelf can witneſs it, that I adored her before I ever ſaw you, that I had no obligation to oppoſe my own paſſion for the intereſt of a perſon I knew not, that as ſoon as ever I ſaw you, I knew you to be my dangerous Rival, yet the knowledge thereof could not hinder me from giving you my eſteem a [...]d affection. Herein perhaps I have been more juſt then you, but you will further acknowledge me to be ſo, when you underſtand, that in a Court where I might hope much from the Prince's affection, who declared himſelf on my behalf, I would not make any advantage thereof, but refuſed an aſſiſtance not deſpicable, which would have been very neceſſary for me, conſidering the advantages you have above me. Know, generous Artaban, I would not oppoſe Fortune to Vertue, but choſe to undertake this combat with unequal arms, rather then to arm my ſelf with the favour of Caeſar againſt a perſon I acknowledge but too worthy of that for which I would conteſt with him. Judge now, Artaban, of my condition in this enterprize, who, to the many ſervices you had done Eliſa, to the many great merits of which you are Maſter, and to the affections of the Princeſs, who hath already declared that ſhe favours you, can oppoſe nothing but an intention to ſerve her, and ſome proofs of my affection, which doubtleſs would find but ill entertainment, conſidering the conſtancy of hers for you. This is the only hoſtility I ſhall make uſe of to conquer Eliſa's heart, and which in all likelihood will not prove very effectual. Having made you this proteſtation, hate me not, if you poſſibly can forbear, and be perſwaded, that the condition I am in well conſidered, I am rather to be pittied than blam [...]d. I ſhould find ſome comfort in this promiſe (replied Artaban) if in the fortune of Agrippa I met with the perſon of Tigranes, and that I ſtood not more in fear of your Vertue than your Intereſt; but I have already told you that the former is more terrible to me than the latter, and that it is upon the excellency of your perſon you may diſpute Eliſa with me, rather than the authority you have in the Empire. Either you eſteem me beyond what I deſerve, (replies Agrippa) or are not ſatisfied of your own worth: But to do you the juſtice I think but your due. I am forced to avow, that of all men you may pretend to the greateſt deſert, and that it is much to my grief that I am ſenſible of the advantages you have over me. How ere it may be, if you can, inſtead of reproaching me, bewail my misfortune out of an aſſurance you ſhall never have juſt cauſe to complain of any effect of my will.’

Artaban would have made ſome reply to this diſcourſe, had he not perceived coming in at the other end of the Gallery, Julia with ſeveral other Ladies, returning from the Empreſs's Lodgings to her own; and finding not himſelf in a condition to fall into any pleaſant converſation with the Princeſs, to avoid meeting with her, he took a ſhorter leave of Agrippa then he thought to have done, and left him at liberty to wait on the Princes that were to dine with him.

The End of the Second Book.

HYMENS PRAELUDIA; OR Loves Maſter-peice. Part. XI.
LIB. III.

[Page]

ARGUMENT.

Auguſtus entertains the Princes and others, whom he brought with him, and found in Alexandria, with the Combats of Gladiators and ſavage Beaſts. Among other Gladiators are brought into the Arena two perſons, who, inſtead of fighting, as was expected, fell to embraces; upon which, the more to divert the people, a Tygre is let out upon them, which having kil [...]ed they diſcovered themſelves to be Princes born▪ and are ſet at liberty by Auguſtus. Being brought to Agrippa, they diſcover themſelves to be Arminius and Inguiomer, the one Son, the other, Brother to Clearchus, Prince of the Cheruſci. Inguiomer entertains Agrippa with the Loves and Adventures of Arminius, who in the fifteenth year of his age is ſent to the Court of Segeſtes, Prince of the Ingriones, where he falls in Love with the fair Iſmenia. Segeſtes, upon the advance of Tiberius's Army, makes an Alliance with the Romans, unknown to Arminius, which occaſions a War between the Cheruſci and the Ingriones, wherein Segeſtes is taken Priſoner, but releaſed by Arminius out of a reſpect to Iſmenia, who is ungratefully by him deſign'd for Marobodes Son to the Prince of the Suevi, who not long before had alſo made an Alliance with the Romans: But Arminius having notice from Iſmenia how things paſt, intercepts Marobodes as he was going to marry her, defeats his party, and reſcues the Princeſs: but ere he could get into his Countrey, is met with by the Romans, his party kill'd, he left for dead in the field, and the Princeſs carried away by them. Recovering afterwards, he thought no way more likely to find out where Iſmenia was, then by taking Varus Priſoner, in which attempt he and Inguiomer were taken, and, upon the ignorance of their quality, ſent, with other ſlaves to the Maſter of the Gladiators.

THe Emperour, deſirous to entertain the illuſtrious Company which then filled his Court with all the Shews and divertiſements that were uſed in that Age, eſpecially among the Romans, appointed for that day there ſhould be Combats of Cladiators and ſavage Beaſts, which was a recreation the people doted on above any, though it agreed not with their humours who could not bear with that kind of cruelty. One part of theſe Combats was perform'd by Men againſt Men, another by Beaſts againſt Beaſts, and ſometimes Men were engag'd with Beaſts. True it is, that upon thoſe occaſions there came only Malefactors, formerly condemned to death, and thoſe ſuch as preferr'd the deſtiny of dying by the hands of their companions, nay, to be torn in pieces by Beaſts, before that which they ſhould have undergone in the puniſhments were, according to Juſtice, to be inflicted upon them. This conſideration made theſe kinds of fights be thought the more innocent, inſomuch, that, cuſtome alſo contributing its part, people made no difficulty to be preſent thereat; and yet the beſt part of the Ladies, and no ſmall number of the men forbore them as often as they could with civility do it: And certainly that day, divers of thoſe that were about Auguſtus would have kept away, had it not been out of a fear to diſoblige the Emperour, who had ſent them particular invitations to that purpoſe. Several Ladies, both Roman and ſtrangers accompanyed the Empreſs thither, but moſt of the Princeſſes excuſed themſelves and particularly the fair Cleopatra, the attractive Eliſa, the Queen of Aethiopia, [Page] Arſinoe, Olympia, Antonia, and the Princeſs Julia, who not condemning publickly what was by cuſtome and the Emperours command authoriſed, prevailed with him to leave them at liberty to paſs away the Afternoon in other divertiſements more ſuitable to their inclinations.

King Ptolomey, Father to Queen Cleopatra, had built an Amphitheatre in Alexandria, taking his pattern from that of Rome; he dying, Queen Cleopatra and the unfortunate Anthony, during the abode they made in that proud City, had taken care for the abſolute finiſhing and adorning of it, and paſſing over three ſeveral years in the height of delights they had not omitted ought that any way heightened their enjoyments, as endeavouring what lay in their power to raiſe a ſecond Rome in Alexandria. It afforded at this time at leaſt whatever was requiſit for the ſights, order being given that where-ever the Emperour went there ſhould follow a certain number of Gladiators and ſavage beaſts, and all things ſubſervient to his pleaſures, which was as punctually obſerved as what concerned things that were moſt neceſſary: and this was generally look'd on as a punctilio of Roman magnificence. The Emperour, and the Empreſs, and that noble Aſſembly of both Sexes, whereof a great part attended them thither, though not without ſome violence to their diſpoſitions took up the ſeats aſſign'd them, after which all plac'd themſelves with convenience enough. The entertainment began with the engagement of ſavage beaſts, which made excellent good ſport. There were Lions, Panthers, Tygres, Leopards, Bears, and other kinds of dreadfull creatures, which they match'd together with as much equality as they could, as Tygres againſt Leopards, Panthers againſt Bears, and Lions againſt a ſort of Bulls that were more then ordinarily furious and bred up to that exerciſe. Hitherto the bloud which was ſpilt occaſioned no great horrour: But not long after, they brought into the Arena, thoſe unmerciful Gladiators. whoſe ſavage countenances and eyes full of blood did in a manner frighten the Spectators. Their heads were covered with a little Head piece according to the Greek mode, having to guard the left arm a large Buckler, and in the right a crooked Cimitar, the reſt of their bodies was in a manner naked that they might fight with greater activity. The engagement of the two firſt that came upon the Stage, gave very much divertiſement to thoſe who were taken with that kind of ſport, and the weaker being fallen, the Conquerour expected a ſecond Adverſary, who was ſoon brought him, and over whom after a very doubtfull combat, he obtained a like Victory. Having not received any wounds, he would needs try his fortune once more, and ſhe prov'd ſo kind to him, that with the ſame good ſucceſſe, he made a ſhift to diſpatch the third. The inſolence he conceiv'd at theſe happy ſucceſſes and the demonſtration he had made of his valour, oblig'd thoſe who were the overſeers of the exerciſes, to bring againſt him a ſtouter Adverſary then any of the former, telling him by way of encouragement, upon his running that new hazard, that if he overcame the fourth; he might hope, as a recompence of his extraordinary valour, that Caeſar would ſet him at liberty.

Having flatter'd him into that expectation, there comes up a man clad and armed as the former, but one of the Spectators took much more notice of then any of the reſt; he was tall above the ordinary pitch, of a free make, of a very fair countenance, though it was eaſily obſervable he was much altered from his wonted poſture, his light-flaxen hair, being of great length, and naturally of a gentle curle, hung down over his ſhoulders, for his age, he c [...]uld not at moſt be above two and twenty; but beſides the natural fierceneſs of his looks, there ſeemed to be in his eyes upon that occaſion ſo much choler and indignation, as forced out of them all the mildneſs there might be in them upon any other, and made him appear more terrible then he ordinarily was. This young man, on whom the whole Aſſembly caſt their eyes, but with ſentiments much differe [...]t from thoſe they had for the others, diſcovering in his countenance the ſhame and indignation he felt within, inſtead of lifting up his eyes to the Spectators, faſtened them on the ground, and inſtead of making forwards to his Adverſary with any confidence, as they had done who had gone before him, he ſate him down on the loweſt ſtair of the Arena, and leaning his head on both his hands, he continu'd there ſome time in the poſture of a man o're burthen'd with ſadneſs.

The Gladiat [...]r inſolent upon his three victories, and aſpiring to the fourth, comes up to him in a proud manner, with eyes threatning nothing but bloud, and ſeveral times challenged him to fight: But the exaſperated young man ſeeming to be little mov'd at his ſollicitations, and hardly turning his eyes towards him, Go wretch, (ſaid he to him) go ſeek thy death from other hands then mine, and force me not to diſhonour my arms by ſo ignominious a victory. The barbarous wretch ſcornfully ſmil'd at this diſcourſe, attributing it to the cowardize of his Adverſary; and perceiving that words could not move him, he gave him over the Head-piece ſuch a hearty blow, as might well have awak'd him, had he been ſound aſleep, and threatned to kill him, if he endeavoured not his own defence. The young man's [Page] courage needed not that provocation, ſo that his anger over-powering the ſhame he conceived at ſuch a combat, he roſe up in fury, and went towards that unworthy enemy in a poſture that made him repent his confidence, and ſtruck a mortal coldneſs to his heart. However, he ſtood upon his guard, a man reſolute and well skill'd in that exerciſe but his Adverſary gave him but little occaſion to make uſe of his knowledge; for perceiving that he held up his Buckler to ward off a blow which in all probability would have fallen upon his head, and that his ſide lay all open, he changed his reſolution, and by a cruel back-blow, turning his Sword to the diſarmed ſide, he by a dreadfull thruſt ripp [...]d up his belly, upon which he immediately fell down weltring in his bloud and bowels which came forth at that enormous wound. There was a general ſhout among the Spectators at ſo unexpected a chance, as being much troubled at an accident, that had reduced to ſo wretched a condition, a man, that in all appearance ſeemed to have the greater advantages of the two. He that was engaged againſt him next, met with a fortune not much unlike that of the former, loſing at one ſingle blow his ſword with the arm that held it. A third received his death by a thruſt through the body, and theſe three victories coſt the terrible young man but ſo many blows. But it was not in his heart, nor yet in his countenance that the victory wrought its ordinary effects, making it viſibly appear, that what heightned the inſolence and hopes of his companions, filled him with grief, ſhame and conf [...]ſion. He had ſtay'd a little time in expectation of another Adverſary, when accordingly there is one brought into the Arena, upon whoſe appearance Quintilius Varus, who knew him, and had ſent both him and the other to the Overſcers of the Gladiators, crying out aloud to the Emperour, told him that Combat would be very pleaſant, for that the Gladiator laſt come in was little, if at all, inferiour in point of valour to his companion. That diſcourſe of Varus obliged thoſe that were the more attentive to theſe ſights, to take more particular notice of the laſt, and they found, that as to his perſon the other had not much the advantage of him, though he diſcovered leſs fierceneſs, and that there ſeemed to be a greater mildneſs both in his eyes and countenance. They were in many things much like one the other, eſpecially in their faces, though it might be thought the latter was ſeven or eight years elder then his companion, The young man no ſooner ſaw him appear, but lifting up his eyes to Heaven with an action full of grief and reſentment, O ye Gods! (cryed he) O malicious Fortune! is it poſſible you can reduce us to ſuch deplorable extremities? With which words there broke forth at his eyes a rivolet of tears: Nor ſeemed there to be leſs grief and tenderneſs in him that was newly come in, who, after he had by certain words, proceeding from the height of paſſion, charged Heaven with the ſtrangeneſſe of their misfortune, both caſting away their Swords and Bucklers upon the ſand, mutually embraced each other, with ſo much affection, and accompanyed their careſſes with words ſo preſſing, that the moſt hard-hearted preſent were moved to compaſſion thereat. It was the general imagination of the ſpectators, that they ſhould be deprived the pleaſure they expected from the engagement of thoſe two valiant Gladiators. And indeed the King of Scythia, Agrippa, Artaban, Ariobarzanes, Philadelph, Druſus, and divers other who were mov'd to compaſſion at what they had ſeen, were intreating the Emperor, that thoſe two men whom they thought worthy a better fortune might be ſpared, when thoſe who had the overſight of the Shows, out of a deſign to divert the company by another kind of engagement, let forth out of thoſe places where they were kept for that purpoſe, a Tygre, one of the greateſt and moſt furious that ever came out of Hyrcania. Thoſe that concerned themſelves in the misfortune of thoſe two men, were extreamly troubled at the ſight of that dreadfull creature; nay, Auguſtus himſelf, mov'd thereat as others, was not well pleaſed to ſee them expoſed to that new danger: But he had not time to conſid [...]r what courſe was fitteſt to be taken for their ſafety, and the approaches of that terrible enemy having interrupted the embraces of the two Gladiators, they both ran to their Swords, and preſented themſelves to the furious beaſt with a reſolution that diſcover'd they were not to be danted by any kind of danger; but in that action they expreſſed no leſs the greatneſs of their Friendſhip then that of their Courage, either of them being deſirous to put himſelf before his companion, ſo to expoſe himſelf to all the danger for the ſafety of his Friend. Let me alone (ſaid the elder of the two that came laſt) ſuffer me, over-confident young man, to have ſome part in the actions of this day! Thou haſt ſpilt bloud enough already, and I would ſay thou haſt gained glory enough, had the occaſion been but honourable: Let me intreat thee by all our Friendſhip to keep back and hazard not in my ſight a life I value much▪ beyond my own. The fierce young man would have made ſome reply, and their conteſtation would haply have laſted longer, if the preſſing occaſion had permitted it; but the Tygre was ready to faſten on the former, who put her off with his Buckler, and with his Sword had made agreat gap in her ſide. The fury of the cruel beaſt was augmented by the wound; but inſtead of being reveng'd on him that gave it, ſhe turned towards his companion, who immediatly [Page] caſt himſelf before his Friends, and was ſo fortunate as to cut off one of its unmercifull claws, That done, the Victory prov'd ſo much the leſs difficult to the two valiant men; and after they had avoided the laſt attempts of the cruel Animal by two blows which they gave it both at the ſame time, they laid it along on the ſand breathing its laſt.

The enterprize being over, they ran one to another, with equal tenderneſs, to ſee if they were wounded, and having ſpent ſome little time in new embraces accompany'd with tears, the younger of a ſudden lifting up his head, which till then he had not ſo much as turned towards the Aſſembly, and addreſſing himſelf to the Emperour; Caeſar (ſaid he to him, with a geſture heightned by a noble fierceneſs) thou think [...]ſt it a great glory, to expoſe to thy Gladiators and thy ſavage Beaſts, Princes who have not any way deſerved ſuch misfortune, and thoſe ſuch as are not inferiour to thee either in birth or vertue! Conſummate, conſummate thy cruelty, and find out ſome death or other for thoſe who are not deſirous to live after the ſhame thou haſt expoſed them to. It may be our deaths were but requiſit in order to thy ſafety and the quiet of the Romanes, to whom this indignity makes us irreconcileable enemies: And if Fortune once reſtore me the fortune ſhe hath deprived me of, I promiſe to the revenging Gods Rivers of Roman bloud, to waſh off the ſtain of that unworthy bloud thou haſt occaſioned me to ſpill this day.

Theſe words, though proceeding from a ſtrange confidence and threats, were ſo far from incenſing the Emperour, that they wrought in him much compaſſion, and raiſed in him a certain remorſe and confuſion, ſo that the mediations of thoſe Princes, who at the ſame time begged the liberty of thoſe two perſons, was more then neceſſary to obtain it. He with a geſture of his hand ſilenc'd the noiſe that was among the Spectators; whereupon addreſſing his diſcourſe to the valiant young man who had ſpoken t [...] him; If thou art of ſuch birth as thou pretendeſt, (ſaid he to him) I condemn with much grief the treatment thou haſt receiv'd, nay, if thou wert not, thou deſerveſt for thy valour the Liberty which I now give you both. The Gods are my witneſſes, and you alſo are convinced in your thoughts, that both your names and fortunes were unknown to me, and that I could not by any diſcovery diſcern you from ordinary Gladiators, among whom it ſometimes happens that there are perſons of great courage and handſomeneſs of body. This want of any account of you may well clear us from your reproaches; and though you were born among the moſt powerfull of our enemies, yet ſhall it not hinder but you may freely and ſafely return to them, and put your ſelves into a condition to execute the revenge you threaten us with.

Thus ran the diſcourſe of Auguſtus to them, upon which the elder of the two expreſſed by his action a certain acknowledgement of the favour he did them, but the younger was not at all mov'd thereat, and darting out of his eyes the ſame indignation that had been obſervable in them before, he went with his companion to a door that was opened for them, without ſpeaking one word, or diſcovering the leaſt motion of joy at the change of his condition. The Emperour calling to mind it was Varus had ſent them to the Maſter of the Gladiators, ſent for him, and having commanded him to reveal what he knew of their Names and Fortunes; My Lord, (replies Varus) all the account I can give you of them, is, that I am of opinion they were born in Germany, and that in the laſt War to which Tiberius hath put a period in thoſe Provinces, wherein I had the command of a Legion, my forces being joyn'd with thoſe of the King of the Suevi, who was of our ſide, and encamped along the River Albis, they one night with incredible valour broke into my Tent, put to the ſword moſt of thoſe were about me, and had taken away my life had I not been reliev'd by a ſupply that came opportunely in, and defeated their Forces. All that accompanied them in that enterprize were kill'd but I was deſirous they ſhould be taken alive, and ſince, not able to learn any thing of their fortunes, nor prevail with them to take up Arms with us, though I had ſollicited them thereto by very advantageous propoſals, I ſent them, among divers other captives that fell to my ſhare, up into Italy, where meeting with Rutil [...]us who was buying ſlaves to compleat the number he was to provide of Gladiators, I gave him theſe two men, as ſuch as I conceiv'd fit for your diverſion in that exerciſe, by reaſon of the extraordinary valour they had expreſſed when they were taken. You ſhould have had other reſpects (ſays the Emperour to him) for ſo great valour, nay, you might have diſcovered thoſe marks of grandeur in their perſons which ſhould have prevailed with you to put ſome difference between them and thoſe that are deſigned for this exerciſe. You have by this action raiſed us enemies whom the Romanes may feel heavy, if Fortune prove conſonant to the greatneſs of their courage, and you know not what extremities you may be reduc'd to your ſelf, if it be one day your chance to engage againſt ſuch valiant Adverſaries. What Caeſar then ſaid to Varus, prov'd ſome years after but too true: So putting an end to the entertainment upon that adventure, he roſe up, and return'd to the Palace with the illuſtrious company that followed him.

[Page] Mean time the two ſtrangers, as they were going from the Amphitheatre, were ſtayed by certain Officers of Agrippa, who by their Maſters order conducted them to his houſe, and having immediately cauſed them to put off the raggs they had about them which hardly covered half their bodies, furniſhed them with cloaths ſuitable to their quality, that they might accordingly make their appearance. The younger having not yet quieted the indignation he was in by reaſon of the ſhame he had undergone, and being otherwiſe tormented by a violent grief, could not for a time be perſwaded to accept of that civility of Agrippa, as unwilling to receive any courteſie from the Romans, among whom he had been ſo unworthily treated: But the compliance he had for the repreſentations of his companion, prevail'd with him at laſt to abate of his reſentment, and to entertain the aſſiſtances of Agrippa, whoſe vertue was celebrated in all Nations. In thoſe garments the handſomeneſs of their perſons was fully remarkable, ſo that all were ſatisfi'd as to the truth of what they had ſaid of their quality.

They were thus changed as to habit, when Agrippa, who would needs give them that leiſure as unwilling to ſhew himſelf to them while they carried about them the badges of their misfortune, enters their Chamber, and embrac'd and courted them with thoſe demonſtrations of tenderneſs and eſteem, which the incenſed young man could not but expreſs a ſenſe of, and return what might be due to a perſon of the rank and worth of Agrippa. I am ſo much aſhamed (ſaid he to them) at the treatment you have received among the Romans, that I cannot without confuſion appear before you; but though it is not my deſign to juſtifie their harſh proceedings, yet you'l pardon me if I ſay you have in ſome meaſure drawn your own misfortune upon you, by the reſolution you had to conceal your births, and that there is not a man among the Romans who had paid a reſpect thereto, had you made the leaſt diſcovery of it. I doubt not (reply'd the younger of the two) but Fortune would have dealt much otherwiſe with us if we had fallen into the hands of Agrippa, whoſe Vertue hath a veneration great as the extent of the Roman Empire: but there is a vaſt difference between Varus's ſoul and yours, and the acknowledgement we ought to make of your goodneſs ſhould be as great as the reſentment we have of the cruel injury we have received from him. I condemn the proceeding of Varus as much as you do, (replies Agrippa) and though your extraction was unknown to him, he ſhould have had a respect for your valour, and thoſe extraordinary marks whereby he might have diſtinguiſh'd you from the ordinary rate of men. However it be, we muſt endeavour what lies in our power to make you forget the affronts you have received, and I ſhall do my Countrey no ſlight ſervice, if I can purchaſe it two ſuch Friends as I conceive you to be. To that end, I ſhall do you all the good offices you ſhall deſire of me as to what concerns your Fortunes, and beſides the liberty which the Emperour hath given you, I offer you whatever is neceſſary for your return into your Countrey, in a condition ſuitable to your quality, or to continue among us, if we can prevail with you to do it, after the ill entertainment you had from us.

In anſwer to which diſcourſe of Agrippa, the elder addreſſing himſelf to him, ‘Your goodneſs (ſaith he) is conformable to the reputation which is ſpread all over the world of your admirable vertue, and the proofs you give us of it, ſhould be ſo prevalent with us as to force out of our minds all memory of the injuries have been done us. Nor indeed is it that reſentment which hinders us from continuing with you, when your protection and your friendſhip muſt needs be advantageous to ſuch Princes as have any need thereof: But there are very preſſing conſiderations that force our attendance elſewhere, ſo that we cannot ſo far comply with your kindneſs as to accept of the aſſiſtances you proffer us to return into our Territories. You may be aſſured (replies the generous Agrippa) you ſhall not want any thing to carry on that deſign, and that you ſhall, when you pleaſe, be furniſhed with things requiſite for your ſafe tranſportation: Onely be pleaſed to repoſe your ſelf with us for the remainder of this day, and on the morrow purſue, as you ſhall think moſt convenient, the reſolutions you ſhall have taken. Mean time, if it may be done without prejudice to you, I would gladly know your names, and be informed of your fortune, wherein the concernment I take may render ſuch a deſire excuſable: Yet if there be any reaſon, beſt known to your ſelves, to conceal them, I would not you ſhould, out of any conſideration; have that compliance for me; and I ſhould be much troubled to preſs you to a thing were either prejudicial to you, or that you might take offence at.’

The two Strangers looked one upon the other at this diſcourſe of Agrippa, as it were to conſult together what anſwer they ſhould make him: And after a little interval of ſilence, the younger directing his ſpeech to him; ‘Were we to ſpeak (ſaid he) to any other perſon then the great Agrippa, whoſe generoſity is the greateſt encouragement to confidence that may be, there were haply ſome reaſon we ſhould conceal our ſelves, as we have hitherto done, as being haply not ſo deſpicable where we have a command, but that Auguſtus might repent him he had given us our liberty, and therefore have much [Page] reaſon to detain us; but ſuch a reſervedneſs ſtands not with the obligation you have put upon us, and the aſſurance we have of your vertue. Upon which account, ſince you ſo much deſire it, I ſhall make no difficulty to tel you, that my companion is called Inguiomer, a name haply not unknown to you for many actions whereby he hath acquired a noble fame; that he is Brother to Clearchus Soveraign Prince of the Cheruſci, and that I am Son to that Prince, Nephew to Inguiomer, and my name Arminius.’

At theſe names of Inguiomer and Arminius, Agrippa looking on the two ſtrangers with a certain aſtoniſhment; What (ſaid he to them) the ſame Arminius and Inguiomer, the one Son, the other Brother to the Prince of the Cheruſci: Ah! I am now abſolutely ſatisfi'd you are ſuch as I was in a manner by the appearances perſwaded you were; and though Arminius hath known the world but few years, yet have we heard of his name, and glorious appearances in military actions, as well as of the valour of Inguiomer. No doubt but you have hitherto had much reaſon to conceal your ſelves from the Romanes, to whom the liberty of two ſuch Enemies cannot but be very dangerous; but after Caeſars word once paſt, you need not fear any thing, nay, I dare give you my own, that though you were known to him, he would be ſo far from doing you any injury, that you would find from him all ſupport and aſſiſtance, as your Brother the young Flavius hath who, as you know, was brought up among the Romans. I doubt not (replies Arminius) but that through the influence you have over Auguſtus's diſpoſition, we might hope all civility and good treatment from him: But you will be pleaſed not to take it amiſs, if we avoid the occaſions of being oblig'd to him, while the concernments of our Countrey and Houſe tell us we cannot do it without diſhonour; and that we are deſirous to receive all things from your ſelf, to whom we ſhall never be enemies, though we may be to thoſe of your party.

Agrippa thought this anſwer of Arminius ſo full of generoſity, that it heightned his eſteem for him; and and looking o [...] him more attentively then before, This ſentiment (ſaid he to him) is ſuitable to what I had already obſerved of your vertue, and it will be highly to my ſatisfaction, that you make a diſtinction between me and thoſe whom the intereſt of your Countrey may make your enemies. I ſhall anſwer this particular eſteem as I am obliged to do, both in reaſon, and out of my own inclination: But in the mean time, you will give me leave to tell you, that with the knowledge of your names, I am very much deſirous of that of your adventures, and that you ought in ſome meaſure to recompence the concernment I take therein, as not doubting but that it is upon ſome extraordinary account, and not by the common chance of War, that you fell into ſo great a misfortune as that of ſlavery; beſides that I imagine to my ſelf, I have obſerv'd in the countenance of Arminius, that his thoughts are taken up with ſomething more violent then the love of Liberty; and it is particularities of that nature that I have abundance of curioſity, which I hope you grant pardonable in a perſon to whom you have promiſed your Friendſhip.

Upon theſe words of Agrippa, Arminius faſtened his eyes once more on the countenance of Inguiomer, who perceiving his intention; It is but juſt (ſaid he to Agrippa) that we give you the ſatisfaction which you promiſe your ſelf from an account of the Adventures of Arminius, and my concernment therein; but in regard my thoughts are much more free from the paſſions which put his into ſome diſorder, and that I am acquainted with the particulars of his life even to the leaſt circumſtances, nay, his moſt ſecret reflections, it ſhall be from my mouth that you ſhall, if it be your deſire, be informed of thoſe traverſes of Fortune, whereto, even before he had overgrown his youth, he was expoſed, and I ſhall entertain you with the diſcourſe of it, when you ſhall be pleaſed to command it. Agrippa being then at leiſure to hear that relation, and imagining it might be over before Supper-time, would not have it put off to another time: But Inguiomer conceiving that Arminius could not be preſent at that diſcourſe, without feeling freſh affaults of grief, adviſed him to walk abroad, and Agrippa appointed ſome of the moſt eminent of his Officers to wait on him, and to ſhew him the moſt remarkable places in Alexandria. Which done having ſent word to the Gate, that he was in ſecret conference with the two Strangers, he takes Inguiomer along with him into a Cloſet, whereof locking the door, the German Prince, not expecting any further intreaty from Agrippa, began his diſcourſe in this manner,

The Hiſtory of ARMINIUS

THough the Countrey which is one day to come under the juriſdiction of Arminius, be not of an extent equal to ſome Monarchies of Europe, yet is it not on the other ſide ſo inconſiderable but that it may ſtand in competition with ſeveral others of more then common note, ſince it contains a very great part of Gernmany, and is inhabited [Page] by the moſt warlike people of all thoſe Nations. Arminius may further preſume, that there are few Princes in the world deſcended out of a greater ſeries of Soveraigns then himſelf, whence it came that he ſtood ſo much upon his extraction before Auguſtus. I ſhould ſay more of him, did not the ſame bloud run in my veins, as if I thought his modeſty would pardon my inſiſting on thoſe advantages without any neceſſity. You know, that during the calamities of Cermany, whereof the greateſt part, by a Fate common to them with ſo many other Nations, hath been reduced under the yoke of the Roman Empire, the Cheruſci have ever maintained their LIberty with extraordinary conſtancy and valour; and if ſometimes they have been forced to ſubmit to the contrary Fortune, yet have they at ſome other by an invincible courage recovered themſelves again, and have in fine defended their Rights ſo well, that they are at this day in a condition equal to what they were in before the Roman Power was known in Germany. It was in thoſe Provinces that Arminius was born, among the Cheruſci, where I alſo had my birth ſome ſeven years before, and twenty years after the Prince his Father and my elder Brother. Though I am really his Uncle, yet is not the difference between our ages ſo great, but that I may ſay we were in a manner brought up together; beſides, that Arminius having out of a tranſcendency of courage, from his very infancy ſlighted thoſe employments that are pardonable in ſuch an age, grew by degrees more and more ambitious of the converſation of men, contracted ſolid Friendſhips, and perform'd thoſe things which might well become a much more mature age. I ſhall ſay of him, ſince he is abſent, that he was born with the greateſt and nobleſt inclinations, and ſuch a height of courage as nothing could ever abate. Nay, that which was moſt laid to his charge was a natural exceſs of fierceneſs, and before Love had moderated what ſeemed ſomewhat harſh in his diſpoſition, he was generally look'd on, as one rather hewn out for the Wars then deſign'd for the enjoyments of a civil life. And indeed it was on the War that all his thoughts were bent, and amongſt thoſe things which he was taught as requiſite and commendable in a Prince, he was much more deſirous tobe well skill'd in the exerciſes of the body, then in the Sciences, though it might be ſaid he is not ignorant of the moſt neceſſary, and particularly what concerns the Languages, wherewith he is well furniſhed; but in fine, he was much leſs inclined to read, then to ride a Horſe or be medling with Arms, which gave all thoſe that ſaw him occaſion to conclude that his inclinations were wholly martial. He accordingly became Maſter in thoſe things whereto his affection naturally lead him, inſomuch that in the fifteenth year of his age it might have been ſaid, there was not any man in Germany commanded a Horſe with more grace and vigour then he, was more expert at the caſting of a Dart, or better knew the uſe of all ſort of Arms in all kinds of engagements. He was alſo deſirous to harden his body by laboriouſneſs, accuſtoming himſelf to the weight and inconveniences of Armour, paſſing away whole nights and days together on Horſeback, and ſlighting thoſe delicacies where-in a Prince of his Rank might have been brought up.

But I ſhall ſay no more of him, as to that particular, and were he preſent, his modeſty would have been much exerciſed to bear with this diſcourſe. His Brother Flavius, younger then he by two years, had been ſent to Rome a Hoſtage, for the performance of a Treaty made between us and the Romans, while yet a very child, and hath been bred up there ever ſince, ſo that, as it is reported, he hath ſhaken off all the inclinations he might have to his own Countrey, to embrace thoſe of the Nation wherein he hath had his education. For my part ſince you expect I ſhould give ſome account of my ſelf in this diſcourſe, I am to tell you, that having been brought up by the Prince my Brother and Soveraign, with as much tenderneſs as if I had been his own Son, and having in ſome meaſure anſwered his expectations from me as ſoon as I was arrived to an age fit to bear Arms, I went into thoſe parts of Germany where the War was then hotteſt, as Pannonia and Dalmatia, where, in ſome engagements of no ſmall conſequence, I was ſo fortunate as to gain ſome repute in our Nation. The Cheruſci had enjoyed a Peace of ſome years, when their Prince deſirous of a faſt correſpondence with his Neighbour Princes, and to enter into a kind of aſſociation with them againſt that Power which had ſo long attempted our Liberty, made an Alliance with Segeſtes, the neareſt of them, Soveraign Prince of the Ingriones and the Caſuares, a People lying between the Rhine, the Adrana, and the mountains of Melibocus, a perſon of very great name and authority in Germany. Segeſtes is a man born with great endowments of abundance of courage, conſtancy to his reſolutions, and much experience in military affairs, but of a violent nature and implacable when once incenſed. There had been for many years together between him and Clearchus a very intimate Friendſhip, and they thought the ſureſt way to make it indiſſoluble and eternal, and withal to unite their intereſts againſt the common enemy, was, to negotiate a match between young Arminius and Segeſtes's Daughter, of whom there were miracles reported all over Germany, though ſhe were two years younger then Arminius. Having taken that reſolution, with a deſign to execute it, when Arminius, who was thenbut fifteen years of age, were come to greater maturity, Clearchus and Segeſtes were jointly deſirous he [Page] ſhould be brought up for ſome years in Segeſtus's Court, the better to accommodate his inclinations to thoſe of the Princeſs deſign'd for him, and to work in thoſe two young perſons that conſonancy of affection which the Fathers wiſh'd in them as an introduction to their future happy Marriage. Upon theſe terms was Arminius ſent to Segeſtes's Court, with a retinue ſuitable to his quality; and being my ſelf not long before return'd from the wars of Dalmatia, and having contracted a Friendſhip with him, much different from that which ordinarily finds place in perſons of his age, he deſired my company along with him, which finding me as willing to grant him, he was extreamly ſatisfi'd thereat. We were very nobly receiv'd by Segeſtes, magnificently lodged in his own Palace, and Arminius looked on as a Prince of great hopes, and deſigned to marry the Princeſs.

But it is now time I give you ſome particulars of that excellent perſon, ſince ſhe is the onely cauſe of all the great Adventures of Arminius: And my onely fear is I ſhall not be able to ſpeak worthily enough of her, nor conformably to the paſſion of Arminius. Certain it is, that there is no beauty in all Germany that yields not the precedence to that of Iſmenia, nay, that ſhe may find a place among the moſt eminent in the Univerſe: But the excellencies of her ſoul are yet much more conſiderable then thoſe of her body, and perhaps there never was Lady in whoſe diſpoſition there was ſuch a noble emulation of mildneſs, courage, ſerenity, and ſolid and ſincere vertue. Her Mother, from whom ſhe had her education, was a very vertuous Princeſs, and dead about a year before our coming to Segeſtes's Court. With all the inſtructions tending to the cultivation of that excellency of Wit and Underſtanding Nature had beſtowed on her, ſhe had entertained all the noble impreſſions which might be inſtill'd into her by the beſt examples, and ſuch inquiſition into the Sciences as was conſiſtent with her Sex: Never was there any guilty of a greater evenneſs and moderation, or exerciſed a greater juſtice both towards her ſelf and others; and that expreſſed a more vivacity, prudence and freedom of behaviour; in a word, ſhe was in all reſpects ſuch, that the perſons moſt hard to be humoured would not eaſily have found any thing which they could with reaſon condemn either in her ſentiments or her carriage. She was ſo young when we came to her Fathers Court, that all her excellent qualities had not had the time to break forth to her advantage, as they have done ſince; but ſhe was already ſuch as I was dazled and aſtoniſh'd at; and young Arminius, whoſe apprehenſions of things were much beyond his age, not only approved his Fathers deſign, and thought the Princeſſe ſuch as he could wiſh her, that he might without any violence to himſelf comply with his Fathers deſires; but he found her ſo amiable & attractive in all things, that notwithſtanding the tenderneſs of his years, he fell paſſionately in love with her upon his firſt coming thither. His heart being in all things open to me, he immediately acquainted me with his paſſion, ſuch as he felt it in himſelf; and whereas there was all the reaſon in the world I ſhould approve it, I gave him all the encouragement I could to proſecute it. Never haply was there an affection begun under a more happy Omen, nor with greater hopes. All things ſeemed to further it: Clearchus was extreamly ſatisfied at the news of it, Segeſtes beheld the firſt overtures of it with abundance of joy, and Iſmenia, who was the onely perſon Arminius might fear, was ſo perſwaſible and ſo compliant to the diſpoſal of her Father, that it was not much queſtioned but ſhe would ſubmit to what he ſo much approved and deſired. On the other ſide, Arminius was ſuch as to his perſon, that there was ground enoughto hope his inclinations would be ſuitable to his duty, and that ſhe would without any averſion entertain a Lover deſigned her by her Father.

Accordingly, things came to paſs as was expected; but whereas this part of the ſtory is not that which moſt requires your attention, I ſhall ſlightly paſs over it to the relation of things of greater conſequence, telling you onely by the way, that Iſmenia entertained the diſcoveries of Arminius's affection without any mark of repugnance, that ſhe could not diſapprove any thing in the paſſion of a Prince, who with her Fathers conſent was one day to be her Husband, and in conſequence to this, the excellent qualities of Arminius both as to body and mind working that effect in her which it was hoped they ſhould, ſhe gave us ground to conclude, as much as could be expected from the tenderneſs of her age, that ſhe would not be inſenſible of the paſſion ſhe had raiſed in another, and for which ſhe might entertain ſentiments not onely innocent, but ſuch as were approved and deſired by Segeſtes and his people. She entertained the firſt diſcourſes which Arminius made to her upon that occaſion with a prudence infinitely above what might be expected from her age, and onely gave him to underſtand, that ſhe had for the diſpoſal of her Father a reſpect that ſhould oblige her to ſubmit thereto without repugnance: but it was with ſuch a grace as more violently enflamed the heart of young Arminius; and his paſſion encreaſing upon the daily diſcoveries he made of the admirable and amiable qualities of the Princeſs, became at laſt ſo violent, that I was my ſelf much aſtoniſhed at it, and could hardly comprehend, that in the heart of a perſon ſo young ſo earneſt a paſſion could find place, eſpecially one attended by whatever occaſion the greateſt diſ-enjoyments and diſturbances.

[Page] Certain it is, that while Arminius could content himſelf onely with the compliance which he expected Iſmenia ſhould have for the will of her Father, he had all the reaſon in the world to be ſatisfied, by the readineſs he found in the diſpoſition of that diſcreet Princeſs, abſolutely to conform her ſelf to thoſe things which ſhe thought her ſelf in duty oblig'd to do: But when he would have preſſed her further, and trouble the ſerenity of her ſo [...]l by raiſing in it a paſſion ſuitable to his own, he found it a buſineſs of much difficulty, and ſuch as engaged him in great inconveniences. The inclinations of Iſmenia were in ſuch a calm as it was not eaſie to raiſe any tempeſt in; and as ſhe was willing to ſubmit to reaſon, ſo did ſhe as violently oppoſe what ſhe thought exceeded it, or was at ever ſo little diſtance from a ſevere reſervedneſs and modeſty. So that while Arminius deſired onely to be well received, and and to derive from her words and actions an aſſurance that ſhe had no averſion either for his perſon, or the deſign of Segeſtes, he was the happieſt man in the world: but when he would engage her into a Love equal to what he felt himſelf, he found it a hard attempt, and it was a long time ere he could move that conſtant ſolid diſpoſition out of its ordinary temper.

I being the onely perſon to whom he made all his complaints, was acquainted with all his diſturbances, even to his moſt ſecret thoughts, and it was from me that he deriv'd all comfort and encouragment, when I repreſented things ſo to him, as to perſwade him, that what he attributed to Iſmenia's ſeverity and rigour proceeded onely from her modeſty, and that he ſhould be very glad to find ſo much prudence and caution in the perſon he was to marry, But one day being engag'd in ſome ſuch diſcourſe to him, not receiving it as I expected he ſhould have done; Uncle (ſaid he to me) it is not neceſſary Iſmenia ſhould do any thing to ſatisfie me as to her modeſty and vertue, I do not in the leaſt doubt of it, nor ſhall while I live; but I ſhould very much deſire to be aſſured ſhe hath an affection for me, as being not ſo forward to marry Iſmenia, as deſirous to be lov'd by her, and to ſee her do that out of affection which ſhe does out of duty and compliance. But do you not obſerve (ſaid I to him) by her behaviour towards you, that ſhe obeys without any repugnance, and conſequently that that very deſire of doing what ſhe thinks her duty is the effect of ſome inclinations in her to endeavour your ſatisfaction, ſince they proceed from her with ſo much freedom. I muſt confeſs (replyed Arminius) that I was at firſt as kindly received by Iſmenia, as a man deſign'd by her Father to be her Husband could expect to be from a diſcreet and modeſt Princeſs as ſhe is: but is it not very ſtrange, that during the space of a whole year that I have ſpent here, wherein ſhe hath upon all occaſions received the diſcoveries of a violent and respect full affection, I ſhould now find my ſelf in the ſame condition I was in the firſt day, when upon my arrival in this Court, I was brought to her by Segeſtes; that I could never yet by any action of hers ſatisfie my ſelf that her heart was any way moved at the addreſſes of a Lover whom ſhe ſees languiſhing and conſuming himſelf; and that ſhe ſhould abate nothing of her ſerenity and enjoyments, even while I am ready to die at her feet, and ſuffer for her ſake what another would think abſolutely inſupportable? For in fine, imagine not that I now conſider the intereſts of our Provinces, or the deſign of Clearchus to ſecure the future tranquility thereof by a Marriage; I minded that while I acted onely upon the account of duty and obedience, and during that time I was in the ſame poſture Iſmenia is in now, and had before ever I ſaw her the ſame ſentiments which ſhe now hath for me: But ſince that, by the ſight of her and the obſervance I have made of her adorable endowments, my paſſion hath overmaſter'd all other conſiderations, I deſire not onely to be entertain'd by her without any repugnance, but expect, if it be poſſible, to be lov'd by her, as preferring the conqueſt of her heart before the ſoveraignty of all Germany.

Theſe were the ſentiment of young Arminius for the fair, and not much ſenſible Iſmenia, and being one day alone with her (a freedom he was pemitted at any time) after a converſation whereby he was confirm'd in the opinion he had that he was not happy to his deſires; Is it poſſible (ſaid he to her, with an action wholly paſſionate) that ſo many expreſſions of my affection, which you may eaſily have diſtinguiſh'd from the compliance I have for the will of Clearchus, ſhould prevail nothing on a heart which by your own acknowledgment was not prepoſſeſſed any inclination oppoſite to my happineſs; and ſhall I ever find you ſuch as you expreſſed your ſelf upon my firſt addreſſes to you! What reaſon have you to complain, (replies the Princeſs, after a manner naturally chearfull, and much taking in her) and from what action of mine do you take occaſion to charge me as you do, if I have not been hitherto awanting as to any thing you might rationally deſire of me? You are indeed (replies Arminius with a ſigh) very dutifull towards Segeſtes, but you have no affection for Arminius: and it is the love of Iſmenia for Arminius that I am much more deſirous to ſee, then the obedience of Iſmenia towards Segeſtes. There is in that word Love (reply'd the Princeſſe) ſomewhat that ſpeaks more freedom then may ſtand with the modeſty of our Sex, and there is in that paſſion ſomething too irregular to be conſiſtent with prudence: But if you may be ſatisfied with a more moderate affection, ſuch as might be [Page] expected from a diſpoſition ſomewhat regulated and directed by reaſon, I do not think you have any ground to complain, nor confound a voluntary obedience with a forc'd duty. Ah, fair Iſmenia (replyed the amorous Arminius) what a ſmall diſtance is there between that moderate affection, wherewith you would recompence a Violent paſſion, and inſenſibility it ſelf, nay, cruelty; and what injuſtice is it in you, to imagine that a Love, ſuch as that I have for you, a Love that allows me not the leaſt enjoyment of my life, can be ſatisfied with a ſimple acknowledgment of it, ſuch as raiſes not the leaſt diſquiet in your ſoul? What, Arminius, (ſaid Iſmenia to him ſmiling) is it then your deſign to diſturb my quiet, and you think it a great argument of the ſincerity of your Love, to wiſh I may be deprived of that tranquility wherein I place all the happineſs of my life? No queſtion (replied Arminius) but I ſhould wiſh you were more ſenſible of the love I have for you, then you ſeem to be, as conceiving, that though your quiet were a little diſturbed by ſuch a ſympathy, you would not be ever the more unfortunate, though you made me thereby the moſt fortunate man in the world.

They often had diſcourſes to this purpoſe, and conteſtations of this nature; but at laſt, after much ſuffering, after much ſighing, the love of Arminius, the merit of his perſon, and the remonſtrances of Segeſtes, overcame that calm of Iſmenia's diſpoſition, and made way for ſo much affection in her for Arminius, as he could deſire from ſuch a perſon as Iſmenia. He had the ſatisfaction, not without exceſſive delight and tranſportation, to find himſelf ſincerely loved, and to be aſſured it was no longer out of pure compliance, but out of the force of an earneſt and ſolid affection that Iſmenia conſented to his happineſs. She loved him tenderly, and being of a nature full of ſincerity, and noble freedome, ſhe made a real diſcovery of her ſentiments to him, and abſolutely ſatisfied him, that he had in the heart whereof he ſo much condemned the calmneſs and indifference, the place he was ſo much deſirous of: But though ſhe freely acknowledged what thoughts ſhe had for him, yet did ſhe ſtill behave her ſelf with ſo much prudence, circumſpection, and reſervedneſs, that from even the commands of Segeſtes, who was extreamly pleaſed to ſee the Union of thoſe two hearts, ſhe took not the encouragement to grant Arminius even the lighteſt favours ſhe might have done. He ſometimes took it very heavily, but he found his comfort in the reſpect he had for her Vertue, and thought himſelf happy, both in the good ſucceſs he already had, and what he was for the future in expectation of.

Thus ſtood his affairs when I took my leave of him, having been called home by Clearchus to oppoſe the advance of ſome Romane Forces, who were come into the Territories of ſome of our Neighbour-Princes, and contrary to the Treaty which had been concluded ſeveral years before, made irruptions into our Frontiers. The Prince, who was then [...]n ſome indiſpoſition of body, was pleaſed I ſhould command our Forces, and gave me order to march out againſt the enemy; and it was upon theſe occaſions, if I may preſume to ſay ſo ſo much of my ſelf, that I gained ſome reputation, through the many advantages which Fortune & the gallantry of the men I commanded gave me. In a word, thoſe of our Neighbours who had ſided with the Romans, nay, the Romans themſelves, were in many engagements defeated, and upon the banks of Viſurgis I gained a Victory over the Forces commanded by Sulpitius, with the loſs of his ſide of above ten thouſand men killed upon the place, which ſucceſs made the name of Inguiomer famous in Germany.

Tis very true (ſaies Agrippa, interrupting him) that your name was ſoon known among us, and that your reputation was ſpread among the Romans with an eſteem ſuch as rank [...]d you among the greateſt men of our age. I deſerved not this great Elogy from the mouth of the great Agrippa, (replies Inguiomer very modeſtly) but certain it is, that in moſt of thoſe engagements I fought with a ſuceeſs which raiſed me into the eſteem of the Prince my Brother; his Subjects, and all our Neighbour-Princes, much beyond my deſert: But that is not the thing I am to inſiſt upon, there being in the adventures of Arminius what is far more worthy your attention; which is the reaſon I ſo ſlightly paſſed over what related to his birth, and the firſt ſallies of his affection, as looking on the particulars thereof as inconſiderable, in compariſon of what I have yet to relate to you.

He liv'd happily in the enjoyment of Iſmenia's company, there being nothing to diſturb it but his impatience and deſires of greater happineſſes then thoſe he enjoyed, and which were denyed him upon no other account then that of his youth. It was his hope indeed they ſhould not be delayed much longer, as being now arriv'd at the eighteenth year of his age: But then was it, Fortune thought fit to croſs his deſigns by ſuch traverſes, & obſtacles, as he could not have foreſeen. The love of Glory, and that which he naturally had for his Countrey, had already wrought much upon his martial inclinations; and if the paſſion he had for Iſmenia had not detained him, he would hardly have ſpent his time idlely in Segeſte's Court, when he heard of my ſucceſſes againſt the common Enemy, and that I made my way for that Fame which he was no leſs in love with then with Iſmenia. He was already ingaged upon ſome thoughts of a return to Clearchus, as well to procure his mediation to Segeſtes for the accompliſhment [Page] of his felicity, as to court, in the occaſions of fighting for the Liberty of his Countrey, that of ſignalizing his own Valour, when he meets with employment for it in in the place where he was, and that for the concernments of Segeſtes and Iſmenia, which were indeed no other than his own. The Roman Forces that were in Germany meeting together from all parts into one body, took the field, in expectation of Tiberius, who was to come with a very powerful Army to give the laſt aſſault to the Liberty of Germany; and ſome part of thoſe Forces, being under the command of Curius, entred the Territories of Segeſtes, ſurprized him ſo much, through his not fore-ſeeing that Tempeſt, that upon the firſt thoughts of it, he was in very great extremities. However, he took order againſt them with ſufficient diligence; and being a perſon of great courage, he quieted his people, & raiſed Forces with all the expedition he could.

It was a certain ſatisfaction to Arminius to meet with that opportunity to exerciſe his Valour, which was much abated by the peace wherein he had ſpent his younger years; and Segeſtes having, as his firſt employment, given him the command of the whole Cavarly, he undertook it like a young Mars, and ſeeming in the War as it were in his proper Element, he within few days became remarkable for thoſe actions, which, at an age that few perſons have drawn a Sword in, got him the reputation of one of the moſt gallant men in the world. There happened no engagement wherein he did not things extraordinary, where he grew not famous either for the death of the moſt conſiderable of the Enemy, or by ſome other remarkable action, and wherein it was not generally acknowledged that his noble example was that which made his party victorious. One time with a party of Eight hundred Horſe, he put to the rout a Legion commanded by Norbanus, leaving above Two thouſand men upon the place. Another time, at the paſſing of a ſmall River, having charged the Enemy upon their retreat, he purſued and cut in pieces a great part of the Rear, and got all the baggage, which he diſtributed among his Souldiers. Some days after, Curius having laid a ſiege before a place which he hoped within few days to reduce, as being but weakly fortified, Arminius fell upon him in the night in his Camp, kill'd above Three thouſand men, and put ſo conſiderable a relief into the place, that Curius deſpairing the taking of it, and aſhamed at the loſs he had received, raiſed the ſiege two days after. Segeſtes looked on theſe beginnings with admiration, and Iſmenia, who had a ſoul truly great and generous, underſtood them with a joy ſuitable to the affection ſhe had for Arminius.

By theſe actions did Arminius put Segeſtes into a capacity to maintain his Countrey with a power equal to that of his Enemies; and by thoſe which followed he ſo ſtrengthen'd his party, that at laſt, after many engagements of leſs importance, he came to a pitch'd battel againſt Curius, and gain'd it by the conduct and valour of Arminius, who commanded the right wing of his Army, and that day twice ſaved his life, and relieved him with his own hands out of the power of Curius. I give you the briefer account of the noble actions of Arminius, as not doubting but they are come to your knowledge, and ſo ſhall only adde, that at laſt Segeſtes was free from, and victorious over his Enemies, when news came to him, that Tiberius was in Pannonia with an Army conſiſting of the beſt Legions, ſuch a Power as whereto in probability all Germany was to ſubmit. He underſtood that the Boij, the Vindelici, and the Curiones, upon the noiſe of his advance, had ſubmitted to the yoke they had ſhaken off, and that his next Neighbours the Vangiones were already treating with the Romans, and were finding out a way to recede from the Alliance they had made with him; ſo that he was with ſome reaſon afraid that that Tempeſt would in all likelihood fall heavy upon him, and that he was too weak to oppoſe it. Though he were a perſon of much courage, yet was he ſtartled at that news, eſpecially when he was informed that the Vangiones had concluded their Treaty with the Romans, and that there was only the Mein that divided the places under their juriſdiction and thoſe under his.

While he was in this uncertainty as to what reſolution he ſhould take, thoſe who had concluded the Agreement with the Vangiones, upon conditions honourable enough, made an overture of an accommodation with him, propoſing, That if he would enter into an Alliance with the Romans, and joyn intereſts with them againſt thoſe of his Neighbours who acknowledged not their Empire, he ſhould not only continue quiet poſſeſſor of his own Countrey confined by the Rhine, the Adrana, the Mein, and the Mountains of Melibocus, but that he ſhould have withal part of the Countrey of the Catti, who were thoſe of his Neighbours whom he was moſt jealous of. Theſe propoſitions and divers others which the Romans made to him, meeting in him with diſpoſitions conſonant to their purpoſes, firſt put him into ſuſpence, and afterwards prevail'd with him ſo far, that he abſolutely reſolved to embrace their party. This negotiation was carried on foot with ſo much ſecrecy, that Arminius had not the leaſt notice thereof: And whereas upon his return from the War he wholly minded his Love, and received from Iſmenia demonſtrations of kindneſs ſo much the greater, by [Page] how much the ſame of his noble actions had added to the affection of that excellent Princeſs, he ſeemed to conſider no other intereſt than that of his Paſſion, which he made it his only buſineſs to improve, and enquired not after any thing, but what might contribute to his gaining more and more upon Iſmenia's inclinations.

On the other ſide, Segeſtes ſatisfi'd of the greatneſs of his courage, the love he had for his Countrey, and the averſion our Houſe had ever had for the Roman Uſurpation, had been afraid Arminius, if acquainted with his deſign, would have oppoſed it, given notice thereof to his Father, and laid ſuch rubs in his way, as it would have been hard for him to avoid, and upon thoſe conſiderations had very carefully concealed all from him, hoping that the love he had, for Iſmenia would eaſily reduce him to his party; ſo that the buſineſs was ſo cloſely carried on, that all things were concluded and ſign'd on the part of Segeſtes, before Arminius had the leaſt jealouſie of it: The man it ſeems, either daunted by the power, or drawn in by the proffers of his Enemies, clearly forgetting his old Friends and ancient Allies, and declaring himſelf either out of fear or intereſt, contrary to his Honour, and againſt the Liberty of his Country. This, though concluded, was yet kept ſecret for a time, out of a deſire Segeſtes had, that Arminius ſhould underſtand it from himſelf, rather than from commo [...] report: But feeling within him the griping reproaches of his ingratitude towards him, and towards the Prince his Father, and ſome other Princes whoſe Alliances he unworthily forſook, he reſolved not to let him know it till ſuch time as he could keep it no longer ſecret, nor hinder him from coming to the knowledge thereof. Then was it that he thought fit to acquaint him with that truth, and to that end taking him one day along with him a walking in the Gardens belonging to his Palace, he got him into one of the Walks, whence he ordered all others to retire, that he might entertain him with greater freedome. Seeing him therefore ready to give the attention he expected; Son, (ſaid he to him, for he never called him ootherwiſe in thoſe times) I doubt not but you would take it ill at my hands, that I have conconceal'd from you the negotiation of a Treaty I have newly made, if I had not done it out of motives not diſadvantagious to you, and had manag'd the buſineſs ſo, out of the knowledge I had of your great courage, which haply might have croſſed a deſign, whereof you could not upon the firſt ſight have diſcovered the importance, the intereſt, and the neceſſity. Certain it is, there can be no other ground or conſideration on which you could have taken it amiſs, that I have conceal'd from you what my Friends have negotiated for me with the Romans, and the Alliance I have made with them upon conditions too advantageous to be diſallow'd by a Prince that ought to be concern'd in my intereſts.

Upon which words perceiving that he hearkened to him with a ſilence that was the effect rather of his aſtoniſhment than approbation, he acquainted him with all had paſſed between him and the Romans, excuſing his change of party, partly upon the fear he was in of a power which he was not in a condition to oppoſe, and partly from the advantages he found in that Alliance, as well for the quiet it procured him, by ridding his hands of ſuch powerful Enemies, as the dilation of his Territories by an addition of a great part of the Countrey of the Catti.

Arminius hearkned to his diſcourſe with greater pat [...]ence than Segeſtes had expected from him, moderating, upon the remembrance of Iſmenia, the indignation he felt himſelf tranſported with at the ſtrange diſcovery of Segeſtes: But perceiving he had given over ſpeaking, and expected his anſwer with ſome impatience, doing a certain violence to his juſt reſentment, to keep within the reſpect he was deſirous to obſerve towards the Father of Iſmenia; My Lord (ſaid he to him) I know not how I ſhall be able to expreſs my ſelf to you, as conceiving I out not ought of any conſideration to violate the reſpect I owe you, and on the other ſide as not able to forbear a reſentment of the misfortune you acquaint me with. What, my Lord, (added he, retreating back ſome few paces) when you return victorious over the Roman Armies, you would ſubmit to their power, and receive the yoke for which all perſons of courage have ſo much horrour, when you were in a condition much more likely to ſecure your ſelf againſt it, than when you ſhook it off? 'Tis not the ſame thing (replied Segeſtes) to ſubmit to the yoke, and to make an advantageous Peace, as I have done; nor ſhall I be a ſubject to the Romans, though I am their Ally. But, my Lord, (replies Arminius) can you be Ally to them, and at the ſame time in Alliance with my Father and ſo many other Princes your Neighbours, whoſe intereſts have ever run in the ſame channel with yours? I may be both (added Segeſtes) for I hope the Prince of the Cheruſci will follow my example, to ſeek a Peace which he can never have by other ways, and I have undertaken he ſhall, upon the confidence I am of that he will ſubmit, as I have done, to the reaſons that have convinc'd me, out of a conſideration of our Friendſhip, and upon the care you your ſelf will take upon you to bring us both to be of the ſame party. Ah, my Lord, (replied the young Prince with ſome precipitation) expect not from me a ſervice it is not in my power to render you, without oppoſing my own ſentiments, and betraying my Honour and my Countrey; and aſſure your ſelf, happen what will to me, I ſhall never be any [Page] ones ſlave but Iſmenia's. The perſwaſions of Iſmenia (replies Segeſtes) may prove more effectual to bring you into our party, then it can be expected mine ſhould, and will haply convince you with greater ſucceſs, that if you ſincerely love her, you cannot think of any ſeparation from her▪ Iſmenia hath, no doubt, (replied Arminius) an abſolute power over me, and there is not haply any thing ſo difficult as to limit the command ſhe hath over my heart and reſolutions; but Iſmenia hath too great a love for Glory, to wiſh my diſhonour, and I hope ſhe will not lay any on me that ſhall be inconſiſtent with my reputation and my duty. No queſtion (replied Segeſtes) but ſhe will adviſe you not to be an enemy to her Father, and you will in all likelihood have ſo much affection for her as to think it no leſs a violence to your inclinations to forſake her, than to engage againſt our party.

A Thunder-cap could not have ſtruck Arminius into ſo much diſorder as theſe words did, ſo that looking on Segeſtes with a countenance wherein might be obſerved a confuſion of grief and indignation; What my Lord (ſaid he to him) is it then inevitably neceſſary, that I muſt either quit Iſmenia, or renounce the intereſts of my Father, my Country, and my Duty? And is the change of your politick inclinations come to extremities ſo inſupportable to Arminius, who would have ſacrific'd his life in your ſervice? I expect however from you (replied Segeſtes) that there may be a continuance of our Friendſhip; but you know your ſelf, that it were unhandſome for you to pretend to the Daughter of an Ally of the Romans, while you are an enemy to them. Your change (replied Arminius) ſhall not produce any in me; & though Iſmenia were born of the moſt implacable enemy I had in the world, I ſhall inviolably perſiſt in the affection I have for her, and the deſire I have to be only hers, ſhall never leave me but with my life. You'l give me leave to be of another opinion, (replies Segeſtes) and to declare to you, ſince I needs muſt, that a man of a party contrary to mine ſhall never enjoy Iſmenia. You may think of it at your leiſure (continued he, perceiving his coulour chang'd at thoſe words) and I think I ſhall do you no diſcourteſie to leave you at liberty to conſider what reſolutions it will be moſt convenient for you to take.

With thoſe words he left him, but in ſuch an aſtoniſhment and affliction as hardly allow'd him the uſe of his reaſon. Some few moments before this cruel conference he had thought himſelf the happieſt of men, and in the inſinuations of the hopes he flatter'd himſelf withal, he would not have chang'd conditions with thoſe of the moſt fortunate, when of a ſudden he is reduc'd to a cruel neceſſity of either quitting all thoſe dear hopes, or preſerving them by a baſeneſs whereof the very thought was inſupportable to him. What (ſaid he, walking ſtill leiſurely in the place where Segeſtes had left him) What, muſt I either loſe Iſmenia, or forfeit an Honour no leſs dear to me than Iſmenia! Am I awake, or do I dream, and is it poſſible that I have really heard thoſe cruel words from the mouth of Segeſtes? No doubt (added he) but I heard them, and that without any illuſion, and the cruel man, after he had uttered them, had left me to the mercy of deſpair. O Iſmenia! O my deareſt hopes, muſt I now loſe you! O my Father, O my Country, O my Glory! muſt I renounce you to preſerve Iſmenia? Indigeſtible neceſſity of my fortune! to what an inhumane choice have you reduced me? O my Love! to what a hard trial would you put my feeble Vertue? O my Vertue! what tyranny would you exerciſe on my Love? Shall the affection of a young Lover, enflam'd to the greateſt height, ſubmit to the Laws of a cruel Duty? or ſhall the vertue of a Prince nobly born be over-power'd by the force of a paſſion, which cannot excuſe an unworthy act?

During this agitation, through which, how uncertain ſoever he might be what reſolution to take, he ſaw his misfortune unavoidable; he ſtill walk'd to and fro, and had paſſed away ſeveral hours alone in that melancholy poſture, if at a place where two walks croſſed one the other, he had not unexpectedly met with Iſmenia. The ſight of her was ſo dear to him, and which he preferred before all the enjoyments of his life, was now his affliction, and aggravated the grief he before felt heavy enough upon him, ſince it raiſed in him a diſturbance which he had never made trial of before. He had hardly lifted up his eyes on Iſmenia but immediatly looking off her upon the ground, he continu'd in that poſture till Iſmenia had ſaluted him, call'd him and ſpoke to him, before he could ſo much as think to return her the civility he ow'd her. Iſmenia, who knew him not to be awanting in thoſe ceremonies, unleſs his thoughts were in ſome more then ordinary diſturbance, and read in his countenance all the marks of a mortal grief, was infinitely troubled thereat, and out of the ſincere affection ſhe had for him, felt ſome part of the affliction which he ſuffered. Her converſation towards him, was, by the conſent of Segeſtes, with the greateſt freedom that modeſty would permit; and having then about her only ſome of her women, who out of reſpect kept at a conſiderable diſtance, ſhe went to Arminius, and taking him by the arm as it were to lead him. What ails Arminius (ſaith ſhe to him) and what accident hath happened that you ſeem to me much different from what you are went to be? I have, Madam, ſaies Arminius to her, I have received a mortal wound in my heart, and if through your goodneſs I have hitherto thought my ſelf but too happy, you now ſee me the moſt unfortunate, and moſt loſt man in the world.

Theſe words troubled Iſmenia extreamly, and out of the violent and ſincere affection ſhe [Page] had for Arminius, ſhe could not but ſympathize with him in his grief, and ask him the reaſon of it with no ſmall diſturbance. The Prince continued a certain time ere he was able to put himſelf into a poſture to give her ſatisfaction; but having at laſt in order to obey her, recovered himſelf out of that diſtraction of thought which obſtructed the freedom of his ſpeech; ‘My unhappineſs, Madam (ſaid he to her) is yet much greater then it may ſeem to you either by my countenance or diſcourſe, and that you may the ſooner comprehend it, I am to tell you, that I muſt either renounce my Honour, or loſe Iſmenia, and that in both extremities I meet with ſuch inſupportable difficulties, that I ſhould prefer death before the choice I could make.’ Whereupon though with much violence to himſelf, he acquainted her with his misfortune, and give her an account word for word of the conference he had with Segeſtes; but he did it with ſo many marks of grief, and found her ſo much inclined to bear her ſhare thereof, that a great part of what he felt paſſed into the ſoul of the fair Iſmenia, and broke forth thence into her countenance, where it was in a manner as obſervable as in that of Arminius himſelf.

It was to him a gentle abatement of his affliction, to perceive that ſhe was moved to ſo much compaſſion thereat; and ſeeing her ſilent, out of the greatneſs of her aſtoniſhment, ‘Pardon me, Madam, (ſaid he to her, continuing his diſcourſe) that I dare ſtand in ſuſpence between the love I have for you, and that I have for glory; no doubt but I ſhould value Honour leſs, if I thought a perſon without Honour were not unworthy to ſerve you, and were not but too well ſatisfied, that I cannot ſlight Glory without being my ſelf ſlighted by Iſmenia. I ſhall not only tell you, that a ſlave of the Romans deſerves not to be yours, nor is it the averſion I have for that yoak whence proceeds my greateſt unhappineſs: But being confident that my Father will run the hazard to looſe all his Dominions, with his life into the bargain, rather then ſubmit thereto; I cannot embrace it with Segeſtes, without proving falſe to a Father, and renouncing a Duty wherein my Honour is inſeparably concerned. 'Tis therefore this Honour that I muſt part with, or quit thoſe dear hopes of being happy in the enjoyment of Iſmenia. See, my faireſt Princeſs, what a misfortune I am involved in between theſe two cruel extremities, and command me to do what I ought, by all the power you have over my heart: For, in fine, though Love and Honour may be at difference in my apprehenſions, yet do I feel a certain ſuggeſtion that tells me, the obedience I owe you will decide it, and ſettle all my irreſolutions.’

To this effect was the diſcourſe of Arminius, delivered by him with ſuch a grace as rendred him more amiable then ever in the eyes of the generous Iſmenia. And when he had given over ſpeaking, the fair Princeſs looking on him with an action infinitely obliging; ‘Arminius (ſaid ſhe to him) I equally participate with you, as well in your grief as your generous ſentiments, and I am not more troubled at our common misfortune, then I am ſatisfied as to the juſtice of your ſuſpence. Love Honour, Arminius, no leſs then you do Iſmenia, and aſſure your ſelf, that it is onely Honour that Iſmenia can love as much as ſhe does you. I have for you an affection which I dare acknowledge before all the world, ſince it is countenanc'd by the conſent of my Father, nay, it is ſuch, as I ſhould haply be as much troubled at your loſs, as you might be at mine: But in regard I ſet an equal value on your Perſon and your Honour, fear not, I ſhall, upon any account of the power you have given me over you, determine ought againſt either. As Daughter to Segeſtes, I cannot adviſe you to engage your ſelf in a party contrary to his; as ſenſible, as I ought to be, of of your affection, I cannot out of any conſideration deſire you ſhould leave me; and as having a great tenderneſs for your glory, I cannot condemn in you what you ſhall do for the preſervation of it. Whether you will be guided by the inſpirations of your Love, or thoſe of your Vertue, be it your conſideration; but be withal aſſured, that what ſide ſoever you take, the affections of Iſmenia are inviolably yours.’

Arminius was in a manner tranſported at this generous diſcourſe of Iſmenia, and when he had heard the concluſion of it, and found it ſo obliging and ſo conſonant to his own deſires; ‘Ah Madam, (cryed he) how ſhall I be able to acknowledge the obligations I receive from this exceſſive goodneſs in you, whereby you raiſe my cruſhed hopes: And what fear, or what intereſt can move me, if nothing can deprive me of my Princeſs? What I have ſaid (replies Iſmenia) relates onely to my affections, and not to my perſon; this is in the power of a Father, who may diſpoſe of it as he thinks fit; but he hath not the ſame right over my affections: and having commanded me to beſtow them on you, it were in vain for him by a ſecond Command to order me to diſpoſe of them to any other. Be therefore confident, that no conſideration of merit, ſervice, intereſt, no, not of any command my Father may lay upon me, ſhall ever engage me to love any other then Arminius: But imagine not I ſhall beſtow my ſelf on you againſt his conſent, and think not I forget my own Duty, while I adviſe you to do yours. Ah! Madam, replies the afflicted Prince) how truly great and generous is what you ſay; but how different is it, as to me, from what I thought I had underſtood [Page] I Yet is it ſo rational) replied Iſmenia) that I am confident you approve it, and by the repugnance you find in your ſelf to quit the party of your Father and renounce your Duty, you but too well know, at leaſt to condemn it, what I am obliged to in relat [...]on to my Father and my Duty. 'Tis very true, Madam, (ſays Arminius to her) that I have diſcovered to you the averſion I have for unworthy actions; but I think I have withal declared to you, that my reſolutions depend on your commands, and I ſhould not be in any ſuſpence whether I ought to obey, had I the knowledge of them. You cannot therefore with any juſtice alledge that unhappy example to deſtroy all my hopes; and how great ſoever may be the love I have for Liberty, Countrey, my Father, and my Glory, all ſhall comply with the affection I have for you, and there [...]s nothing I ſhall not renounce to preſerve it inviolably yours while I live. It will be better (replied the prudent Iſmenia) that we [...]oth do what we are in duty obliged to, and continue our affection, but unchargeable even with that reproach which we may make to our ſelves. Fortune will not haply be ſo malicious againſt us as we imagine ſhe may; and the inclination of Segeſtes, which hath already ſuffered ſo ſudden and unexpected a change to thwart our deſigns, may ſuffer a ſecond to further them: But if that happen not, it is not impoſſible but that the ſame conſiderations which have prevailed with my Father, may alſo with yours, and that he will of himſelf be inclined to hearken to an Alliance with the Romans, if they offer it him upon advantageous and honourable terms. If things come ſo to paſs, you may without reproach ſuffer the love you have for Liberty and for your Countrey to give way to that you have for me; and I ſhould have juſt cauſe to be diſſatisfied with your proceedings, if out of pure obſtinacy would continue in a party contrary to that which your Father had embraced: But if that happen not, far be it from me to deſire, or approve in you an engagement in our intereſts againſt thoſe of your Father and your Honour, which I am no leſs tender of then your ſelf. I know my Father would never conſent to your Alliance, while yours ſhould diſapprove it and were not his Friend; and I have already told you, that all I can do in this unfortunate poſture of my affairs, would be to continue my affection inviolably yours, without ſuffering a change for any other whatſoever, but that I cannot diſpoſe of my perſon without the conſent of Segeſtes.’

Arminius found ſo much prudence & vertue in this diſcourſe of Iſmenia, that could he not condemn her; & that fair Princeſs exerciſed the power ſhe had over him with ſo much diſcretion, that he could not but approve the deſign ſhe had to keep within the limits of her Duty, while ſhe left him at liberty on the other ſide to do his, promiſing him withal, that ſhe would oppoſe the intentions of Segeſtes, if they were prejudicial to him, as far as ſhe could with reſpect and honour do it, and that ſhe would never entertain into her heart any other affection then what ſhe had conceived for him. Upon this, they jointly reſolved that Arminius ſhould with the firſt opportunity acquaint his Father with all had paſt, and do all that lay in his power to work a change of intentions in Segeſtes. Accordingly, that very day he diſpatched away a perſon to the Prince of the Cheruſci, with a Letter, wherein he gave him an account of all the Tranſactions at the Court of Segeſtes, together with his own unfortunate concernment therein, in ſuch terms as whence he might eaſily diſcover how much he was troubled thereat. Clearchus with no ſmall aſtoniſhment received the news of Segeſtes's defection, and expreſſed ſuch a grief at it, as was ſoon ſpread among his people, and communicated to all his Friends. I was newly returned to the Court from the expedition I mentioned to you, and had participated with him in the joy he had conceived, upon the report of the noble actions of young Arminius: nay, he was juſt upon a reſolution to ſend me with ſome Forces the relief of Segeſtes, had he not been diverted by Segestes himſelf, who had ſent him an account of the advantages he had over his enemies, and the total defeat of Curius and the Forces, under him. Clearchus made his complaints both to Gods and Men upon this treachery of his Ally, and diſcovered to all that ſaw him, the regret he conceived to have the enmity with a man for whoſe Alliance and Friendſhip he had more then ordinary reſpects: But he openly declared, that no man's example ſhould make him forget what he ought, upon the account of his Countrey and his Honour, to do, and was no leſs deſirous then Segeſtes himſelf, to break off the Marriage of Armenius and Imenia, if Segeſtes perſiſted in his reſolution, reſolved to endeavour Segeſtes's reducement to ſome reaſon, to bring him again into the party he forſook; and conceiving that my negotiation of ſuch an affair might prove more effectual then that of the Ambaſſadors he might have ſent thither, as well in regard of my quality, as the Friendſhip Segeſtes expreſſed towards me during my reſidence in his Court, he deſired me to undertake that journey, and to endeavour all that lay in my power to perſwade him to a more honourable chance then the former, and if after all ways tryed I could not prevail with him, openly to break the Alliance had been between them, and to bring home Prince Arminius among the Cheruſci. I received alſo as a particular [Page] inſtruction from Clearchus, that I was principally employed in that buſineſs upon the better conſideration, it being his fear, that other perſons for whom Arminius had not the Friendſhip he had for me, would have found much difficulty to get him from Iſmenia.

Mean time, Arminius, after that cruel diſcovery of Segeſtes, had lived in his Court after a manner much different from what he was wont, though he ſtill had the ſame freedom to ſee Iſmenia, and that the deportment of that Princeſs was the ſame it ever had been towards him; and Segeſtes thinking it to little purpoſe any longer to conceal the Treaty he had concluded with the Romanes, he had informed himſelf thereof even to the leaſt circumſtances, and found in it ſo much occaſion of grief and reſentment, that it had been impoſſible for him to diſſemble it to Segeſtes, or expreſs towards him the reſpects and affection which he had for him before that cruel change. Segeſtes, who had taken notice of it, was the more exaſperated thereat, and had in a manner forgotten all the noble actions he had done in his ſervice, all the ſentiments of tenderneſs he had had for him, had all the conſiderations upon which he had been ſo deſirous of his Alliance. Yet could he not look on him without feeling a reproach which gave him no ſmall confuſion, and diſcovering by his deportment, that he was conceived of the injuſtice and unworthineſs of his procedure. However, he would needs faſten on him one day as he came out of Iſmenia's Chamber, at whoſe feet he ſought all the comfort he was capable of, and ſpeaking to him with a certain tain coldneſs and auſterity in his carriage; Well Arminius (ſaid he to him) have you conſidered what reſolutions you ſhould take upon the diſcovery I made you of mine, and are you ſatisfied as to the choice you ſhould make? My Lord, (replied he) I expect Orders from my Father, that I may take ſuch courſes as ſhall be ſuitable thereto; yet I think I may tell you before they come; that I ſhall engage in no other party then what my Duty ſhall direct me to. I had imagined (replied Segeſtes) that the love of Iſmenia would have been as prevalent with you, as the Orders you ſo much expect: But ſince I was ſo much miſtaken as to that opinion, I concieve myſelf as free, in what concerns the dispoſal of my Daughter, as you are in the choice of party. You'l pardon me, if I tell you (replied Arminius) that that Liberty is not equal, and that I never engaged my word to quit my Father's party, and ſubmit to the Romanes, as you have to beſtow Iſmenia on me. When I promiſed you Iſmenia (replies Segeſtes) I thought, and indeed could think no otherwiſe, then that you preferred the enjoyment of her, and my Friendſhip, before all things; but ſince other conſiderations are more prevalent with you, it ſhould not be ſtrange to you, that I prefer before thoſe who reſpect me ſo little, ſuch perſons as ſhall implicitely ingage on my party. 'Tis indeed in your power (ſays the Prince, ready to burſt with grief and reſentment) 'tis in your power to diſpoſe of the Princeſs Iſmenia, and ſo I confeſs it is in your power to diſpoſe of my life and fortunes; but in beſtowing Iſmenia, you withal diſpoſe of the life of Arminius & while Arminius ſhall live, there is no man ſhall be ſecure and poſſeſs Iſmenia. You have not liv'd ſo long (replies Segeſtes, with a ſcornful and malicious ſmile) that life ſhould be ſo burthenſome to you, and ſo I hope you will be careful of it, ſince it is yours, not mine; and that I ſhall be at liberty to diſpoſe of Iſmenia, becauſe ſhe is mine, as being apt to think ſhe never will be yours.

With thoſe words he left him, and that juſt upon the point that he felt his reſpect give way to his juſt reſentment, and was afraid he ſhould not have had that command of himſelf, as to ſuppreſs the agitations into which he was ready to breakforth. Segeſtes little regarding the grief wherein he left him, goes into Iſmenia's Chamber, and exaſperated by the laſt conference, and more abſolutely reſolved then ever he had bee to conſummate Arminius's misfortune, he diſcovered his intentions to Iſmenia, and commanded her to diſ-engage her heart of the affections ſhe had for Arminius, and to prepare it to receive another impreſſion, ſuch as the intereſt of his affairs ſhould oblige him to give it, if within ſome few dayes Arminius and Clearchus did not declare for the party he had embraced.

The Princeſs was as it were Planet-ſtrucken at this Order of Segeſtes, and knew not what to anſwer, in an occaſion wherein ſhe could not make any conſonant to her ſentiments, and obſerve her ordinary reſpect and the duty ſhe owed her Father: but preſſed by him to ſome reply, and to declare whether ſhe were not without any repugnance reſolved to him, ſmothering her grief to find out words ſuitable to her inclinations, and not able to ſtifle her great courage in the cruel injuſtice and violence was done her; ‘I ſhall, my Lord, (ſaid ſhe to him) I ſhall obey you, as ſatisfied there is not any thing can exempt me from the obedience I owe you; but it will be through the exactneſs of my ſubmiſſion to your former Orders, that I ſhall find it the greater difficulty to execute the latter, ſince that when you commanded me to love Arminius, I received that affection into my heart, as that only which ſhould ever find entertainment there while I live, and ſuch as not eaſily be gotten out, or ever give place to any ſecond. The duty which oblig'd you to love Arminius when I deſired it, (replies Segeſtes) will have the ſame power to make you forget it [Page] now that my deſign is changed, and will perſwade you to entertain another Prince, as you did him, when I ſhall preſent him to you with the ſame intention. I ſhall ever receive (replyed the Princeſs) with the reſpect I ought, whatever you ſhall think fit to recommend to me, and I ſhall quit all deſires, nay all hopes, to be married to Armenius, ſince you are reſolved to diſpoſe otherwiſe of me, and I ſhall forbear ſeeing him, if it be your will; but after I have engaged my heart to him in an affection conceived upon your inſpiration, which I had not entertained but to obey you, and which he hath highly deſerved, both by the excellencies of his perſon, and the ſervices he hath done you, you cannot think it ſtrange, my Lord, it ſhould be hard for me to force him thence, and impoſſible to admit another into his place. I think it ſtrange (replies Segeſtes very angrily) you ſhould oppoſe my will, and expect to find in you ſuch a compliance for my commands, as that you may without any repugnance be ready to execute them, when I ſhall further acquaint▪ you with my intentions.’ With thoſe words he quitted the room, and left her in ſuch a grief and diſtraction of thoughts, as out of which ſhe was not all that day able to recover her ſelf.

Thus ſtood things in Segeſtes's Court at my arrival there. My journey thither being undertaken with a great deal of precipitation, and without any obſervance of ordinay ceremonies, Segeſtes could not have had any notice of it, and accordingly was very much ſurprized at my coming. However, having formerly had no mean eſteem for me, and that it was not ſafe for him to exaſperate ſuch Neighbours as we were, he gave me a ſeeming kind reception, though not without ſome violence to himſelf and viſible diſcoveries of the confuſion he was in. The firſt day I gave him no account of my Commiſſion, as being glad before-hand to conſult with Arminius; and inſtead of repairing to the Lodgings appointed for me, I went to thoſe of Arminius, to treat with him with greater freedome. It were hard for me to make you ſenſible of the joy he expreſſed at my arrival, as well out of the Friendſhip he had for me even from his infancy, as the hope he conceived, either of aſſiſtance or comfort in his misfortunes, at the ſight of a perſon in whom he repoſed a more then ordinary confidence. Though he were a Son to my Elder Brother and my Soveraign, and hoped to be ſo himſelf after the death of Clearchus; yet did he alwayes treat me ſuitably to the conſideration of Bloud and Friendſhip, rather then with any obſervance of the punctilio's of policy; it being upon his ſollicitations that Clearchus, of himſelf ready enough to oblige me, had, out of a generoſity not common in the world, inveſted me with the Soveraignty of the Meſe, a part of his Dominions extending from one of the extremities of the Forreſt of Hercules down to the River Albis. Embracing me therefore with all the marks of a moſt violent affection, ‘Uncle (ſaid he to him) I now think my ſelf no longer unhappy, ſince you come to my relief; and I no longer fear the malice of Fortune nor the injuſtice of Segeſtes, now that Inguiomer is come to aſſiſt me, and that Iſmenia hath not yet forſaken me.’

In conſequence of which diſcourſe, much other of the ſame nature, and what I returned thereto, wherein might be obſerved a no [...]leſs earneſt affection, he gave me a particular account of what I had underſtood with much confuſion, and ſatisfied me even to the leaſt circumſtances of his misfortune, and the unworthineſs of Segeſtes. ‘I crave your pardon (continued Inguiomer looking on Agrippa) if I ſpeak of the Alliance Segeſtes made with you as a baſe and unworthy action, and that in many paſſages of my diſcourſe I ſpeak of the Romanes as one that was born in Germany, a lover of his Countrey and Liberty, and that abhors, as it is natural enough, the yoke you have impoſed upon the better part of the world. I do not think it any way trange, (replies Agrippa) and though in the tranſaction of Germany we made our advantages of the defection from you of Segeſtes, yet you may aſſure yourſelf there were among the Romans thoſe that did not approve it, and can have a reſpect for Vertue, to the prejudice of their interest.’

‘Upon that aſſurance (replies Inguiomer) I ſhall go on in my diſcourſe with more freedom, and tell you, that at that which Arminius entertained me with concerning his diſgrace, I was no leſs moved then he ſeemed to be himſelf, and gave him, ſuch expreſſions thereof as ſuffered him not to doubt it.’ [...] encouraged him in the deſign he had, as well out of his own inclinations, as the ſuggeſtions even of Iſmenia her ſelf, to prefer Glory and his Duty before all other concernments, and to purchaſe Iſmenia with the loſs of all his bloud, rather then that of his Honour. Not but that he acknowledged, that he could not be perſwaded to loſe Iſmenia, and that he ſhould not be ſo much aſſured of her conſtancy, did he not hope to ſecure it by other ways then ſuch as were propoſed to him. That very night I was permitted to ſee her, and whereas ſhe ever had abundance of kindneſs for me, and looked on me as a perſon dearly loved by Arminius, and intruſted with the ſecret tranſactions of his ſoul, ſhe received me after the moſt obliging manner in the world, and ſpoke [Page] to me with much confidence. After the firſt overtures of diſcourſe, wherein I expreſſed the ſenſe we had of the injury done us by Segeſtes, and the aſtoniſhment all Germany was in at the change he had made, paſſing to the love of Arminius, whoſe grief I repreſented to her according to my affection, and the truth; What, Madam, (ſaid I to her) can thoſe cruel conſiderations of Segeſtes make you forget poor Arminius! I ſhall never forget him while I live (ſaid ſhe to me) and you would infinitely oblige me, if you could but find out a way to reconcile my Duty and the Affection I have for him, and aſſure me his, ſo as that I may not offend againſt Virtue, diſpleaſe my Father, or be diſſatisfi'd myſelf. No queſtion but it may be done (reply'd I) and the affection you have for him being conceiv'd in you by the commands of your Father, he himſelf cannot condemn it, though you continu'd it to the laſt moment of your life. Aſſure your ſelf, Inguiomer, (reply'd the Princeſs) I ſhall do all lies in my power, that I may never be any others then Arminius's, and that in this deſign I ſhall comply with my own inclinations no leſs then with your advice: but I know you to be more rational then to deſire of me to do any thing contrary to decency and prudence. Our converſation was but ſhort, for fear of raiſing any jealouſie in Segeſtes, who might well take it amiſs, as our affairs ſtood, we ſhould have any long conferences.

The next day having demanded audience to acquaint him with the occaſions of my coming to his Court, I was brought to him into his Cloſet, where he permitted me to entertain him all alone; and finding in my ſelf ſome remainders of that freedom which I had formerly taken with him, together with what I might derive from the remembrance of our ancient Alliance, I confidently took occaſion to repreſent to him the injury he had done his reputation, and the illuſtrious bloud of ſo many Kings whereof he was deſcended, in voluntarily ſubmitting to a yoak, to avoid which, all generous men maintain'd their Liberty to the laſt gaſp, in making himſelf, of a King as he was over a great Countrey, a Slave to the people of Rome, in abandoning the intereſts of Countreys, which in all Nations were dearer then life, and breaking the Alliance he had made with his neighbours, confirm'd by him with ſo many promiſes and Oaths, and particularly that of Clearchus, his ancient Friend and Brother, by the union which had been made between them, and the Alliance they had contracted. I repreſented to him what all Germany would in all probability judge of it, what the Romans themſelves, enemies to baſeneſſe and changes of that nature, might think of it, and what he ſhould juſtly fear both from Gods and Men in expoſing himſelf by ſuch proceedings, to the reproaches of ſome, and the revenge of others; and in fine I exhorted him, with all the remonſtrances which the paſſion out of which I ſpoke could ſuggeſt to me, to recover himſelf while he was yet in a condition to do it, to be more tender of the ſerenity of his conſcience which upon that change of party could not but be in ſome diſturbance, and to have ſome regard to common report, the Friendſhip of Clearchus, and the ſervices of Arminius, which had not deſerv'd a treatment ſo unſuitable to the hopes he had conceived thereof; not omitting any thing which I imagined likely to prevail with him to take things into better conſideration.

Segeſtes gave me the hearing with much patience; but being before hand provided as to the anſwer he intended me, as having foreſeen ſome part of the things I might have ſaid to him, he found it no great difficulty to inſiſt on many wretched reaſons to excuſe his change, which he repreſented to me with the greateſt advantage he could, as well in regard of what was added to his Territories, as the quiet he enjoy'd by following a party whereto all Germany muſt in time ſubmit, and to the power whereof all the earth had given way; that he could never have hoped any ſuch thing, while that had been oppoſite to him, and that he had ſought a peace which he had not been acquainted withall from the firſt coming of the Romans into Germany; that it was his hope Clearchus would follow his example, as well out of a conſideration of their Friendſhip as the advantages he might make of a compliance with the ſame party; that upon my arrival, he was in ſome thoughts of ſending an Ambaſſadour to repreſent to him the grounds of his proceedings, to make ſuch Propoſitions to him as were worthy his acceptance, together with excuſes that he had manag'd the buſineſs of the Treaty with ſo much ſecrecy, out of conſiderations that were not diſadvantageous to him; concluding at laſt with an exhortation no leſſe earneſt to me then mine had been to him, to embrace their party, and to engage Clearchus and Arminius in an alliance with the Romans, as the only means whereby they might hope to govern their people with tranquility. 'Twas with much ado I had the patience to hear the concluſion of his diſcourſe, and looking on him as a perſon in whom I no longer found the character for which I had eſteem'd him; Think not (ſaid I to him) to ſeduce Princes whoſe hearts are equal to their exactions, and in whoſe apprehenſions Honour hath the precedence of all other conſiderations. You ſhall find Clearchus, Arminius, and Inguiomer rather without life, then without glory and liberty; but after what what manner will you be able to treat with Arminius, to whom you are obliged both by your word, [Page] and the ſervices he hath done you? Arminius (reply'd Segeſtes, with much more fierce neſs then at the beginning of our converſation) is engaged in the intereſts of his Father, and hath expreſſed to me that that conſideration was more prevalent with him then the love he had for Iſmenia, but though he ſhould change his intentions, and reſolve to quit Clearchus for Iſmenia, he ſhall never marry her, but conditionally that he bring Clearchus into our party. It is not in the power of Arminius (reply I, very much incenſed at his diſcourſe) to bring Clearchus into your party, and I am inclined to believe his vertue to be ſuch as not to admit any ſuch intention in him. Not but that he loves Iſmenia ſo far as to prefer her before all things; but Iſmenia her ſelf loves the honour of Arminius, and would not he ſhould purchaſe her by actions contrary to vertue. Let him then think of ſome other ways to gain her (replies Segeſtes ſomewhat more enraged;) for be may be confident ſhe ſhall never be his with the conſent of Segeſtes. Beſides (added he) I have given you my laſt reſolutions, and you may let me know yours when you think fit, Since I am obliged thereto, (ſaid I to him, with a countenance as full of animoſity as his) I am upon the obligation of my duty, and your proceeding, to tell you, that my charge is to break all Alliance with you, to bring back Arminius to his Father, and to declare to you, that Clearchus will require of you for Arminius, the performance of your word. I am ſufficiently ſenſible (replies Segeſtes, ſpeaking louder then he had done before) that you come to denounce open War againſt me, and I accept it, fall the extremities thereof where it will; and from this moment looking on Arminius and your ſelf as my profeſſed enemies, I command you to leave my Dominions within three days. We ſhall not delay our departure ſo long (reply'd I) as conceiving, that to take leave of you and Iſmenia, Arminius will think the remainder of this day ſufficient. He may ſpare himſelf that trouble if he pleaſe (replied Segeſtes) but ſince you deſire it ſo much, he may acquit himſelf of that civility, as being the laſt time he ever is likely to do it.

With thoſe words we parted; and going to Arminius, who expected me with an impatience greater then he was ordinarily guilty of, by reaſon of the diſtraction he was in, and giving him an account of the ill ſucceſs of my negotiation, it put him to ſuch extremities of grief and indignation as it were hard for me to repreſent to you. Being naturally impetuous and full of fire, he could not forbear breaking ſorth into bitter expreſſions againſt Segeſtes, threatning his dominions with Fire and Sword, and whatever conſequent. to War that is moſt calamitous: But not long after reaſſuming ſome thoughts of mildneſs upon the remembrance of Iſmenia, it troubled him that I had made ſo ſudden a breach with Segeſtes, and would have quarrell'd at the precipitation of my procedure, had he not been ſatisfi'd I was forc'd to it by that of Segeſtes, and could not have done otherwiſe, without violence to my Duty, and derogation from the Dignity of Clearchus. In fine, having recover'd himſelf, and out of the greatneſs of his courage, and upon the things I repreſented to him, reſolv'd for all accidents, he would ſtay with Segeſtes no longer then til the next day, and giving order immediately to his Officers to prepare all things for his departure, he receiv'd the viſits and fare-wels of a great number of Friends, which his vertue had acquir'd him in Segeſtes's Court, and who could not think on his leaving that place in a condition ſo different from the hopes they had conceiv'd, without viſible diſcoveries of grief. He ſmother'd his own in their preſence as much as lay in his power, but it was apparent enough in his eyes, to acquaint them with ſome part of what paſſed in his mind. In fine, having diſengag'd himſelf out of the company of thoſe who had expreſſed ſo much generoſity as not to fear falling into diſgrace with their Prince by viſiting him (for there was a great number of others whom that conſideration had deterred) he would, having the liberty to doe it, go and take leave of Iſmenia; which certainly muſt needs be the ſaddeſt in the world, coming after ſuch happy beginnings, and a progreſs much unſuitable to the condition he then was in. Having the greateſt confidence that could be of me, he would needs have my company in that viſit to Iſmenia, and that I ſhould be preſent at the diſcourſe they had together. The Torches were lighted, and the Princeſs was laid on her Bed, the better to conceal from the perſons that might come into her Chamber the changes of her countenance, and the tears which not withſtanding her conſtancy ſhe could not forbear upon that dolefull ſeparation. We were brought to the Bed-ſide, and found her in ſuch a condition as whence we could not but conclude her ſenſible of the diſgrace of Arminius, as much as could be expected. The beginnings of their converſation were tenderly affectionate, inſomuch that Arminius could not with the aſſiſtance of all his courage forbear tears, wherewith he watered one of the fair hands of Iſmenia. For my part, I was ſo much mov'd at both their grief, that the diſcoveries I made of it were not much different from what they did, and while I adviſed, them to exerciſe their courage upon that occaſion, I had much ado to make any advantage of my own. In fine, Arminius having ſpent a good while in ſobbing, complaints, and ill connected diſcourſes, doing a violence to his grief, the better to diſcover his intenſions; ‘Madam, (ſaid he to the Princeſs) I leave you in the condition you now ſee me in, and through the cruelty of a man I cannot hate becauſe he is your father, I quit a place, where in all appearance I [Page] ſhould one day have been the happieſt man in the world!’ But think not I leave you according to the intentions of Segeſtes, and that with your ſight I loſe thoſe hopes that are dearer to me then a thouſand lives. No Madam, imagine not that any conſideration of party, bloud, or duty could force me from you, if I thought my departure could not be without loſing my Princeſs: And be pleaſed to have ſome aſſurance, that though I go hence by order from Segeſtes, I carry with me affection and courage enough to dispute you againſt all the World to the laſt drop of my bloud. I ſhall ſee you again, my deareſt Princeſs, if the Gods are ſo pleaſed to order it, and ſhall not quit ought of my legal pretenſions, what Enemies ſoever I may meet withal. Were it not for this hope, which is predominant in my heart above all the paſſions that disturb the ſerenity of it, you ſhould ſee me expire at your feet, and fall on the point of my ſword, rather then leave you; and therefore I part from you with a ſetled aſſurance that I ſhall accompliſh one part of my Deſtiny, while the other ſhall be in your hands. What elſe is to be done I expect from you, and I ſhall little fear the cruelty of Segeſtes, and the power of all the World, if in my misfortune you continue me your precious affections. Nay, you might haply do ſomewhat more for me, ſince that after the conſent of Segeſtes in order to my happineſs, and the commands you have ſeveral times received from him, to love me as the perſon deſigned by him to be your Husband, you might, without fear of any blame, continue that firſt obedience, as being not obliged to change your inclinations to comply with his fantaſtick humours, but ought in reaſon......

‘'Tis enough, (ſays Iſmenia interrupting him) for Heavens ſake, Arminius, keep to the juſtice of your cauſe, and merit not the affliction you ſuffer, by deſires and demands that are unreaſonable: I do for you all that lies in my power, and am much more awanting as to my duty upon your account, then you are to yours upon mine. There are many Princeſſes in the world, who would treat you much after another manner then I do, and think themſelves diſpenſed from their firſt obligations towards a Prince that were a declar'd enemy to their Father and countrey; but I make the leſs reflection upon that ſevere regularity, becauſe I am really ſatisfi'd of the injuſtice you ſuffer, and that I would not be charged with having any hand in a change which I condemn no leſs then you do: But while I continue innocent towards you, give me leave alſo to be in ſome meaſure ſuch towards a Father, or indeed rather towards my ſelf, to whom I owe no leſs, and who am more conſiderable to you then Segeſtes. I proteſt to you, in the preſence of the Gods, and before Inguiomer, that the change of Segeſtes's intention hath not raiſed any in my heart towards you, and that there never ſhall with my conſent, be any other entertained into the place deſigned for you. You cannot expect more from Iſmenia, who would love vertue no leſs then ſhe does you. For the reſt, let our dependance be on the Gods, who can change our Fortunes as they pleaſe, and let us be ſure to keep them of our ſide, by doing nothing that may make them our enemies. No queſtion (reply'd Arminius) but it is in the power of the Gods to change our Fortunes; but it muſt be acknowledged, that men may alſo contribute thereto, and you will not take it amiſs if I ſhould endeavour it by all the ways that Honour and Love ſhall encourage me in. I doubt not but Clearchus will uſe all the force he can make to revenge the injury he hath received from Segeſtes, and if he be once engaged in ſuch a deſign, it would not be in my power to divert him, as I ſhould, out of the reſpect I have for you, be deſirous it were. But not ſeeking my revenge againſt a Prince who is your Father, you will give me leave to take ſuch courſes as may induce him to keep his word, and you will not oppoſe my gaining of Iſmenia with the deareſt of my bloud. I ſhall in all the emergencies conſequent to the misfortunes of War, look on the Father of Iſmenia with the reſpect I ought, and if I engage againſt him with ſome reſentment, it ſhall not be becauſe he is an Ally of the Romans, but becauſe he detains Iſmenia from me. Proceeding out of motives and conſiderations ſo juſt, I cannot fear, my deareſt Princeſs, you ſhould condemn me, much leſs addreſs your ſelf to Heaven againſt me. 'Tis the greateſt comfort I have left me; and were I deprived of it, I ſhould immediately renounce a life which I cannot eſteem but for your ſake, nor preſerve, but out of the hope I have to gain you.’

Iſmenia was ſilent a while, not ſatisfied what anſwer to make to this diſcourſe; at laſt, with a countenance, wherein was viſible the unſetledneſs of her mind, Arminius (ſaid ſhe to him) I know not what your reſolutions may be, and ſhould be glad to continue in that ignorance, that I might perſiſt in my innocence, and defie the reproaches I might receive, and which indeed I ſhould make to my ſelf: ſince I cannot without the imputation of ſome crime permit you to engage in a War against my Father, nor without injuſtice forbid you to ſerve your own, and to demand Iſmenia, whom you love, and who was promiſed you. Be guided by the inſpirations of your vertue, and the affection you have for me, without the addition of thoſe you might expect from me. I ſhall ſo endeavour to regulate my devotions, that if they favour you [Page] not, they ſhall not be contrary to your deſigns; and while I ſollicite the Gods that my Father may not be overcome, I ſhall not deſire of them that you ſhould be diſappointed of Iſmenia. Mean time, what reſolutions ſoever you may take, remember that Sege [...]tes is ſtill my Father, and that while you proſecute the intereſts of your Love and Duty, you run not into any extremity, which may oblige me to quit the ſentiments I now have for you. They had ſome further diſcourſe, wherein I alſo had my part; but out of a fear that, as things ſtood, Segeſtes ſhould not approve a longer converſation. Arminius was forced to take his leave; which he could not do without ſhedding abundance of tears, yet with a ſatisfaction to ſee Iſmenia as liberal of them as himſelf. Bidding him the laſt adieu, ſhe recommended Segeſtes to him; and faluting me with much affection, recommended Arminius to me. Hereupon we left her Chamber, and being returned to our own Lodgings, Arminius paſſed away the night in ſighs and lamentations, and whatever ſo cruel a ſeparation might produce in a ſoul diſtracted betwixt love and affliction.

The next morning betimes, all was ready for our departure, and as ſoon as Segeſtes, was to be ſeen, we went to bid him adieu. Could Arminius have followed his own inclination, he would have forborn that ceremony, but it was ſuch as there was ſome neceſſity to obſerve, at the leaving the Dominions of a Soveraign Prince, ſuch as Segeſtes; and on the other ſide, Arminius conſidering him as the Father of Iſmenia, was deſirous in all things to expreſs the eſteem he had for her. Segeſtes received us with a certain indignation, and what violence ſoever Arminius had reſolved to do himſelf upon that occaſion, yet could he not approach him without a fierceneſs inferiour to his. My Lord, (ſaid he to him) we come to take leave of you, & it is with a regret to ſee our departure from your Court ſo different from our arrival into it. You came Friends, (replies Segeſtes) & you depart as Enemies; theſe are the viciſſitudes of Fortune, & the world is daily acquainted with changes no leſs conſiderable. This change you onely are chargeable with, (replies Arminius) & not Fortune, & it is you alſo, & not Fortune that we are to call to account for your Oaths, and the performance of your word. I am ſufficiently diſengaged as to that (replies Segeſtes) and before you come to call me to that account, you will find me in ſuch a condition, as that the Prince of the Cheruſci will haply be glad enough to quit ſcores with me. Though it ſhould ſo happen▪ (replied Arminius) I ſhall reſpect you much more as Father of Iſmenia, then I ſhall fear you in the head of the Ingriones; and it is not unlikely they may remember, ſince you have forgat it, that I carry a ſword by my ſide, wherewith they have ſeen me do thoſe things in your ſervice, which will not ſuffer them to contemn it. I was unwilling they ſhould come to higher terms, out of a fear Segeſtes might thence take occaſion to detain us; and indeed, we have been informed ſince, that for the ſpace of ſome hours after that diſcourſe he had an intention to do it, as imagining it the onely way to prevent what the Prince of the Cheruſci might attempt againſt him, by keeping us as Hoſtages for his ſecurity. And had put it in execution, had he not been afraid, that in violating in that manner the Law of Nations towards perſons of our quality, to incur the hatred, and haply draw on himſelf the Arms of all Germany; and conceived withall, that the Romans, among whom the National prerogative was held ſacred, would not approve the action, nor countenance him in it.

Thus came we away from Segeſtes, croſſed the Countreys that were in his juriſdiction, and arriving among the Cheruſci, preſented our ſelves to Clearchus, who had not ſeen Arminius in many years before. He received him with all the affection which the aſſurance he had of his excellent endowments might adde to the tenderneſs he naturally had for him; and finding him admirably accompliſhed as to body and mind, and full of glory for the gallant actions which had ſignalized his firſt appearances in military tranſactions, he conceived ſuch ſatisfaction thereat, that it in ſome meaſure moderated the grief he felt upon the unworthineſs of Segeſtes. He promiſed him to raiſe all the Forces his Dominions were able to make, to proſecute their common revenge, and accordingly ſending his Orders every way for the Levies of Men, he in a ſhort time got together a very powerful Army, and marched in the head of it towards the Frontiers of the Ingriones. I ſhall not inſiſt on the particulars of that War, out of a confidence, that you have had an account of it, and that the Romanes concerned themſelves but too much in it, to be ignorant of the moſt important emergencies thereof. ‘'Tis very true (ſayes Agrippa to Inguiomer) that what was of moſt conſequence relating to the War, ſoon came to our knowledge; but as to what concerns the buſineſs of Love, I am utterly ignorant, and therefore intreat you not to contract your diſcourſe concerning that, though you do in things that have reference only to the War.’

Since you ſo much deſire it (continued Inguiomer) I ſhall briefly tell you, that marching towards the Frontiers of the Ingriones, we were far from ſurprizing Segeſtes, who having received intelligence of our preparations for War, and our march towards his Countrey, got together certain troops he had not disbanded, and having increaſed their number [Page] with ſome others which he raiſed with great dilligence, he had an Army afoot, ſufficient to diſpute our entrance into his Territories; beſides his expectation of a ſupply from what was then raiſing, and the aſſiſtance he had ſent for to Quintilius Varus, who with a Legion, and ſix hundred Horſe, had been ſent by Tiberius into the Countrey of the Angrivarii, he marched towards us, and ſate down to oppoſe our paſſage, between the Head of the River Viſurgis, and the extremities of the Mountains of Melibocus, which was the moſt likely place to get into his Countrey, the reſt being ſecure, either through the depth of the River or the ſteepineſs of the Mountains, which are almoſt inacceſſible. Had Segeſtes had the time to take his advantages, and Poaſt himſelf to his mind, the place naturally favouring him, we ſhould have found it a buſineſs of much difficulty: but both Armies coming thither much about the ſame time, he could not execute what he had reſolv'd, and was for [...]'d to fight us with much more equality then he had imagined. Many engagements happened between ſeveral parties, wherein Fortune had carried her ſelf very impartially; but where Arminius chanc'd to be in perſon, Victory could not but be attendant on thoſe performances of Valour, which were ſo great as hardly to find credit, with ſuch as had them onely by relation: nor wanted I had ſome Friends, who by the reports they ſcatter'd abroad, would make the world believe, that I done things worth the obſervance. At laſt, the command of the Army became ours by reaſon of the infirmity of Clearchus▪ who finding himſelf indiſpoſed, was forced to leave the management of the War to us. Out of the Friendſhip and eſteem which Arminius had for me, he would needs ſhare the command with me, which I was content to accept of, the more to eaſe him, though glad all ſhould be done in his Name, and for his reputation. And indeed he did things ſo noble, that after many defeats, whereby his forces were much weakned. Segeſtes was forced to give us entrance into his Countrey, and to retreat in great diſorder towards Candonium, the chief City of the Caſuares. In that retreat, his loſſes were ſo conſiderable, and his Forces were ſo ſpent, that not able to keep the field any longer, he thought it his only courſe to fortifie himſelf in the City, leaving his Horſe without lodged in ſo advantageous a Poaſt as it was hard to force them out of. Upon which Arminius began to conſider that it was not fit he ſhould preſs ſo hard upon the Father of Iſmenia, and conceived it not unſeaſonable to make ſome Propoſals to him while he was yet in the favour of Fortune. In order to which deſign, returning him a great number of Priſoners, and among others, two of his Nephews whom he dearly loved, and who had been taken in the laſt engagement, after he had made them magnificent preſents, he gave thoſe that had been appointed for their Convoy, a Letter to Segeſtes, wherein he found theſe words.

Arminius Prince of the Cheruſci, to Segeſtes Prince of the Ingriones and Caſuares.

CLearchus fought for his Countrey and his intereſts, but you know, my Lord, that ( [...]ight onely for the obtaining of Iſmenia. I wi [...]lingly renounce all pretenſions which the ſucceſs of War may have given me to your Countrey, but cannot thoſe I derive from your word to the Princeſs Iſmenia. Accordingly it is upon the account of your promiſe that I demand her of you▪ and not out of any conſideration of the advantages which Fortune may afford us. Remember, my Lord, I ſhould have been your Son, and not your Enemy, and that remembrance is the only way to recover your reputation, to aſſure your People of peace, and Arminius of his life, who begs it of you at a time when he is in a condition to maintain it againſt any power what ſoever, beſides that of his Love.

This civility of Arminius was but ill acknowledg'd by Segeſtes, who being of a violent and invincible nature, inſtead of any reſentment of the courteſie of ſo generous an Enemy, was the more exaſperated at it, and ſent him word back by thoſe who had convoy'd the Priſoners, that he would within few days bring him an anſwer to his Letter in the head of twenty thouſand men. And indeed, not many days after, he received a conſiderable ſupply by the coming in of two of his Generals, who brought him the reſt of the Forces which he had ordered to be raiſed, ſo that his Army was more numerous then ours; beſides which, underſtanding that the King of the Suevi with whom he had made Alliance, ſent his ſon Marobodes to his relief, and that Varus had promiſed thoſe he had ſent to him, that he would aſſiſt him with all his Forces, as ſoon as his occaſions among the Angrivarii would permit, he grew inſupportably confident. Though it muſt be acknowledg'd, Segeſtes is a perſon of much experience in warlike affairs, yet he expreſſed but little upon this occaſion, ſince that he muſt needs have put us extreamly to it, had he had the patience to ſtay for the great ſupplies were promiſed him: But the impetuoſity and reſtledneſs of his nature forc'd him againſt all the rules of prudence and military conduct, & imagining himſelf ſtrong enough with the Forces he had to engage us, he quits Candoum, diſpoſes his men in a poſture of fighting & [Page] courted us to a pitch'd battel. Arminius, whom the violence of his proceedings had incenſed, very gladly accepted it, and manag'd his buſineſs ſo fortunately for us, and ſo unfortunately for the Enemy, that after a hot and doubtful engagement for moſt part of the day, the beſt of their Forces were left upon the place; and to make our victory the more abſolute, Segeſtes himſelf was taken Priſoner. I preſented him my ſelf to Arminius, having with much ado gotten him out of a hot and dangerous engagement, wherein he gallantly defended himſelf: But the Prince upon the firſt ſight of him was in ſuch a diſturbance as to reſolution, as I had never obſerv'd in him before. His firſt apprehenſions could not but lead him to the joy he was in a manner ſurpriz'd with, upon ſo conſiderable an advantage, and ſo probable a way to gain Iſmenia; but not long after, the confuſion he was in was no leſs, to ſee the Father of Iſmenia ſtanding before him, deprived of liberty, and in a condition ſo different from that wherein he had ſeen him not long before, when with ſo much inſolence and ingratitude he had ſent him out of his Dominions. The ſhame it muſt be to a perſon of that quality to ſuffer ſo great a change, paſſed from the countenance of the conquered into the ſoul of the Conquerour; and coming to him in a poſture more ſuitable to the condition Segeſtes was then in, then his own, Ah, my Lord, (ſaid he to him) what do I ſee? Is it poſſible Fortune ſhould be ſo unmerciful as to make you ſuffer the affliction I now ſee you expoſed to? Then turning towards me, Uncle (ſaid he) you might have ſpar'd me the confuſion you put me to, and have returned Segeſtes among his own people, and not have detain'd him among perſons that through their misfortune are odious to him. I made no anſwer to his diſcourſe, and Segeſtes receiving it with the ſame fierceneſs he had expreſſed at our departure from his Court: Make the beſt advantage thou canſt, Arminius, (ſaid he to him) of thy Fortune, and expect not any act of weakneſs from me in this change of mine. I ſhall, my Lord, (replied Arminius) make my advantage of it, but ſo as to avoid all reproach of having abuſed it. Whereupon, perceiving his cloaths bloudy, and underſtanding he had been wounded, he cauſed him to be ſtripped and put in his own Bed, though not without reſiſtance, and would needs be preſent at the dreſſing of two ſlight wounds which he had receiv'd in the Battel. Segeſtes receiv'd this civility of Arminius which much averſion, but it abated nothing of the earneſtneſs of the Prince to ſerve him, which was ſuch, that he could not have had greater attendance in his own Palace, nor have had thoſe about him that ſhould be more ready and careful to obey his commands. I was very much pleaſed at the generoſity of Arminius, as being reſolv'd not to have treated him otherwiſe my ſelf; but I was deſirous he ſhould make uſe of that advantage over Segeſtes to gain Iſmenia, and not ſet him at liberty till he had put the Princeſs into his hands. The reſt of that day Arminius nor my ſelf had any diſcourſe with him, as unwilling to ſay any thing to him ſo ſoon, whence he might imagine we intended to make any advantage of his misfortune: But the next day, finding his hurts were not ſuch as oblig'd him to his Bed, or hindred him from riding abroad, if he had any deſire to do it, we reſolv'd to ſpeak to him of it; and I took the buſineſs upon me, ſeeing Arminius had not the confidence to do it. To that end coming into his Chamber while he was dreſſing, after we had enquir'd after his health, I came to him, and while Arminius was ſpeaking to ſome others in the Room, to give me the better opportunity to diſcourſe with him, ſo as it might not be thought to proceed out of any deſign, being ſafe on the Bedſide with him; Well, my Lord, (ſaid I to him) have you not ſeen miſeries and blood enough ſpilt to ſatisfie the averſion you have conceived againſt a Prince that hath ſerved you, and ever honour'd you as a Father? Will you not be willing, upon the entreaty he ſhall make to you with all the ſubmiſſion you can expect from a dutiful Son, ſuffer that unjuſt animoſity to give way to the inclinations you have ſometimes had for him, and making good the engagement of your word, ſatisfie the many other obligations you owe him, by granting him the happineſs you have ſo many years ſince promiſed him?

Segeſtes entertained my diſcourſe very ſcornfully, and looking on me with much indignation, Were I obliged (ſaid he to me) both by my word, and the ſervices of Arminius, to do what you deſire of me, his late actions ſufficiently diſ-engage me; and beſides the oppoſition of our ſeveral intereſts, there is little probability I ſhould look on a man that brings deſolation into my Territories, and ſpils the bloud of my ſubjects, nay my own, as one that would pretend a Marriage with my Daughter, Ah, my Lord, (ſaid I) charge not Arminius with the calamities of a War, whereto you know you have forced him, wherein he hath out of duty followed the directions of his Father, and of which there needs no more to clear him then his affection for Iſmenia. That affection (replies Segeſtes) ſhould have diverted him from it, ſince he cannot be ignorant, that violence and force of Arms can prevail nothing upon Segeſtes. And you know (added I) that he took not this courſe to gain Iſmenia, till all others had prov'd ineffectual, and that there is nothing ſo difficult, ſo he may do it with honour, which he is not ſtill ready to embrace, to appeaſe your indignation, and purchaſe Iſmenia. He ſhall never have her while he lives, [Page] (replied Segeſtes, lifting up his voice with an accent expreſſing the exceſs of his ſury) and it is for my Friends and Allies that I have deſigned her, not for my in [...]placable Enemies. If Arminius take my advice (replied I, much moved at his diſcourſe) you will not have the diſpoſal of her ſo freely as you imagine; and if my ſollicitation may prevail any thing with him, it muſt be the delivery of Iſmenia ſhall be the price of your liberty. He is the Maſter of it, I muſt confeſs, (replies Segeſtes) yet ſhall he not find the leaſt compliance or change of intention in me to obtain a Liberty, which though Fortune hath deprived me of, I may recover by the aſſiſtances of my Friends, and which I would rather owe the chance of War then his courteſie. You ſhall not owe it any man (ſays Arminius come up to us) nor indeed have you loſt it for your being brought among perſons whom you may as freely command as the moſt inconſiderable of your own ſubjects. Be pleaſed to pardon the diſcourſe my Uncle hath entertained you with, as proceeding meerly out of the compaſſion he hath for my misfortune; and ſince you cannot be mov'd thereat, follow your own inclinations, without any fear that the advantage the chance of the war hath given us ſhall any way prejudice your liberty. Nor is it out of that conſideration that I would make any Propoſal to you, or preſs you, at a time when you thought your ſelf not free, to a thing which at any other I ſhould not with much more confidence have demanded. You ſhall this day return among your own people, if your health will permit it, and from what hath happened in this War, I derive not any power over your perſon, or pretenſion to your Countrey; but for what I have to Iſmenia. I am ſo far from being reſolved to quit it, that I will diſpute her with thoſe whom you have deſigned her for, nay, with all the world, to the laſt drop of my bloud. Segeſtes, though exaſperated as he was, yet could not forbear a certain confuſion at the generoſity of Arminius; but he perſiſted in his reſolutions, thinking it enough to tell him, that if Fortune ſhould in the ſequel of the War declare her ſelf of his ſide, he would acknowledge, upon a like occaſion, the honourable treatment he had received.

After this Arminius would not have any thing ſaid to him but what related to his departure, and as ſoon as he had dined, cauſing Horſes to be brought for him, and all the priſoners taken with him, he garded him in perſon till they came in ſight of Amaſia, which was one of his Cities whither he was willing to retreat, as having ordered his Lieutenants to rally all his broken Forces near that place. As he took leave of him, he begged his pardon for the affliction he might conceive at his being taken, whereof he had been as ſenſible as himſelf; & told him, reſolute enough, that as for his perſon he ſhould ever conſider it as ſacred, but that excepted, he would not ſpare any thing in the world, and would carry War, Fire, and Sword where-ever he came, or become poſſeſſor of Iſmenia.

Though this procedure of Arminius was the effect of more generoſity then policy, yet me thought it argued ſo much gallantry, that I could not condemn it, notwithſtanding his precipitation into things which his Father might haply diſapprove, ſuch as the ſetting at liberty of a man who at that time was an Enemy to us upon other accounts then the Love of Arminius, and whoſe perſon, while in our cuſtody, might prove very dangerous to our party. Yet could not Arminius repent him of it, as hoping his Father would pardon what he had done, out of the affection he bore him, and the compliance he had for his Loves, eſpecially ſeeing he had impowered him to do any thing conducing to his deſign, and was content he ſhould marry Iſmenia, though Segeſtes continued his Alliance with our Enemies. Some days after he received a recompence for that action by a Letter of Iſmenia's, which was delivered him by a man who ſuffered himſelf to be taken by our Scouts, and deſired to be brought before him. He open'd it with certain eruptions of joy, and found the Tenour of it to be this.

The Princeſs Iſmenia to Prince ARMINIUS.

OUght I to love you, Arminius, becauſe you love me, and perſiſt in your fidelity to me; or ſhould I hate you becauſe you are in Arms againſt us, and spread terrour and death through my Father's Dominions? I was in ſuſpence, or at leaſt I ought to have ſuspended between theſe two contrarieties when news was brought me both of your Victory, and of the generous treatment you have afforded my Father. 'Tis worthy you, and I find it ſo far worthy my affection, that to ſatisfie ſo great an obligation, I can do no leſs then aſſure you of my remembrance of it, (which the condition we are in may haply make criminal in me) and confirm to you the promiſe I have made you, never to be man's, if I cannot be yours.

Arminius read it thouſands of times, and as often kiſſed all the characters of it, with ſuch tranſports as his Love and Youth only could plead excuſable in him. He afterwards fell into diſcourſes the moſt Paſſionate & amorous imaginable, and made ſo conſiderable preſents [Page] to the Meſſenger, that he will have reaſon while he lives to be ſatisfied with his condition. The next day he ſent him back to the Princeſs with this Anſwer.

Prince Arminius to the Princeſs Iſmenia.

THat you are obliged to love me, is, becauſe I have your promiſe to do it, becauſe Segeſtes hath enjoined you, and that I ſhall love you while I live, beyond what any other poſſibly may do; and if there be a neceſſity you ſhould hate me, 'tis becauſe I am unfortunate: But I am ſatisfied your reſpect to Juſtice is greater then to caſt your hatred on that which deſerves your compaſſion. I ſhould have feared the taking of Segeſtes might have diſpleaſed you, had I not preſumed you ſatisfied, that the affliction I conceived there at was equal to his, and that I would have been glad, with the loſs of much of my bloud, to have ſpared him the confuſion it put him into. Pardon, my deareſt Princeſs, theſe ſad effects of my misfortune, and give me leave ever to hope, that if Fortune favours, you will not oppoſe my deſigns.

Mean time we were advanced a days march beyond the place where the Battel was fought; but we went forward but ſlowly, expecting a ſupply of ſeven or eight thouſand men which Clearchus was to ſend us; and by the ſtrict orders were iſſued out, our Forces behaved themſelves very civilly in the Countrey of the Ingriones, as being unwilling to ruine an innocent people for the unjuſtice of their Governour. Many places ſubmitted to us without reſulance, while Segeſtes was fortifying himſelf at Bogadium, whether he had retreated, ſo that we became Maſters of all the Countrey of the Caſuares except ſome few Cities, thoſe not very ſtrong, which could not hold out againſt us, the Countrey all about being at our devotion. Having brought things to this paſs, our deſigns received a ſudden check by the intelligence we received at the ſame time from the Cheruſci, by a man whom Clearchus had ſent, & from the Ingriones, by certain perſons about Segeſtes, whom the noble treatment they had receiv'd from us had made our Friends. By the Envoy from Clearchus we underſtood, that the King of Suevi, who was the neareſt and moſt powerful Neighbour of the Cheruſci, one that not long before had engaged in the party of the Romanes, made an Alliance with Segeſtes; inſtead of ſending into the Province of the Ingriones the ſupply we ſpoke of before, to make a diverſion that might reſtore peace to the Ingriones, had made an irruption into the Countrey of the Cheruſci, towards the Meſe, and the Fens of the Melſiages; that Clearchus inſtead of ſending us the aſſiſtance we expected, had ordered their march that way, and thought he might have occaſion enough for all his Forces, according to the report much ſpred abroad, that Varus leaving the Province of the Angrivarii, and having free paſſage to the Angilii who are under ſubjection to the King of the Suevi, was upon his march along the Viſurgis, to fall on the other ſide upon the Cheruſci. This we underſtood by the Envoy ſent by Clearchus; but thoſe who were come to us from Segeſtes, after confirmation of this intelligence, added further, that Segeſtes, by the Treaty he had made with King of the Suevi, had deſigned the Princeſs Iſmenia to be married to Prince Marobodes, his eldeſt Son and the Heir to his Crown, and that it was concluded between them, that at the time ſame the Suevi ſhould ſet upon the Cheruſci, Segeſtes ſhould ſend the Princeſs to Tuliſurgium upon the Viſurgis; where Marobodes was to meet her, and thence take her along with him into Suevi. Arminius, who had heard the firſt part of this intelligence without being any way daunted, grew, pale, trembled, and ſeemed a loſt man at the latter, and that ſo much the more, in that he who brought it aſſured us it was very certain, that there was no doubt of it, and that beſides what he had learned from perſons who could not be ignorant of it, he had a particular charge from the Princeſs her ſelf to give Arminius notice thereof, and to deliver him a Letter which he then put into his hands. Arminius, who had not expected ſo much, was more ſtartled at that then any thing before, and opening the Letter, the found in it theſe words.

ISMENIA to ARMINIUS.

I Do all that lies in my power to preſerve my ſelf yours, but am afraid my endeavors will prove ineffectual. Polites, will give you an account of the danger we are threatned with; adviſe with Prince Inguiomer about the ways whereby it may be prevented. In order to the accompliſhment of this deſign, I permit you all things, ſave the attempting of ouget againſt the perſon of Segeſtes, and hazarding further than needs the life of Arminius.

The reading of this Letter ſatisfying Arminius what credit he was to give the relation of Polites, he put many queſtions to him with ſuch earneſtneſs as ſufficiently diſcovered the cruel diſturbances he was in, and underſtood from him, that Segeſtes ever ſince his coming [Page] to Bogadium, had not allowed the Princeſs the liberty ſhe had before, and had ſo ſecretly carried on his negotiation with the Su [...]vian Ambaſſadour, that ſhe knew not the leut of it till all things were concluded, having imagined till then, that they treated onely about things relating to the War, and med [...]ed not with ought concerning her marriage; That ſhe was extreamly troubled, when her Father brought her that news, and ſpoken to him with ſo much courage and reſolution, that Segeſtes exaſperated thereat, had commanded her not to ſtir out of her own Lodgings, nor ſpeak to any whatſoever: That from that day ſhe had ſo little liberty, that ſhe had much ado to get the opportunity to write that Letter, and to ſend it him by one of her Women. In fine, that their Deſign was ſo far ready for execution, that to prevent it there was but little time to loſe, and that he was afraid the Princeſs might be already gone from Bogadium upon her removal to Tuliſurgium, whither Segeſtes had ordered her to be conducted.

Arminius, who, as one at a loſs of all reſolution, had heard this diſcourſe of Polites, at laſt ſummoned his courage to his aſſiſtance, and turning to me with a greater confidence than I could have expected, ‘Uncle, (ſays he) I have haply taken the Alarm more then I ſhould, but it may be pardo [...]able in ſuch a paſſion as mine, and if your advice and aſſi [...]tance fail me not, I ſhall not poſſibly be ſo unfortunate, as I was in fear I might, upon the firſt hearing of this news. You may aſſure your ſelf, (reply'd I) that Inguiomer ſhall never fail you while he is maſter of a life; nay, if I muſt loſe that to ſerve you, you ſhall never find him unprepared to do it. Upon that hope (reply'd he) I dare attempt any thing; but the preſſing extremity I am in, and the deſign my thoughts are bent upon, will force us to ſeparate, if ſo you approve it, and I do not much doubt, but that this courſe which Segeſtes hath taken to prevent me from having his Daughter, will prove the onely way for me to gain her. I ſhall not ſet upon thoſe who are to be her convoy from Bogadium to Tuliſurgium, as well becauſe I cannot take that way without paſſing through the Countrey of the Catti, and the Forre [...]ts, whereof the paſſages are very troubleſome for Horſe; as that it is not unlikely Segeſtes himſelf may conduct her, and I ſhould be loath for Iſmenia's ſake to engage a party where he were in perſon: but, if you think fit, I will return back by the head of the Viſurgis, and keeping ſtill cloſe to the River, I ſhall come to Hercules's Forreſt which lies between our Frontiers and thoſe of the Angilii, and not far from Tuliſurgium. There will I lurk till Marobodes be paſt by, will ſuffer him to go Tuliſurgium, to receive the Princeſs, and ſet upon him in his return thence. This expedition I ſhall proſecute with all poſſible diligence, intreating you to ſtay in the head of the Army, which may now march back into our own Province, to deſend it againſt the Suevi, there being not any thing can oblige us to neglect the ſecurity of our Countrey, to carry on a war againſt the Ingriones, now that Iſmenia is no longer among them.’

I could not but approve Arminius's deſign, nor but admire the readineſs of his reſolution, which certainly was the onely beſt he could take to retrieve Iſmenia, and relieve his Countrey. That which moſt troubled me, was, that I could not be with him, but muſt ſee him expoſed alone to a danger wherein I would gladly have born him company; but it was a neceſſity not to be diſputed withall, that one of us muſt head the Army in its march homewards, and he would never have ſuffer'd me to go without him upon that enterprize. We reſolv'd therefore he ſhould be going with the next night, and in regard we imagined that Marobodes would have no great force about him, ſince that to go to Tuliſurgium, he came to no place which was not under his own juriſdiction, and where it was unlikely he ſhould fear any thing, the Enemies he was ſo much frightned at being among the Ingriones, and that Arminius could not with great numbers march ſo privately as he deſired, he would take but Five hundred Horſe with him, it being probable that Marobodes had no more, as not engaged upon any expedition of War, and ordered Egilochus, one of his Generals, to follow him with a like number, to relieve him if need were, and to be coming on his march the night following, ſo to be a day after him at Hercules's Forreſt, a place known all over Germany. I continued with the Army, with intention not to leave the place where we were for ſome dayes, leſt Segeſtes might infer from our departure, that we had notice of his deſign, and would be diverted from ſending Iſmenia to Marobodes. Things were put in execution as we had reſolved, and Arminius departing with the night in the head of Five hundred Horſe, I ſtayed with the Army, pretending to make a further progreſs into the Countrey, and ſo ordering all things, as that Arminius's abſence ſhould not be obſerved by any one from whom Segeſtes might have notice of it. Having continued in that poſture a time ſufficient for Arminius to execute his deſign, and Segeſtes to ſend away the Princeſs, I left the place we were in, and brought all the Forces back to the head of the Viſurgis where they had paſſed over before, and marched on to the relief of the Cheruſci, but with cruel diſturbances of mind by reaſon of the enterprize Arminius was engaged in.

[Page] Mean time was Arminius gotten out of the Countrey of the Ingriones, and upon his march towards the place he had deſigned to go to, with all poſſible expedition and privacy, keeping at as much diſtance as he could from places much inhabited, and to that end having ordered his men to take proviſions with them for ſo many days. All things ſeemed to favour him, and he went for the moſt part through thoſe places that were under the juriſdiction of the Cheruſci, and whence there could not any notice be brought to Marobodes, who coming from a part of the Countrey quite oppoſite, could not receive any intelligence of the march of Arminius. For two days he kept along the Viſurgis, and leaving it when he came over againſt the Countrey of the Catti, entred the Forreſt of Hercules, which is of a large extent, and in ſome part divides the Cheruſci from the Angilii. There had he the opportunity to lie concealed, and to ſend ſome of the moſt prudent and truſty of his men towards Tuliſurgium, to learn whether Marobodes were paſſed by, and in what condition. Theſe men acquitted themſelves of the charge laid upon them, and ſatisfied him at their return that Fortune had been more his friend than he expected, by preſenting him with a man belonging to Marobodes whom they had taken, and who without much urging told him, that Marobodes was gone by, and had been in Tuliſurgium two days, that he was to come away thence that day, and repaſs the Viſurgis with the Princeſs, to lodge that night at Ceſia, the firſt City in his way after his coming into the Province of the Angilii, and whither he was ſent before to prepare all things for his reception; that he had but Four hundred Horſe with him, but that he thought the Princeſs would be accompanyed by a conſiderable number of Ingriones as far as the City Meſuvium upon the Albis, and the Frontier-Town of the Suevi-Senones, where the King was to come, and Marobodes to marry the Princeſs; that he had carried her away the day before, had ſhe not deſired to reſt that day, as finding her ſelf ſomewhat indiſpoſed.

Arminius informed himſelf of divers other particulars, which he reflected not much upon: ſo that perceiving he had little time to loſe, and putting the man under a ſtrict guard, leſt he might break their deſign, he drew out into a Valley which lay not far from the way which Marobodes was to paſs, ſending out two Horſemen to bring him word of his firſt appearance. The hope he conceived of the good ſucceſs of his enterprize had raiſed in him a joy that made him appear more chearful and reſolute then they had ever obſerved him before: he had an excellent Horſe under him, his Arms were ſumptuous and able to dazle an Enemy, and all his deportment, as I have underſtood ſince, was the moſt martial and gallant imaginable. He encouraged his men with the moſt preſſing motives he could think on, to fight for his Fortune and his life, repreſenting to them how that both abſolutely depended on the event of that days engagement, telling them, that he had ordered Egilochus to joyn with him with Five hundred Horſe, and that it could not be long ere he came up, but that the ſuddenneſs of the occaſion permitted not any longer ſtay for him, and that out of the confidence he had of their valour, he doubted not of the Victory without any other aſſiſtance. They anſwered him with thoſe aſſurances whence he derived no ſmall hopes of the good ſucceſs he ſhould meet with; and not long after being advertiſed that the Suevi were in ſight, he drew up his men out of the Valley, but not till the Enemy was come ſo near as that he could not avoid an engagement, and that he could diſcover Iſmenia's Chariots between two great parties of Horſe.

As ſoon as he appear'd, Marobodes was ſurprized at it, as having not imagined he ſhould meet with any Enemies in that Countrey, his thoughts being more taken up with his Loves than fighting; but being a very ſtout perſon, and finding the number of thoſe he had about him, accounting the Ingriones, greater than that of his Enemies, he called for Arms, and putting himſelf into them with all diligence, ſtood ready for the charge. Arminius had loſt all fear, when he ſaw the Princeſs was in a Chariot which could not eaſily be turned back, in caſe they were deſirous to avoid fighting; and heightned by a noble conſidence in his own Valour and that of his men, he came on a good round pace, and fell in with the greateſt impetuoſity in the World among that party where Marobodes was. His men ſeconded him with much gallantry, ſo that the ground was in a ſhort time covered with the bodies that fell on both ſides. The Suevi, who were of the moſt conſiderable in their Countrey, behaved themſelves very valiantly about their Prince; and the Ingriones, whom Segeſtes had culled out of thoſe that were moſt affectionate to him, were cut to pieces about the Chariot of their Princeſs. Arminius making his way among the thickeſt of his Enemies, ſought all about for Marobodes, and challenged him out to fight, by crying to him, as much as the tumult and noiſe would permit, that he was Arminius, and that Marobodes could not expect a greater Honour than to deal with Arminius, his Rival, and Enemy. Nor did Marobodes avoid him, but his men, who dreaded the valour of Arminius, ſet themſelves before him. Yet could they not do it ſo, but that at laſt, notwithſtanding all their oppoſition, Arminius came up to [Page] him, and after ſome blows dealt on both ſides, forced him to the ground with two thruſts through the body. He deſired not a more abſolute victory; and breaking through whatever oppoſed him, he diſpatched the mo [...]t obſtinate, put to flight others, and ſpared thoſe that forbore further reſiſtance, nay, permitted them to relieve and look after their Prince, if ſo be he were capable of it.

Having no more Enemies to engage with, he alighted, and running to Iſmenia's Chariot, he preſented himſelf before her covered over with bloud and duſt, and in a condition that might have frightned her, if [...]he had not immediately called to mind the countenance of Arminius. The joy he was in ſmother'd his ſpeech; but taking her by the hand, he kiſſed it with ſuch earneſtneſs, as would not ſuffer him of a long time to quit it. Iſmenia, as having greater command of her ſelf, ſpoke firſt, and endeavouring to overcome the diſturbance that ſpectacle had raiſed in her apprehenſions, a [...]d to re-aſſume the wonted ſerenity of her looks; Arminius (ſaid ſhe to him) I ſee you in a terrible poſture, after ſo ſtrange a manner, that I know not whether I can rejoyce at ſuch a meeting with you. If Arminius (reply'd he) be more dear to you then Marobodes, you have reaſon to rejoyce; but if you love Marobodes better then you do Arminius, I confeſs you have but little ground to be glad. I had no love for Marobodes (replies Iſmenia) and Arminius cannot doubt but he is precious in my affections; but I put a Father into an implacable indignation; I am in the hands of a Lover whom he is an enemy to, and I am the cauſe of all the bloud that hath been ſpilt in my ſight. Yet does not this hinder, but that I am what I ever have been to you: but it ſhould not ſeem ſtrange to you, that all theſe things ſhould diſturb the joy it is to me to ſee you again, and to eſcape the danger I was in never to have been yours.

Arminius anſwered this diſcourſe of the Princeſs with words full of tranſportation, and embraced her knees a long time, notwithſtanding her endeavours to make him forbear it; ‘My deareſt Princeſs (ſaid he to her) it ſtood not with the goodneſs of the Gods to ſuffer the injuſtice was done me, and they have made the cruelty of Segeſtes contribute to my happineſs. Let all the world now arm it ſelf againſt me, nothing ſhall trouble my Fortune, ſince I am at the feet of my Iſmenia.’

The Princeſs interrupted his tranſportations by asking him, whether Marobodes were dead, and ſhe put that queſtion to him with a diſturbance, whence he could not but perceive the compaſſion ſhe was moved to. Arminius called into her preſence thoſe who had taken care of him, and they informed her that he was not dead, but in great danger if he were not looked to. Iſmenia ordered him a Chariot, wherein were ſome of her Women, to carry him to the next Town, where he might be relieved, and diſcovered to thoſe were left of his party, the pity ſhe had of his misfortune. They departed with their Prince in the Chariot, and Arminius himſelf expreſſed to them how much he was troubled for his wounds. Upon which Iſmenia deſired to quit the place where the engagement had happened, as conceiving a horrour at the ſight of the dead bodies; but when ſhe was gone ſome diſtance from it, cauſing the Chariot to ſtay, and ſpeaking to Arminius who rode by it, Arminius (ſaid ſhe to him) ‘I pray let me now know what your intentions are? No other, Madam (reply'd he) than to ſubmit to yours even to death. But how (reply'd ſhe) do you intend to diſpoſe of me? I conceive (ſays the Prince to her) there is no place where you may be more ſure, or more powerfull than where you are to regin over the Cheruſci, and over Arminius, ſince I cannot think you would return to Segeſtes. I haply ought to do it (reply'd ſhe) and dif I fear onely the treatment I might receive, no doubt but I ſhould: But I am confident, if ever I ſhould ſee Segeſtes again, I ſhall never be yours, and that he would take ſuch order hereafter, as not to fear ſuch an accident as hath now happened to him. What reproach ſoever therefore I may make to my ſelf for leaving a Father to go with a Lover, I am reſolved not to come near him; nor ſhall I on the other ſide ſtay with you, and you ought not to take it ill, that having offended againſt Decency in the things that are moſt eſſential, being by the malice of my Fortune forced thereto, I ſhould obſerve it in thoſe I may, without putting you into any danger of my loſs.’

Having uttered thoſe words ſhe caſt her eyes on the countenance of Arminius, and ſaw he looked earneſtly on the ground, with all the marks of a mortal affliction, that he ſigh'd, not knowing what to anſwer her, and could hardly refrain certain tears which would force their paſſage out; ‘What ails you, Arminius (ſaid ſhe, ſeeing him in that poſture?) ſpeak Arminius, and give me your advice to find out a ſecure and honourable place for my retreat, in expectation of the change of my Fortune, and the humour of Segeſtes. I thought (ſays Arminius to her after the ſaddeſt manner in the world) that you could not have found one either more ſecure, or more honourable, than to be with a Prince whom you are willing to make your Husband, and performing the Ceremony thereof, put your ſelf out of all fear, both as to the reports of people, and the diſpleaſure of Segeſtes: [Page] But ſince I have been ſo much miſtaken, and that haply I am ſtill as unfortunate as ever I was in my life, let us go, Madam, let us go to what part of the earth you think fit to retire to; let us go, if you think fit, even into the arms of Segeſtes. I ſhall be able to conduct you any where, without repining; leave you, when you command me to do it, and be the Authour of my own death without complaining, when I ſhall have loſt all my hopes.’

He ſpoke theſe words after ſo preſſing a manner, and accompany'd them with ſo great diſcoveries of his grief, that Iſmenia's conſtancy immediately gave way, and after ſhe had continued a while as it were in ſuſpence without anſwering him, of a ſudden taking her reſolution, and reaching him her hand, ‘Arminius, (ſaid ſhe to him) I am yours, and no queſtion, had you the full reward of your Love and Vertue, you were worthy ſomething of greater value than Iſmenia. Let us go to Clearchus, ſince you deſire it ſhould be ſo, I ſhall follow you thither without any repugnance, and am ſatisfied, that with ſuch a Husband I ſhall not need fear ought as to the diſpleaſure of a Father, or the reproaches of men.’ 'Twere impoſſible for me to repreſent to you the joy Arminius conceived at this diſcourſe of Iſmenia's, and I ſhould ſpin out my relation to a tedious length to entertain you with all the particulars thereof. I ſhall therefore onely tell you, that after he had thouſands of times embraced her knees, and ſpoke the moſt paſſionate words imaginable, to expreſs his reſentment to her, he cauſed the Chariot to drive on, and rode by it with his men, ſo heightned with the ſatisfaction of his own thoughts, that he could hardly keep within the limits of moderation.

They took their way towards the chief City of the Cheruſci, and a little before night, came to a Village where they would ſtay that night, though the accommodations as to Lodgings were but very poor. Arminius paſſed away ſeveral hours at the feet of Iſmenia, in the poor Lodging they found her, and being not troubled at any thing, but to ſee the inconvenience ſhe was put to, he not onely thought that night the beſt and moſt happy of all thoſe that had preceded it, but preferred it before all the days and moments of his life paſt. The poor Prince thought he had Fortune under his feet, when that implacable enemy was preparing misfortunes for him far more cruel than any he had ſuffered before, and had flattered him only for ſome minutes, that ſhe might ſhew him her more terrible countenance afterwards. In the morning betimes, Arminius having ſent ſome of his men towards Hercules's Forreſt to ſee whether Egilochus with the party he commanded were come thither, left the Village with his company, and unfortunately as it happened to him, marched on as one blinded by his joy and happineſs, and that thought himſelf as ſecure as if he had been in abſolute peace in the chief City of the Cheruſci. Drawing out of a Valley, which had deprived him the ſight of the Countrey about, he immediately finds the Champion covered with ſeveral ſquadrons of Horſe, and was gotten ſo near ere he perceived them, that he could diſcern the Roman Eagles, and ſaw that he was fallen into the hands of the Romans. At which ſight, frightned for Iſmenia, and not out of any thought of himſelf, he ran to her, and with much trouble acquainted her with the danger he was in. Iſmenia was moved at it as ſhe ought to be, yet ſeemed nothing the leſs courageous, and caſting her ſelf out of the Chariot, got up behind Arminius, to try if ſhe could poſſibly eſcape, as conceiving he would rather die than leave her. Her women did the like; but all proved ineffectual, for that Arminius going to put forward, Iſmenia not able to ſit, was forced to ſlip down to the ground: And during that time, the Romans diſperſing themſelves to hinder their eſcape, they ſaw it was in vain to attempt it. Her women, who could ſit better than ſhe, were carried away all ſave one who was left to run the ſame fortune with her, and Arminius ſet himſelf before her with all his men, as reſolved to loſe his life at her feet. Iſmenia upon this occaſion diſcovering a courage not inferiour to his, Arminius (ſaid ſhe to him) I will in this misfortune make a greater expreſſion than ever I have done of the affection I have for you. I ſhould fear nothing from the Romans if I were but known to be Daughter to Segeſtes, and no doubt but they would treat me ſuitably to ſo near a relation to an Ally they reſpect; but I am confident on the other ſide they would deliver me up to Segeſtes, and that I ſhould be abſolutely loſt to Arminius. I will therefore run fortunes with you, as being involved in thoſe of my Husband, and expoſe my ſelf to the miſeries of captivity rather than diſcover my ſelf to be Daughter to Segeſtes. Aſſure your ſelf, that before I do that, I ſhall ſuffer any thing but the loſs of my Honour, and it ſhall be onely to ſecure it, that I ſhall reveal who I am.

She had hardly concluded her diſcourſe which was ſo full of generoſity, ere Arminius and his men were ſet upon by the Romans, and ſurrounded in ſuch manner, that there was no probability of ſafety for any one that would not abandon Iſmenia. I ſhall not, my Lord, trouble you with the particulars of that engagement, wherein Valour was ore-preſſed with number, and onely tell you, that after prodigious attempts, Arminius fell down [Page] dead in all apprehenſion, with divers great wounds about him, and that all his men were kill'd, ſo that one did not eſcape the fury of the Romans; and that deprived of ſenſe he lo [...]t the Princeſs, and could never learn how ſhe had been carried way. This was done by Varus's Horſe, who according to the Treaty made with Segeſtes, was come from among the Angrivarii, to make irruptions into the Countrey of the Cheruſci, and was advanc'd before the infantry, which was alſo on its march at not many hours diſtance behind them.

The Romans had not been gone an hour from the place, when Egilochus with the Five hundred Horſe under his command, guided by thoſe that had been ſent to him, comes where the Fight had been, and among many of his acquaintance that he knew, found the deplorable Arminius weltring in his own blood. He runs to him▪ and perceiving in him ſome remainders of life, he diſpoſed him into a Litter which he cauſed to be made, and had him carried into a City not far from thence. You will not, my Lord, think it much I ſhould contract a relation wherein you are not to expect any thing further that is pleaſant, and that I tell you in few words what hath happened to us ſince. You are then to know, that Arminius having been well look'd after in that City, which belong'd to the Cheruſci, diſcover'd ſome hopes of life, and ſoon after was in a condition to be remov'd to Angelia which is one of the principal Cities of the Cheruſci, where Clearchus, almo [...]t out of himſelf with grief, met him, and cauſed him to be ſo attended, that he was wholly recover'd within three months from the day of the engagement, and no ſooner.

Mean time I was gotten into the Province of the Cheruſci with the Army I brought back with me out of the Countrey of the Ingriones and having met with the Forces of Varus, ſome days after the misfortune of Arminius, I had fought them with ſo much advantage on our ſide, that he was forc'd to retreat to the Frontiers of the S [...]evi, whither I purſu'd him, and made him glad to joyn with the Suevian Troops which lay along the River Albis. Having underſtood there what condition Arminius was in, I left all to come and ſee him at Angelia, where I found him in a way to recover; but infinitely more indiſpoſed in mind then body, as being not deſirous of either life or health out of any other reſpect then to employ it in the recovery of Iſmenia. The name of Iſmenia was perpetually in his mouth, and ſeem'd to be the onely burthen of his memory; and had he been a perſon of leſs courage, no doubt but he had died out of a pure grief that he had ſo unfortunately loſt her. To raiſe him out of which all I could do, was by all the ſentiments of Friendſhip to proteſt to him, I would ſpend my life to the laſt gaſp to find her out.

Some days after, being call'd away to the Army that lay ſtill upon the Suevian Frontiers. I made good the advantages we had gotten ſo well, that our enemies durſt not ſtir out of their Frontier Towns; and Clearchus having ſent another Body under the conduct of Egilochus to the Borders of the Ingriones, he took ſuch order, that he prevented the exaſperated Segeſtes from attempting any thing. About that time we underſtood, that imagining his daughter had been with Arminius, and incenſed againſt her no leſs then againſt Arminius, he married, purpoſely to cut her off from being Heir to his Provinces; and we heard likewiſe, that Marobodes was not dead of his wounds, and that there were hopes of his recovery; but that the King his Father, extreamly afflicted at that accident, had after ſome days ſickneſs ended his days, and that the Crown was fallen to Marobodes, who being not, by reaſon of his indiſpoſition, in a capacity to mind either the War or Civil Government of his Countrey, was forced to commit all to the management of his Leivetenants, till ſuch time as he were perfectly recovered.

In the mean time Arminius as ſoon as he was able to ſit on Horſeback, came to the place where I was, with a reſolution to wander all the world over, but he would find Iſmenia. Having underſtood that ſhe was taken by the Romans, we had ſent ſeveral perſons to Rome to make enquiry whether ſhe had been brought thither, but they returned without the leaſt account of her; ſo that Arminius and my ſelf concluded there was no way more likely to hear of her; then by becoming Maſters of the liberty of Varus who had taken her, or at leaſt his Forces, and that if we might be ſo fortunate as to take him Priſoner, the delivery of Iſmenia, ſhould be the price of his Liberty. To that end, drawing back our Forces further then they were into the Countrey of the Cheruſci, under pretence of the ſeaſon, which began to be harſh and cold in Germany, we engaged in an enterprize proceeding rather from the ſuggeſtions of Love and Youth, then thoſe of Prudence; and having learned from the Spies we continually had about him, that Varus, naturally negligent enough, was not very careful to ſecure himſelf, and that he was encamp'd upon the banks of the River Albis, with not many about him, and in a place far enough from the other Quarters to be ſoon reliev'd, we departed, Arminius and my ſelf (for I would not quit him in this enterprize, for the regret I conceiv'd at his misfortune in the precedent) taking a long march which held us all night, with Six hundred Horſe, we were by break of day ready to beat up his Quarters. We [Page] broke through all that oppoſed us, cut in pieces all that were about him, and made our way to his Tent, and had certainly taken him, if, as ill Fortune would have it, he had not been relieved by the main body of his forces which then accidentally paſſed by to go and encamp on the other ſide. You have underſtood what hath happened to us ſince, how we were taken after the loſs of all our men, and how Varus, whom our confidence had raiſed an admiration in, as well as frightned, not able to learn who we were, either from our ſelves or thoſe of our men who were taken with us, and not ſupecting to find Princes and Generals, much leſs Arminius and Inguiomer engaged in an enterprize fit onely for the execution of deſperadoes and Souldiers of Fortune, ſent us with divers other Captives to a City of the Romanes, where we were ſtrictly watched, and ſince diſpoſed of us to him that hath the overſight of the Gladiators, imagining, from what he had ſeen us do, we were very fit for that exerciſe. Nor ſhall I trouble you with the hardſhips Arminius ſuffered during our Captivity, nor tell you that his Love was a greater torment to him then all the miſeries of impiſonment, nor the ſhame he conceived at the exerciſe we were put to: The relation would prove long and tedious, and you may ſupply it your ſelf, my Lord, by the reflection you may eaſily make on what a violent Love and a too juſt affliction may produce in ſuch a Soul as that of Arminius▪

The End of the Third Book.

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA; OR Loves Maſter-peice. Part. XI.
LIB. IV.

ARGUMENT.

The Princeſs Julia coming to Agrippa's to ſee the two famous Gladiators Arminius and Inguiomer brings among others, Cipaſſis along with her, who upon ſight of Arminius falls into a ſwound, and is diſcovered to be Iſmenia Daughter to Segeſtes, Cleopatra, Candace, and Eliſa walking in the Garden in expectation of Caeſario, meet with Artaban; they diſcourſe of their affairs, and are over-heard. Julia brings Arminius and Inguiomer to kiſs the Emperours hands. A Hunting-match being appointed for the divertiſement of the Court, and Candace, Cleopatra, and Eliſa, going in a Chariot together to participate of the ſport, are letray'd by the Artifices of Tiberius, Tigranes, and Cornelius, and like to be carried away by a ſet party of theirs, but are reſcued firſt by Coriolanus alone, who is ſeconded by three ſtrangers; till at laſt came in and joyned with them Alcamenes, Artaban, and Arminius. Coriolanus ſingles out Tiberius, they fight a long time, till at laſt the latter is worſted.

INguiomer was upon the cloſe of his Narration when Arminius, having with the perſons appointed to wait on him by Agrippa, ſeen all the moſt remarkable places about the palace, returns into the Cloſet. Agrippa conſidering him upon the diſcourſe of Inguiomer much beyond what he had done by the bare name of Arminius, though it were of great reputation among the Romanes entertain'd him with all the expreſſions of the real eſteem he had for him; and after he had obliged him to ſit down, ‘I have been informed (ſaid he to him) by Prince Inguiomer of your noble, but dolefull Adventures; and concern my ſelf therein, not as a Roman, but as one of your Allies. The ſame of your vertue, & that of the Prince your Uncle, was not a little ſpread among us; but I have now been acquainted with particulars, which oblige me to a far greater eſteem for your perſons, & a more ſenſible regret for your misfortunes. It ſhould be one of my heartieſt wiſhes, I could afford you any aſſiſtance as to what relates to your Loves, as it is in our power to do in what concerns the other inconveniencies you have undergone, & that it were as eaſie for me to reſtore I ſmenia to you, as it will be to give you an honorable entertainment here, & to accommodate you for your return with all [Page] ſafety into your native Countrey. By the Intelligence we have lately receiv'd out of Germany, we underſtand, that all things there are in a quiet poſture, and that the Prince your Father, who after your loſs maintained the advantages he had gained upon his enemies by the aſſ [...] ance of the Turingii; hath made a Truce for ſeveral years with Segeſtes and Marobodes, who ſtill continue their fidelity to our ſide, and who have been the more willingly induc'd thereto, out of a belief they both were of, that you were dead; and that Segeſces, who hath already a Son by the Wife he lately married, deſigns him to inherit his Dominions, not thinking any more of Iſmenia. nd thus much I have underſtood as to what you are concerned in, I ſhall endeavour, by all the ways I can imagine, to learn what is become of Iſmenia; and ſince Varus is the perſon by whom ſhe was taken, or at leaſt the ſorces under his command, I ſhall haply come to the knowledge of ſomething by his means, he being now in Alexandria, and am confident ſhe will not conceal the truth from me.’ Arminius entertained this diſcourſe of Agrippa with all the diſcoveries of a real acknowledgement; & looking on him, not onely as a perſon he was ſo much oblig'd to, but as one of the greateſt men in the world, ‘My Lord (ſaid he to him) I receive theſe effects of your Goodneſs, as ſo many aſſurances of the Greatneſs of your Soul, on which the compaſſion you have for my misfortunes hath doubtleſs a greater influence then the eſteem you may upon the relation of Inguiomer, have conceived for my perſon. His affection is haply greater to me, then to have ſpoken of me without paſſion, & it may be partially, but he hath been faithfull to truth, if he hath told you that I am of all men the moſt miſerable. The deplorable condition my fortunes are in, which hardly vouchſafs me any ſentiment of things even of greateſt importance, cannot yet hinder but that I have the ſenſe I ought of your generous favors, as alſo of the proffers of your aſſiſtance and authority to find out Iſmenia among the Romans, and by the directions of Varus, who can diſcover more then any other, to get ſome account of her. What I expect muſt certainly be dolefull and deplorable, it being not improbable, ſhe may have been expoſed to thoſe miſeries during her captivity, then which death it ſelf might be more ſupportable to her, ſuch as have haply forc'd her to ſacrifice her life for the preſervation of her honor. How ere it may be, I am reſoved to die, or find out the truth of it; and though I were to wander all over the world, I will never return into my native country without Iſmenia. I would intreat Inguiomer to ſee it again, and accept, which I gladly reſign him, the Soveraignty over the Cheruſci, and I wiſh the Gods were ſo pleaſed I had ſome great Empire to preſent him with, to requite the obligations I have received from his Friendſhip. Twere unjuſt he ſhould be perpetually involved in my miſeries; & he hath ſuffered enough by a harſh and cruel captivity & the infamous exerciſe, out of which you relievedus, to exempt him from anyfurther engagement in my errant fortune, which will carry me all over the world, either to find out Iſmenia, or if my endeavours prove ineffectual, death.’ Arminius having uttered theſe words, could not but burſt into tears, whereat Agrippa was extreamly troubled. Whereupon Inguiomer turning to him with a diſſatisfied look, ‘Do not, Arminius (ſaid he to him) do not offer ſo great a violence to our Friendſhip, by the averſion you expreſs for my company, and the injurious proffers you would make me. I ſhall be equally able with you to ſupport the injurious proffers you would make me. I ſhall be equally able with to ſupport the inconveniencies of our fortune, and it is long ſince you might have been aſſur'd, that I value your Friendſhip beyond the Soverainty of the Cheruſci.’ They were thus, engag'd in diſcourſe, when an Officer of Agrippa's, cauſing torches to be brought into the Cloſet, gave him notice that the Princeſs Julia, accompany'd by ſeveral other Princeſſes, was come into his Chamber, and that her viſit proceeded out of a curioſity ſhe had to ſee thoſe two famous ſtrangers, whoſe adventure had made ſo much noiſe that day in Alexandria. Agrippa ſomewhat ſurpriz'd at it, turns to Arminius; and being infinitely circumſpect and generous in all things; It is far from my thoughts (ſaid he to him) that you ſhould be oblig'd to any thing diſconſonant to your own inclinations; and though the Princeſs Julia be a perſon the moſt abliging and officious in the world, and that I dare aſſure you, her preſence will contribute much to your ſatisfaction, yet if in the condition you are in, you have any averſion thereto, I will go and make your excuſes, and am confident it will not be taken amiſs. Arminius had indeed ſome averſion for ſuch a company as then came to ſee him, and would gladly have avoided it; but he was willing to comply with the civilities of Agrippa, ſeeing with what circumſpection he treated him. And to that end, wiping the tears that were ſtill in his face, he told him, that had he known he were deſirous of any ſuch thing, he would have gone himſelf to wait on the Princeſs Julia, and thoſe other perſons whom he was willing he ſhould ſee. He had hardly ſaid ſo much, when the Daughter of Auguſtus was come to the door, and enters the Cloſet, followed by the two Princeſſes of Armenia, Olympia, Andromeda, Vrania, and ſeveral other Ladies, who ordinarily kept her company. Agrippa ran to meet her, and the two [Page] Cheruſcian princes made low obeiſances, to give her the ſalute due to her quliaty. The comelineſſe of their perſons heighten'd by garments ſuitable to their condition, appear'd to that illuſtrious Aſſembly, much otherwiſe then it had ſeem'd to thoſe who had ſeen them in the Amphitheatre, though there broke forth abluſhing into their countenances, out of a reflection on the ignominious treatment they had that day receiv'd.

Julia was infinitely ſatisfi'd to ſee them, and was going to ſpeak to them with her ordinary civility, when of a ſudden ſhe perceives a change in the countenance of Arminius, and that ſo remarkable, as that he ſeem'd to be wholly tranſported and in a manner at a loſs of all apprehenſion. He retir'd ſome paces back, ſtaggering, and lifting up his hands and eyes to Heaven; but while the Princeſſes were obſerving his action not without aſtoniſhment, they heard a noiſe behind them, and turning about to ſee what the matter was, they perceived the fair Cipaſſis, who came along with Julia to make that viſit, falling into a ſwound between Andromeda and Sulpitia, and diſcovering, but with much more weakneſs, a ſurprize not inferiour to that of Arminius. While the Noble Aſſembly were in ſuſpence what to think of that accident, Agrippa having with ſome precipitation ask'd Arminius the reaſon of the diſturbance he was in, ‘Ah, my (Lord, ſaid he with a tranſport he was not able to ſuppreſs) I ſee Iſmenia!’ And immediately not minding the reſpect he ſhould have obſerved in the preſence of Julia, and ſo many great Princeſſes, which upon any other occaſion he had not been a wanting to, and quite, forgetting the care he had till then taken to conceal himſelf from the Romans, he runs to Cipaſſis, whom Sulpitia held in her arms, and calling her by the name of Iſmenia, he fell down at her feet, and embraced her knees, with an action ſo paſſionate, that all preſent were much more mov'd and aſtoniſhed then before. Cipaſſis, or now Iſmenia, recovering the weakneſs and diſturbance, which made her in a manner incapable of diſcerning what was before her and perceiving that he who embraced her knees was her deareſt Arminius, the ſame Arminius whoſe image nothing could force out of her remembrance, ſhe took him about the neck, and embraceing him with an action wholly affectionate, waſh'd his head with her tears, which affection and joy forc'd at that time out of the ſame ſource whence grief and affliction had drawn ſo many before.

The whole Aſſembly ſtood amazed at this adventure, but Julia much leſs then any of the reſt: For having been entertained by Cipaſſis with the Hiſtory of her Life, even to the leaſt circumſtances, ſhe doubted not, upon that ſpectacle but that the perſon ſhe ſaw at the feet of Iſmenia, was the ſame Arminius whom ſhe had made her ſo well acquainted with by the relation ſhe had given her of him: being of an excellent good nature, & having a particular affection for Cipaſſis, ſhe conceiv'd at this occurrence all the ſatisfaction which the concernments of a perſon highly belov'd can poſſibly raiſe in a well, diſpoſed ſoul; and coming up to Cipaſſis with an earneſtneſs which diſcovered how much ſhe thought her ſelf intereſſed in her Fortune; What, my dear Cipaſſis! (ſaid ſhe to her) the perſon we now ſee, is it ſeems the ſame on whoſe memory you beſtowed ſo many tears, and whom I have ſo much long'd to ſee for your ſake? Cipaſſis lifting up her head from the neck of Arminius, to look on the Princeſs that ſpoke to her, and ſhewing her lovely countenance all bathed in tears, True Madam, (ſaid ſhe to her) 'tis the very ſame, and were it any other I ſhould not be guilty of ſuch miscarriages in your preſence as can plead no excuſe but the transportation and diſturbance whence they proceed. Upon which words ſhe took hold of one of her fair hands, and kiſſing it ſeveral times, It was not enough, greateſt of Princeſſes, (added ſhe) to have granted her Liberty to your poor Slave, and to have out of an exceſſive goodneſs abated the miſeries of her life, but ſhe muſt alſo from you derive all her happineſs, and whatever might oblige her to a love of it.

Julia anſwer'd this paſſionate diſcourſe of the Princeſs Iſmenia, by ſeveral kiſſes ſhe gave her, while in the mean time Arminius having raiſed himſelf, kneel'd down before her, notwithſtanding her endeavours to make him forbear it, and looking on her, not onely as the Daughter of Auguſtus, but a Deity that had preſerved and reſtored Iſmenia to him; Celeſtial Princeſs, (ſaid he to her) worthy off-spring of the bloud of the Gods, accept the adorations of a poor ſtranger, whom from the moſt deplorable condition whereto Fortune could have reduced him, you now raiſe to the higheſt felicity; and ſince there can be no acknowledgement but is below ſo tranſcendent an obligation, nor words but muſt be ſhort of my reſentments, be pleaſed to receive the addreſſes of an humble heart that ſhall ever own you for its Guardian-Divinity. To this effect was the diſcourſe of Arminius; and the incomparable Julia having forced him to riſe and treating him with her wonted civility towards Soveraign Princes, and thoſe for whoſe worth ſhe had a particular eſteem; I think my ſelf very happy (ſaid ſhe to him) that I have contributed any thing to the repoſe and fortune of a Prince, whoſe Vertue I have long ſince received and account of, and had an eſteem for; and to make your felicity yet more conſummate, I am to tell you, that I ſhall not onely reſtore Iſmenia to you, but that you will receive her with the moſt accompliſh'd affection that ever was, and a fidelity towards you that nothing could ever ſhake.

[Page] While Julia by this diſcovery made Arminius the happieſt man in the world, Inguiomer who was no leſs elevated then he at that happy change of his fortune, approached [...], which the fair Princeſs perceiving, ſhe receiv'd him with demonſtrations of tenderneſs little different from thoſe wherewith ſhe had entertained her Arminius. Agrippa, who out of the excellency of his good nature very carneſtly-concern'd himſelf in the misfortunes of that Prince, look'd on this accident with extraordinary ſatisfaction; and all thoſe fair Princeſſes, and other illuſtrious perſons in whom the admirable endowments of Cipaſſis had raiſed an eſteem and affection for her, underſtood with abundance of joy, that ſhe was a Princeſs born, and that that cruel melancholy which had ſo often interrupted the ſerenity of her enjoyments, and which it was obſerved ſhe took no other courſe to ſubdue then by an extraordinary Vertue, was diſpell'd by this fortunate meeting with him, whoſe abſence occaſioned it. They all carreſſing her in their turns, expreſſed the ſatisfaction they conceived thereat: And whereas Julia was extreamly a lover of freedom, and had a natural averſion for all reſervedneſs in matter of converſation, they imbraced her more freely in her preſence, then they would have done had ſhe been of a more ſevere diſpoſition. Nay, it was ſome trouble to her, to ſee that Arminius and Iſmenia could not entertain one the other amidſt ſo great an Aſſembly, as in all probability they ſhould have been deſirous to do; inſomuch that the more to favour them as to that particular, as ſhe went away, ſhe told Arminius, that after Supper he might come and viſit his Iſmenia, and have all the liberty he could wiſh to entertain her, and that ſhe durſt promiſe him he ſhould find her as amiable as he had left her at their ſeparation.

In the mean time, the Princeſs Cleopatra had paſſed away the day with Eliſa, Candace, Antonia, and divers other Princeſſes, who had been unwilling to be ſpectators of the bloody diſvertiſements of the Amphitheatre; and whereas there was a very intimate Friendſhip between her, the Princeſs of Parthia and the Queen of Aethiopia, and that there was betwixt theſe admirable perſons a perfect communication of all their concernments without the the leaſt reſervedneſſe, all their proceedings being the effect of an abſolute confidence, they ſought, as much as lay in their power, the opertunities of converſing among themſelves onely: And having that day made a ſhift to diſengage themſelves of all company, they ſupped privately in Eliſa's Cloſet, and immediately after went down a private pair of Stairs into the ſumptuous Gardens of the Palace. The delightfulneſs of the place might indeed oblige them to a ſhort walk there at a time when the coolneſs made it the more pleaſant, for it was juſt as the darkneſs began to ſpread it ſelf over the earth, yet not ſo as but that the Moon afforded them light enough to diſcern in ſome meaſure the excellencies of the magnificent Garden of the Ptolomeys; but it was a ſtronger motive made them more deſirous of the diverſion at that time; for Candace, who the day before had not had ſo much as a ſight of Caeſario, as well as by reaſon of the meetings ſhe was forced to be preſent at, as the ſeveral companies ſhe could not diſenagage her ſelf from, had found a means to give him notice by Eteocles, whom Clitia had that day ſpoken with, to come at night into the Garden, and expect her in ſuch a Walk as ſhe had appointed him; Cleopatra, who had ſuch reſpects for ſo great and deſerving a Brother, as made her equally earneſt to ſee him with Candace her ſelf, would not ſuffer her to go upon ſuch a deſign alone: and Eliſa, acquained with their intentions, would needs accompany them, as well out of the Friendſhip ſhe had for them, as by that means to avoid a viſit from Agrippa.

They had already croſſed ſome Walks in their way to that where they were to meet with Caeſario, when they perceive paſſing at no great diſtance from them, a man, who, as they themſelves ſeemed to avoid company, and to alleviate his affliction, was deſirous of the enjoyments of ſolitude. Paſſing ſomewhat cloſe to them, being it ſeems in ſuch a diſtraction of apprehenſions, as that he minded not much what way he took, and the Moonſhine being ſuch, as that it was eaſie to diſcern objects at ſo ſmall a diſtance, Eliſa diſcover'd him to be Artaban, and neither ſhe nor her companions were troubled at the accident, as well in regard he was a perſon they durſt confide in, and that Cleopatra and Candace, out of the eſteem they had for him, were much ſatisfied it was in their power to procure him the converſation of Eliſa, as that they were more reſolute, having his company, in a place where the very conſideration of the darkneſs might a little frighten them. Though Eliſa had the greateſt reaſon to be deſirous of his company, yet was it the officious Candace that call'd him and Artaban, who it ſeems had not perceived them till he was gotten very near, approaching upon the hearing of himſelf nam'd, and perceiving who they were, acknowledged the indulgence of the Gods towards him in ſo fortunate a meeting, & receiv'd it with all the ſatisfactifaction imaginable. While he was with all poſſible ſubmiſſion ſaluting the Princeſſe, Eliſa, in whom the grief which ſhe ſaw him ſo burthen'd with, upon the competition of Agrippa made more then ordinary impreſſions, and who was deſirous to divert the thoughts [Page] of it in him, by all the demonſtrations of affection which decency and civility could admit, went on ſome few paces before her two Friends, and reaching her hand to him after a more familiar manner then ſhe was wont to do, ‘What, Artaban, (ſaid ſhe to him) you deſire ſolitude as well as we? Solitude is not all I ſeek, (replyed he) but I would with it entertain ſomething of comfort to fortifie my mind againſt the aſſaults of my malicious fortune, as having thought my ſelf, conſidering the diſturbances I am in, abſolutely unfit to appear before you this day. Your ſadneſſe (replies the Princeſs) hinders not but that your preſence comes ever infinitely to my ſatisfaction: But I hope you will find leſs reaſon to be afflicted then haply you have imagined, and that the Gods will afford us their aſſiſtances in this occaſion, as they have already done in ſeveral others. I ſhall never deſpair thereof (replies Artaban, taking her by the hand ſhe reached forth to him, to lead her by it) and I ſhould little fear the obſtacles it is in the power of men to raiſe againſt me, could I but be confident of the continuance of your favour towards me. I ſpeak not this (added he, perceiving Cleopatra and Candace went ſome diſtance before, purpoſely to give them a greater freedome of diſcourſe) out of any the leaſt diſtruſt of your Goodneſs, but that I cannot make any Propoſal to you, and withall avoid a ſtrange confuſion: For in addreſſing my ſervices to Eliſa, I addreſs them to the greateſt Princeſs in the World; and though it may be lawfull for an unfortunate wretch, who can pretend to nothing but a Noble Birth and Sword, to adore the Princeſs Eliſa, as one that had the abſolute Soveraignty over his heart, yet is there no confidence can heighten his deſires ſo as to aim at the Heireſs of the vaſt Parthian Empire, leſt it be thought an effect rather of his Ambition then Love, to aſpire to the affections of Eliſa, out of a deſign to get into the Throne of the Parthians. And this haply contributes not a little to my affliction, nay, trouble me haply no leſs then the cruelty of Phraates, and competition of Agrippa; and were I born Son to Phraates, and that the extraction of Eliſa were ſuitable to that of Britomarus; I ſhould think my ſelf ſo much the more happy, that I might the better preſs you to the kindneſſes you expreſs towards me, without changing that preſumption on any thing but my Love. Artaban, (replies the Princeſs( add not the trouble you thus put your ſelf to, without any neceſſity, to thoſe which Fortune raiſes us, and be aſſured you haue ſufficiently expreſſed the greatneſs of your Soul by that of your Actions, to free you from any intereſt that ſhould abate the value of your affection. I could never imagine the Crown of my Anceſtors able to add ought thereto, and therfore would not have you ground your misfortune on any ſuch conſideration, but let me intreat you to be ſatisfied with what Vertue will permit me to do on your behalf, and be abſolutely confident, that I ſhould not do more, were you Son to Phraates, or I born in the condition of Britomarus.’

While Eliſa and Artaban were thus engaged in diſcouſe, Cleopatra and Candace, who went ſome paces before, were gotten into that walk where they expected to meet with Caeſario, and they were no ſooner in it, but they perceived the Son of Caeſar attended by his faithfull Eteocles coming towards them. Candace received him with all the demonſtrations of an affection, whereof ſhe gave him, without the leaſt violence to her ſelf, all the aſſurances he could deſire of it; and the fair Daughter of Anthony careſſed him as a Brother whom upon the obligations of bloud and deſert, ſhe infinitely eſteemed. Eliſa and Artaban came immediately up to them, and no ſooner had Caeſario rendred what civility required from him to the Princeſs of Parthia, but thoſe two reconciled Enemies made it appear by their mutual embraces, that the knowledge they had one of the other, had changed their former reſentments into a ſincere Friendſhip. Caeſario ſet himſelf between Cleopatra and Candace; and foraſmuch as Cleopatra had a very high eſteem for Eteocles, as well out of the obligation ſhe owed him for the ſafety of her Brother, as the extraordinary fidelity he had ever expreſſed to their Houſe, ſhe would needs have him come and take her by the arm on the other ſide. Eliſa and Artaban came on ſome paces behind them, but at ſuch a diſtance as that they might well participate of their converſation; and thus they walked along by a Hedge-row of Trees that ſeparated two Walks, which were the moſt private in the Garden, and at the furtheſt diſtance from the Palace; leaving their Women behind, to obſerve if any other perſons came that might interrupt their diſcourſe. Caeſario expreſſed to the fair Queen of Aethiopia the affliction he had conceived to be two days without a ſight of her, eſpecially being in the ſame City where ſhe was, and did it in terms ſo paſſionate that ſhe was extreamly troubled thereat; and made no difficulty to aſſure him on the other ſide, how much ſhe had ſuffered upon the ſame account, and that ſhe was not deſirous of any thing ſo much as to ſee her ſelf at liberty, and in a place where they might fear no further ſeparation: And whereas there were ſtill in her mind ſome remainders of the exaſperation which the diſcourſes Cornelius the night before had put her into, ſhe reſolved to make him no longer a ſtranger to his paſſion, and acquainted him with all the diſcoveries he had made [Page] thereof, in ſuch terms as fully ſatisfied the Prince what effect they had wrought in her. How incenſed ſoever the Prince might be at the Love of Cornelius, yet the reſpect he had for Candace, and his own natural mildneſs prevailed with him to moderate his reſentments thereof at that time, and looking on her with an action full of Love and acknowledgment, ‘I am not much aſtoniſhed, my deareſt Queen, (ſaid he to her) that the Praetor ſhould ſink under thoſe powers which are able to cruſh a ſoul that pretends to a far greater conſtancy than his, nay I ſhould much wonder to hear he had the courage to oppoſe them. Nor can I much charge him with a fault which is in it ſelf but two two pardonable: But in regard I cannot, from his carriage toward you, and the account you give me of his humour, but fear the traverſes he may engage us in, I make it my humble firſt to you, not to make any longer ſtay in a place where I cannot ſee you without grief. Though it be that of my birth, and where I had my education, with ſo promiſing hopes of future happineſs, yet the condition it ſees me in now is much different, from that I ſhould find in it, if Fortune had not been too bitter an enemy againſt us; and being in the midſt of ſo many powerful enemies as ſurround us on all ſides, I cannot ſhake off the fear I am in to loſe you.’

Candace heard this diſcourſe of Caeſario with much patience, and having continued a little while ſilent, without making him any reply, ‘Caeſario, ſaid ſhe to him, (for before all that are preſent I may preſume to call you by that name) you are to believe, that after the dangers I have run through, and out of a conſideration of that I now ſee you expoſed to by the power of one that would ſometime have ſacrificed your life with ſo much cruelty, the most earneſt deſire I have, is that of leaving Alexandria, and returning into thoſe Territories where we may defie the moſt implacable of your enemies. I ſhall from this moment diſpoſe all things in order to my going along with you, and I ſhall follow you thither with an exceſſive joy, as the perſon whom the Gods and the will of my Father have deſigned for my Husband: But I conceive my ſelf obliged to tell you, that we are ſo much concerned in the fortunes of the Princeſs Cleopatra your Siſter, as not to leave her at a time wherin it may be our aſſiſtances are but neceſſary to her. If it be the pleaſure of the Gods, that the endeavours of Marcellus and your Brother Alexander prove ſo effectual, as to bring again to her that unfortunate Prince, who is ſo worthy her affections, he may and the Princeſs your Siſter alſo (conſidering the misfortune whereby he hath loſt his Kingdoms, and incurred the diſpleaſure of Caeſar as well as your ſelf) ſtand in need of our aſſiſtances, and be to ſeek for a place to retire to, and which they cannot with more reaſon expect to find in any part of the World, then where the brother of Cleopatra ought to Reign. There they may be ſecure till time ſhall effect ſome change of their fortunes, and there it will not haply be impoſſible for the Son of Juba to put himſelf into a condition to recover the Throne of his Anceſtors, by the aſſiſtance he may expect from you. You might proffer the ſame refuge and entertainment to the Princeſs of Parthia and Artaban, whoſe Deſtiny is not much different from the others, and whom the corrivalſhip of Caeſar's Favourite may force out of Alexandria; and we ſhould both of us think it no ſmall happineſs, to meet with ſo favourable an opertunity to do that for theſe illuſtrious perſons, which, upon the account of their merit and friendſhip, we but ought to do.’

Cleopatra had hearkened to theſe words of Candace with abundance of reſentment; and Eliſa and Artaban, who were not at ſo great a diſtance but that they had heard them, were preparing, as well as Cleopatra, to make their acknowledgment to the generous Queen, when Caeſaris preventing them, and kiſſing the Queens hand with an exceſſive joy; ‘Ah Madam, (ſaid he to her) how excellently does this reflection ſuit with your generoſity, and how conſonant to a deſire I durſt not diſcover to you! Were the obligations you have already caſt on me capable of any addition, you may well imagine how much they are increaſed by the tenderneſs you have for a Siſter who is ſo dear to me, and how much I have deſired what it had not been handſome for me to propoſe, as looking on my condition as the pure effect of your goodneſs, a goodneſs I ought not to preſume too much upon. 'Tis not Caeſario that is to reign; no, his condition will be much more glorious in obeying you, then in having the command of Aethiopia: But he ſhall not only, with the reſpect he ought, approve the proffers you make to the Princeſs of Parthia, the King of Mauritania and the generous Artaban: but ſpend himſelf to the laſt drop of bloud, to purchaſe the enjoyments and ſettle the Fortunes of any of them: And how impatient ſoever he may be to ſee you in a Countrey where you promiſe him all happineſs, yet will he endure this delay with ſo much the greater joy, in that the occaſion of is ſo noble and ſo obliging as to his particular.’

To this diſcourſe of Caeſario, Cleopatra added her acknowledgements of the noble proffers of Candace; and Artaban, out of reſpect, leaving Eliſa to ſpeak for their common intereſt, the two fair Princeſſes expreſſed to the Queen how highly ſenſible they were of an [Page] obligation of that nature; and Artaban ſatisfi'd Caeſario, that the reſentments he had for his generous intentions, had wholly exchang'd the averſion he ſometime had for him, into the higheſt ſentiments of a ſincere affection. After Eliſa and Cleopatra had vainly oppoſed Candace's deſign, and repreſented to her, though ineffectually, how unjuſt it were, that out of any conſideration of their intereſts ſhe ſhould any longer continue in the danger whereto ſhe might be expoſed by the paſſion of Cornelius, & run the hazard of diſcovering Caeſario: At laſt, being conſtrained to comply with her reſolution, they adviſed with Artaban and Caeſario, and agreed to ſtay certain days, in expectation of ſome tidings of Coriolanus, either by the return of Marcellus and Alexander, or ſome other way, as alſo to ſee what would become of the love of Agrippa, and the ſollicitations of the Emperour on his behalf; and that thereupon they would conſult what were moſt convenient to be done, and if they could not otherwiſe a void it, accept the proffers of Candace, yet not unleſs forced theretoby neceſſity; that in the mean time the Princeſſes ſhould be as little as poſſible aſunder, Cleopatra being confident that Octavia approv'd the Friendſhip ſhe had contracted with thoſe two Princeſſes. And underſtanding that the Emperour had deſign'd the next day for Hunting, and was to be attended therein by all the Court, they reſolv'd to go all three in the ſame Chariot, and not to admit, if they could poſſibly avoid it, any to come to them but their own Women, that ſo they might have the greater freedome of diſcourſe for all that day. Not but that Cleopatra had the ſame confidence of the Princeſs Antonia and Artemiſa; but in regard their acquaintance was not great with Eliſa and Candace, ſhe was afraid their preſence might raiſe any diſtruſt in them; and they thought things might be thus ordered ſo much the more eaſily, in regard they knew the Empreſs, who in all probability would have intreated Eliſa and Candace to take part of her Chariot, had excuſed her ſelf as not deſirous to go abroad the next day.

This illuſtrious company was upon theſe terms, when their Women coming up, told them they had heard ſome perſons walking on the other ſide of the Hedge, and that it was not unlikely ſome part of their diſcourſe had been over-heard. This Meſſage a little frightned the Princeſſes, as being troubled they had diſcourſed of things of that conſequence with ſo little circumſpection. However, they hoped no prejudice would happen to them thereby; ſo that it being very late, and that a longer ſtay might have been obſerv'd by thoſe perſons that were concerned in their meeting, they diſmiſſed Caeſario and Artaban, and retir'd to their Lodgings by the ſame private Stairs whereat they came into the Gardens, after they had given Eteocles order no come the next night and ſpeak with Clitia at another place which they aſſigned him, it being unlikely Candace could come abroad in that manner ſeveral nights together, without giving occaſion to the jealous Cornelius to take notice of it.

This night paſſed away differently, among the many illuſtrious perſons that were at Alexandria; but there was not any to whom it gave ſo much ſatisfaction as to young Arminius, whoſe condition had been ſo different ſome hours before from what it was then: According to the commands of the Princeſs Julia, he had ſpent the evening with his amiable Iſmenia, of whom he had received all the aſſurances, and all the demonſtrations of affection he could deſire of her. He had acquainted her with all his hardſhips and ſuffering for her ſake, ſince the time of her abſence and ſhe by way of requital had given him a particular account of all her adventures ſince their ſeparation. She gave him to underſtand, that after the cruel engagement wherein he had been left among the dead (though ſhe had heard afterwards of his recovery) ſhe fell into the hands of Serranus, the Commander in chief of the Horſe under the command of Varus, one who being a Lover of Vertue, and having been inſormed by her that ſhe was of a conſideraable Family among the Cheruſoi, had treated her very civilly, and ſome dayes after ſent her to Tiberius, with divers other Slaves; that upon the recommendation of Serranus, ſhe had been afterwards very well entertained, though ſhe had ſtill with all poſſible care concealed her extraction, as not doubting but that upon diſcovery thereof ſhe ſhould have been returned to Segeſtes; That ſhe had continued in a City of Pannonia, where the Slaves were kept, till ſuch time as Tiberius was returned from Rome, whither he had ordered them to be ſent, and where having been accidentally ſeen by the Princeſs Julia, ſhe liking ſomewhat in her countenance, though by reaſon of her affliction and neglect of her ſelf, much changed, had begged her of Tiberius; and that having afterwards, in the ſervice ſhe did her, conceived a more then ordinary affection for her, ſhe had treated her ſo nobly, and after a manner ſo much different from what is commonly obſerved towards Slaves, that out of conſiderations of gratitude and the ſincere affection it could not but raiſe in her towards the Princeſs, ſhe had acquainted her with her condition, and that immediately thereupon, the Princeſs had not onely ſet her at liberty, but had entertain'd her with no leſs familiarity and friendſhip then if ſhe had been her Siſter, and had not put any difference between her and the greateſt Kings Daughters that were brought [Page] up among the Romans, but upon her own intreaty, that she would, as being unwilling to be known, and having reſolv'd never to ſee Germany, if the Gods thought not ſit ſhe ſhould enjoy her Arminius again.

The Prince of the Cheruſci had with the greateſt ſentiments of joy imaginable hearken'd to the diſcourſe of his Iſmenia; and the Princeſs Julia, having in conſequence thereto repreſented to him, that it would be very hard, after the noiſe which their adventure had already made, to conceal himſelf from the Emperour, had engaged him to wait on Auguſtus the next morning, had offered her ſelf to bring him to him, had aſſured him he would receive no treatments from him but what were honourable, and in a word, had taken upon her the management of his fortunes, whileſt he ſhould continue within the Empire.

The next morning, the whole Court were expecting the Emperous appearance, except Artaban and Tigranes, both diſcontented, one in regard of the ſmall ſatisfaction he had received and hoped from him, the other at his countenancing and promoting the Love of Agrippa. Artaban being a perſon the leaſt in the world ſubject to diſſimulation, could not be perſwaded to appear before Caeſar, and ſo ſmother the reſentment he had within him, and being not in a condition to make any diſcovery thereof, he choſe rather not to come near him; and ſo went to the King of Scythia, for whom, by reaſon of his exemplary vertue, and the friendſhip he had expreſſed to wards him, he had very great reſpects. The great Alcamenes received him as a perſon whom of all men he thought moſt worthy his eſteem, and reiterated to him the proffers he had already made, with ſo many expreſſions of a ſincere affection, that it was an affliction to Artaban, that he was not in a capacity to make thoſe acknowledgements thereof he could have wiſh'd. They were falling into a more private diſcourſe, when Druſus, Ptolomey, Mithridates, and divers other illuſtrious perſons came into the Chamber, and it was not longere it was full by the acceſs of many others, whom the great excellencies of Alcamenes, and the fame of his miraculous actions obliged to wait on him.

Mean time, the Princeſs Julia, as ſoon as ſhe was dreſt, took Arminius and Inguiomer along with her to the Emperour, and preſenting them to him as the valiant Princes of the Cheruſci, whoſe reputation, though ſo great Enemies, was ſo much ſpread among the Romans, Caeſar, notwithſtanding the difference of parties, treated them ſuitably to their Birth and Valour, and entertained them with ſo much the more reſpect, as it were to make ſome reparation for the unworthy treatment they had endured, and the ignominious divertiſements they had been put to the day before. He made his excuſes to them upon the ignorance of their condition, to which diſcourſe of the Emperours, the Princes made no other anſwer than that of a bluſh, which ſpread over their faces ſo, as that the Emperour could not but infer, how hard it were for them to forget it. He thereupon took occaſion to celebrate their Valour, inſiſting on certain particulars he had received thereof, and to aſſure them, that no conſideration ſhould prevail with him to treat them otherwiſe than as if they were his Allics, eſpecially ſeeing that not long before his Generals in Germany had made a certain Truce with Arminius's Father, and ſuch of his Neighbours as were of his party. The illuſtrious company then preſent, and particularly thoſe who had, not without trouble, ſeen them engaged in the exerciſes of the day before, entertain'd them with extraordinary kindneſs, and received them with all the civility due to ſo great perſons: But they would not by any means ſee Varus, and though Agrippa ſpoke to Arminius of it, yet could he not prevail with him to abate ought of the reſentment he had againſt him. Auguſtus having deſign'd this day to be ſpent in Hunting, for the divertiſement of thoſe illuſtrious perſons of both Sexes whereof his Court then conſiſted, gave order that Dinner ſhould be ready before the ordinary time: And immediately after, all things were in readineſs, and the Court before the Palace full of Chariots for the Princeſſes, and Horſes for the Princes and other great perſons that were to accompany them. The Empreſs, Octavia, then Queen of Cilicia, and divers other Ladies, who by reaſon of their age were not for that divertiſement, remained in the Palace; and all the reſt, by order from Auguſtus and Julia, who had to that purpoſe ſent them invitations, met in the Court, and were diſpoſed into the Chariots deſign'd for them. Cleopatra having acquainted Artemiſa and Antonia with ſome part of her intention, obliged them to take their places in Julia's Chariot, out of a fear that Princeſs might entreat Eliſa, Candace, or her ſelf to come into it. Olympia was already ſet by her in it, and the Princeſs Arſinoe was gotten into another with Andromeda, Urania, and the Princeſs Iſmenia, who was no longer called Cipaſſis. Martia, Agrippa, and Marcella, to ſhew their reſpects and obſervance of Caeſar, were with the fair Terentia; and a great number of other Ladies, illuſtrious as well for their Rank as Beauties, took up the reſt of the Chariots, ſo that the Princeſs Cleopatra, Eliſa and Candace had the opportunity they ſo much deſired, to go together; and whereas their Chariot had place only for four, they admitted Camilla to take up the fourth.

[Page] They were no ſooner all diſpoſed into the Chariots, but the Emperor and all his magnificent Retinue got on Horſeback, and leaving the Palace, were gotten without the Gates of Alexandria. Auguſtus, who, out of his own natural inclinations, as alſo what he then had for Terentia, was gallant and magnificent, appear'd no leſs that day in his Hunting Apparel: That of Alcamines was rich and ſumptuous; that of Agrippa glittered with Gold and precious Stones; thoſe of Philadelph, Ptolomey, Polemon, Archelaus, Mithridates, Craſſus, and Lentulus, ſplended and pompous; but that of Druſus was acknowledged the moſt accompliſhed of all thoſe of that illuſtrious Aſſembly. Ariobarzanes had upon his, ſomething of the Mourning he was in for the death of the King his Brother; and Artaban, by reaſon of the diſturbances he was in, had purpoſely omitted all gaudineſſe as to Apparrel, and rode on an excellent Horſe, which the Scythian King had furniſhed him withal, as being more remarkable for the comlineſs of his perſon, then he could have been by any exernal ornament. Nor were Arminius and Inguiomer, on whom joy had beſtowed countenances much different from what they had ſome days before, the leaſt obſerved in that celebrious company; in a word, there never had been, nor haply ever could be ſeen, any thing comparable to the appearance of ſo many noble perſons as that day went out at the Gates of Alexandria. Cornelius had, by Order from Augustus, cauſed a ſpacious Wood, nor far from the place where the unfortunate Tiridates had made his laſt abode, to be encloſed; and the day proving very fair, and cool enough conſidering the ſeaſon; that there were a many beaſts within the encloſure they had made, and that the places about were very commodious for the Chariots, becauſe of the many fair and ſpacious ways which every way croſſed the Wood, there was a general expectation of excellent good ſport. The Horſe-men rode by the ſides of the Chariots, according to their different inclinations, as far as the ways permitted them; but if Artaban had for a while the ſatisfaction to entertain Eliſa, before Cleopatra and Candace, who obliged him not to the leaſt reſervedneſs, he had alſo, not long after, the trouble to have Agrippa for companion on the other ſide of the Chariot; which he took ſo unkindly, that neither the great eſteem he had for him, or the remembrance of the ſervice he had received at his hands, or a reflection on the authority he had in thoſe places, could hardly make him forbear expreſſing his reſentments with ſome violence. Ariobarzanes had ſome diſcourſe with his Olympia, Philadelph with his amiable Delia, Druſus, with the fair Antonia, Archelaus, with the Princeſs Andromeda, Arminius with his lovely Iſmenia, and Caeſar himſelf rode a long time by Terentia, diſplacing thereby Craſſus, who entertained her before. This laſted till they came to the place where they had made the encloſure, and where, the Chariots being placed at thoſe paſſages whence the Ladies might beſt participate of the divertiſement, all the Princes, together with the Emperor, took other ways, and with a certain emulation courted the occaſions of ſignalizing their valour by the death of ſeveral beaſts. Accordingly, many fell, having the glory to dye by the hands of the greateſt men in the world: and among thoſe who gained moſt reputation, Artaban and Alcamines made remarkable diſcoveries of that admirable valour which had raiſed them to ſo noble a fame.

The Ladies having cotinued ſome time in the place where they had been diſpoſed to ſee the firſt beginning of the Hunting, were ordered to be conducted to the other ſide of the Wood, where they were to have a far greater divertiſement. The Chariots drove along the ways which croſſed the Wood of all ſides: and whereas the Princeſs Cleopatra, Eliſa, and Candace had not their thoughts ſo much taken up with the way they went, as the diſcourſe they were in, they perceived not that the fellow who drove their Chariot, having taken occaſion to ſtay behind till all were paſſed by, among ſeveral ways, took one different from that the other Chariots had taken, which at firſt ſeeming onely to be ſomewhat about, but keeping inſenſibly ſtill upon the left hand, led towards the ſea, inſomuch that after a ſhort ſpace of time they had loſt the ſight of all the reſt. Camilla, who, as leaſt prepoſſeſſed, minded the way more then the three Princeſſes, firſt perceived that the Chariot-driver was gotten out of his way, and looking out, ſhe ask'd him why he had not followed the reſt? The fellow made anſwer, That being of Alexandria, and one that had been ſeveral years in the ſervice of Cornelius, he was better acquainted with the ſeveral ways of the Wood then any of the reſt, that he had taken that as the faireſt and moſt pleaſant, and promiſed them the Chariot ſhould be before any of the reſt at the place where they were to meet. The Princeſſes not ſuſpecting any thing at firſt, were ſatisfi'd with that anſwer, and gave it the more credit, for that they ſaw ſome Horſemen on the left hand, taking as far as they could perceive the ſame way, and whom they took to be ſome of their party: But at laſt thinking it long that they had not all this while overtaken their company; and perceiving the Chariot went on ſtill with as much ſpeed as they could drive, they began to be afraid, and that ſo much the more upon Candace's reflection that both Chariot & Driver belong'd to Cornelius, [Page] whom ſhe had reaſon to diſtruſt in all things. Having the greateſt confidence among them, ſhe commanded the Driver to ſtop, and to let them come out of the Chariot: but he not minding what ſhe ſaid, drove on with ſuch ſpeed, that it was impoſſible for the Princeſſes to get out, without ſome hazard of falling between the Wheels. Then it was out of all doubt with them, that they were betrayed; but if they were as yet in ſome ſuſpence, they were abſolutely ſatisfied preſently after, when they ſaw the Chariot ſurrounded by thirty Horſemen, whom they concluded not to be of their number, who belonged to the Emperour, becauſe they were all armed. Eliſa immediately ſuſpected the King of Media had ſome hand in it, he having not been that day in the company, and had not the leaſt jealouſie of Agrippa, whom ſhe knew to be of greater Vertue then to engage in ſuch an enterprize: Candace imputed all to Cornelius, though ſhe could not eaſily conceive he durſt be ſo confident, as to attempt any ſuch thing, in a place where the Emperour was in perſon; and Cleopatra knew not what to think, or what to fear might be the iſſue of it, as having imagined her ſelf ſecure as to any ſuch accident, by the death of Artaxus; but all three joyned their cries together, and call'd to their aſſiſtance both Gods and men, in an extremity wherein they thought they ſtood ſo much in need thereof? In the mean time the Horſemen kept ſtill cloſe to the Chariot; being the more watchful, to prevent the Princeſſes from getting out, which they ſeemed very deſirous to do.

With this deteſtable Convoy the Chariot kept on ſtill towards the ſea-ſide, notwithſtanding the cries of the Princeſſes, and the menaces of Candace and Cleopatra, who to no purpoſe repreſented to their Raviſhers, what they ought, after ſuch an affront done, fear from the reſentment of Auguſtus; when they perceive at a diſtance a Horſeman in black Arms, enriched with a work of Silver repreſenting little branches, and followed by two others in the nature of Squires. This man mov'd at the cries of the Princeſſes, and the ſpectacle appearing before his eyes, comes to the Chariot, and had no ſooner view'd the perſons that were in it, and perceived they were carried away by violence, but he reſolves to die in their defence, not being in a capacity to prevent the execution of the deſign. Whereupon ſpeaking to the Chariot-driver, he commanded him to ſtay as confidently as if he had defied all enemies: and ſeeing he minded what he ſaid to him ſo little, that he drove faſter then before he took two ſhort Javelins from one of his Attendants, and riding up cloſe to the Chariot, he caſt one at the Driver with ſuch force, that taking him in the throat he immediately fell down dead out of his ſeat; and with the other taking one of the Horſes in the head, it prov'd ſo effectual, as that after he had curvetted a little, and put the reſt into diſorder, he fell dead in the Harneſs, and ſo hindred the Chariot from paſſing any further,

Thoſe who commanded the party had no ſooner beheld that action, but that very much admiring the confidence of him that had done it, and the madneſs they were in to ſee their deſign retarded in that manner, cauſing them to forget the Laws of generoſity, which upon ſome other occaſion they might have better obſerved, they ruſh'd in upon him with a ſet purpoſe to ſacrifice his life to his temerity. He received them with an undauntedneſs, which raiſed in them a greater admiration then before, and if he behaved not himſelf as a perſon that thought to overcome, he did as one reſolved to make the firſt attempters of his life purchaſe it at no eaſie rate. Accordingly having by his own skill and commmand of his Horſe avoided the firſt ſhock, he run one between the juncture of his arms into the belly, with ſuch good forune that he immediately fell down dead upon the place, and gave a ſhock to thoſe who ſeemed to command the reſt, with ſo much violence, that overthrowing Horſe and Man, it was a good while ere he could recover himſelf again. The fair daughter of Anthony obſerving what paſſed, could not but imagine ſhe ſaw in the perſon of that undaunted man, ſomething of her faithful Coriolanus, and beſides the reſemblance there was between their ſtature and deportment, ſhe thought no other would undertake an engagement upon ſo unequal terms, and that no other then he could be deſign'd to come as it were upon appointment to reſcue her: She immediatly communicated her thoughts of it to her two companions, and pointing at him, as he was undantedly going to ruſh in among ſo great a number of enemies; There's Coriolanus, ſaid ſhe to them, there he is without all doubt, and it is for him alone that ſuch Adventures are reſerved. But if that reflection afforded her ſome few moments of joy they were immediately attended by the moſt cruel agitations of grief her ſoul was capable of, as not able to imagine that the gods had ſent Coriolanus to her reſcue, without conceiving withal, that his own evil fortune had ſent him to his death, Oye Gods, (cryed ſhe, with an action full of deſpair) if it he Coriolanus, as no doubt but it is, I cannot it ſeems divert the cruel Deſtiny whereby it is decreed that I ſhould be a spectator of his death. O ye all powerfull Gods, (added ſhe) who have not the leaſt compaſſion for the misfortune of the diſconſolate Cleopatra! if there were a neceſſity this unfortunate Prince ſhould loſe his life in my ſight, why did you not ſuffer him to die while I thought him [Page] unconſtant to me, and not now that I am ſo well ſatisfi'd of his Innocence? Nor indeed was it without reaſon that Cleopatra was in ſo much fear for her valiant defender; and beſides that it was impoſſible for any mortal force to ſtand out againſt ſo great a number of enemies, there were ſome among them, who without any advantage durſt engage againſt the ſtouteſt men in the world; yet had the exaſperation they were in ſo blinded them, that they were going to cruſh an illuſtrious life with number, when there comes into the place three Horſemen all arm'd, from two ſeveral ways. He who came alone was follow'd by two Squires, and the two that came in together had but two between them. All three ſtood a while to ſee what paſſed, and perceiving with admiration, how that a ſingle man fear'd not the attempts of ſo many enemies, and immediately deſirous to engage in the ſame deſign, they ſet themſelves before him, and one of the two that came together very civilly intreated thoſe that ſeem'd to head the party, not to diſhonour themſelves by endeavouring the death of a ſingle man. We would give him his life as the reward of his valour (ſays one of the two who ſeems to command the reſt) though by his temerity he hath ſufficiently incenſed us, if he were not himſelf ſo deſirous of his own death, and diſcover'd by his ſo imprudent oppoſing of our deſign that he is weary of his life. ‘I oppoſe your deſign indeed (replyed very fiercely the unknown Defender of the Princeſſes;) but it is much more out of a reſpect to the injuſtice of it, then any averſion I have for life,’ and all the earth ought to arm it ſelf with me for the reſcue of Clepatra. Though the caſque he had on diſguiſed his voice, yet did it not hinder but that the words he ſpoke were underſtood by thoſe that were near enough to hear them; whereupon the three unknown perſons looking about them, no ſooner perceived the three Princeſſes, but joyning with their firſt defender, Take courage, valiant man, (ſayes one of them to him) we will engage with you, nay, if the Gods have ſo diſpoſed of us, die with you in this quarrel. And immediately drawing their Swords with a miraculous confidence, they made their enemies ſenſible that Vertue and Valour could not be daunted with number. The firſt blows they dealt prov'd mortal to three of the moſt daring of the contrary party, and thereupon ruſhing in amongſt the reſt like men not to be frighten'd with danger, they convinc'd their Adverſaries, that thought they had ſuch extraordinary odds in point of number, the victory would not prove ſo eaſie as they expected. This ſupply did in a manner turn the ſcales of the engagement; and he who had received it, finding his party ſo much ſtronger than it was, did ſuch things as could not be expected from his valour without the aſſiſtance of deſpair, and ſuch as haply might have gain'd them the victory, notwithſtanding that great inequality, had they been to deal only with number, and that there had not been among their enemies ſome whoſe valour was not inferiour to that of the moſt valiant in the world. And this it was that made the danger they were in the greater, and in all probability they were ready to be o'repreſſed by ſo unequal a power, when in purſuit of a wild Boar that had broken the toyls, there appear'd three men who were gotten a great diſtance before thoſe that were coming after them, and who having changed their deſign upon ſight of that engagement, and approaching the place where it was, were ſoon known by the Princeſſes, in regard they had no Arms, on that might any way diſguiſe them, to be Alcamoues, Artaban, and Arminius. The coming in of theſe three men, whoſe valour was ſo well known, raiſed no ſmall joy and hope in the Princeſſes, though that of Artaban occaſioned ſome diſturbance in Eliſa, out of an apprehenſion of the danger whereto he was going to expoſe himſelf; and they on the other ſide perceiving the three Princeſſes, whom they immediately knew, thought not fit to loſe the leaſt minute in reflecting on the reſolution they ought to take. They had only their Swords by their ſides, and either of them a Hunting ſpear in his right hand: but that inequality of Arms they ſtood not upon, and charging with the ſame Hunting-ſpears wherewith they had killed ſeveral beaſts that day they turn'd the firſt they met with to feed on the duſt; and employing them againſt others with the ſame ſucceſs, they diſpatch'd many out of the way before they medled with their dreadful Swords. Artaban fighting in ſight of Eliſa, was the moſt earneſt, as being the moſt concern'd; yet could he not out-do the invincible King of the Scythians, but beheld with aſtoniſhment the effects of that valour, which had raiſed ſo much admiration in the world. Arminius was not much behind in his performances upon this occaſion, inſomuch that the four valiant men whom they had releiv'd, finding themſelves fortified by ſo conſiderable an aſſiſtance, doubled their blows with ſo much fury, that in a ſhort time the number of the enemies being diminiſh'd by the one half, they entertained ſome hopes of the victory. The principal perſons among the Raviſhers exaſperated at the ill ſucceſs of their enterprize, did things very conſiderable; and Artaban imagining, by ſeveral marks, he knew one of them to be Tigranes King of the Medes, made towards him through thoſe that ſtood in his way; and notwithſtanding the Arms he had about him, having given him two wounds with his Sword, and thereby put him into diſorder, he gave him ſo violent a ſhock, that Horſe and Man were both overthrown. He might have [Page] gain'd a more abſolute victory over him, had he not ſcorn'd it; & he ſaw that at that ſame time King Alcamcnes had uſed another of their Leaders in the ſame manner, and that he who remain'd, and who doubtleſs was the moſt valiant of the three, enrag'd at the ill ſucceſs of his deſign, was particularly engaged againſt him who had been the firſt hindrance of it, and the ſame whom the Princeſs Cleopatra ſtill look'd on as her Coriolanus. Theſe two men heightned by a ſuſpicion which particularly incenſed them one againſt the other, were gotten from the main engagement, after ſome blows dealt on both ſides, and fought with little inequality, at the diſtance of about a hundred paces from their companions. The defender of Cleopatra had not engaged in that combat, till ſuch time as he ſaw there was no danger of her being carried away; and meeting with an enemy more worthy his valour then the others, he ſlighted, he employed it againſt him with an ardent deſire of victory. He had given him many blows, and had received from him a conſiderable number of others, which proceeded not from an ordinary ſtrength, when with a back-blow he gave him over the head he broke the chinpieces of his Caſque, and thereupon caſting his eyes upon his face which was diſarm'd, he found in it the deteſtable countenance of his Rival and emplacable enemy Tiberius. This diſcovery added to his fierceneſs and indignation; but inſtead of offering at the Head of Tiberius; who held up his Buckler to defend it, Tiberius (ſaid he to him) I am the Son of Juba, thy Rival, and mortal enemy; I now bring thee a life which thou haſt ſo long ſought after; and there is a poſſibility thou mayſt this day ſatisfie thy ſelf for the wound I gave thee at Rome, and ſecure Cleopatra, if Fortune prove favourable to thee; But it is not before ſo many witneſſes that our difference can be determined, and to prevent their interpoſition, let us go a little futher to decide it with more freedom, I ſhall not make uſe of the advantage I have over thee; and ſince thou haſt loſt thy Caſque, I will put off mine, and fight with the upon equal terms. With theſe words, which Tiberius had heard with much patience, he unty'd the chin-pieces of his Caſque, & at king it off his head, he diſcovered to him the face of Coriolanus. The ſon of Livia grew pale at the ſight, but more out of exaſperation then fear, & finding in the Propoſition made to him by Coriolanus, what he had been ſo much deſirous of, and what in the preſent condition he ſhould moſt have wiſh'd, after he had caſt, both on the Chariot where Cleopatra was, and his almoſt defeated companions, a look full of rage and madneſs, he goes away without making any anſwer to his enemy, and giving him notice by a ſign that he would follow him, went to find out a place more convenient wherein to decide their quarrel. Their impatience and exaſperation ſuffered them not to go very far, ſo that being come to a place where they thought they ſhould not be interrupted in their deſign, they turn'd one againſt the other, and with a force accompany'd with threats, they began to deal hearty blows. They were both careful to ſecure their diſarmed heads with their Bucklers; nay, though they were not over-tender of their lives, yet they oppoſed the Buckler to the Sword by a certain natural addreſs or inclination, and by that means their attempts for ſome time prov'd mutually ineffectual. Tiberius was a perſon of great valour, but one withal who had ever imagin'd it lawfull for a man to mind his advantages any way whatſoever; and thinking it much more upon this occaſion then any other, after he had vainly endeavoured to draw bloud of his enemy, he in a paſs, wherein himſelf receiv'd a wound in the ſhoulder, watch'd his opportunity to run his Horſe into the breaſt, and ſo fortunatly met with the place where it ſhould prove mortal, that the Horſe after ſome reſiſtance, fell down of a ſudden with his Maſter under him, ſo unhappily, that burthened with his weight, he found, it no eaſie matter to diſengage himſelf. Tiberius, naturally cruel, and aſpiring at a victory that ſhould gain him Cleopaira, put his Horſe forward to ride over his enemy, with a deſign to diſpatch him out of the way; but the Horſe frightned at that of Cortolanus which lay ſtill ſtrugling upon his Maſter, notwithſtanding all the endeavours of Tiberius, could not by any means come near him. The impatient Son of Livia loath to let ſlip an occaſion ſo favourable, alights to go and make ſure of his enemy and with his Sword ready for the execution went towards him. O whathappineſs was it to the fair Cleopatra, that ſhe was not preſent at that ſpectacle! and what affliction would it have been to her, to ſee her dear Coriolanus overthrown, and at the mercy of the cruel Tiberius? He was in a manner perſwaded, that nothing could reſcue his Rival from death, when he perceives him after much ado got from under his Horſe, & coming towards him with an indignation heightned by his fall, ſuch as againſt which all the ſtrength of Tiberius were likely too weak to make any reſiſtance. Nor was it long erc he made him ſenſible of it, the provoked Son of Juba continually charging with ſuch blows, as, the Buckler being vainly oppoſed againſt them, drew bloud from Tiberius in ſeveral places, and put him out of all hopes of a victory which not many minutes be fore he thought indiſputably his own. However, the rage he was in ſupply'd his ſtrength for a time, notwithſtanding the bloud he ſtill loſt, nay, he was ſofortunate, as to ſee ſome of Coriolanus's upon his Arms, & to hope, that if he could not overcome, he ſhould in ſome meaſure reveng his death: But that ſatisfaction laſted not long; for ſoon after, he grew ſo weak and was ſo [Page] by his Adverſary, that ſtaggering backwards he fell down, and had not the ſtrength to riſe again. Coriolanus advanced towards him with his Sword, the point up; and coming to him with a menancing out-cry, Thou dieſt, Tiberius, (ſaid he to him) thou dieſt; or if thou wouldſt live, thou muſt quit all retenſions to Cleopatra. The Son of Livia, in whom rage and madneſs had ſmothered all deſire of life, looking on him with a direfull aſpect, wherein, notwithſtanding his weakneſs, his arrogance was ſufficiently remarkable, Strike, Son of Juba (ſaid he to him) and ſuffer not to live an Enemy from whom thou hadſt received thy death, if Fortune had been leſs unkind to him: I ſhall be thy Rival to the laſt gaſp, nor is it the fear of death ſhall force me quit Cleopatra.

This diſcourſe of Tiberius raiſed in Coriolanus a greater eſteem for him then all the precedent actions of his life had done; and looking on him with a look wherein appeared nothing of an enemy, Thy example (ſaid he to him) ſhall not oblige me to give thee thy death, that it may be ſeen, Tiberius and Coriolanus can make different advantages of their victory, according to their ſeveral inclinations. Thou ſhalt live invincible; and thou ſhalt live a Servant to Cleopatra; but ſince thou haſt courage enough to diſpute her even to death, remember, It is by vertue thou ſhouldſt have gained her, and that artifices and illegal authority are unworthy a perſon that can prefer death before the ſhame of being overcome.

Having ſpoke thoſe words, which Tiberius heard with an augmentation of grief and jealouſie, he was going towards him to give him an aſſiſtance he ſcorn'd at his hands, when he hears a great noiſe of Horſes, which till then the diſtance and earneſtneſs of the combat had hindred them from hearing, and thereupon looking about him, he finds himſelf ſurrounded by a conſiderable number of Horſemen, the beſt part of that illuſtrious party which came that day out of Alexandria.

The end of the Eleventh Part.

HYMEN'S PRAELVDIA; OR Loves Maſter-peice. Part. XII.

[Page]

LIB. I.

ARGUMENT.

Auguſtus ſends away Tigranes under a Guard to Alexandria, whither Cornelius is alſo convey'd by his Friends. Auguſtus comes to the place where Coriolanus and Tiberius had ended their quarrel. Coriolanus is diſcovered; the Emperour commands him to be diſarmed and taken, which he oppoſing, he orders him to be killed; when comes before him Marcellus, who diſcovering himſelf, prevents it; till at laſt upon the intreaties of Cleopatra he flings away his Sword, and upon the mediation of Marcellus, Alcamenes, Ariobarzanes, Artaban, and all the Princes about the Emperour, his puniſhment is delayed, and he conducted a Priſoner to Alexandria: One of thoſe three armed men who came in to the relief of Coriolanus in the reſcue of the Princeſſes, is diſcovered to be Julius Antonius, who had been forced away from Rome ſix or ſeven years before by the rigour of Tullia, and is by Marcellus, Ptolomey, and Alexander carried to Cleopatra. The Empreſs hearing Tiberius was wounded and carried to Alexandria, haſtens thither: He is viſited by the Emperour, who threatens the ruine of Coriolanus, Cleopatra is viſited by all the Princeſſes. Julius Antonius gives a ſhort account of his Travels. Agrippa makes a further diſcovery of his paſſion for Eliſa, who expreſſing her conſtancy to Artaban, he falls into a Fever, and is viſited by Auguſtus, who ſollicites both Eliſa and Artaban on his behalf. Tigranes is viſited by Philadelph, to whom he relates the manner of their Deſign upon the Princeſſes, Cornelius deſpairing of Auguſtus's favour, dies, having before written a Letter to him, wherein he diſcovers Caeſario, who is thereupon taken and carried before the Emperour, and by him ſent Priſoner to the Caſtle of Alexander.

NOr did the Raviſhers of the Princeſſes find Fortune more favourable to them in the other Engagement, but, Number overcome by Vertue, the juſter party became victorious. The great King of Scythia, diſcovering, upon ſo noble an occaſion, that Valour which had made him ſo famous all over the World, had dealt in a manner as many deaths as blows. The invincible Artaban, fighting for Eliſa, nay, fighting for himſelf, had ſhown himſelf to be the ſame Artaban, on whoſe Sword depended the fates of Empires, The valiant Arminius, no leſs gallant in thoſe emergencies wherein his Glory, then where his Love and the Liberty of his Country were concerned, had performed actions truely miraculous. And their three generous Companions, whoſe Arms kept their faces from being diſcovered, though they were not known, had made themſelves remarkable as well to thoſe againſt whom they were engag'd, as thoſe who had ſeconded them in their deſign, for three of the moſt valiant men in the world.

They had already covered the ground with the bodies of their enemies, and had but little further employment for their valour, when the ſame Fortune which had brought thither Alcamenes, Artaban, and Arminius, led into the ſame place Agrippa, and Druſus, and not long after appeared the Emperour, with the greateſt part of thoſe accompanyed him. Upon this ſight; what was remaining of the Enemies, hardly put thoſe laſt come, to the trouble of drawing their Swords, and ſought in their flight a ſafety which it would not be hard for them to find, as having to do with enemies that had no great deſires to purſue them. Onely one among them, more faithfull then his Companions, not daunted at the danger he was in, would not ſtir from his Maſter, who was laid along at the Foot of a Tree, by reaſon of [Page] a blow he had received over the head from the dreadfull Artaban, and being carefull of him out of the affection he had for his ſervice, he quite forgot, in the extremity wherein he ſaw him, the deſign he had to conceal himſelf; and taking off his Caſque to give him more air, diſcovered him to be Tigranes King of Media. Having been onely put into ſome diſorder by the weighty blow he had received on the head, and that the wounds he had in ſome other parts were not conſiderable, he recovered himſelf as ſoon as he had his head diſarm'd; and looking all about him, he ſaw the greateſt part of his men laid on the ground, and was thereby ſatisfi'd of the miſcarriage of his enterprize. The grief he conceiv'd thereat, forced a deep ſigh from him; but his affliction became more inſupportable when he ſaw Artaban of the victorious party among the reſcuers of Eliſa, and call'd to mind, that it was from his hand he had receiv'd the dangerous blow which made him fall among the dead. The rage he was in, hindred him to ſpeak, he onely asked the perſon, from whom he had receiv'd that aſſiſtance, what was become of Tiberius and Cornelius? and the man, not able to give him any account of Tiberius, ſhew'd him Cornelius, who with much ado made a ſhift to get up after the blow he had receiv'd from the King of Soythia, and who, ſtill bleeding, for better ſupport, was forc'd to lean againſt a tree. Neither party had the time to make long reflections on their fortune, and the valiant defenders of the Princeſſes were hardly returned to them, while Agrippa and Druſus, having taken notice of Tigranes and Cornelius, who to breath more freely had put up the viſour of his Caſque, were giving order they ſhould be reliev'd, when Caeſar came in with all his glorious attendance and ſeem'd extreamly aſtoniſh'd at ſo ſtrange a ſpectacle. He ſaw on one ſide the three Princeſſes not recover'd out of the fright they had been in, though they had their Champions about them, whereof the three laſt he ſoon knew, but not the three former, whom by reaſon they were all armed he could not have the knowledge of; and on the other, above thirty men either dead or dying of the wounds wherein was remarkable the ſtrength of thoſe arms that had been the occaſion of them, and among others Tigranes and Cornelius, whom their hurts, and the grief they conceived at the ill ſucceſs of their enterprize had made neglectfull of concealing themſelves, and their engagements in an action, for which they were in all likelihood to fear the effects of his juſt reſentment. He briefly underſtood from Agrippa ſome part of what had happened, and deſirous of further information from Tigranes himſelf, after he was come up cloſe to him, yet without alighting, What is it I ſee, Tigranes, (ſaid he to him) and upon what occaſion have you received thoſe wounds? The confuſion the King of Media was in, would not for ſome time ſuffer him to make any reply; but the Emperour having put the ſame queſtion to him a ſecond time, I have endeavoured, my Lord, (replyed he) to do my ſelf that right which you deny me; and no doubt but my endeavours had proved effectual, if Fortune had not been ſo much againſt me. What, (reply'd Auguſtus, with a little fally of indignation) would you preſume, in my Court, nay, in my ſight, to put ſo unjuſtifiable an enterprize in execution, and ſhew ſo little reſpect to Caeſar in a place where you know you are abſolutely at his diſpoſal? I have ever, my Lord. (replyed the Midian) thought it lawfull in any place for me to take my own Wife to me, and that Caeſar, notwithſtanding his abſolute power, could not with reaſon detain her from me. You have been extreamly miſtaken in your account, (reply'd the Emperour) and did I not find you in a condition whereby you are in ſome meaſure puniſhed for your temerity, I ſhould make you know, you know, you ought not, upon any right or ground whatſoever, have attempted any thing againſt a Princeſs I had into my protection.

With thoſe words, turning to the Captains of his Gaurd, he commanded he ſhould be carried to Alexandria, and a ſtrong Guard ſet upon him: And coming up to Cornelius, who full of rage and confuſion durſt not look him in the face, And thou (ſaid he to him) Praefect of Aegypt, is it thus thou doſt behave thy ſelf in thy Charge, and oppoſe the violences that are committed in the Provinces over which I had entruſted thee? The much grieved Cornelius endured divers other reproaches from his incenſed Lord, and at laſt deriving courage from his deſpair, and having defied all fear through the rage which then poſſeſſed him, My Lord, (ſaid he to him) I am guilty of a miſcarriage, but Love hath made greater men then Cornelius commit greater: Take what remains of my life if you think ſit, for the expiation of my crime, and aſſure your ſelf, that when it is taken from me, the loſs will be of a thing I do not value. No doubt (replyed Caeſar) but thy crime is ſuch as nothing leſs then death can ſatisfie for, but thy death is unworthy my diſpleaſure, and not enough to repair the injury thou haſt done me; thou ſhalt if the perſons who are concerned in the affront thou haſt done me will permit it, but thou ſhalt live without Honour, ſince thou haſt loſt it upon ſo diſhonourable an account, without a Government, which I from this moment diſpoſſeſs thee of, and without that Friendſhip where with I have ſo undeſervedly honoured thee

[Page] Whereupon, without any regard what effect his words might produce in the apprehenſions of the afflicted Cornelius, whom ſome of his Friends cauſed to be conveyed away with Tigranes, he rides up to the Princeſſes, and by words full of mildneſs and civility expreſſed the joy he conceived at the defeat of their enemies, and his reſentment for the injury had been offered them in his Court, aſſuring them, no conſideration whatſoever ſhould divert him from doing them juſtice as they ſhould deſire themſelves. Cleopatra left her two companions to anſwer the Emperour, as having her thoughts in no ſmall diſturbance upon the ſight of Coriolanus, whom ſhe thought ſhe had known; but it became much greater, when the Princeſs heard ſeveral times the name of Tiberius pronounced, and mentioned by ſome of the wounded, and it was told her, that he went aſide from the main engagement, with the valiant unknown perſon, who firſt and alone, had undertaken their reſcue, and that in all probability they were gone to proſecute with more freedom the Combat they had begun.

This diſcourſe being made in the preſence of Auguſtus, was no ſooner heard by Druſus, but he immediately departs to find out his Brother, and went with a conſiderable number of his Friends that followed him, towards the place where he thought he might find him. The three valiant unknown perſons, who had ſo gallantly ſeconded the Son of Juba in the reſcue of the Princeſſes, and who kept at a diſtance from the Emperour's Retinue, without diſcovering their faces, departed at the ſame time upon the ſame account; and Artaban and Alcamenes, who had obſerved the prodigious actions performed by him, followed thoſe that went with Druſus, out of an intention to prevent the ſoul play which might haply be offered that valiant man. Ariobarzanes, Philadelph, and Arminius immediately follow'd them; whereupon the Emperour perceiving ſo many going that way, and imagining there there might be ſomwhat to do on that ſide, would needs go thither himſelf, and having left ſome of his Guard about the Princeſſes, he got on Horſeback, and put forward with ſuch ſpeed, that he ſoon overtook the moſt. The Princeſs Cleopatra, who in thoſe extremities thought not her ſelf obliged any longer to conceal the real affection ſhe had for Coriolanus, conceived ſhe ought not to forſake him in that diſtreſs, and ſo effectually repreſented to thoſe that were about her, that it highly concern'd her to follow the Emperour, that the Officers of the Guard willing to pleaſe her, found one to ſupply the place of the Chariot-driver, and after they had taken out the Horſe that was killed, they made a ſhift with the others to drive on the Chariot after the main body which went before them.

It was not long ere the Emperour and his illuſtrious attendance came to the place where the Son of Juba and the Son of Livia had put a period to their combat; and they came up to them, juſt as Coriolanus, having worſted his enemy, gave him a life he ſeemed to ſcorn, & was going to him to help him to get up. Upon the appearance of ſuch a multitude, he would have gotten away, but his own Horſe was killed, and that of Tiberius was got into the Wood far enough from the place he was in. And as it would have been hard for him to get away on foot from ſo many men on Horſeback, ſo was it as much out of his power to conceal himſelf, having his head diſarm'd, and his face bare. He therefore ſoon reſolved on what was to be done, and leaning with his back to a tree, at the diſtance of ſome few paces from the place where Tiberius was fallen, ſtood with his Sword in his hand, and his face turned to thoſe that were coming towards him, in the poſture of a man whoſe courage was not to be danted by any kind of danger. He immediately knew the Emperour; but his preſence, which upon a more fortunate occaſion had not been able to frighten him, cauſed not in him ſo much as a change of his countenance, though it came upon him at a time when he had ſo little deſire of life; and though he ſeemed to be not far from the period of it, yet would he expect the utmoſt with a reſolution worthy the greatneſs of his Soul and paſt actions. Druſus was the firſt that came near him; but though he loved his Brother ſo well as that he would have endeavoured to revenge him, though with the hazard of his life, yet finding his enemy in ſuch a condition as that he could not do it with Honour, he made a ſudden halt, as it were to conſider what he ſhould do, and it coming in his mind that Friendſhip obliged him no leſs to relieve his Brother then to revenge him, he faſtned on that which was moſt honourable and moſt lawful, and alighting; he goes to Tiberius whoſe loſs of blood continued ſtill by reaſon of the many wounds he had about him.

But if this accident had raiſed an aſtoniſhment in Druſus and all that were preſent, that which the Emperor conceived was greater then that of any of the reſt, and put him for ſome time into ſuch a poſture as added to the admiration of all thoſe that were about him. On the one ſide, he ſaw the Son of Livia, for whom he had thoſe reſpects and compliances, as occaſioned the report all over the Empire, that he divided the Soveraign authority with her) lying along at the foot of a tree with ſeveral wounds about him; through which it was to be feared his life might leave him with his blood; and on the other, not many paces from him, the enemy had put him into that condition, but the ſame enemy, [Page] who having trampled on his Authority even in Rome it ſelf, and reduced the ſame Tiberius to a condition ſad, as that wherein he then ſaw him, had raiſed two great Kingdoms againſt him, had forced them from his Jurisdiction, with the loſs of ſo many Milions of men, who was the only perſon had checked the progreſs of his requeſts, and that fortune which had made him Maſter of the Univerſe, and who, even when he was thought loſt and ruined in his misfortunes, was come again with the ſame pride and inſolence, not only to preſent himſelf before him, but in his ſight to be the death of a Son of the Empreſſe's, a Prince he looked on as his own. This conſideration and all theſe reflections forcing themſelves upon the Emperour's thoughts wrought on his ſpirits with ſo much violence and precipitation, that he was not able to repreſs the impetuoſity thereof, or contain himſelf within any limits of moderation. His diſpleaſure broke forth at firſt with a certain joy, and looking up towards heaven in a poſture dreadful to behold: I acknowledge your juſtice, you divine Powers, cryed he, ſince you bring under my power this inſolent African, who with ſo much ſcorn defiedit; and when I was out of all hopes to puniſh him for his enormous crimes, you are pleaſed he ſhould deliver himſelf up to my juſtice, and appear before me in a condition, and covered with a blood, which leaves not any thing for lenity to urge on his behalf. Let him be taken, continued he, turning to the Officers of his guard, and loaden with chains; conveyed to a Dungeon, to be brought thence to the puniſhment I intend him.

Auguſtus was a perſon admirably kind to his Friends, and good to his Subjects, and govern'd all with ſuch mildneſs as made them look on him rather as a Father then a Soveraign: But if he were a good Emperour and a good Friend, he was on the other ſide an implacable Enemy, and in all the progreſs of thoſe Wars, whereby he had raiſed himſelf to that height, he had never pardoned any one of his Enemies. Upon this conſideration, all thoſe that were about him conceived, that without ſomething of miracle there was little hope of life for Coriolanus. The more vertuous could not forbear deploring his misfortune with all the diſcoveries of a real grief, and the moſt conſiderable among them, as the King of Scythia, Agrippa, the King of Armenia, and divers others reſolv'd to employ all manner of perſwaſion to appeaſe the Emperours wrath; but they thought it unſeaſonable to attempt any thing till the firſt erruptions of his violence were over. Onely Coriolanus ſeemed unmoved at the danger which made that illuſtrious company tremble for him, as well out of the natural greatneſs of his courage, as the addition it might have received from his deſpair. Inſomuch, that when, in purſuance of the Emperour's command, the Officers of the Guard went to him, and demanded his Sword, My Sword (ſaid he, looking ſcornfully on them) never leaves me but with my life; and ſince I am to expect nothing leſs then death, 'twere better for me to loſe my life while I defend it, then reſerve it for an ignominious puniſhment. And perceiving thoſe words deterred not ſome of the more daring from coming nearer to diſarm him, he gave the moſt forward of them a blow over the head, which made him fall at the feet of his companions with a deep wound.

Caeſar was ſo much incenſed at that action, that being at a loſs of all patience and moderation, and diſcovering in his ſparkling eyes, the indignation he was tranſported with, Kill him, cryed he, kill him, and that without any further delay. Whereupon Alcamenes, Arippa, Ariobarzanes, Artaban and others, in whom the greateſt actions of the ſon of Juba had raiſed a love and veneration for him, came before the Emperor, intreating him with the greateſt earneſtneſs and importunity poſſible, to moderate his diſpleaſure, and to give them the hearing but of ſome few minutes, but their interceſſion proved ineffectual, and Auguſtus's rage being more enflamed by that oppoſition reiterated the commands he had given his guard to kill the African Prince, and upon this laſt peremptory order the points of hundreds of ſwords and javelines being turned againſt him, he would ſoon have loſt his life if a horſeman all armed had not ſtept before him, and expoſed himſelf to the thruſts and blows would have been made at made at him. He was ſoon obſerved by Alcamenes, Artaban, and Arminius and known to be one of the three valiant men who before their arrival and in their company had fought ſo couragiouſly, in defence of the Princeſſes, but having taken off his Caſque, which he haſtily ſnatched off his head, he was known by the Emperour, for him who of all the world, was moſt dear to him, his beloved Marcellus. Turn, (ſaid he, diſcovering him ſelf) turn againſt me only the points of your ſwords, and find a paſſage through my body to life of my Friend. The Emperors guard had that reſpect for Marcellus, that of ſo many Arms as were up to give Coriolanus his death, there was not one which drew not back upon ſight of that darling of the Romanes: Nay, the Emperour himſelf was upon the firſt apprehenſion ſo aſtoniſhed at it, that he knew not what to think of it, as being in ſuſpence between the different paſſions he ſtrugled withal. No doubt it was an exceſſive joy to him to ſee the face of a Prince, dear to him as his own life; but it could not withall but adde to his rage, to find a Prince, who ſhould be ſenſible of his intereſts as himſelf, ſo earneſt in the defence of his enemy, [Page] and that one againſt whom ever ſince the unworthy trick put upon him by Tiberius, he had thought him ſufficiently exaſperated. It was ſome time ere he was able to expreſs what it was that troubled him, and at laſt he having found out terms whereby to diſcover his thoughts; What Marcellus, (ſaid he to him) do you defend againſt me the life of an enemy, that hath proved ſo unworthily falſe to you, and one into whoſe breaſt upon the account both of your intereſt and mine, you ſhould rather ſheath your ſword. I ſhall my Lord, (replied the Prince) reſcue the life of this enemy with the hazard of my own; nay though I ſhould loſe it to purchaſe his ſafety, I ſhall not have made ſufficient reparation for the crime I have committing in perſecuting a faithful friend with ſo much cruelty and injuſtice. I know the reſpect I owe my Soveraign permits me not to lift up my ſword to oppoſe the execution of his Orders, but neither does it forbid me to preſent my breaſt to the cruelweapon that threatens the life of my friend. But canſt thou be ſo ungrateful (replies the Emperour) as to call him thy Friend who is a mortal enemy to Caeſar, and canſt thou be ſo much wanting to reſentment, as to beſtow the name of Friend on a man that hath ſo baſely over-reached thee? He is enemy to Caeſar, (replied Marcellus) upon no other ground then that of his misfortune, nor hath he been mine but upon the artifices and treachery of another, and my own miſ-apprehenſions. Time will give you a fuller account of things, if you will, upon the interceſſion of Marcellus, but defer for a while what you have reſolved with ſo much heat and precipitation. Thy ingratitude replies the Emperour) makes thee unworthy the favour thou deſireſt, and therefore flatter not thy ſelf with a hope I will for ever grant thee the life of this barbarous man, though I delay an execution which he ought not to ſuffer in the preſence of ſo many Illuſtrious perſons.

With which words he renewed the commands he had before given his guard to take him alive; but the valiant ſon of Juba, to whom the death that was before his eyes would have been more acceptable then that he was deſigned to, and underſtood not what ſubmiſſion was while he had a ſword in his hand, once more preſented the dreadful point of it to thoſe who offered to come neer him, and by that reſiſtance would have changed the intentions of Caeſar, and drawn a hundred weapons againſt his breaſt, when the Princeſs Cleopatra being come to the place, and got out of the Chariot, appeared to him through the Guards, and ſpeaking to him ſo as that the Emperour and all the illuſtrious perſons there preſent might hear: Coriolanus, ſaid ſhe to him, be not ſo obſtinate as to be killed in my ſight if you love me, and deliver up to fortune and the deſires of Cleopatra, a ſword which cannot maintain your life any longer. It is in the power of the Gods and men to do yet ſomething in order to your ſafety, and if their indignation be ſuch as that we cannot have their aſſiſtance, I will condeſcend you ſhall die when it cannot be avoided, and I ſhall be able to follow you to aſſure you of the affection I have for you. O what a kind of influence had theſe words of the admirable Cleopatra on the apprehenſions of Coriolanus, and how powerful were they upon a reſolution which no fear could ſhake. All the fierceneſs that ſparkled in his eyes of a ſudden withdrew it ſelf; and becoming no leſs ſubmiſſive, then ſome minutes before he had appeared terrible: ‘Ah Madam (ſaid he to her) I ſhall without the leaſt repugnance obey you, and ſubmit to the chains and death prepared for me, to expreſs my compliances and fidelity to you to the laſt gaſp.’

Having ſo ſaid he caſt away his ſword, which an Officer of the guard took up, and with a countenance wherein was not obſervable the leaſt diſturbance, he told him, That wherever he would carry him, he was ready to follow. During this time was Marcellus doing his ſubmiſſions to Caeſar, whom through all his indignation he ſtill conſidered as his Father, and in which action he was ſeconded by the two Cavaliers who had fought with him againſt thoſe who would have carried away the Princeſs, who having taken off their Caſques diſcovered their faces to all the Company. One of the two was immediately known to be Alexander, though he had not been ſeen even by any of thoſe with whom he was moſt intimate, ſince his departure from Rome into Germany, whence he had paſſed into Armenia: But the other was not ſo eaſily, though there were divers imagined upon the firſt ſight that they knew him, and recollected themſelves to find out who it ſhould be, through the alteration which ſome years had made in his countenance. And though the comlineſs of his perſon was ſuch as might draw the eyes of all upon him, yet was he not conſidered with that earneſtneſs, as haply might have been done at a time when the company were more free from diſturbance and the thoughts of all were ſo full of the misfortune happened to Coriolanus, that they could not think of any thing elſe. All the entreaties were made to the Emperour on his behalf, prevailed nothing upon him, and though it were expected the interceſſion of Marcellus ſhould have proved effectual, and that he ſhould do ſomething upon that of [Page] the great King of Scythia, whoſe vertue he ſo much admired, yet all they could obtain at his hands, was that upon their intreaties he would put off the puniſhment he intended him for ſome time, but that nothing ſhould be able to divert him from making him an example, ſuch as was but neceſſary for the eſtabliſhment of his Empire and Authority. Whereupon having intreated all thoſe that were about him not to preſs him any further as to that buſineſs, he took his way towards Alexandria, whither his guard was conducting Coriolanus, and where Druſus had cauſed Tiberius to be conveyed, riding by him with all the demonſtrations of a hearty affliction.

All the Illuſtrious Aſſembly knowing Auguſtus to be of a nature as implacable during the time of his diſpleaſure, as eaſie to be prevailed with, when otherwiſe, rode along in great ſilence, and there were few who expreſſed not a more then ordinary grief at the misfortune of ſo great a man as Coriolanus. Alcamenes, who had underſtood the noble actions of his life, and had a particular veneration for the Princeſs Cleopatra, could not ſmother the affliction he conceived thereat. The King of Armenia, the Prince of Cilicia, the Kings of Cappadocia, Pontus, and Conagenas who had known and admired him at Rome, when he appeared there with ſo much reputation and applauſe; Agrippa, Mecenas, Craſſus, Lentulus, and divers other Illuſtrious Romans, who could not have the knowledg of him, without a love and reſpect to him, were extreamly caſt down at this accident. But next to Marcellus, who concern'd himſelf above all others in it, there was not one in all that noble Aſſembly more ſenſibly mov'd at that unhappy Adventure, then the generous Artaban, as well out of the love he naturally had for Vertue, as for that he had conceiv'd for the perſon of Juba's Son, during the ſmall time they had liv'd together in Tiridates's Houſe. He knew, ſufficiently to his grief, by what the Emperour had already done againſt him to oblige Agrippa, that the credit he had with him was too weak, to hope his mediation might prevail any thing with him: and being a perſon of a diſpoſition that could not brook an unjuſt Authority, or with any patience endure the oppreſſion of a Tyranical power, he was not able to forbear repining, to ſee a Prince ſo great both for his birth and Vertue, expoſed, through his unhappineſs, to the cruelty of a man, who, juſtly conſidered, was inferiour to him in all things, and had no advantage over him, but what he deriv'd from his Fortune. The reflections he made on that injuſtice were as ſo many Arrows in his breaſt, inſomuch that he would have expoſed his life to the greateſt dangers, to reſcue that Prince out of the power of his Enemy. He diſcovers his thoughts to King Alcamenes, whoſe ſentiments were wholly conformable to his; nor could both of them forbear expreſſing to Marcellus what they ſuffer'd upon the misfortune of his Friend.

Mean time, the valiant perſon who with Marcellus and Alexander had fought in defence of the Princeſſes, rode on with the reſt, and added to the general aſtoniſhment, that he was in himſelf, at his not being known among thoſe perſons, among whom he had been brought up, and ſpent the greateſt part of his life. He pardoned that irreflection in Alexander and Marcellus, who, by reaſon of the grief they were ore-burthened with, had hardly taken notice of him; but he could not excuſe Craſſus who had been his particular Friend, nor Lentulus and ſome others who were of his own age; and he was conſidering what reproaches he ſhould make them at Alexandria, where he might more ſeaſonably diſcover himſelf, when Craſſus, looking on him with greater earneſtneſs then he had done before, picked out of the ancient Idaeas of his countenance, through the chance with ſix or ſeven years might have wrought in it; and coming to him with an action diſcovering his ſurprize. Am I to diſtruſt the faithfulneſs of my eyes, (repli'd he) or is it poſſible that I ſee Julius Antonius. Theſe words ſpoken by Craſſus loud enough, cauſed all the Aſſembly to turn their eyes on the ſtranger, and all thoſe who had been of acquaintance with Julius Antonius, looking on him with an earneſtneſs ſuitable to their former familiarity, were ſatisfied he was the Son of Anthony and Fulvia, forced from Rome by the rigours of Tullia, and of whom there had not been any thing heard ſince his departure thence. The name of Julius Antonius went from one to another all through the company, till at laſt the Emperour, who had much eſteemed that Prince both for his birth and vertue, hearing of it, made a halt, and turning towards the ſide where he was, asked for him, and made him quit the embraces of divers of his Friends, to come to him. Antonius having diſengaged himſelf, comes up to Auguſtus, and would have alighted to ſalute him with more ſubmiſſion, when the Emperor prevents him, and embracing him with all the diſcoveries of a tender affection, he ſatisfied him, that his long abſence had not remitted ought of the eſteem he had for him. He wondred, as well as the reſt, that he had not known him at firſt ſight, though that between the age of the twenty or one and twenty years, whereof he was at his departure from Rome, and that of twenty eight, which he was then arrived to, his countenance had received a very conſiderable change; and [Page] after he had ſeveral times renewed his careſſes, more than could have been expected from him in the humour he was then in, What Antonius, (ſaid he to him) after we had loſt you at Rome, we find you at Alexandria, and that inexorable Tullia, who forced you from us, hath not done ſo great a miſchief as we would have charged upon her. That cruel Tullia, my Lord, (replies Antonius) hath been much my torment ſince my departure; but through the aſſiſtance of the Gods and my own reſiſtance, I have overcome her tyranny, and return with a ſoul wholly diſengaged, to do thoſe things which may be expected from me upon the account of my Duty, or to ſerve my Friends. While he was ſpeaking, Caeſar looked on Lentulus, ſmiling; and Lentulus, though much pleaſed with the diſcovery he had heard, could not forbear bluſhing. Antonius obſerved it, and that accident might have produced ſomething more than ordinary, if at the ſame time Ptolomey and Alexander, having heard the name of Antonius, had not been come up to ſee that Brother of theirs, and the Emperour thought it but juſt to reſign him to their embraces and gratulations upon ſo fortunate an Adventure. Though Antonius had left his Brothers at the age of fourteen or fifteen years, yet knew he them aſſoon as they were come near him, calling him by the name of Brother; and he received thoſe two Princes, and returned them thoſe careſſes which diſcovered the excellent nature of them all. He uſed the ſame complements to Marcellus, who came up to him with a like affection, and who out of his own inclination, and upon the deſires of Octavia, looked on all the Children of Anthony as Brothers and Siſters.

After they had disburthened themſelves of whatever a tender affection could inſpire them with upon ſo unexpected a return, and that all the Kings and Princes that were about the Emperour had ſaluted Antonius, as out of a reſpect of his birth and the reputation of his vertue they conceived themſelves obliged, Alexander and Ptolomey would needs carry him to Cleopatra, whom Marcellus had ſet into her Chariot by Eliſa and Candace, imagining with ſome reaſon, that of the affliction ſhe then was in, ſhe could not receive a greater alleviation than by ſo unlooked for a recovery. The incomparable Daughter of Anthony was ſet between her two Friends; and conceiving, that after the action ſhe had then done, whereby ſhe had made ſo publick a declaration of her affection to Coriolanus, it was vain to pretend to reſervedneſs, or to ſuppreſs her grief, ſhe gave her ſelf over thereto in ſuch manner, that notwithſtanding all her conſtancy, ſhe could not forbear making thoſe diſcoveries thereof, which would have been but pardonable in a much weaker perſon. Her tears trickled down, without any oppoſition, from her fair eyes upon the cheek of Candace, whoſe face joyned to hers; and whereas that fair Queen, and the excellent Princeſs of the Parthians, thought her grief too juſtifiable to condemn it, and too violent to be oppoſed in its firſt eruptions, they were content to accompany with their tears thoſe of that Divine Princeſs, and to ſatisfie her by their kiſſes and tender embraces, what their tongues could not expreſs of their being concerned in her afflictions.

This poſture was ſhe in when the three Brothers came to the Chariot, and Marcellus, who was gotten a little before them, coming up firſt to her, and having made a ſign to the Driver to hold, Siſter, (ſaid he, approaching her, and perceiving her all in tears) Distruſt not the Gods, and out of the confidence you have in me, moderate your grief, if you poſſibly can, and aſſure your ſelf, before the misfortune you ſo much fear happens, and which I am equally concerned in with you, you ſhall ſee Marcellus ruined, and great revolutions in the Empire. And if Marcellus periſh (reply'd the diſconſolate Princeſs) will it be any ground of comfort to the unfortunate Cleopatra! He will not periſh (replies the Son of Octavia) ere he hath done that which may haply prove effectual in order to the ſafety of his Friend. What ere may be the iſſue of it, Siſter, hope for my ſake a happy revolution in your Fortune, and receive for an earneſt, what you cannot but think happily ominous, the recovery of a good you gave over for loſt, and which the Gods reſtore you this day to give you a comfort in ſome meaſure proportionable to your grief.

Theſe words obliging Cleopatra to look about her, ſhe ſees Antonius, Alexander and Ptolomey on the other ſide of the Chariot, where they were alighted with a conſiderable number of their Friends, who were loath to part with Antonius ſo ſoon, after they had ſo unexpectedly met with him: But the diſturbance ſhe was in would not have ſuffered her to have known him ſo ſuddenly, if his deportment and the words of Marcellus had not obliged her to look attentively on him, and afterward the accent of his voice, and the name Siſter pronounced by him, had not fully ſatisfi'd both her eyes and knowledge. Certain it is, that howere ſhe might be orepreſſed with a cruel affliction, ſhe was ſenſible, as ſhe ought to be, of a happineſs ſo much beyond expectation; and as ſhe had had for the bloud and merit of Antonius the higheſt conſiderations he could expect from her at the age wherein ſhe loſt him; ſo could ſhe not ſee him again at a time when ſhe was more capable of a juſt eſteem and a greater earneſtneſs of affection, without giving him all the aſſurances thereof [Page] which might be expected from her upon the like occaſion. After ſhe had begged the pardon of the two Princeſſes, ſhe embraced him ſeveral times, and mixing ſome tears of joy with thoſe which grief forced from her, ſhe ſpoke to him with the greateſt tenderneſs and paſſion could be expected from a moſt affectionate Siſter, in her condition: And after Antonius had anſwered her with a like affection, but with much leſs diſturbance of thoughts, ſhe preſented him to the two Princeſſes, onely telling him their names, to mind him of the reſpects due to them.

Antonius ſaluted them with the greateſt ſubmiſſion imaginable, and the Queen and fair Princeſs of the Parthians, having returned him what they thought due to the Son of one with whom Caeſar had divided the Empire of the Univerſe, a Prince of great excellencies, and Brother to Cleopatra, whom they lov'd ſo dearly, look'd on him further as their deliverer, and knew him by his Arms to be that gallant man, who with Marcellus and Alexander, had ſo couragiouſly reliev'd the King of Mauritania. They made to him and his two valiant companions, the greateſt acknowledgments that could proceed from Gratitude, and would have ſaid ſomething further to them, had they not perceiv'd coming towards them, Alcamenes and Artaban, to whom they were upon the ſame account oblig'd, and at no great diſtance from them, Agrippa, with the King of Armenia, the Prince of Cilicia, and divers others, who were coming to complement them upon the accident that had happened to them. The three Princeſſes thanked the King of Scythia and Artaban for their aſſiſtances; but in regard the latter was concern'd in the buſineſs, the acknowledgments were not made ſo much to him, as to the King of Scythia; nor indeed did he expect any for a ſervice he had done himſelf, though his generoſity would have led him to do the ſame with no leſs courage, to perſons he had not known.

While the Chariot was ſurrounded by theſe illuſtrious perſons, there came in ſight thoſe of the Empreſs, Julia, and all the other Princeſſes, coming back from the places where they had been diſpoſed to ſee the Hunting, and in the road upon their return to Alexandria. Livia had had ſome uncertain account of the accident had happened to the three Princeſſes, and ſhe was ſo much mov'd thereat, as to think her ſelf oblig'd to ſtay their coming up to them; but having alſo heard ſome talk of the wounds of her Son Tiberius, and that ſhe was ſatisfi'd he had not receiv'd them upon any other ſcore than that of Cleopatra, ſhe made all the ſpeed ſhe could towards Alexandria. Julia ſtay'd behind, and cauſing her Chariot to ſtay by that of the three Princeſſes, ſhe aſſured, the moſt obligingly that could be, and with much earneſtneſs, how much ſhe had been troubled at what had happened to them: And after ſhe had on the other ſide expreſſed her ſatisfaction at the defeat of their enemies, ſhe bemoan'd Cleopatra for the misfortune of Coriolanus, and very affectionately proffer'd all the ſervices ſhe thought a Daughter might do her with a Father.

But while ſhe was thus employ'd, there comes to the other ſide of her Chariot, a man, who taking her by the hand, kiſſed it; and going to draw it to her, looking on the man with ſome ſurprize, ſhe knew him to be Prince Marcellus. Julia was of a diſpoſition not ſo ſubject to aſtoniſhment as thoſe of many others, and was the leſs ſtartled at the ſight of Marcellus, for that Cleopatra had aſſur'd her of his return, and his being not far from Alexandria. It happened that at that time ſhe truly loved him, and was not a little glad at his return, though ſhe had patience enough to endure the abſence of a Lover, whoſe preſence oblig'd her ſome reſervedneſs; but in regard his departure had diſpleaſed her, and that upon the jealouſie which had occaſion'd it, he had left her, and undergone a long journey, without taking leave of her, ſhe thought there was ſome reaſon ſhe ſhould make him ſenſible of her reſentment thereof. To which end, ſnatching away the hand he was kiſſing, and looking on him coldly, and with a ſcornful ſmile, I am very much oblig'd to you for your remembrances, (ſaid ſhe to him) I was afraid you would not have known me after ſo great travels. Greateſt of Princeſſes, (ſaid Marcellus to her) be pleaſed to pardon the miſcarriages which my paſſion onely hath made me guilty of, and be perſwaded I am much more to be pitied in my misfortunes then to be reproached therewith. It is from your ſelf (reply'd the Princeſs) that proceeds the greateſt part of your misfortunes, and it is happy for you many times, to have to do with ſuch a diſpoſition as mine, that is ſuch as can bear with thoſe things, which others would not think ſo eaſily digeſtible. The Princeſs Cleopatra, who was preſent at this converſation, and, notwithſtanding what at that time burthen'd her thoughts, deſirous to do Marcellus all the favour ſhe could, preventing his reply, as being unwilling Julia ſhould have left him in the humour into which the beginning of that diſcourſe might have put him; Madam (ſaid ſhe to her) let me intreat you, not to charge Prince Marcellus with any thing further, till you have heard him, and to aſſure your ſelf upon my engagement, that he is not chargeable with any thing ſo much, as the offence of having lov'd you with ſome little exceſs of violence. That violence (replies Julia, with a more appeaſed countenance) [Page] might have produced effects that were more ſupportable; but howere the caſe may ſtand, this is not a place to preſs things any further, and you know I have that confidence of you, as in ſome meaſure to be perſwaded to what you would have me.

The place where this converſation happened, and the coming up of all the other Chariots, endeavouring to get near that of Cleopatra, permitted them not to continue it any longer; ſo that after Antonius and Alexander had ſaluted Julia, who receiv'd them with much civility, all the Princes got on Horſeback, and rode by the Chariots till they came to the Gates of Alexandria. But all had not equal advantages; for if Ariobarzanes, Philadelph, and Arminius had the opportunity to ſpeak to Olympia, Arſinoe and Iſmenia, Artaban and Agrippa mutually envy'd one another the diſcourſe of Eliſa. For Prince Marcellus, he had the liberty to entertain Julia, without any interruption, and in regard all had a reſpect and affection for him, and that his pretenſions were known and countenanc'd by all, and by the Emperour above any, there was not any one to diſturb him in the converſation he had with the Princeſs; and he made that advantage of it, that before they were come to the City, he was aſſur'd of a reconciliation with her, and that he ſhould be as much in her favour as ever he had been.

It was almoſt night ere this illuſtrious company got to Alexandria; but that return was much different from their departure: And as there were few who were not in ſome meaſure troubled at, or concern'd in what had happen'd that day, all went to their Lodgings with much diſtraction and melancholy; nay, even the moſt fortunate, ſuch as Ariobarzanes, Philadelph, and Arminius, neither durſt nor could enjoy themſelves; and though they paſſed away the evening with their Princeſſes, yet was all their diſcourſe concerning the misfortune of Coriolanus, and affliction of Cleopatra. The Empreſs went immediately to thoſe Lodgings whither Druſus had cauſed Tiberius to be convey'd, where finding that Son of hers whom ſhe lov'd, and highly eſteemed upon the account of relation, and the many excellent endowments whereof he really was Maſter, laid on a bed, with ſeveral great wounds about him, ſuch as much endanger'd his life, and all aggravated by a grief and confuſion that his deſign had prov'd ſo unſucceſsful, a reflection no leſs prejudicial to his recovery, then the wounds he had receiv'd from his enemy; all that greatneſs of mind ſhe naturally had, was not able to exempt her from the aſſaults of a violent affliction, and after ſhe had ſeveral times embraced that beloved Son, and bath'd his face with the abundance of her tears, ſhe ſate down by him, and continu'd in that poſture a good while, not able to ſpeak one word to him. Tiberius looked on her with a countenance wherein was remarkable the indignation and diſcontent he was in, and endeavouring to ſuppreſs both, to ſpeak to a Mother that had ſo much affection for him, ‘Madam, (ſaid he to her) Let me intreat you not to afflict your ſelf for a Son who hath been far from deſerving all this tenderneſs from you. I deſerv'd in ſome meaſure the misfortune that'ts happened to me, by engaging my ſelf in an enterprize nothing but my paſſion can excuſe; and Fortune whom I have ever found favourable in thoſe occaſions that were honourable, hath oppoſed me in this with juſtice. Be not frightned at my wounds, I have, in my life, receiv'd ſuch as have been much more dangerous; and be pleaſed to employ that goodneſs you expreſs to me, to purchaſe me the pardon I am to beg of the Emperour, for an action that derogates from his Authority, and the reſpect due to him. The Emperour (replies Livia) will be ſooner appeaſed then you recovered of your wounds, and the trouble he conceives at theſe, argues him not to be much incenſed againſt you. All his wrath, as far as I can underſtand, is bent againſt your Adverſary, and if the hope of revenge may give you any ſatisfaction in your misfortune, it ſhall not be long ere you have all the comfort you can, upon that ſcore, expect.’

Though Tiberius was a perſon remarkable for a malicious and cruel inclination, yet had he withal a certain greatneſs of mind; and though his preſent reſentment might induce him to wiſh the ruine of his Enemy, yet reflecting on his late generous proceeding towards him, he durſt not deſire it; and with that conſideration looking on the Empreſs. I have had (ſaid he to her) upon many occaſions, reaſon to wiſh the death of Coriolanus, and this affront I have received from him is no doubt more inſupportable to me then all the reſt: But beſides the juſtice he had this day of his ſide, I remember it was in his power to have taken away my life, which yet out of an exceſs of generoſity he would not do, though I refuſed to accept it at his hands; and his carriage hath been ſo noble towards me, that I cannot with any honour deſire to be revenged of him. Druſus, who was preſent at this diſcourſe of Tiberius, heard it with much ſatisfaction, as finding him inclined to thoſe ſentiments which he had wiſhed in him: But Livia's thoughts ran in another Channel, though ſhe had a ſoul much above her Sexe; and faſtening her conſideration more upon the wounds of her Son, and the danger wherein ſhe found him, then on the generoſity of his Adverſary, ‘If it be not honourable for you (ſaid ſhe to him) to [Page] preſs your own revenge, I ſhall do it for you, and what would not be glorious in you, will no doubt be ſuch in a Mother, and a Wife to the Emperour.’

While they were in this diſcourſe, the Chirurgeons coming in, ſearched the wounds of Tiberius, and found ſuch as were great enough to raiſe a diſtruſt, but not to take away all hope of his recovery. Tiberius ſuffers himſelf to be dreſſed, and heard the conſultation of the Chirurgeons with much courage, and in all his deportment there appear'd much more rage and confuſion for his misfortune, than fear of death by his wounds. He was hardly quite dreſſed ere his Chamber was full of ſuch as came to viſit him, whereof ſome were really his Friends, others ſuch as the reſpects they had for Livia oblig'd to that compliance. Not long after, came thither the Emperour himſelf, though the reſentment he had for Tiberius's enterprize had a while held him in ſuſpence whether he ſhould do him that honour or not; and certainly, had his condition been otherwiſe, he would have made him ſenſible of his diſpleaſure, rather than viſited him: But conſidering the poſture he was in, he conceiv'd he ought to remit ſomewhat of it, as having withall for Livia a tenderneſs and reſpect too great to forbear the diſcoveries thereof upon that occaſion. She was accordingly much pleaſed to ſee him come into the Room; and he was no ſooner ſate down, but ſhe joyn'd her ſollicitations to the intreaties of Tiberius, to obtain his pardon for an offence which ſhe abſolutely imputed to that paſſion, upon the account whereof it might be thought excuſable, or at leaſt by which they endeavour'd to make it appear ſuch. Auguſtus heard them with much patience; and at laſt addreſſing his diſcourſe to Livia, Madam, (ſaid he to her) you know your own omnipotence; and though the injury I have received from Tiberius be in it ſelf very great, yet is it in your power to oblige me to quit all thoughts of it; and you are to aſſure your ſelf that the reſentment I have of the affront he hath done me, is much below the affliction I am in for the inconveniencies he hath run himſelf into thereby. Contribute therefore (continu'd he, ſpeaking to Tiberius, after he had been inform'd of the nature of his wounds) all you can to your own recovery, and ſince you are reduced to this condition by our common Enemy, remit to me the execution of our common Revenge.

Livia gave not Tiberius the time to reply, and rejoyning to the Emperours diſcourſe, My Lord, (ſaid ſhe to him) Tiberius is ſo generous as not to deſire any revenge on his enemy, but by ſuch ways he conceives more honourable: But for me, who am a woman, who am his Mother, and who have the honour to be Wife to Caeſar, I ſuppoſe I may with honour demand juſtice of you againſt an African, who by ways leſs honourable, put him once before into the condition wherein we now find him, and one from whom you your ſelf have received ſuch extraordinary affronts, as if I were not mother to Tiberius, yet as Wife to Caeſar, I ought to preſs the revenge due to them. Take you no further thought of it, (replies Auguſtus) and aſſure your ſelf, that no intreaty, no conſideration whatſoever ſhall divert me from doing exemplary juſtice upon him. Whereupon underſtanding that the wounded perſon ſtood in need of reſt, and was to forbear all diſcourſe, he left the Room, taking all thoſe who were come thither upon viſits along with him.

Druſus ſtay'd with him after all were gone, and of all the men that were in Alexandria, he was the moſt at a loſs how to behave himſelf. He had a great affection for his Brother, though he were inclin'd to ſome things he could not but diſapprove; and he alſo well underſtood that conſideration of Honour which engag'd him in all his intereſts, ſo as to embrace and proſecute them with all the earneſtneſs of a generous and affectionate Brother: But he was alſo in love with the Vertue of Coriolanus, whom he ſaw in Chains, and reduced to a condition that required his compaſſion much rather than his reſentment; he had a particular reſpect and veneration for the Princeſs Cleopatra, and had as fervent an affection as heart was capable of for the fair Antonia, her Siſter: So that as a ſervant to Antonia, as a Friend to Cleopatra, and as a perſon generous and full of virtue, he could neither ſollicite nor with the death of Coriolanus; and as brother to Tiberius, and Son of Livia, he could not endeavour his deliverance. He accordingly took the mean between theſe two extreams, and doing thoſe things his duty oblig'd him to, his wiſhes were ſtill conſonant to his own vertuous inclinations, and the deſign he had undertaken to appeaſe Livia as much as lay in his power, ſo as not to be thought of a party contrary to that of his Brother and his Houſe.

The ſame night, the Princeſs Cleopatra was viſited by moſt of the Princeſſes and other Ladies of quality that were in Alexandria, and whereas ſhe had a ſtrange command over the reſpects and affectious of all that knew her, there were many among them who obſerved not the circumſpection they ſhould have done to prevent their diſobliging of Livia upon that occaſion. Julia came thither in perſon, and with her Prince Marcellus, who had made his peace with her, and on whom, as ſhe told him, ſhe was loath to exerciſe any further rigour, as finding him too much caſt down at the misfortune of Coriolanus to need any aggravation of his affliction. The vertuous Octavia came thither with the firſt, and had not been awanting [Page] upon that occaſion to aſſure Cleopatra, that ſhe looked on her as her Daughter, and that ſhe would be as free of her ſollications to ſerve Coriolanus, as ſhe could be for Marcellus, were he reduced to the ſame extremities. Cleopatra had given her an account of the innocence of that Prince, and acquainted her with the Artifices of Tiberius, as ſhe had receiv'd the relation thereof from Voluſius. So that that generous Princeſs having reſtored the Prince of Mauritania to the ſame place in her affections ſhe had formerly allowed him, prepared to joyn her intereſt with that of all her Friends, to counterballance, on his behalf, the power of Livia. Her receptions of Julius Antonius was ſuch, as that he could not but be ſatisfi'd, that the children of Anthony were no leſs dear to her then her own; and ſhe had expreſſed no leſs joy at his return, then at that of Marcellus. Finding her ſelf ſomewhat indiſpoſed, ſhe retired the ſooner to her own lodgings; the Princeſſes her Daughters ſtaying with Cleopatra, to accompany Julia, Eliſa, Candace, Artemiſa, Prince Marcellus, Agrippa and Cleopatra's three Brothers; Julia who naturally hated ſadneſs, would needs change the diſcourſe: which till then had been altogether concerning the accidents of that day into ſome other of a different nature, and turning to Prince Marcellus and Antonius, whom all entertained as a perſon newly revived: Me thinks, (ſaid ſhe to them) it might be expected from you both, that you ſhould give us ſome account of your Travels, and you eſpecially (ſaid ſhe to Julius Antonius) who in all probability, muſt needs in the ſpace of ſeven or eight years have run through ſome memorable adventures, and I think there are not any other perſons whom you ſhould be more willing to acquaint therewith, then thoſe here preſent, nor that there can be a time wherein ſuch a diſcourſe might be more ſeaſonable then it may be now, to divert the melancholy of your ſiſter and friends.

Antonius perceiving the Princeſs addreſſed her ſelf particularly to him, thought himſelf obliged to return her ſome anſwer, and looking on her with an action full of reſpect; 'Tis very certain Madam (ſaid he to her) that there are not any in the world to whom I conceive my ſelf obliged to give an account of my life, then the perſon I now have the honour to ſpeak to, and I ſhall accordingly when you pleaſe to command it, acquaint you with all hath hapned to me, ſince my departure from Rome, but you will give me leave to tell you, not out of any deſign to exempt my ſelf from that Relation, that my Diſcourſe will not afford any thing that wer pleſant or divertive, that I ſhall only let you know, that having left Rome, through the violence of an inſupportable paſſion; I have ſtrugled with that paſſion for the ſpace of five or ſix years, oppoſing it with my reaſon, my reſentments, and all I could fortifie my ſelf with againſt it, and that at laſt after incredible ſufferings, I have got the victory over it, in ſuch manner that I find my ſelf in a condition to ſee again that inexorable perſon without any diſturbance. I ſhall tell you, that I have travelled unknown, and changing my name with every Country I came into, into Germany, and all through Europe, up as far as Bizantium, where I croſſed over into Aſia, which I have viſited all over; that I have ſeen Cappadocia, Cilicia, Armenia, Media, Meſopotamia, Pamphilia, and divers other Kingdoms, ſhifting ſtill into thoſe Countries where I heard there was any thing of War ſtirring, having been egaged in many occaſions, wherein if I may ſay it with modeſty, though a ſtranger, I might have acquired a more then ordinary reputation, if I had not changed name as often as I did places, or had other deſigns then that ſubduing that cruel paſſion which was ſuch a torment to my ſoul, by putting my ſelf apon all the employments I thought likely to produce that effect: but in all this Diſcourſe, I ſhall not have a word to ſay of any amorous adventure, nor indeed ought that may afford you any diverſion. The Particulars of what I now tell you in brief, I ſhall give you when you pleaſe to deſire it, as far as my memory will prove faithful to me, begging your pardon in the mean time, that I cannot entertain you with any thing that is pleaſant.

Julia could not forbear ſmiling at this diſcourſe of Antonius, which Marcellus obſerving; In troth, Madam (ſaid he to her) if Antonius had ſpoken for me, he would have told you the ſame thing he hath ſaid for himſelf, it having been my fate alſo to travel into ſeveral Nations, though not neer ſo many as he, and not to have met with any adventure worth the relation. I have ſeen both Mauritania, Libia, and I am ſo ſtung with regret and confuſion at what cauſed my departure, and egaged me in that progreſs, that I ſhall as much as lies in my power, avoid all occaſious of making any mention thereof. Nay then, for ought I perceive, (replies the daughter of Auguſtus) you are not either of you much diſpoſed to give us the relation we deſire you ſhould, and if it be ſuch as you tell us, I think we may excuſe you, or at leaſt reſerve it for another time, when we ſhall be more inclined to hear of wars and travels.

Thus were Marcellus and Antonius diſpenſed with, as to the relation of their adventures, and not long after Julia falling into ſome private diſcourſe with Marcellus and Antonius; Alexander, Ptolomey and Ovid, with Antonia, Artemiſa, Marcio, and Agrippina, while the Queen of Aethipio, whiſpering Cleopatra in the ear, was telling her, that failing to ſee Caeſaria that night, ſhe had given Clitia order to ſend him by Eteocles an account of all had hapned to them, Agrippa who had kept ſilence all the time, and had been [Page] very penſive all the night, found an opportunity to come at Eliſa, who out of the ſweetneſs of her diſpoſition and the reſpect ſhe had for his vertue, durſt not ſhun him, as ſhe would have done ſome other perſon, and laying hold of an occaſion which he met not with ſo often as he deſired, he laid to her all that a violent yet reſpectful paſſion, ſuch as his, could inſpire him with, and ſatisfied her of the violence of his ſufferings, much beyond what he had ever done before. Eliſa entertained that confirmation with abundance of grief, and an affliction ſo much the greater, for that Agrippa was a perſon vertuous and powerful, and one ſhe would not diſ-oblige, if ſhe could avoid it. Whence it came that ſhe anſwered diſcourſes with much moderation and mildneſs, but when ſhe found her ſelf too far urged, and reduced to a neceſſity of expreſſing her ſelf more fully, looking on him with a countenance, wherein he might obſerve much more regret then averſion for his perſon; ‘My Lord, (ſaid ſhe to him) the favours you have out of your goodneſs done me are extraordinary, and I doubt not but I ought in ſome meaſure to make my acknowledgments to you for the protection I have found from Auguſtus, againſt the perſecutions of Tigranes; but you will give me leave to complain of the violence you do me, ſince I cannot interpret otherwiſe the perſeverance you expreſs, in preſſing me to things which it is impoſſible for me to grant, and to make it my ſuit to you, with the greateſt importunity imaginable, that you will content your ſelf with the eſteem, the acknowledgments and the reſpects I ſhall have for you while I live, and not to perſiſt any longer in a paſſion, whereof you will never have any ſatisfaction and by which you will make me the moſt unhappy creature in the world.’

Eliſa delivered theſe words with ſuch an action as convinced Agrippa they came from her heart, and he was accordingly more troubled thereat, then at any accident had ever happened to him. He continued a while without making her any Anſwer, but at laſt, re-aſſuming the Diſcourſe; ‘May the Gods (ſaid he to her) ſend me death rather then the leaſt occaſion that may contribute to your miſ-fortune, and if my love be any hindrance to your happineſs, may it end with my life, that I may no longer diſturb the enjoyments I ſo heartily wiſh you.’ Whereupon not able to ſuppreſs his grief, and excuſing himſelf upon indiſpoſition, not feigned, but real; whereof he then felt his firſt aſſaults, he took leave of the Company. Julia with the Daughters of Octavia, the Brothers of Cleopatra and Artemiſa, not long after withdrew alſo, and Eliſa and Candace ſtaid ſome time longer with Cleopatra, not able to give over ſpeaking ſo ſoon of their common adventure. ‘I ever had a jealouſie (ſaies Candace) that Cornelius had ſome deſign upon me, but could never have imagined, that in the Court, nay, I may almoſt ſay in the preſence of his Maſter, he would have attempted any ſuch thing. I was very much afraid, (added the Princeſs of Parthia) Tigranes ſhould have engaged himſelf in ſuch an enterpriſe as he hath, but being ſo neer Caeſar I thought my ſelf ſo ſecure, as that I needed not fear any ſuch thing. And I had reaſon (ſays the Daughter of Anthony) to fear all things from Tiberius, and know not how I came to be ſo ſtrangely blinded, as not to have been more careful of my ſelf, after I had underſtood from Voluſius, that he was hereabouts, and diſcovered not him ſelf to any.’ Whereupon, after they had expreſſed a joy for the good fortune they had had, their goodneſs was ſuch, as not to wiſh thoſe Lovers whom they could not conſider otherwiſe then as enemies, a greater miſchief then what had befallen them; and without deſiring they ſhould meet with any greater, they only wiſhed themſelves ſecure from their perſecutions, admiring not without much ſatisfaction, how that the ſame fortune which had wrought a friendſhip between them, had as it were twiſted together their three Deſtinies, and had almoſt made them all three equally unfortunate by one and the ſame Adventure. This accident, common to all three, made the knot of their Friendſhip the more indiſſoluble, and confirm'd Candace in the reſolution ſhe had taken, to expect, with Caeſario, what would be the fortune of her two Friends, and to oblige them to accept the refuge ſhe had proffer'd them in a Countrey whereof ſhe had the abſolute diſpoſal.

This night paſſed away differently among ſo many illuſtrions perſons, whoſe fortunes were ſo different, though thoſe who thought themſelves the moſt happy, were ſo generous as to ſympathize in ſome meaſure with the misfortunes of others. The Emperour having reſted very ill in the night, it was far-days ere he awoke, and conſequently could be ſeen, inſomuch that ſeveral Princes, ere they could be admitted to wait on him, had the opportunity to make other viſits. Though Philadelp had diſengag'd himſelf from having any hand in the intereſts of Tigranes, as well out of a conſideration of the injuſtice of his procedure, as the great civilities his Arſinoe, Ariobarzanes, and himſelf had received from the generous Artaban; yet had he ſtill a Friendſhip for him, greater then that of the Median towards him: And though he blamed his engaging in ſuch an enterpriſe as much as they who had moſt oppoſed it, yet hearing he was brought wounded to Alexandria, he would needs viſit him, and [Page] do him all the good offices he could without offending thoſe Friends, of whom their vertue obliged him to a greater eſteem. He found him in a ſad condition, though not very dangerouſly wounded, and eaſily perceived that grief and ſhame did him as much hurt as his wounds. Philadelph comforted him with much mildneſs, and blamed him the leſs out of a conſideration of the poſture he was in; but the King of Media was ſo ore-burthen'd with with affliction, that he could not hear of any comfort, nor indeed could well endure diſcourſe. The chiefeſt end of his viſit was to induce him to a deſire of his own recovery, to entreat him ſo to contribute his own endeavours thereto, as not to make thoſe of others ineffectual, through that exceſs of grief he ſeemed to be in. He repreſented to him, that many other enterprizes had proved as inſucceſsful as his, and what he ſhould moſt fear, was the danger of his wounds, and not the reſentment of the Emperour, which in all likelihood would go no further then it had done.

Tigranes hearkned to this diſcourſe of Philadelph, with much impatience and diſtraction, as looking with no great confidence on a Prince, who out of reſpect to Vertue diſapaproved the unworthineſs of his deſigns; but calling to mind withal that it was through his aſſiſtance he had been re-ſeated in his Throne, and that he had not forgotten the eſteem he ought to have for him, he in ſome meaſure ſmother'd his own ſentiments, to give him the leſs occaſion to complain, and pretended much compliance to his, though in effect it was no more then pretence. Philadelph deſirous to know how he had been engag'd into that enterprize, was told by him, That ever ſince his arrival at Alexandria, he had found Cornelius very much inclined to be his Friend, and that, that diſpoſition had obliged him at firſt to make his complaints to him with much confidence, and afterwards to diſcover himſelf more fully to him; That Cornelius obliged by the freedome of his carriage towards him, had by way of requital diſcovered to him the Love he had for Candace, even befor he knew her to be Queen of Aethiopia, and that, that equallity of Fortune, that is, of loving without being loved again, had made a certain union of their intereſts, and obliged them to mutual proffers of ſervices upon that occaſion: That however, they would hardly have taken the reſolution which they would have executed the day before, if, the very night of the Emperours's arrival, and that after all were retired from the meeting had been at Julia's Lodgings, Tiberius had not come unknown to Cornelius's, who had been his ancient Friend, and was obliged in ſome reſpects to Livia for the favours he had received from Caeſar: That Cornelius had been much ſurprized to ſee Tiberius in that condition, and that having asked him the reaſon of it, after he had by many expreſſions and Oaths aſſured him of his Friendſhip, he with much confidence acquainted him with the deſign he had to carry away the Princeſs Cleopatra by force, after he had ineffectually try'd all other ways to gain her, ſeeing that the Emperour, who in all things elſe treated him as his Son, had neglected him in that affair, or at leaſt had reſolved not to uſe his Authority to make him poſſeſſor of Cleopatra, as he had ſometime been willing to do, and that he had a fair opportunity to carry her away at that time then he had had in his life before, there being not any who knew of his coming to Alexandria, but thought him very far from it: That he had Men, and a Veſſel lying lieger at a place where it was not eaſie to diſcover them; but that it would be hard for him to effect his purpoſe, by reaſon of the like accident that had happened to the Princeſs not many days before, which might oblige her to have a greater care of her ſelf, if he afforded him not his aſſiſtance, and furniſhed him with thoſe things which he eaſily might do, without running the hazard of being diſcovered: That he had added to this diſcourſe thouſands of proffers which he had made to Cornelius, which yet had not at ſome other time made that impreſſion in him which they did then; that Cornelius (otherwiſe very much a creature of Tiberius's, but in other circumſtances would not eaſily have been perſwaded to engage in any thing whereby he might incenſe the Emperour) finding in the preſent occaſion a means to intereſs Tiberius in his fortunes, by ſacrificing himſelf to the furtherance of his deſigns, had forgot all other conſiderations, and made no difficulty to diſcover to him his affection to Candace, and acquaint him, that the King of Media, who was in a condition not unlike theirs, and who had gallant and faithful men about him, would gladly joyn with them in ſuch an enterprize, and would afford them a retreat in his Countrey, till that, by the mediation of Livia, Caeſar ſhould be appeaſed: That he had given him a particular account of the ſentiments of Tigranes, and the correſpondence they held and that Tiberius having liked his propoſal, and expreſſed his impatience to ſee Tigranes, Cornelius conceiving there was little time to loſe, and that the night was moſt proper for their interviews, had written a Letter to him, deſiring him to come upon ſight thereof to his houſe; That Tigranes very ſecretly came thither, that he met with Tiberius, and that agreeing in their intentions, and encouraged by one anothers aſſiſtances, they without any difficulty reſolved to put in execution what was propoſed by Cornelius: That their deſign [Page] was to carry away the three Princeſſes into Media, which they thought might be the more eaſily done, by reaſon of their being perpetually together, & that it was but the ſame work to force away all three, as any one of them; That they doubted not but the Empreſs would make their peace, yet thought it not convenient to give her any notice of their deſign, leſt ſhe ſhould diſapprove it as temerarious: That they had not haply been ſo violent upon execution of it, if the preſent opportunity had not obliged them thereto, and if, the night before the Hunting march, Cornelius, caſually walking in the Gardens of the Palace, had not overheard the converſation of the three Princeſſes, and among other things of importance, underſtood, that they would be the next day at the Hunting, and if poſſible, together in the ſame Chariot: That Cornelius had heard ſeveral other things, whereby he thought himſelf oblig'd to haſten their enterpriſe, and that having given them notice thereof that night, they had ſet all things in order for carrying of it on: That Cornelius had order'd a Chariot to be made ready for the three Princeſſes, ſuch as they would have deſir'd, and had given the Driver inſtructions what he was to do: That Tiberius and Tigranes with their men had followed the Game at a diſtance, keeping in the moſt unfrequented places, till ſuch time as Cornelius, having left the Hunters, met them at a place appointed, which was upon the way they had ordered the Chariot-diver to take: That there he put on his Arms, which he had cauſed to be brought thither by one of his men, & had brought them through by-places, which he well knew, to the Chariot of the Princeſſes, where their deſign met with a ſucceſs much different from what they had expected.

Thus came Philadelph by the particulars of the enterpriſe of the three diſcontented Lovers; and after he had comforted Tigranes in his misfortune, and told him, that it was haply in order to his happineſs that the Gods had croſſed his deſign, and that in all probability he could not expect to be fortunate in the enjoyment of a perſon that lov'd him not, and whom he knew prepoſſeſſed by another affection, he profer'd him all the ſervices he could rationally expect from his Friendſhip, and not long after took leave of him, out of a fear of prejudicing his health by obliging him to over-much diſcourſe.

As ſoon as the Emperour was to be ſeen, the whole Court of Alexandria waited on him, the gallant Artaban onely excepted, who not able to ſmother his reſentments, choſe rather to paſs away his melancholly thoughts elſewhere, then preſent himſelf before him with a countenance which would, to no purpoſe, have betray'd his diſcontent. Among ſo many Princes the Emperour not finding Agrippa, and calling to mind he had not ſeen him the night before, which was ſomething more then ordinary, he asked for him, and was anſwered by ſome in the company, that being fallen into a Fever in the night, it was grown very violent upon him. Agrippa being a perſon whom Caeſar lov'd, and look'd on as the moſt conſiderable of the Empire, the account he had receiv'd of his indiſpoſition troubled him extreamly, ſo that as ſoon as he was ready he went to viſit him, taking onely with him Mecenas and Domitius. He found him in a hot burning Fever, and in a much worſe condition then he had imagined, conſidering the ſmall time he had been ſick. After he had ſate a while on his bed-ſide, and that Agrippa had with much ſubmiſſiveneſs acknowledg'd the honour he did him, though he had often received the like, he asked him what the nature of his diſeaſe was, and the cauſe of ſo ſudden an indiſpoſition, if it might be known.

Agrippa continued a while without anſwering him; but the Emperor having once more put the ſame queſtion to him, My Lord, (ſaid he to him, with a ſigh he could not ſuppreſs) I do but too well deſerve what I ſuffer; nay, were my condition much worſe, I were worthy of it, ſince that the great charges you honour me with, and the employments of conſequence you put me upon, cannot find my thoughts ſo much buſineſs as to free me from a paſſion which not only diſturbs, but but makes me unfit for your ſervice. I perceive (ſayes Auguſtus to him) it is Love hath put you into this condition, and that Eliſa will in time deprive us of Agrippa, if we take not ſome courſe to prevent it. I ſhould hardly have thought that that paſſion could have wrought ſo ſudden and ſo violent, effect upon you; but ſince it is ſo an endeavour to divert what may be yet more dangerous, and recover your ſelf, with the aſſurance I give you, that Agrippa ſhall have the enjoyment of Eliſa, or I not be Master of all that power the Gods have beſtow'd on me. If I might have that happineſs (replies Agrippa) with the conſent of that fair Princeſs, no doubt I ſhould ſoon recover; and live the happieſt of men; but if I muſt receive it from the authority of Caeſar, and that it be an effect of any violence to the inclinations of Eliſa, I muſt, my Lord, not only refuſe the profer you make me, but I ſhall doubtleſs diſclaim a life which I cannot preſerve but by that means. You are generous and full of vertue (replies Auguſtus,) and it is from the aſſurances I have of it, that I conceieve my ſelf the more oblig'd to endeavour your ſafety and enjoyments, the preſervation of a man ſuch as Agrippa, being a thing much more to be minded then thoſe formalities which you would have me be guided by without any neceſſity. Eliſa ſhall ſuffer no violence, becauſe it may be hoped ſhe will be prudent enough to comply with reaſon and the poſture of her affairs, ſo that there ſhall be no need of Authority; but it is not fit we ſhould ſtand ſo much upon the inclinations ſhe may have for a perſon that's inferiour to her, as not to let her know ſhe ought to exchange them upon advantageous [Page] terms. Ah my Lord (replies the amorous Agrippa) I ſee the courſe you intend to take will make me the more odious in the ſight of that excellent Princeſs then I am, and conſequently the moſt unhappy man in the world. Truſt me with the management of your intereſts, (ſays Auguſtus to him) and if any hatred comes upon it, I ſhall take it upon my ſelf, ſo as that you ſhall be blameleſs; but howere it may happen, do you endeavour your own recovery, and let me alone with the reſt, ſince it were vain for you to oppoſe what I intend to do. Eliſa ſhall have no reaſon to complain of my procedure, and I proteſt to you I ſhall treat her no otherwiſe then if ſhe were my own Daughter. Whereupon perceiving that Agrippa would have made ſome reply, and expreſſed by his geſture, that he conſented not to the deſign he had to ſerve him, he put his hand on his mouth, and after he had told him, that in ſo violent a Feaver as he had, he ſhould not ſpeak much, he withdrew, and left him, partly flattered with the hopes he had put him into, & partly troubled, out of the fear he was in to diſpleaſe a perſon he ſo much adored.

The Emperour being a perſon very eager in what he reſolv'd to do, he no ſooner went from Agrippa's, but he goes immediately to the Princeſs of Parthia. She had been dreſſed a good while, inſomuch that the Princeſs Arſinoe and Olympia were come to viſit her, conducted thither by Philadelph and Artaban. Auguſtus was ſomewhat troubled to find Artaban there, as feeling within him a certain remorſe, at his ſo ill treating a man whoſe worth he had an infinite eſteem, and whoſe perſon an admiration for; and the amorous Artaban, who had heard of the indiſpoſition of Agrippa, and upon the Emperour's coming into the Room, imagined what his errand was, could not forbear changing colour or expreſſing ſome diſturbance. Auguſtus obſerved him with ſome confuſion; but the reſpects he had for Agrippa making him the leſs mindful what prejudice he did Artaban, as being one he loved above all men, Marcellus onely excepted, he proſecuted his deſign, and after ſome ſhort diſcourſe with the Princeſs before the company, he told her he had ſomething to ſay to her in private: whereupon taking her by the hand to the bed-ſide, Olympia and Arſinoe, with Artaban, Philadelph, Mecenas, and Domitius, did, out of reſpect, ſtay at the other end of the Room. 'Tis true, Artaban minded not much their converſation, as being in ſuch a ſtrange diſturbance, that a little would have perſwaded him to leave them, to go and interrupt the Emperour in the diſcourſe he had with Eliſa.

As ſoon as they were ſate down, the Emperour aſſuming the diſcourſe with an accent which diſcovered the paſſion whence it proceeded, Madam (ſaid he to her) I am now come to beg of you the life of a Friend, who upon your account is at Death's door, and were it any thing of leſs conſequence then my Friends life, and that ſuch a friend as Agrippa, whoſe worth is known all over the world, I ſhould not importune you with a diſcourſe which you receive haply with little inclination to anſwer it, nor make it my buſineſs to ruine the fortune of a perſon whoſe vertue I eſteem; but I have not any choice to make, nor time to loſe, when the ſafety of Agrippa lies at the ſtake; and you may have underſtood, that he is already in ſuch a condition, as out of which we are in ſome fear whether he will recover. Have ſome compaſſion, fair Princeſs, both on him that ſuffers, and him that intercedes; and after ſuch an effect of your goodneſs, diſpoſe of Caeſar and the Empire as abſolutely as if you were the Soveraign thereof.

Hereupon Auguſtus held his peace, expecting Eliſa's anſwer, with as much diſturbance of mind, as if it had been for himſelf. But the fair Princeſs was at ſuch a loſs, that it was no ſmall difficulty to her to find terms wherein to anſwer him, and a mean betwixt the conſtancy of her intentions, and the reſpect ſhe would expreſs towards Caeſar, at a time when ſhe might fear all things from his Authority; and in that diſtraction ſhe continued ſo long ſilent, that the Emperour re-aſſumming the diſcourſe, Why do you delay ſo long, fair Princeſs (added he) the reſtitution of the joy I have loſt, and the putting of a greater obligation upon Caeſar then he cou'd have received from all the world beſides? with the leaſt aſſiſtance of yours we ſhall overcome all difficulties, and we will ſatisfie Artaban with a Fortune which may be equivalent to that we would take from him. My Lord, (ſaid the Princeſs at laſt) 'tis not my want of reſolution that occaſions my ſilence, but the affliction it is to me that I cannot anſwer ſuitably to your intentions, and find my ſelf reduced to a neceſſity of diſobeying and diſpleaſing a great Emperour who hath afforded me his protection, and making ſo little acknowledgment of the affection of a man, whoſe vertue and perſon I much honour, I have many reaſons to alledge, which you cannot diſapprove; but I ſhall urge only one, which makes an inevitable obſtacle in the buſineſs you manage, and only tell you, my Lord, that if it be a Husband you proffer me in the perſon of Agrippa, I cannot accept him, without the conſent of thoſe at whoſe dispoſal my birth obliges me to be, and that, as things ſtand between your Empire and that of the Parthians, there is little likelihood Phraates ſhould give me leave to marry a Roman, and that the Favourite of Auguſtus. Ah, Madam, (replyed the Emperour) give me leave to tell you, that you anſwer me not ſincerely, and that if you would have received a Husband, according to the diſpoſal of your Father, you would have received Tigranes, whom he had particularly deſigned you for. I do not tell you, my Lord, (replyed [Page] Eliſa) that I will receive from the hands of Phraates a Husband I could not endure, but that I ſhall never take one of my own choice without his approbation, till I am in a condition to chooſe for my ſelf. And do you think (added the Emperour) that the King your Father approves Artaban, or rather can you be ignorant of his disallowance of him? I muſt needs acknowledge (repli'd the Princeſs) that he approves him not; but neither does Artaban ever hope to be my Husband, if my Father does not conſent thereto, or our fortunes change ſome other way. And if Phraates were dead, (replied Caeſar) would not you marry Artaban? My Lord, (reply'd the Princeſs, with a reſolution more then ordinary in her) you would have me tell you more then Artaban ever knew, and indeed more then his curioſity led him to enquire; but ſince you command me to expreſs my ſelf, I ſhall tell you, that if the Gods had deprived me of thoſe perſons to whom I owe by being and birth, and that I were accordingly free to make to my own choice of a Husband, I am ſo infinitely obliged to Artaban, and have that acquaintance with his vertue, that no doubt I ſhould prefer him before all the men in the world.

Theſe words, which Eliſa uttered with ſome fierceneſs and loud enough to be heard by the impatient Artaban, put the Emperour into a little aſtoniſhment, and after he had continued ſilent a while, ‘I ſee then (ſaid he to her) the fortune of Artaban lies no leſs in my way then the inclinations of Eliſa; and ſince you force me to that neceſſity, I am to try, whether I may not find in Artaban himſelf more compaſſion for my Friend, & a greater conſideration of my own quiet, and whether by a Fortune whereto I can indiſputably raiſe him, I may not ſhake the pretenſions he hath to a much higher which it will not be ſo eaſie for him to obtain.’ Upon which words, not expecting what anſwer the Princeſs ſhould make, he calls Artaban, and in that he diſcovered the impetuoſity of his affection to Agrippa, rather then acted according to his ordinary prudence, which in all probability would not have adviſed him to make ſuch Propoſitions to Artaban, before Eliſa, though he had thought him of ſuch a nature as to accept them. Artaban comes up to him, more troubled then if he had had an Army to oppoſe: and the Emperour having commanded him to ſit down, (a favour he ordinarily did to perſons of that Rank whereto Artaban had by his Vertue raiſed himſelf) after he had ſought, and with much difficulty found words whereby to expreſs his intentions; ‘Artaban (ſaid he to him) I can make a ſincere proteſtation to you,’ that if I ſaw but any probability of your arrival to the Fortune you pretend to by the Parthian Princeſs, I would not upon any conſideration in the world diſturb it, as having that eſteem for your extraordinary qualities, that there are few perſons, whoſe advantages I ſhould endeavour to promote ſo much as yours. ‘But in regard ſhe hath declared to me, that her intention is not to marry you without the conſent of the King her Father, and that I think it a thing you ſhould never hope, I would intreat you, with all the affection imaginable, not to oppoſe the life of a Friend, whom I cannot preſerve but by the goodneſs of the Princeſs Eliſa,’ and to aſſure your ſelf, that if any other Fortune whatſoever can compenſate in your apprehenſion that which you quit, I will put you into ſuch a condition, as that you ſhall have no cauſe to envy that of the greateſt Kings.

Artaban was extreamly troubled at theſe words, not that he expected any other from Caeſar, but out of a fear he was in, the Princeſs might hearken to a Propoſition which he made to him in her preſence. Yet did not his courage fail him in that emergency no more then it had done in others; and after he had looked on Eliſa, as it were to find out by her countenance what he ſhould do, he turns to the Emperour, and faſtning his eyes on him with a greater confidence; ‘My Lord (ſaid he to him) this is not the firſt time that I have been ſenſible of the vanity of my preſumptious imaginations, it is long ſince that I have condemned them my ſelf, and I ſhould haply ere this have loſt them together with my life, if the Princeſs out of her goodneſs had not pardoned them.’ If ſhe think it yet convenient to condemn them, I ſhall be able to diſ-ingage my ſelf of them by ceaſing to live; and if ſhe approve the Propoſition you make on the behalf of Agrippa, it were needleſs to ask my conſent in things that depend purely on her will, ſince it is not unknown to her, that I ſhall ſubmit even to death without the leaſt repining. No Artaban (ſayes the Princeſs) I have not conſented thereto, nor would I have you imagine that I ſhould, out of any conſideration whatſoever, prefer Agrippa, or any man in the world before you. If it be ſo, (replies Artaban turning very confidently towards the Emperour) I will continue my pretenſions, be they never ſo temerarious to the laſt gaſp, nor is it the Roman Empire, nor the Empire of the Univerſe, the preſervation of a thouſand lives, if I had ſo many to loſe, that ſhall oblige me to quit them.

Auguſtus was a little incenſed at that audacious reply of Artaban, and looking on him with a diſſatisfied countenance; I am not to learn (ſaid he to him) that now is not the firſt [...] that you have ſlighted not only Kingdoms, but Kings alſo, and I might well have imagined [...] all I could offer you was below your ambition; but I am apt to believe that in time you [...] generate it, and if the King of Parthia come to be judge of your pretenſions, and the [...] your [Page] Rivals, as he ought, and haply will be, it will prove a great hazard, whether you are the more fortunate. With which words he roſe up, taking leave of the Princeſs with much indifference; and as he went out of the room, ſtaying her at the door, whither ſhe was to come along with him: ‘However (ſaid he to her) think not any thing amiſs of Agrippa, if he ſeem to do any thing contrary to the promiſe he made you, not to make any advantage of my authority, in the proſecution of his affect on, he diſapproves my endeavours to ſerve him, and will be no leſs troubled at it then Artaban, but we muſt not preſs too much upon his generoſity, and it were unjuſt, becauſe he is too generous, he ſhould be ſo much the more miſerable.’

The Emperour having left the Princeſs of Parthia, was going to his own lodgings, when paſſing through the Gallery he ſaw coming toward him Aquilius, one of Cornelius's Lievtenants, and whom of all his friends he had the greateſt confidence of. He comes up to Auguſtus with a very ſad countenance, and the Emperour who imagined he came to ſollicite him on the behalf of Cornelius, looking very angrily; ‘You come from Cornelius (ſaid he to him) and it is not unlikely that baſe man,’ who hath with ſo much ingratitude abuſed the ‘favours I had done him, is haply now in ſome confuſion at the temerity of his enterprize. He hath indeed much reaſon to be troubled at it, as being out of all hopes of ever coming to that height whereto I had raiſed him. He need not fear the loſs of his life, ſince it is below my diſpleaſure to take it from him; but let him live in the ſhame he hath brought himſelf to, and at that diſtance from me, that I may not hear any thing of him.’

Theſe words, though uttered with a great deal of indignation, wrought no change in the countenance of Aquilius, inſomuch that looking on the Emperour as one who was not afraid of any thing for his Friends ſake; My Lord, (ſaid he to him) Cornelius is now in a condition to defie the effects of your diſpleaſure, as having thought it a burthen to ſurvive the loſs of that affection, which you had ſome time honoured him with. This misfortune, more then that of his enterpriſe, was it that put him into deſpair, and having the night before, endured the remedies applied to his wounds, with a countenance wherein might be read in ſome meaſure the dreadful deſign he had conceived, he hath this laſt night torn off all, and was this morning found dead in his bed, almoſt drowned in the blood he had loſt.

This Diſcourſe of Aquilius very much troubled the Emperour, who had loved Cornelius, and had in time pardoned the miſcarriage which the extravagance of his love had cauſed him to commit, ſo that having continued ſome time ſilent; ‘I was not deſirous of Cornelius's death (ſaid he) and am ſorry he ſhould ſo far deſpair of the pardon he might have obtained from one that had a particular affection for him. My Lord, (ſays Aquilius, coming up cloſe to the Emperour, with an action whence he inferred he had ſomething more than ordinary to tell him) Cornelius writ the laſt night, a Letter which one of his men hath juſt brought to me, and which I bring you, becauſe directed to you, and is beſides of very great conſequence. Auguſtus took the Letter from Aquilius, and having opened it found therein theſe words.’

CORNELIUS GALLUS TO CAESAR AUGUSTUS.

THough I have by the laſt action of my life rendred my ſelf unworthy the favours you had ſometimes honoured me with, yet can I aſſure you ſincerely, as one ready to cloſe his eyes to this world, that the fidelity I had towards you leaves me not even to the laſt gaſp, and being unwilling to live burthened with the confuſion and misfortune whereto the loſs of your affection, and the unſucceſsfulneſs of my own have reduced me, it is my Lord, the greateſt of my deſires, that my laſt thought may do you ſuch a ſervice, as may in ſome meaſure force out of your memory the offence I have committed againſt you. I muſt confeſs my pretenſions to Candace were too too preſumptuous, and that I have endeavoured to gain her by ſuch waies as have juſtly drawn on me your displeaſure; but it was not ſo much my deſign to gain her, as to deprive your enemie of her, and by [Page] taking her away from him, I began an act of Revenge which you are to proſecute. The ſon of Julius Caeſar and Cleopatra, and the ſame Caeſario whom you have thought dead theſe ten years is the perſon for whom the Queen of Aethiopia is deſigned; he is not only living, but in Alexandria, and he is the ſame Cleomedon, who is ſo famous in Aethiopia for many great victories. Aquilius, whom I ſend you with this account, can inform you further, knows the retreat of your enemy, and will tell you how he is to be ſecured. I ſhall be happy in my death, if theſe last minutes of my life contribute ought to your ſervice, and may ſatisfie you dying, that I may well have miscarried through a paſſion, which hath brought the greateſt men into the like inconveniencies, but that I have not been unfaithful to my Soveraign Lord and Benefactor.

The more intentive the Emperour was in the reading of thoſe words, the more did the diſturbance ariſing in his ſoul become remarkable in his countenance, inſomuch that Mecenas and Domitius, taking notice of it, expected with ſome impatience he ſhould acquaint them with the cauſe thereof. Auguſtus took Aquilius aſide, and being got to ſuch a diſtance as none could hear them, he commanded him to give him an account of what he knew concerning the buſineſs about which Cornelius had written to him, and for which he directed him onely to him. Aquilius who was ready to ſatisfie the Emperours deſires, told him, that the night before the hunting match, Cornelius and himſelf, to whom he had diſcovered his inclinations for Candace, walking in the Palace Garden, had ſeen the ſame Caeſario, whom Cornelius ſpoke of in his Letter, and being behind a row of Trees, had over-heard all the diſcourſe had paſt between him, Queen Candace, the Princeſs Cleopatra his Siſter, the Princeſs of Parithia, and Artaban, and thereupon gave him the particulars of it, as far as he could remember, inſiſting moſt on thoſe things whence it might be inferred that that Cleomedon whom Candace ſo much affected, was Brother to Cleopatra, and indeed no other then Caeſario. To this he added, that after the departure of the Princeſſes, Cornelius and himſelf, who had hid themſelves to avoid being diſcovered, had followed Caeſario at his going out of the garden, and that deſirous to know his retreat, Aquilius, by command from Cornelius, had gone ſoftly after him, yet at ſuch a diſtance as not to be obſerved, and had ſeen him go into the houſe where he lodged, which was in one of the moſt unfrequented parts of Alexandria: That Cornelius would have given him notice of it that very night, had it not been for his deſign to carry away Candace the next day, which upon that diſcovery would have been prevented; That he had ordered the Emperour ſhould not be acquainted therewith till his return from hunting; and to that end, though Aquilius were a perſon of whoſe friendſhip he had as much conſidence as of any mans, and one he might have engaged in that enterpriſe, yet had he purpoſely left him in the City to obſerve Caeſario, and to acquaint the Emperour with his being there, in caſe he ſhould not return to Alexandria; Further, that he knew the houſe where he made his retreat, and whence he ſtirred not but in the night, to viſit the Queen of Ethiopia; and that if he would give him order, and a party fit to ſecure him, he promiſed him that a few minutes ſhould bring him into his power.

Auguſtus hearkened to this diſcourſe of Aquilius with much diſturbance of mind and thoughts, but put it out of all queſtion that the Son of Caeſar was to be ſecured; nay he thought it prudence to have all thoſe in cuſtody who had been of the converſation whereby he came to be diſcovered. Though he was very open in all things to Mecenas, yet he would not ſpeak to him of this, becauſe he would not raiſe any jealouſie in Domitius, to whom he thought not fit to diſcover it, by reaſon of the pretenſions he had to the alliance of Cleopatra; but having ſent for Levinus, Tribune of the Praetorian bands, a perſon whom he put much confidence in, he commanded him to take a Party, and go to the houſe whither Aquilius would bring him, and having ſecured the perſons he ſhould ſhew him, bring them immediately before him: giving them theſe Orders with that ſecrecy and particular Inſtructions, as whence Levinus and Aquilius could not but infer, that if they failed in the execution thereof, they run the hazard of incurring his diſpleaſure.

They immediately departed, taking the moſt ſecret way they could to the houſe where Caeſario was lodged, and Aquilius having acquainted Levinus with the quarter of the City where it was, he took ſuch a number of the guard with him as he thought neceſſary, dividing them into ſmall parties, and ordering them to meet from ſeveral ways about that houſe, to the end leſs notice ſhould be taken of this deſign. The Son of Caeſar, whom [Page] the magnificent Palace of the Ptolomies had given his firſt lodgings, and who had ſometime poſſeſſed it with ſo much pompe, was then lodged in a poor houſe, one of the moſt obſcure about the City, where he thought himſelf moſt unlikely to be diſcovered. Having taken but little reſt in the night, he was laid on his bed, and faſt aſleep, when his enemies came to the Houſe. Aquilius came all alone, and the Maſter having opened the door, he immediſtaid him; to prevent the notice he might give his Lodger; whereupon Levinus coming in, with a party of the guards, commanded him to conduct him to his Lodgers Chamber, and was obeyed by the poor frightned man, who without any reſiſtance brought him into it. Livinus & Aquilius were gotten into the chamber with the Guard after them ere the Prince awaked, and caſting himſelf off his bed upon the ſight of thoſe men, he was going to run to his ſword, when Livinus perceiving it on the table, ſeizes it, and ſurrounding the Prince with his guards, convinced him, that alone, and without arms he could do nothing in order to his ſafety. Upon ſight of the Majeſty and comlineſs of Caeſars ſon, there ſeemed to be more aſtoniſhment in the countenance of Levinus, then in his, inſomuch that he thought himſelf oblig'd to a reſpect which it was hard to forbear towards ſuch a perſon. He look'd on him a while without ſpeaking, and by his deportment diſcover'd how much he was ſurpriz'd at that ſight; when the Prince, whoſe preſent danger could not abate nothing of his courage, looking on him with a ſetled countenance, ask'd him what he was, and upon what account he came in that manner to his Chamber. ‘I come (ſays Levinus to him) by order from Caeſar, to ſecure you, and to bring you to him.’ The Son of Caeſar doubted not from thoſe words but that he was diſcover'd, and having once more look'd about him to ſee if there were any poſſibility to defend his life and liberty, when he finds all taken from him, he ſighed out of a reflection on Candace, rather then out of any fear of the danger he was in. He ſoon recover'd out of the diſturbance which had broke forth into his countenance, and looking on Levinus with indifference little ſuitable to the condition he then was in; There was no neceſſity (ſaid he to him) that Caeſar ſhould have ſent ſo many armed men to take a ſingle ſtranger, who would have waited on him upon the leaſt Summons; and ſince, as the caſe now ſtands, it were hard for me to make any reſiſtance if I had any ſuch intention. I go along with you, ſince it is Caeſars pleaſure; but favour me ſo much as to reſtore me my Sword, that I may preſent my ſelf before him more like my ſelf. I ſhall not be guilty of that weakneſs (ſays Levinus to him) as ſatisfi'd by what I have ſeen of you, that if you had had Arms, you would have diſputed you Liberty. Caeſario conceiving that, as things ſtood, he could not make any reſiſtance which muſt not turn to his diſhonour, endeavour'd to put the beſt countenance he could on that misfortune, and not thinking it worth his time to make Levinus any reply, he goes of the Chamber, and being gotten into the Streets, march'd between him and Aquilius, in the midſt of the Guard that ſurrounded him. The people who ſaw him paſs along the Streets, and perceiv'd it was a Priſoner newly taken, look'd on the comelineſs of his perſon with admiration; nay, there were haply thoſe who obſerv'd in his countenance ſome Ideas of that Queen whoſe memory was in ſo great veneration with them, and who poſſibly thereupon reflected on the ſame Caeſario whom they had ſeen brought up in their City with ſo much magnificence. The Prince himſelf was troubled at that remembrance, and being carried a Priſoner into that very Palace where he had been born, and where in his infancy he had been proclaimed Kings of Kings, he could not but give way to ſome ſlight aſſaults of grief which he felt upon that conſideration of his misfortune.

Levinus having been ordered to bring him immediately to the Emperour, carried him to his Cloſet, where in expectation of his coming he was withdrawn, attended onely by Mecenas, two or three Senators, who were much of his privy Councel, and ſome of the Officers who were ordinarily about his perſon, and whom he placed moſt confidence in. Caeſario comes in, attended by Levinus and Aquilius, the Guard having ſtay'd at the door, and his entrance was not as that of a Priſoner, and a perſon that was to fear all things, and could hope but little, but withthe countenance of a great Prince, whoſe fortune could not abate of his courage, and in whom the preſence of danger could not darken that Character of Greatneſs and Majeſty which his Birth had imprinted in his Perſon. The hatred which Auguſtus had for him, proceeding not from any injury he had done him, but meerly from conſiderations of policy, which perſwaded him to cut off thoſe who might diſturb the eſtabliſhment of his Uſurpation, and that he had more compaſſion for his fortune then averſion for his perſon, he looked not on him with thoſe eyes which indignation had the day before inflam'd upon the ſight of Coriolanus: and being the craftieſt of mankind, he thought he might diſpatch him out of the way meerly upon his ſtanding in his light, without diſcovering toward him a diſpleaſure which he had not by any of his actions deſerved, and which he could not draw upon him by a ſight, which inſtead of averſion might raiſe love & reſpect in his enemies ſo that he reſolved to receive him with a ſeeming kindneſs: but he was the more confirmed in [Page] that deſign when he ſaw him come in, and that in his noble carriage, and his countenance, full of ſweetneſs and majeſty, he obſerv'd the image of the great Caeſar, intermix'd with ſome Ideas of Queen Cleopatra. Accordingly was he ſtruck therewith, and not able to conceal his ſurpriſe from Mecenas and Sempronius who ſtood by him, ‘Ah, (ſaid he to them) behold the image of my Father.’ And mov'd with a reſpect which he could not forbear upon ſo unexpected a ſight, he roſe out of the Chair where he was ſate, and ſaluted the Prince with much civility, Caeſario, who had not expected ſo much from him, was much amazed at it; but his aſtoniſhment was much greater, when the Emperour breaking the diſcourſe with a perſonated mildneſs, an Art he could make his advantages of, when he thought it convenient; You are very much to blame (ſaid he to him) to come privately, and lie incognito in a City where your birth affords you ſo many advantages; and beſides that the bloud of Cleopatra hath a right to command in Alexandria, you doubt not I hope of the veneration I have for that of Caeſar.

There needing no more to ſatisfie the Prince of his being diſcovered, his aſtoniſhment was ſo great, that he was in ſome uncertainty what anſwer to make him. He thought it a diſhonour to diſclaim a glorious truth, either out of fear or any other conſideration, nay, vainly to diſclaim it to thoſe who might have a perfect knowledge of it. And on the other ſide he thought it imprudence to diſcover what might be yet doubtfull; and by that confeſſion run the hazard of loſing Candace, who was dearer to him then his own life, and without whom life ſignifi'd nothing with him. Between theſe two conſiderations he was in ſome ſuſpence what reſolution he ſhould take, when Auguſtus obſerving what doubtfulneſs and perplexity he was in, It is to no purpoſe (ſaid he to him) to diſſemble with us, or to conſult whether you ſhould let us know you are Caeſario; we know all, even to the leaſt circumſtances, and Candace her ſelf does not deny but that Cleomedon is Son to Caeſar and Cleopatra. Upon the hearing of theſe names of Candace and Cleomedon, the Prince was fully ſatisfi'd of his misfortune, and being unwilling to deny what he thought Candace had acknowledg'd; 'Tis very true, (ſaid he to him) Cleomedon is Son to Caeſar; and ſince Candace hath thought fit this truth ſhould be known, it is too advantageous for me to diſclaim it. I am Caeſario, and I am alſo Cleomedon. Under this name I have haply done thoſe actions which render me not unworthy the bloud of my Anceſtors, and the name you bear. You are onely by adoption what I am by birth; and bloud and name are common to us, though our fortunes are much different. I have not envied yours, as thinking my own glorious enough in the ſervice of Candace, and purely out of the extraordinary inclinations I have had for her alone, I have without any regret ſeen you in the place of him that brought me into the world. I am apt to believe what you ſay, (replies the Emperour,) and withal willing to acknowledge that the noble actions of Cleomedon are not unknown to us, and that they no leſs diſcover you to be the Son of Caeſar, then the reſemblance you have of him in your countenance but you will give me leave to require ſome reaſon of your abode unknown in Alexandria, and you are not to be much aſtoniſhed if it hath raiſed ſome jealouſies in us. When you know (replies the Son of Caeſar) that I ſerve the Queen of Aethiopia, you will not much wonder I ſhould endeavour to find her out even in Alexandria: nor can you think it extraordinary I ſhould conceal my ſelf, if you reflect on the Orders you ſometime gave out againſt my life, at a time when it was not fear'd I could do you much prejudice, The ſame obſervations of policy (replies the Emperour) whereby the actions of perſons of my rank are regulated, may change their reſolutions according to ſeveral times and exegenes; and there may have been, of the Orders you mention, in one ſeaſon, a neceſſity, in another, none, Howere it may be, you will give me leave to examine thoſe things whereof the knowledge does ſo much concern me, and to find out how I may with ſafety treat you ſuitably to my inclinations, rather then according to Maximes of State, which are ſometimes rigorous, even contrary to their intentions who are obliged to follow them.

With thoſe words, he commanded Levinus to conduct him to a Caſtle not for from Alexandria, where were commonly diſpoſed Priſoners of quality, and whither they had the day before carried the Prince of Mauritania; but as he went away he bid him not fear any thing, and commanded Levinus he ſhould be treated and attended as Caeſar's Son.

This perſonated kindneſs did Caeſario look on as more dangerous then menaces and open diſcoveries of diſpleaſure, inſomuch that he doubted not but Auguſtus had reſolv'd his death, though hediſſembled his intention. He departed without making him any reply, and march'd away in the midſt of the Guards which receiv'd him at the door, towards the priſon whither he was ſent. As he paſſed through the great Hall, he met full butt with Candace led by Eteocles, who, tranſported with grief, was come to give her notice of that misfortune; and the fair Queen being wholly at a loſs thereat, and not thinking any obſervance of decency and feminine reſervedneſs obliged her to ſmother her ſentiments upon that occaſion, was running to the Emperor, reſolv'd to participate of the danger with her beloved Prince, though her reſolution were the greateſt of any of her Sex, yet could ſhe not ſee him ſurrounded [Page] by a Guard without being ſo troubled thereat, that for ſome time ſhe was no better then in a ſwound, though held up by Eteocles. But ſeeing the Prince carried away, ſhe overcame her weakneſs, and runing before him, What Cleomedon (ſaid ſhe to him) is this the condition wherein you appear to me? 'Tis not Cleomedon (replies the Prince) 'tis Caeſario that is carried to Priſon, and it may be to his death, it being in vain for me to conceal my name from Caeſar, after your acknowledgement of it to him. Who I (replied the Queen) I diſcover your name to Caeſar? Ah Cleomedon, or Caeſario, ſince you will have it ſo, aſſure your ſelf I know nothing of what you ſay; and that before I ſhould be guilty of a confeſſion ſo prejudicial to you, I would have endured all the torment that mans invention could have put me to. And not be aſſured of this, would ſpeak more cruelty in you then in our mortal Enemies. And if he who puts you into Chains ſhall be moved neither by my intreaties nor a reſpect to my dignity, you ſhall find whether I make any difficulty to run fortunes with you. May your preſervation be the care of the Gods, (reply'd the Prince with a geſture wholly paſſionate;) but if it be their will I ſhould die upon this occaſion, they know I ſhall do it without any other regret then that of loſing you. If you die (replies the Queen) you ſhall not die alone; I ſhall as gladly accompany you to Death, as to a Throne.

She would have ſaid more, if Levinus, who was afraid his ſuffering that converſation might give offence, after he had made ſome excuſe to her, cauſed the Prince to march on, and carried him immediately out of the Hall, leaving the Queen ſo ſtruck at that cruel ſeparation, that notwithſtanding all that great conſtancy whereof the had made ſo many diſcoveries, ſhe fell into a ſwound between their arms who ſtood about her to hold her up. She was in that condition; and the unfortunate Eteocles, between the deſire he had to relieve her and that of following Caeſario, was at a loſs what to do; when the Princeſs Julia comes into the Hall, accompanied by the Princeſs Andromeda, Iſmenia and ſome other Ladies. Being a perſon the moſt officious in the world, ſhe runs to the Queen with much earneſtneſs, and having underſtood from thoſe that were about her the cauſe of that accident, her thoughts were divided between her compaſſion and aſtoniſhment thereat.

Mean time, the Queen by the help of thoſe that were about her, recovers her ſelf, and ſeeing the Princeſs Julia very buſie and earneſt to relieve her, after ſhe had looked on her with the tears breaking their paſſage at her eyes, Ah, Madam, (ſaid ſhe to her) what favourable Deity ſends you to my aſſiſtance? And not long after, Alaſs! (added ſhe,) how do I ſtand in need of your aſſiſtance! not ſo much for the kindneſs I now receive from you, as the favour you may do me with the Emperour; the cruel extremity I am reduced to forces me to implore it, and ſo am apt to hope you will do all you can, out of a reſpect to the tears and misfortunes of the moſt diſconſolate Princeſs in the world. The Daughter of Auguſtus embraced her, and accompanying her tears with her own, Aſſure your ſelf, Madam, (ſaid ſhe to her) that my ſollicitations ſhall be as earneſt for you as if they were for my ſelf. and that I am but too ſenſible of your aſſliction, not to do any thing ſhall lie in my power to ſerve you.

While Julia was ſpeaking with the Queen of Aethiopio, the Princeſs Eliſa extreamly troubled and diſorder'd at the late diſcourſe ſhe had had with the Emperour and the fair Cleopatra, almoſt out of her ſelf at the misfortune of Coriolanus, came into the place where ſhe was, upon the noiſe which was immediately ſpread of the unhappy accident had befallen Caeſario. The ſight of theſe two Princeſſes added much to the affliction of Candace, who taking Cleopatra in her arms, Ah, Madam, (ſaid ſhe to her,) now may you return me what I lent you yeſterday upon the like occaſion, and that you are upon the point of loſing that Brother whom I had reſtored you ſo lately, and whom Fortune hath left you ſo ſmall a while.

The affliction Cleopatra was in at the taking of Coriolanus receiv'd but too great an aggravation by that of Caeſario, to leave her in a capacity to make Candace any anſwer. All ſhe could do was to bear her company in weeping, in which employment Eliſa alſo made one; when the Emperour, attended Mecenas, and other perſons who had been with him in his Cloſet, came out of his Chamber into the Hall. Candace no ſooner perceiv'd him, but diſengageing her ſelf from the Princeſſes, ſhe went towards him; and caſting her ſelf at his feet with the greateſt demonſtrations of an inſupportable grief, Caeſar, (ſaid ſhe to him) pity the ſadneſs of my condition, and with ſome compaſſion behold at your feet a Queen who is not ſo unfortunate as innocent. Your greatneſs and eſtabliſhment hath not received any oppoſition either from me or mine, nor have we by any action, or ſo much as thought, deſerved to be numbred among your enemies. You have entertained me into your Territories with much kindneſs, you have promiſed me your protection, and by an inſupportable turn of Fortune, I am to look on you as the dreadful Judge and diſpoſer of my life, and that of Caeſario. It is not onely an effect of my inclinations, nor yet by way of acknowledgement for the many ſervices he hath done, [Page] that I receive him for my Husband: it was my Father and my King that beſtowed him on me, and I thought my ſelf very happy in ſo precious a gift, and the hope of ſo near a relation to a Prince of the blood of Caeſar, and the illuſtrious name you bear. He never injured you, he hath beſtow'd his life, with all the glory his miraculous actions have acquired him, upon me, and it was upon my account that he came into your Territories, & into that City where he drew his firſt breath. What you might have conceived ſome jealouſie of while your Empire was not yet fully ſetled, can produce no ſuch effect now that you are indiſputably the Maſter of all; nay, though Caeſario ſhould not for my ſake diſclaim all right and pretenſions thereto, all things are now ſo well eſtabliſhed, that it is above the reach of humane power to creat you any diſturbance. This was the tenour of the fair Queens diſcourſe, uſing that condeſcenſion in order to Caeſario's ſafety, which ſhe would not have done for her own; and ſhe would have ſaid more, had not the Emperour, who had ſeveral times intreated her to riſe, at laſt forced her to do it, with a proteſtation that he would not hear her any longer in that poſture. So that when ſhe was raiſed, Madam, (ſaid he to her) your fears are haply much greater then your harms; you are not to think it ſtrange I ſhould ſecure a Prince, who, after what hath been tranſacted in ſight of all the world, lies concealed in Alexandria. Many Princes have conceived jealouſies upon more inconſiderable occaſions, and it is only my ſecurity that I ſo much endeavour, and not the ruine of a Prince from whom I never recived any injury: nay, I may ſay you are haply very much to blame your ſelf, to be guilty of ſuch ſtrangeneſs towards me in a buſineſs which I was ſo highly concerned in; and ſince it is likely there will be ſo near an alliance between us, it had been but juſt I ſhould have had ſome knowledge of it. There needs, my Lord, (replies the Queen,) no Apology be made for Caeſario's abode in Alexandria, when you are ſatisfied of the affection he hath for me, and informed of the ſtrange accident which caſt me on your territories; and if his crime be, that he hath continued here unknown, you know, my Lord, your ſelf, how far he is to be excuſed, and that it was not to be expected he ſhould appear publickly here, after the hazard he had been in through your Orders while yet but a child, and the aſſurance he had of your inclinations towards him. Nay, there is ſomewhat (replies the Emperor) which I have reaſon to take ill at your hands, as being not ignorant of your deſign to harbour and entertain in your Countrey ſuch as are my open Enemies, and to protect other perſons, contrary to my intereſt, and as it were purpoſely to diſoblige me.

The Queen was ſomewhat ſurprized at theſe words, as from which ſhe inferr'd that the diſcourſe ſhe had had with Caeſario in the Garden muſt needs have been over-heard, and that thence proceeded all their misfortune. That made her reflect on what her Women had ſaid to her of the noiſe they heard behind the Trees: but ſhe had not the time to beſtow much thought on it, and endeavouring to diſpel the aſtoniſhment which the Emperours diſcourſe had raiſed in her; It is poſſible (ſaid ſhe to him) I may have offered a Siſter entertainment and refuge with her own Brother, if her fortune ſhould reduce her to thoſe extrenities as that ſhe ſtood in need thereof, but thoſe who heard it, and have given you ſo punctual an account of it, might, with the ſame labour, have aſſured you, that they diſcovered not either in me or Caeſario by reſentments tending to your prejudice. Howere it may be, Madam, (replies Auguſtus) I would have you confident I ſhall expreſs towards you all the reſpects due to you either upon the account of your perſon or quality; and ſhall take it as a favour, if you ſupport, with more patience, an affliction which neceſſity forces me to be the occaſion of, and whereof the conſequences will not haply be ſo fatal as you imagine. With which words he commanded Mecenas to conduct the Queen to her Lodgings; and having ſaluted the other Princeſſes, went on without any further ſtay.

Candace was accordingly carried to her Chamber, where ſhe was in a moſt deplorable condition, as hoping not any thing of favour from the diſcourſes of the Emperour, and imagining them more dangerous then open threats. Cleopatra, whoſe opinion thereof was the ſame, and who was no leſs troubled thereat, could afford her no comfort; and Eliſa conceiving their grief proceeded from too juſt a ground, and being alſo burthened with her own misfortune, wept with them, without ſaying ought to either. It was not long ere they were viſited by all thoſe perſons whoſe generoſity was greater then to fear Caeſars diſpleaſure for viſiting ſuch as he was diſſatisfied with, ſo that of that illuſtrious company of Kings, Princes, and great Princeſſes, there was a conſiderable number whom that conſideration could not deter from acquitting themſelves of the civilities due to the merit and quality of thoſe great Princeſſes. Julius Antonius, Alexander and Ptolomey were among the firſt that came to them; and if the two younger bewailed the misfortune of a Brother, whom they had not many dayes been made acquainted with Antonius thought himſelf but too much concerned in the affliction of his Siſter and Brothers, not to make upon that occaſion diſcoveries of affection great as thoſe of Alexander and Ptolomey, Marcellus, though a perſon the moſt engaged in the intereſts of Auguſtus, was with [Page] them almoſt as ſoon as the three Brothers; and while he was comforting the two Princeſſes with the proteſtations which might be expected from a generous and daring Friendſhip, Candace looking very ſadly upon him, and ſpeaking to him by her countenance no leſs than by her diſcourſe, My Lord, (ſaid ſhe to him,) all the hope Cleopatra hath of the ſafety of her Servant, is in you; but ſhe withal implores your aſſiſtance for her Brother: and I, who am a wretched ſtranger here, am content to derive all from her recommendation. It is not unlikely you may know he is ſuch a Brother, as is not unworthy the blood that runs in his veins, nor the name he bears, and it is from you in fine that we expect all the happineſs we are capable of. Madam, (replies the Son of Octavia,) I wiſh my mediation may prove as effectual with Auguſtus upon this occaſion, as it hath ſometime been upon others of leſs conſequence, you might be confident of obtaining your deſires; but be what will the iſſue of it, no conſideration of either fortune, blood, or life, ſhall divert me from endeavouring the reſcue of theſe two Princes out of the danger you fear they may come to; and as I am oblig'd upon the account of honour & friendſhip, to relieve one of them, I am tyed to do all that I can for the other for your ſake, and out of the affection I have for the Princeſs Cleopatra, and her Brothers, whom I have ever looked on as my own, engaged to do all that lies in my power for the other.

Marcellus was upon this Diſcourſe, when the Princeſs Octavia, a perſon of generoſity great as that of her Sons, comes into the room with all the Princeſſes, and not long after her, the King of Armenia, with the Princeſſes his Siſters, Olympia and Philadelph. Preſently after came in the King of the Scythians, with King Archelaus; and whereas Druſus thought himſelf obliged to keep away, rather out of a Punctilio of honour, then any fear of diſpleaſing the Emperour, he entreated the gallant Creſſus to aſſure the Princeſs Cleopatra, that though Brother to Tiberius, and ſon to Livia, he allowed their ſentiments no further then he was engaged in honour, and that haply his deſires to ſerve her were not inferiour to theirs who had the opportunity to make a freer profeſſion thereof. Artaban came not among them, as having left Eliſa's Chamber immediatly after Auguſtus, and being gone into the moſt ſolitary walks of the Palace Garden, to paſs away the time in a ſolitude more ſuitable to the humour he was in, then would have been in a company wherein he could not eaſily have ſmothered his reſentments. Candace deſired of Octavia the ſame aſſiſtances which ſhe had done before of Marcellus, and ſhe found in that truly great and vertuous Princeſs ſentiments conſonant to the aſſurances which all the world had of her admirable vertue. All the illuſtrious perſons that were preſent profered the contribution of their endeavours, with a generoſity, which, upon ſuch an occaſion, it was only for ſuch noble minds to diſcover. Ariobarzanes and Philadelph betrayed a more then ordinary zeal and earneſtneſs to ſerve the Illuſtrious diſtreſſed perſons; and King Alcamenes, who bore the Princeſs Cleopatra a reſpect full of admiration, and who in all things expreſſed a devotion to vertue, proteſted he would make it no leſs his buſineſs, then if it were for the preſervation of his own life.

Theſe two accidents hapning in a manner on the ſame day had chang'd the face of Alexandria, and interrupted all the divertiſements that were intended there. The unfortunate Coriolanus was ſhut up in the Caſtle with a ſtrong and ſtrict guard upon him, though attended in all things as a Prince, having alſo Aemilius and Strato, who was returned, to wait upon him. Caeſario had the ſame accommodations, though in another part of it, and both were in a manner at the ſame point of deſpair, as to matter of life. Their two Illuſtrious Princeſſes were overwhelmed with grief, and raiſed in all that came near them a compaſſion for their ſufferings. Eliſa moved to pitty at the misfortune of her ſo dear friends, and as much as might be diſordered through the love of Agrippa, and Auguſtus's proſecution of it, thought her ſelf as much at a diſtance with happineſs as they. Agrippa, grown extravagant through the love he had for Eliſa, and in a manner loſt to all hope, entertained the aſſiſtances of Caeſar with ſome disſatisfaction, and put his friends into a fear what might be the iſſue of his ſickneſs. Tiberius and Tigranes wounded in their beds, and abhorred by the Princeſſes they adored, found torment enough in their rage and exaſperation. Druſus, having a violent love for Antonia, but neither the opportunity to ſee her as often as he deſired, nor to follow the inſpirations of his vertue and affection, thought himſelf ſufficiently miſerable. Alexander, orepreſſed with grief at the misfortunes of Coriolanus and Caeſario, was incapable of thoſe enjoyments, which, had it not been for that, he would have had in the ſight and preſence of Artemiſa. Marcellus for the ſame reaſons was equally unfortunate, and could not be at reſt while his friend was in danger, though Julia, who had a natural averſion for ſadneſs, endeavoured to divert him from it as much as lay in her power. Ariobarzones, Philadelp and Arminius had been indiſputably happy, as being as it were in the haven after ſo many tempeſts, and finding an inconceivable felicity in the demonſtrations which they without any obſtacles received of the affections of Olympia, Arſinoe and Iſmenia, had they not thought themſelves out of reſpects of Vertue obliged to a ſympathy [Page] for the miſ-fortune of ſo many Illuſtrious Perſons, for whom they had ſo much tenderneſs and eſteem. Lentulus, beſides his participation of the common ſtock of ſorrow, ſighed for his abſent Tullia, Craſſus for Terentia, though preſent, becauſe loved by a Rival who derived no ſmall advantages from ſoveraign authority; nay Caeſar himſelf, beſides what he felt for the love of Terentia, was diſtracted by ſeveral paſſions, and not a little troubled to find himſelf forced to do things that were contrary to the reputation, he was deſirous to raiſe himſelf to in the world, of a good and juſt Emperour. But there was not any of all that proud Court whoſe minde lay open to more cruel diſturbances then that of the gallant Artaban, as well by reaſon of the love of Agrippa, the powerfulneſs of Caeſar, and the over-reſerved diſpoſitition of Eliſa, as through the torment it naturally was to him to [...]nthe effects of an unjuſt authority. Nay, beſides what he ſuffered upon his own account he was extreamly troubled at what had happened to Coriolanus, and ſighed our a regret, that he was not in the head of thoſe armies whereby he had done ſo great things, that ſo he might by open hoſtility force him out of the hands of ſo powerful an Enemy; but when he heard of the misfortune of Caeſario, whoſe vertue he had experience of, and with whom, notwithſtanding the differences that had been between them, he had contracted a ſincere and ſolid friendſhip, the affliction he conceived thereat was hardly expreſſible, inſomuch that without any diſpute with himſelf, he reſolved to hazard all in order to his ſafety, and to ſerve Queen Candace, whom he ſtill looked on with abundance of reſpect. He accordingly aſſured that excellent Queen of it, with ſo much earneſtneſs, and ſuch diſcoveries of a real grief, that of all Auguſtus's Court, ſhe derived not that encouragement from, nor placed that confidence in any which ſhe did in him. He thereupon viſited all thoſe perſons who upon the account of blood or friendſhip were any way concerned in the welfare of the two Princes, ſuch as Marcellus, Julius, Antonius, Alexander, Ptolomey, and all that were allied to the Houſe of Anthony and Cleopatra; as alſo thoſe whoſe vertue inſpired them with ſentiments ſuitable to his, as the Kings of Scythia and Armenia, and the Prince of Cilicia; and diſcovering his intentions to them with a greatneſs of courage they could not but admire, he eagerly ſollicited them to leave nothing unattempted to preſerve two ſuch Illuſtrious lives, and in them to reſcue the ſacredneſs of Royal dignity, which was highly injured by the tyranny exerciſed upon two Princes, ſuch as the King of Mauritania and Prince Caeſario.

The end of the Firſt Book.

HYMENS PRAELUDIA; OR Loves Maſter-peice. Part. XII.
LIB. II.

[Page]

ARGUMENT.

Agrippa is in his ſickneſs viſited by Livia, who, by the inſtructions of the Emperour, bringing Eliſa with her, he makes a further diſcovery of his affection to her; but ſhe expreſſing her conſtancy, the Emperour threatneth to return her into the power of her Father, or that of Tigranes. While ſhe bemoans her ſelf to Alcamenes and Artaban, news comes to her that the Queen of Parthia her Mother, was at the Port of Alexandria; ſhe is brought in by Druſus and Mecenas. She relates the Hiſtory of the cruelties and exorbitances of Phraates, who exaſperating the People into an Inſurrection, is therein killed. Upon his death the States of Parthia meeting in order to the Election of a new King, fix upon Artaban, upon diſcovery of his being the Son of Artanez a Prince of the Blood of the Arſacides, who only are capable of that Crown. Artaban's relation how he came to that Name, and to be Son of Artanez, diſowning the Title and his pretenſions to Eliſa upon that account. Livia conſults with Tiberius about the death of Coriolanus, as the only means to gain Cleopatra; but Tiberius diſapproving it, the Emperour ſends Sempronious to Cleopatra, to propoſe to her a Marriage with Tiberius, conditionally to ſave the life of Coriolanus.

SOme dayes paſſed away in the diſturbance that had interrupted the divertiſements of Auguſtus's Court; during which, through the perpetual mediations of Marcellus, the Princeſs Octavia, Julia, Alcamenes, Ariobarzanes, and Philadelph, the Emperour paſſed not the cruel ſentence of death, as it was much feared he ſhould, againſt the Princes in reſtraint; yet could not the ſollicitations of all thoſe illuſtrious perſons prevail ſo far with him, as that he would grant them, or indeed put them in any hopes of their deliverance, things being ſo managed by him, as whence they imagin'd he only deferred, upon their intreaties, what he had abſolutely reſolved to put in execution, and that he ſtayed only for ſome diſcoveries, which as he had not yet received, ſo was it his expectation that Time would furniſh him with. Many were of opinion that he only ſtayed for the departure of the Scythian King, for whom he had thoſe reſpects which made him unwilling, during his abode in it, to ſtain his Court with the blood of two ſuch great Princes, for whom he conſtantly ſollicited him; it being alſo certain on the other ſide, that the generous Alcamenes, incenſed at the fruitleſsneſs of his interceſſion, and conceiving an averſion for the implacable humour of Auguſtus, would have left him with much reſentment, had he not imagined his preſence might contribute to the delivery of the Princes, and choſe rather to run the hazard of ſome further refuſals, though much againſt the nature of a Prince of his rank and courage, than to leave them in the danger they were in. What was moſt fear'd, was, that the Emperour, to avoid the exclamations of the people, eſpecially in a City where the blood of Cleopatra was ſtill in veneration, would give Order for the ſecret diſpatching of the two Princes in Priſon, either by the hand of the Executioner, or by Poyſon. But Prince Marcellus, whom theſe diſturbances afforded not the leaſt moment of reſt, being a perſon ſo generally beloved by all that were about Auguſtus, and conſidered as him who was one day to be their Maſter, had made ſure of all the perſons whom the Emperour might employ upon a ſecret execution, and had engaged Levinus, to whoſe care he had truſted the Caſtle and Priſoners, to promiſe him, that if any ſecret Order were iſſued out againſt them, it ſhould not be executed before he had notice of it.

[Page] For Auguſtus himſelf, his diſcourſes were much different concerning the two Princes; and whereas he openly declared, that Coriolanus ſhould inevitably die for it, as being one from whom he had received ſuch injuries as for which it concerned the Dignity of the Empire that he ſhould be made an Example; he ſaid only of Caeſario, that all the crime objected againſt him, being his coming unknown, and lurking in Alexandria, he could not juſtly be treated with the ſame rigour; that he would further examine ſome things concerning him, which he was not as yet ſatisfied of; and that in the interim he had only ſecured his perſon, and that rather to prevent any diſturbance might happen in the Empire, than out of any deſire of revenge. But though his diſcourſes in publick were to this effect, yet was there little credit given thereto; and thoſe who called to mind with what eagerneſs he had cauſed him to be purſu'd, in order to his diſpatch, upon his way to Aethiopia, could not eaſily be perſwaded he had any real intention to favour him, at a time, when, through his excellent qualities and the noble fame he had acquired under the name of Cleomedon, he might be looked on with greater jealouſie. The two Princeſſes, that were the moſt concerned of any in their welfare, omitted nothing which they thought might delay the fatal blow they ſtood ſo much in fear of; and being both, though with ſome inequality, perſons of a courage much above their Sex, and conceiving that no obſervance of reſervedneſs or modeſty ſhould, in reaſon, oblige them to conceal their ſentiments, conſidering the extremities whereto their affairs were reduced, they joyntly reſolved to periſh with the two Princes, if their endeavours to ſerve them ſhould prove ineffectual. The Emperour had ſome thoughts to ſecure Artaban, upon the intelligence there might be between him and Caeſario, whoſe abode in Alexandria he had been privy to, and with whom he had had ſecret conferences; but calling to mind that he ſufficiently diſobliged him by depriving him of his Miſtreſs and Fortune, he thought fit to forbear doing him any further miſchief, till ſuch time as there were a greater neceſſity for it; giving order nevertheleſs, that he ſhould be ſo ſtrictly obſerved, as that he might not attempt any thing to his prejudice, if he had any ſuch intention.

In the mean time Tiberius's wounds were in ſuch a poſture, as that there was no doubt made of his life; but his recovery was ſomewhat retarded by the affliction it was to him that he had not a viſit from Cleopatra: and Livia was ſo incenſed thereat, that having an abſolute power over Auguſtus, it was convinced there could not be a greater hindrance to the ſafety of Coriolanus than her diſpleaſure. Beſides, ſhe knew there was a report ſcattered up and down, and had come to the knowledge of ſeveral perſons, of her having a hand in thoſe Artifices whereby Tiberius and Voluſius had made diſcoveries of the pretended infidility of Coriolanus; and whereas ſhe had conceiv'd no ſmall regret thereat, ſhe would, no doubt, have been revenged on Voluſius, had he not died of his wounds two days after his coming to Alexandria.

As for Tigranes, having not been very dangerouſly hurt, he was in a manner recovered of his wounds; and the Emperour had not only pardoned him the offence he had comitted, upon the mediation of Tiberius and Livia; but alſo permitted him to renew his pretenſions to Eliſa, and to diſpute her with his Rivals: not that he really had any intention to countenance him therein, but to lay the more rubs in Artaban's way, whom he moſt feared and was disſatisfied with. The Median King, in whom the competition of Agrippa had not produced the ſame effect as in Artaban, and was very glad to ſee his enemy traverſed by ſuch a Rival, was grown confident in his hopes, when he underſtood, that the Emperour had threatned Eliſa, to remit the diſpoſal of her Fortune to the King her Father, not doubting but that Phraates, who had beſtowed her on him, would prefer him before Artaban, whom he mortally hated, as alſo before Agrippa, as being a Roman, and conſequently one upon whom he would, in all likelihood, have leaſt inclination to beſtow the Heir of his Kingdome. Yet wanted there not ſomething on the other ſide to gall and torment, as having heard, that King Archelaus, his ancient Friend, and a perſon to whom he was in ſome meaſure obliged for the recovery of his Crown, was reſolved to preſs the performance of a promiſe he had made to the Princeſs Urania her Siſter, when he was forced out of his own Dominions, and took refuge in thoſe of Archelaus, and this he looked on as a new traverſe of Fortune, which would occaſion him no ſmall trouble.

But while Tiberius was upon his recovery, and Tigranes in a manner perfectly well, the ſickneſs of Agrippa continued ſtill; and if it were not grown violent enough to occaſion much fear of his life, yet was it come to that height, as that the Phyſicians concluded it might continue a long time; and had accordingly told the Emperour, that as the indiſpoſition of Agrippa proceeded rather from the mind then the body, ſo there was little hope of the recovery of the body but by the ſatisfaction of the mind. Theſe diſcourſes, which they had ſeveral times entertained the Emperour with, though contrary to the intentions of Agrippa, [Page] made him at laſt reſolve to break through thoſe ſcruples which till then he had boggled at, and to wave all manner of conſiderations to reſtore to his health and enjoyments a perſon whom he loved as himſelf. To which end, he intreated Livia, when ſhe went to viſit him, as ſhe often did, to take Eliſa along with her; and the Princeſs, who thought not fit to be awanting ſo far to a compliance with the Empreſs, and had an averſion only for the Love, and not for the perſon of Agrippa, accordingly accompanyed Livia in that viſit. Agrippa had ſeen the Empreſs ſeveral times ſince his ſickneſs; but when he ſaw Eliſa with her, it put him into ſuch a diſturbance, that thoſe who were about him eaſily obſerved it by the changes of his countenance. She asked him with an exceſſive civility and kindneſs what poſture his health was in; and Agrippa made her anſwer with a weak voice, acknowledging with much reſpect and ſubmiſſion the honour ſhe did him; but not engaging her into any other diſcourſe, becauſe of the Empreſs and other perſons that were about his Bed, and leaving it to his eyes to make a more eloquent diſcovery of his paſſion, then could have been expected from his Tongue.

But not long after the Emperour comes into the Room, and after he had ſtayed ſome few minutes at the Bed-ſide, he took the Empreſs aſide to a Window, pretending ſome diſcourſe with her; whereupon all the other perſons who knew the Emperour's intentions, immediately withdrew, ſo that Eliſa was left alone at the Bed-ſide in the Chair, wherein ſhe had been firſt ſeated. She could not forbear bluſhing at the trick ſhe perceiv'd put upon her; and Agrippa, taking notice of it, was himſelf ſo much troubled thereat, that it remitted much of the ſatisfaction he would have conceiv'd at the opportunity of any diſcourſe with her. Yet was he loath to ſlip that which he then had, as willing ſo to make his advantage of it, as not to draw on himſelf any part of the reſentment he obſerved in her countenance; and looking on her with an action which betrayed his diffidence, and whereby he made her ſufficiently ſenſible of the fear he was in to diſpleaſe her, Madam, (ſaid he to her,) how great ſoever the happineſs may be which I now derive from the Emperour or Empreſs's compaſſion, I can with all ſincerity, and by all the reſpect I bear you, aſſure you, that I entertain it not with joy, becauſe it occaſions your trouble; and though we are naturally inclined to make the greateſt wiſhes we can of our own enjoyments, yet that which I receive by the violence you do your ſelf, cannot be dear to me ſince it comes with your diſpleaſure. Leave then this unfortunate wretch to the mercy of that paſſion which will lead him to his grave, and do your ſelf no violence in order to his welfare, ſince his welfare deſerves ſo little of your aſſiſtance, and his misfortune ſo little of your compaſſion. However you may abandon me to my own unhappineſs, I will never repine againſt you, nay, ſhall not, even at the laſt gaſp, charge you with a death, which I will embrace as the period of a much more cruel torment, and the moſt glorious end my Deſtiny could have aſpired to.

To this effect was Agrippa's diſcourſe, which fell from him with ſome difficulty, and was ever and anon interrupted by certain ſighs; and the Princeſs, ſenſible of his worth, and having a real eſteem for him, was ſtudying how to expreſs her ſelf ſo to him, as not to be thought guilty of any remiſſion of her own ſentiments, or diſcovering towards him a rigour, which, conſidering the condition he was in, ſhe could not exerciſe on him, though reſolved to make him ſenſible of her greateſt ſeverity. She continued ſilent a while with her eyes faſtened on the ground; and preſently after raiſing them up gently into his countenance, and by that look giving him new wounds. Imagine not (ſaid ſhe to him) it is with any repugnance I have waited on the Empreſs in this viſit, nor that I ſhall ever have any to do you the ſervices that ſhall lie in my power. I am ſatisfied as to your excellent qualities, and I have for your Vertue a conſideration great as your ſelf can wiſh it; but I cannot affect in you that Paſſion, whence proceeds not only your, but alſo my misfortunes. Endeavour, generous Agrippa, to ſubdue it by your Vertue; you will not find it ſo hard a task, if you have but the will to attempt it: it's a thing you ought to do out of prudence, ſince you know the condition of my life to be ſuch as permits me not to make thoſe acknowledgments thereof which it deſerves; and out of generoſity, ſince you know it can have no other effect than that of making me miſerable. But to make you miſerable? (replies Agrippa,) Ah Madam, it's a thing at the greateſt diſtance from my intentions of any, and there needed but that very perſwaſion to make me ſeek the period of it in that of my life. I perceive indeed that you ſuffer in the very compliance you have to ſee and hear me, but it hath been my opinion hitherto, that thoſe were the greateſt inconveniences my paſſion ever occaſioned you, and I ſhould think my ſelf very unhappy it cauſed you any that were more inſupportable. I have already told you, (ſayes the Princeſs to him) that I have not any averſion to ſee you; and it proceeds from the ſincere eſteem I have for you, that I am troubled at your misfortunes: Nor is that the ground of my complaint; but I thought I might well let you know, that Caeſar hath made me ſenſible of his Authority, by a treatment which the Princeſs of Parthia ſhould not have expected from him. The condition you are in forbids me to trouble you with the [Page] reproaches thereof; but when you ſhall have recovered your former health, I ſhall put you in mind of the promiſe you made me. I remember it very well, Madam (replies Agrippa,) and ſhall keep it to the laſt gaſp. Nay then, I ſee (added he, after a ſhort interval of ſilence) that the affection the Emperour hath for me forces him to diſcoveries of it beyond what I expected from him: He is my Soveraign Lord and Maſter; I cannot, to my wiſhes oppoſe him, but I proteſt to you in the preſence of all the Gods. I will not make any advantage of it; and that whatever he may have gain'd upon you, I will never accept it without your conſent. I had made you the ſame proteſtation before, and had promiſed it to Artaban, whom I croſs with much affliction to my ſelf, as being a perſon I reverence and admire, and for whoſe ſake, did it lie in my power, I would do my ſelf more violence then for all mankind beſides; but ſince all my endeavours prove too weak to obtain that victory over my heart, I wiſh, both for his ſake and for yours, the Gods ſo pleaſed, that the end of my life may ſettle the enjoyments of two illuſtrious perſons, and grant me to find in it that quiet which I ineffectually ſeek by other wayss.

The laſt words he ſpoke ſo loud that they were heard by the Emperour, and was at the ſame time ſo mov'd at the conſideration of his misfortune, and the little hope he had to gain any thing upon Eliſa, that his heart oppreſſed with grief immediately loſt ſome part of its ſtrength, inſomuch that the Princeſs perceived by the change of his countenance that he was going to fall into a ſwound. She made ſigas to thoſe that waited on him to approach; and the Emperour coming along with them to the bed ſide, and finding him very pale and weak, doubted not but that the rigour of Eliſa had produced that ſad effect, and was ſo incenſed thereat that he was going to diſcover the reſolution he had taken: But he forbore, becauſe of Agrippa, as knowing he would be extremely troubled at the violence of his procedure, making a ſign to the Empreſs to take her away, with a deſign to give her an account of his intentions as ſoon as ſhe were out of the Room. Accordingly, as ſoon as Agrippa had a little recovered himſelf, and that he ſeem'd to be in the ſame condition he had ſeen him in ſome time before, he left his Chamber, to find out Eliſa, and met her in the next gallery, where the Empreſs and ſhe were walking together. The Parthian Princeſs could not but tremble to ſee him coming towards her with a countenance that ſeem'd to her more terrible than ordinary; and the Emperour approaching her with leſs ceremony then he was wont to do, Madam, (ſaid he to her) ſince you ſo little reſpect my ſollicitations, and the ſafety of my Friend, which I have begg'd of you with ſo much ſubmiſſion, you muſt not take it amiſs, if, in the extremity you force me to, I recur to the juſtice I am to ſee executed in my Dominions, rather then to my Authority; and in fine propoſe it to your choice, either to marry Agrippa, or to be returned to your Father, to be diſpoſed of in Marriage as he ſhall think fit.

The Princeſs's colour chang'd at theſe words, and her grief and aſtoniſhment not ſuffering her to ſpeak, ſhe continued a while ſilent; but at laſt overcoming her natural madneſs, ſhe ſummoned all the ſupplies of her courage to her aſſiſtance; and remembring her ſelf to be a Princeſs of the blood of the Arſacides, and only Daughter to a King who acknowledged precedence to no man whatſoever, ſhe became of a ſudden more conſident than ordinary; and looking on the Emperour with more aſſurance then ſhe had ever expreſſed before, The Fortune (ſaid ſhe to him) that hath put me into your power hath not given you a right to force me to marry Agrippa or any other perſon of your Empire; and it was never yet known, that the Daughters and Crown of Parthia were at the diſpoſai of the Romans. But if, contrary to your promiſe, and the protection you have given me, you will return me into the power of a Father whoſe diſpleaſure I avoid, I had rather be expoſed to that neceſſity, then to the former you would impoſe upon me; and I ſhall think it more honourable and more ſupportable, to appeaſe, though with the loſs of my life, a Father, whoſe cruelty is known to all, then to be treated as a Slave among the Romans.

Theſe couragious words of Eliſa, which her juſt reſentments forced from her, contrary to her nature, made the Emperour bluſh; but being fixed in the reſolution he had taken, he was nothing mov'd thereat: and deſirous to let her know what ſhe was to truſt to, ſuitably to what he had begun, You cannot ſay (added he) that you are any way treated as a Slave, ſince you are at liberty either to take ſuch a Husband as I ſhould not think unworthy my own Daughter, or to receive one from the hands of the King your Father, to whoſe diſpoſal you ſay you will ſubmit your ſelf. So that you may ſee you are not here either treated with injuſtice, or forced by Authority: but the ſame reaſon which obliges me to forbear the latter towards you, becauſe you are Daughter to a King who hath no dependence on our Empire, obliges me to do him a civility which I conceive due to him, and ſuch as I ſhould expect from him upon the like occaſion. I give you two dayes to conſider what reſolution you will take; and that time expired, I ſhall ſend Phraates notice of your being here, as alſo to know, whether he deſires you ſhould be returned to him, or delivered into the hands of Tigranes, who he is deſirous ſhould be your Husband. You may do what you think fit, (replies the Princeſs,) for I am ſo fully ſatisfied as to what I am to do, that I deſire no longer time to reſolve.

[Page] With thoſe words giving way to ſorrow, and ſeeling a torrent of tears ready to force their paſſage to make an inundation in her countenance, ſhe took leave of the Empreſs, and retir'd to her Lodgings with Urione and Cephiſa, who had attended her. In her way thither ſhe met with Alcamenes and Artaban; and upon ſight of the latter, the tears ſhe would have ſuppreſſed broke forth in ſuch manner as that her face was all bath'd therewith. Thoſe two great men were much troubled at the ſpectacle, though with much inequality; and the paſſion of Britomarus not ſuffering him, in the diſturbance whereby he was ſurpriz'd, to expreſs himſelf, the Scythian King, whoſe thoughts were leſs engag'd, coming up to the Princeſs, tender'd her his hand, and with Artaban accompanyed her to her Chamber. Being ſatisfied that that King, a perſon of great and generous inclinations, had a particular affection for Artaban, and openly countenanced his Addreſſes for her, ſhe made no difficulty to disburthen her mind before him, and in his preſence to give Artaban an account of what had happened to her, and the cruel reſolution Auguſtus had taken. Alcamenes, who was already diſſatistied with the proceedings of Auguſtus againſt Coriolanus and Caeſario, and was vext at the ſmall regard he had had for his intreaties on their behalf, could not but diſapprove this diſcovery of his Tyranny, nor ſorbear inveighing againſt it in ſuch terms, as whence it might be inferr'd he was extremely troubled thereat: But for Artaban, he took it ſo hainouſly, that, being of an humour that could not brook injuries, eſpecally ſuch as proceeded from Tyranny, it had almoſt put him upon ſome violent reſolution. But he moderated his reſentments, not only out of the reſpect he had for Eliſa, but alſo what he thought due to a great Monarch, who ſo generouſly concerned himſelf in his affairs. So that after that conqueſt of himſelf, which both took particular notice of, turning to the Princeſs, he asked her what ſhe had reſolved to do; but it was with ſuch trembling and ſubmiſſiveneſs, and with ſo much diſtruſt in his countenance, that the Princeſs was extremely moved to compaſſion thereat; and accordingly deſirous to give him all the comfort and encouragement ſhe could, I am reſolved, (ſaid ſhe to him) and I ſpeak it before the King, ſince he allows us that freedome, and hath the goodneſs to concern himſelf in our misfortunes, I am reſolved to ſtand to the promiſe I have made you to be yours when I may do it without any breach of duty; and if I cannot be yours, never to be any mans. So that you may be confident, that all the power either of Caeſar or Phraates ſhall never force my conſent, either to marry Agrippa, or beſtow myſelf on Tigranes; but I am much at a loſs how to avoid the violences I may be ſubject to, not as to what concerns my will, which ſhall ever be free and unmoveable, but my perſon, which it is in the power of fortune to expoſe to tyranny, and which hath been once already forced by an unjuſt authority; and I ſhall be glad of your advice to direct me to thoſe courſes which it ſhall be moſt conſiſtent with my honour and quality to follow. There is no other courſe to be thought on, (ſayes Artaban to her) but that of leaving Alexandria; and I am in doubt, (replies immediately the Princeſs) whether there be a poſſibility of eſcape hence, it being unlikely that, conſidering the violence uſed againſt me, I ſhould be ſtill at liberty. Were I ſo happy, (added the undaunted Britomarus) as that my Princeſs would truſt her ſelf to the conduct of her faithful Artaban, I would reſcue her out of the hands of Caeſar, and all the powers in the world; but it is my misfortune that it is the conſent of my Soveraign I have to oppoſe, and not the tyranny of my enemies. It is not to be doubted (ſaies the Scythian King, ſpeaking to the Princeſs) but that you are now obſerved, and that your departure will be hindred if it be diſcovered; but you muſt faſten on ſuch a courſe as neceſſity ſhall adviſe you to, and I ſhall be ready to ſerve you to the utmoſt of my power. The ſmall ſatisfaction which I receive from Caeſar, in anſwer to the intreaties I make for the two Princes whom he detains Priſoners, after I had done him a civility, (which as I was not obliged to it, ſo was it beyond all ceremony and example) give me that liberty; and if I can help you to eſcape out of his power, I can offer you a ſafe abode in dominions that have not hitherto feared the forces of either Parthians or Romans: You may aſſure your ſelf of the reſpect and affection of Queen Metralippa, in expectation of the change or death of Phraates; and if after either, you find any difficulty to ſettle your ſelf in your Territories, all the forces of mine ſhall aſſiſt you to do it, as remembring the promiſe I have made to Artaban to ſerve him in the head of an hundred thouſand men.

The fair Princeſs of Parthia receiving as ſhe ought the generous proffers of the Scythian King made her acknowledgments thereof with the greateſt diſcoveries of gratitude imaginable; but the ſubmiſſions of Artaban being extraordinary ſuitable to his reſentments, Alcamenes could not without ſome violence receive, endeavouring to perſwade them that what he proſered deſerved not ſo great acknowledgments. Nor did Eliſa accept his kindneſſes, though ſhe did not abſolutely refuſe them; and between the neceſſity which forced her to eſcape out of the hands of Auguſtus, or fall into thoſe of Phraates, and the diſhonour ſhe feared might attend her following with Artaban a King ſuch as Alcamenes, one to whom ſhe had no relation either as to kindred or alliance, ſhe was in a ſtrange perplexity, and was [Page] lifting up her eyes to heaven, as it were to implore its aſſiſtances in her misfortunes, when the hears a ſudden noiſe in her outer-room, & ſoon after ſees Cephiſa coming into her chamber in ſome diſturbance, and with the countenance of a perſon that had ſomething of conſequence to impart. The Princeſs was going to ask her the reaſon of that precipitation; when Cephiſa preventing her, Madam, (ſaid ſhe to her) I bring you very great news. The Queen of Parthia, the Queen your Mother, is at the Port of Alexandria, and before her landlng, hath according to cuſtome, ſent to demand the permiſſion to do it. Ah Cephiſa, (ſaid ſhe to her) what is it you tell me? Nothing but truth, Madam, replies Cephiſa; and Timagenes, who with divers others of the moſt illuſtrious among the Parthians are come along with the Queen, is in the outer room deſiring admittance. Eliſa with much patience commanded he ſhould be brought in; and he expecting only that Summons, came immediately into the Chamber, and having made his obeyſances, kiſſed the bottome of the Princeſſes robe. She received him with much kindneſs and civility, as being a perſon very eminent among the Parthians; and after ſhe had rendred his perſon what ſhe thought due to the rank he was of, ſhe asked him news of the King her father, though not without trembling, but of the Queen her Mother, with more confidence. Timagenes told her, that the Queen her Mother would give her an account of all things, that ſhe was her ſelf coming not far off, and had not charged him to inform her of any thing before her arrival. Soon after the Princeſs underſtood by others that were come into her Chamber, that Lodgings were appointed for the Queens entertainment, and that the Emperour had commanded Druſus and Mecenas to give her a reception in the Ship, and to conduct her to the Palace. For though Auguſtus was a little ſurprized at her arrival, and troubled at the news was brought him of it, as feeling a certain remorſe at his late treatments of the Princeſs her daughter, yet had he given order ſhe ſhould be entertained ſuitably to her dignity; nay, he flattered himſelf with an opinion that all things conſidered, her preſence would rather promote, than prejudice his deſign. Eliſa would needs go and meet the Queen, and the Emperour having notice of it, commanded Domitius and Craſſus to furniſh her with a Chariot, and to wait on her. King Alcamenes, who much concerned himſelf in her fortunes, was loth to leave her; but ſhe not permitting him to go along with her, perſwaded him for ſeveral reaſons to forbear. Artaban would not expect the Queens coming to the Palace, but having obtained the Princeſſes leave, went along with Timagenes, being very impatient to ſee a Queen who had favoured him ſo highly; and he went with the greater confidence, for that Timagenes, and the Parthians that came with him, had ſaluted and looked on him not only as their famous General, for whom they had ſo much love and veneration, but treated him with a reſpect much greater than what they had formerly expreſſed towards him, and little different from what they rendred their lawful Prince. Artaban attributed it partly to the affection they had for him, and partly inferred from thoſe Ceremonies that he was much in the Queens favour.

Being got on horſeback he ſoon came to the Port, and brought thence into the Queens Ship, he was conducted to her Cabbin by Timagenes. The Queen no ſooner perceiving him coming, but ſhe goes towards him, and he caſt himſelf on his knees before her, and notwithſtanding her endeavours to hinder it, kiſſed her garment; She embraced him with an affection great as ſhe could have expreſſed to a Son, and with higher demonſtrations of reſpect than he had ever received from her before. Artaban gave her aſſurance of his zeal and fidelity with more vehemence than order and recollection; and that excellent Queen ſatisfied him of her affection by careſſes, and the moſt obliging words that could be. She was going to ask him news of Eliſa and himſelf, when ſhe perceives coming into the Ship Druſus and Mecenas, who by order from the Emperour were to receive her; and they had hardly acquitted themſelves of their charge, as perſons that underſtood it, if ſo the world had any, when the Princeſs Eliſa comes in attended by Domitius and Craſſus. The Queen runs to her which thoſe tranſports of affection which ſhe was not then able to overpower, (though deſirous to ſhew a reſpect to thoſe illuſtrious perſons who were come to receive her, and whoſe names Artaban had given her) and the Princeſs caſting her ſelf at her feet, waſhed her hands with her tears, joy and tenderneſs opening the paſſages of her fair eyes upon ſo joyful a meeting. Nor were thoſe of the Queen much behind in their return; and when ſhe had cauſed her to riſe, ſhe held her between her arms along time, not able as yet to ſpeak to her. At laſt, when ſhe had recovered the freedome of ſpeech, they expreſſed their firſt thoughts one to another, but with much confuſion, and for a good while the Queen was able to utter nothing but the name of Eliſa, and her dear Daughter. When theſe tranſports were a little remitted; ‘O ye great powers above, (ſaid the Queen, lifting up her eyes to Heaven) how infinitely am I obliged to your goodneſs, that after ſo many dangers and hardſhips, not eaſily ſupportable by our ſex, ye once more grant me a ſight of my Eliſa;’ alaſs! added [Page] ſhe, embracing her again, how dear is this ſight to me, and with what exceſs of joy do I now ſee what I had loſt with ſo much grief?

She continued for a while her diſcourſes of that nature, and received from the Princeſs the like diſcoveries of tranſportation and tenderneſs, and at laſt turning to the Spectators, whoſe quality ſhe knew, ſhe made her excuſes to them in the Roman language, which ſhe had a great command of, and entreated them to pardon, out of a reſpect to the affection of a mother, the faults it might have made her guilty of. She after this diſmiſſed Eliſa to the embraces of the women that were come along with her, and ſhe did the like to Urione and Cephiſa, who fell at her knees, and whom with much acknowledgment ſhe commended for their fidelity towards their Miſtreſs.

Theſe things thus paſſed while they were yet abroad, Druſus and Mecenas, whoſe particular charge it was took occaſion to remonſtrate to the Queen, that the convenience; of the City and Palace were to be preferred before thoſe of the Ship, and thereupon intreated her to go aſhore to be conveyed thither in the Chariots they had brought along with them to the Port. The Queen gave one hand to Druſus, and the other to Mecenas, and was by them conducted to land, and with the Princeſs was put into one of the Chariots; the reſt were for the Ladies of her attendance; and the men got on horſeback, and guarded them to the Palace. The Emperour came to receive the Queen at the Palace gate; and the Empreſs, the Princeſs Julia, and ſeveral others of their attendance, expected them them at the bottom of the ſtairs. This reception was performed with the ordinary Ceremonies though it had ſeldome, if ever, happened, that the Emperour of the Romans and the Queen of Parthia had been ſeen together, and after the Emperour had aſſured the Queen of her welcome into his Territories, and that ſhe found him inclined to do her the civility ſhe might expect from him, ſhe gave him thanks for the protection he had afforded her daughter, and aſſured him of her own acknowledgements and thoſe of the Parthian State.

This diſcourſe of the Queens, though not mentioning ought of the King her husband, and the mourning which all the perſons of her retinue were in, gave the Emperour occaſion to ſuſpect Phraates might be dead; but though it were an acccident ſufficiently of importance to be generally known, yet did not he conclude any thing certain upon that opinion; ſo that after the Queen had received the civilities of Livia, and returned her own, with expreſſions of reciprocal reſpect, the Emperour conducted the Queen to her Lodgings, and entreated her to reſt her ſelf for the remainder of that day, to recover the inconveniences ſhe might have endured upon the ſea; and told her, that when ſhe pleaſed afterwards ſhe might acquaint him with the occaſions of her coming though he were ſatisfied as to ſomewhat that might have induced her, as conceiving there could not be any thing ſo dear, or of that importance with her, as the ſight of the Princeſs her daughter. Whereupon the Queen was left the freedom of her own Lodgings, and all thoſe who would have viſited her, ſeeing the day far ſpent, deferred their viſits to the next. Eliſa, obliged to ſtay with the Queen, ſent her excuſes to Cleopatra and Candace, whoſe company ſhe quitted not, eſpecially in their affliction; whereto thoſe two fair and diſconſolate Princeſſes returned, that aſſoon as the Queen had recovered her wearineſs, they would come and acquit themſelves of the civilities they ought her, and that the affliction they were in ſhould not hinder them from congratulating the happineſs befallen her.

The Queen thus left to her ſelf, ſhe again embraced the Princeſs ſeveral times; and perceiving that Artaban would out of reſpect have retired with the reſt, ſhe entreated him to ſtay, telling him that he was haply no leſſe concerned in her coming thither then the Princeſs her daughter. Artaban obeyed, not onely out of ſubmiſſion, but with a joy at the words he thought ſo happily ominous; and when ſhe ſaw there were in her chamber only ſuch perſons as ſhe durſt well truſt, It is but juſt, ſaid ſhe, addreſſing her ſpeech to the Princeſs and Artaban, you ſhould have an account of the State of our affairs, with the occaſions of my undertaking this voyage: and though the revolutions that have happened in the Parthian Empire are of great importance, yet will not the diſcourſe thereof prove ſo long, but that I may give it you my ſelf; my wearinſs, and the inconveniencies I have endured, being not ſuch but that I may well go through with it; beſides that I ſhall gladly take the advantage of this little time we have free to our ſelves, to inform one another of our conditions, and according to the State of our aftake thoſe reſolutions that ſhall be moſt expedient.

With thoſe words having ſeated the Princeſs by her, ſhe commanded Artaban to ſit down, He would not a good while, but at laſt the Queen having laid her abſolute commands upon him, and the Princeſs having made a ſign to him, he was forced to obey. Whereupon the Queen addreſſing her ſelf to Eliſa, Daughter, (ſaid ſhe to her) you may by the habit you ſee me in, imagine the change of our condition, and the mourning [Page] you ſee all of our houſe are in, may ſatisfie you, as ſoon as my diſcourſe, that the King your father is departed this world, I doubt not, (continuing ſhe, perceiving Eliſa's eyes giving way to the tears that were iſſuing out) but nature will produce in you an effect, which there might be ſeveral reaſons no diſallow; and though Phraates hath been a cruel perſon to all of his own Houſe, and to your ſelf in particular, yet was he your Father, and it is hard the death of a Father, and that in an extraordinary manner effected, ſhould not raiſe ſorrow in a perſon of a good diſpoſition; but in fine, though he wer your Father, you ſhould for your own comfort receive it after another manner then if he had expreſſed himſelf in his actions, as he was by nature, eſpecially ſince it is looked on by all his Subjects, as an effect of divine juſtice, for reparation of ſo much bloodas he had cruelly ſpilt. Theſe things I ſpeak not to blaſt the memory of my Lord & Husband but in ſome meaſure, to alleviate an affliction which hath wrought its effect on me as it now doth on you, and which on me muſt needs have been more violent through the preſence of many objects which might render it more ſenſible and preſſing.

Having ſo ſaid, the Queen was forced for ſome time togive way to the tears of Eliſa, whom neither a reflection on the cruelties of Phraates, for which ſhe had had ſo much horrour, nor the joy which ſhe might conceive at her being delivered from the danger that threatned her, could hinder from paying that tribute for the loſs of a Father. Yet was her ſuffering but little in compariſon to what ſhe ſhould have felt, had it been for a father of a different nature from that of Phraates, nay, unleſs it were in a diſpoſition excellent as hers, that news had rather met with joy and conſolation. Artaban himſelf, who in all probability ſhould not have been diſſatisfied thereat, and who indeed was not extreamly troubled, receiv'd it with ſo much moderation, that even in the apprehenſion of the Queen, he ſeem'd to be griev'd, though he had not obſerved any diſcovery of ſadneſs among all the perſons of her retinue: at laſt, when the Princeſs had recovered her ſelf ſo as to give attention to the Queen, and that ſhe had her ſelf wiped the tears that ſtuck in her face, ſhe thus re-aſſumed the Diſcourſe.

The Hiſtory of PHRAATES.

IT is to our regret, Daughter, that we muſt acknowledge that King Phraates, my husband and your Father leaves a memory behind him that blaſts the glory of the Arſacides, and makes his death look'd on as a remarkable ſtroke of divine juſtice. He was no ſooner come to an age fit to command, but to ſecure himſelf in the government, he cut off all his Brothers, defiling the royal houſe with their innocent blood, and it was with much ado that Prince Tiridates made a ſhift to eſcape his fury by a flight that laſted as long as he lived. King Orodes his father, whom he had diveſted of all authority, ſupported, not without much grief, the death of ſo many of his children, whom he ſaw diſpatched by their Brother and being forced by a juſt reſentment to reproach him with his cruelty, this unnatural Son had no more reſpect to the Father then he had had to the Brothers, but cauſed the wretched old man to be ſtrangled; whoſe life had indeed been but too long, ſince the end of it was to be ſo horrid ſpectacles. 'Tis ſo much the more horrour, at leaſt to me, to reflect on theſe things; for that theſe actions have been committed by a perſon whoſe memory we ought to honor. For which reaſon it is that I ſlightly paſs them over, nor ſhall inſiſt much on any of the actions of his life, which have raiſed him to the reputation of the moſt cruel Prince upon earth.

You know, Daughter, the pains I have taken to remit the ſavageneſs of his inclinations, by all the power I could derive from the affection he had expreſſed towards me; as alſo how often, by oppoſing his intentions, when I ſaw him bent upon ſome unjuſt and cruel reſolution, I have been in danger to run the ſame fortunes with his Brother. I have often run that hazard, during the courſe of his Reign, though out of the reſpect I bore him, I kept it from the world, as much as lay in my power; but more particularly for my endeavours to divert him from the reſolution he had taken to have you married to Tigranes. You know all I did to hinder it, and cannot charge me, Daughter, that, either out of fear, or any other conſideration, I neglected to make the greateſt advantages I could of the ſmall credit I had with him. I ſpoke, I intreated, I wept, I was no leſs troubled at it then your ſelf; and you may well remember, there was little difference between the diſcoveries of your grief thereat and thoſe of mine: Yet could not all divert him from his cruel deſign; and I was in the ſame extremities not long after, when I would have hindred him from ſending Artaban loaden with Chains to the King of Media, his profeſſed enemy. I ſufficiently repreſented to him what thoughts all the world would have of his ingratitude towards a perſon [Page] who had preſerved his Crown, and made him Maſter of that of his enemy. I then endeavoured to make him ſenſible of all the particular obligations we had received from that gallant perſon; and from that firſt action of his, whereby he engaged us to him, to the laſt he had done for us, I omitted not any, whence he might derive ſentiments contrary to the cruelty he exerciſed upon him: But all my diſcourſes, inſtead of pacifying, exaſperated him the more; and after he had caſt it in my teeth, that I favoured the unworthy inclinations of his daughter, he threatned me ſo highly, that I had reaſon to ſtand in fear of a thing, which, upon the leaſt eruptions of his diſpleaſure, was ſo familiar with him as death. You may call to mind in what a ſad condition you left me at that ſtrange departure; and how unfortunate ſoever you might think your ſelf, yet you concluded my condition to be no happier than your own.

Some days paſſed away, wherein Phraates, as it were, cloy'd with the revenge he thought he had taken of Artaban, ſeemed to be pacified, inſomuch that he permitted me to ſpend them in ſolitude, to bewail, with more freedome, the departure of a Daughter whom I loved ſo dearly, and ſaw ſo unfortunate. Thoſe he admitted to his counſel, had ſeveral times repreſented to him, that having but one only Daughter, and in all probability to be Heir to the Crown, he ſhould either marry her to ſome Prince of the Royal Blood of Parthia, and not to Tigranes, who was a ſtranger thereto, a Prince leſs powerful than himſelf, and partly dependent on the Roman Empire; or if he were reſolved to beſtow his Daughter on him, he ſhould ſtill detain her with him, as Heir to a Monarchy incomparably greater than that of her Husband. But though he ſaw much reaſon in this diſcourſe, yet did he ſlight it; and told his Councellors, that he would firſt puniſh Eliſa for her unworthy carriage in loving a perſon inferiour to her, and conceiving inclinations contrary to thoſe of her Father; that he would ſend her away, as not being able to endure her ſight without averſion; and that he looked not on her as his Heir, hoping yet to have others, his age being ſuch as that he might a long time entertain that hope: Nay, he ſaid further to ſome of his confidents, from whom I have had it ſince his death. That if he had any deſign to leave the Crown to Eliſa, he would have taken care it ſhould not come to Tigranes; that he was not ſo weak in matters of pocy, as to make ſuch a choice; and that if he deſpaired of other Heirs of my body, his intentention was to put me away, or by ſome other courſe diſpatch me, and marry a young Wife that ſhould bring him Sons fit to ſucceed him. This was really his deſign; ſo that Tigranes had vainly hoped, with the enjoyment of Eliſa, the poſſeſſion of the Parthian Crown. His thoughts ran upon it, and he had haply pitch'd upon her in his mind who was to ſucceed in my place; when we find the Medes, to whom he had delivered you to be conveyed to Tigranes, return'd again, or at leaſt a ſmall party of them, many of them having been killed in the engagement with the Pirates, and ſome gone to acquaint their Prince with their misfortune. Thoſe who came to Phraates gave him an account of all that paſſed upon the Sea, the diſcourſe you had had with Artaban, being in ſeveral ſhips; the engagement with the Pirates; and laſtly, the reſolution you had taken to ſeek a retreat out of the Territories of the King of Media, and the diſcovery you had made thereof, ſo much to the prejudice of their Maſter. You may imagine, that in this diſcourſe they omitted no circumſtance that might exaſperate Phraates againſt you; and that it was not hard for them to do, as finding him already inclin'd to the moſt violent extremities of indignation. He receiv'd ſuch impreſſions as they were deſirous he ſhould, and that with ſo much violence, that he was immediately ready to put in execution what their revenge and his own fury ſhould inſpire him with, that were moſt terrible. He made thouſands of imprecations againſt that Daughter, who he ſaid had diſhonoured the blood of Arſaces; and proteſted with horrible Oaths, that he would arm all things to puniſh that unfortunate wretch, with the unworthy perſon that had carried her away, if they were to be found in any place upon earth. Being thus exaſperated, he comes to me, in a poſture I could not but be frighted at, made me a thouſand reproaches of my fondneſs towards a Daughter that diſhonoured his Houſe; and proteſted, that if he knew I had any hand in that wicked intention, which ſhe had manifeſted with ſo much inſolence, he would make me know, that neither my Sex, nor the quality of Wife, ſhould exempt me from feeling the effects of his juſt reſentment. I muſt confeſs it was with no ſmall ſatisfaction that I heard of my Daughters liberty and Artaban's welfare; for whom I had ever had an affection full of acknowledgment and tenderneſs; but the joy I conceived thereat wanted not an ingredient of diſquiet, hearing my Daughter was upon the uncertain waves, not knowing where to take ſhelter to avoid the diſpleaſure of the King her Father. I implored the aſſiſtances of Heaven to be your guide upon that occaſion, and remitted all things to the goodneſs and conduct of the ſuperiour Powers, hoping they would not be wanting to you in the great neceſſity you ſtood in of their relief.

In the mean time the King began to execute his revenge upon a great number of innocent [Page] perſons; and having gotten the names of all thoſe Parthians to whoſe charge he had committed you, and who, after the engagement with the Pirates, had turned to your ſide, and reſolved to ſerve and run Fortunes with you, inſtead of carrying you to the King of Media, he would needs revenge the injury they had done him upon all their Friends and Kinred; and to that end moſt inhumanely cauſed all their throats to be cut who had any relation either as to bloud or alliance to thoſe perſons. Never was there ſuch an example of cruelty and barbariſm heard of; every day were brought to execution conſiderable numbers of innocents, who to no purpoſe implored the aſſiſtances of Heaven, and who, dying, demanded its vengeance for the death they were put to with ſo much injuſtice. Many unfortunate people who were neither of kinred nor alliance to thoſe whom he was ſo deſirous to puniſh, were involved in the ſame calamity: And if any had a deſign to be rid of an enemy, all he had to do, was, to acquaint the King, or the inſtruments of his cruelty, that he had ſome relation to the guilty; and immediately, without any proof of the information required, he was dragged to execution. Nor was the diſpleaſure of Phraates ſatisfied with that, but, after he had rooted out the families of thoſe wretches, he would needs deſtroy all that had been friends to Artaban; and whereas his vertue and great ſervice had raiſed him a conſiderable number, there were few excellently qualified perſons, and few vertuous men, who ſaw not themſelves expoſed to their ruine. Several of the Officers, who had been moſt eminent for their ſervices in the Wars, and by that means had gained a higher place in the Friendſhip of Artaban, loſt their lives by this misfortune; ſo that onely the leſs remarkable for their valour, and the moſt obſcure, thought themſelves the moſt ſafer About the time that the King had put to death his Brothers, ſeveral Princes of the bloud of the Arſacides had loſt their lives with them; nay, he had not ſpared any one of thoſe who upon account of bloud or other conſiderations any way ſtood in his light. Among thoſe, Artanez a Prince of the bloud of Arſacides, and of the neareſt to the Crown, a perſon of an excellent diſpoſition, full of vertue, and one that had been particularly loved by King Orodes and Prince Pacorus his eldeſt Son, fearing the ſame Deſtiny with the reſt, and having underſtood that Phraates had ſome ill deſign upon him, had made an eſcape, and taken refuge with the King of Media, Father to Tigranes; but at laſt, after his life had been ſeveral times attempted by perſons ſent and employed by the King to that purpoſe; he had, by the mediation of ſeveral Princes, obtained leave to live upon certain poſſeſſions he had purchaſed upon the Frontiers of Armenia, under the juriſdiction of the Medes, conditionally that he led a private life, and held no correſpondence with the Princes his Neighbours, and quitted all thoughts of returning into Parthia till the King ſent for him. He had accordingly paſſed away ſeveral years in that ſolitude, exactly obſerving what he had promiſed, and not giving Phraates the leaſt occaſion to be diſſatisfied with him, or to attempt any thing againſt him: but reſolved to diſpatch out of the way all that had been Friends to Artaban, he underſtood by ſome of his flatterers, that there was a very intimate Friendſhip between that Prince and Artaban, that he had held correſpondence with him during his abode among the Parthians, and that when the ſeat of War was removed into Media, he had been very carefull to preſerve his eſtate free from the diſorders and quartering of Souldiers, and had ſecret interviews with that Prince.

This diſcourſe, whether it really raiſed any jealouſie in Phraates, and put him into a fear that Artanez might attempt ſomething againſt him, or onely preſented him with an opportunity to be revenged on Artaban by the ruine of his Friend, immediately reſolved the deſtruction of Artanez; a thing he thought might be, effected with more eaſe then before, by reaſon of the intelligence which he had with the King of Media, who had given him refuge, and who would make no difficulty to aſſiſt him in the ruine of a Friend of Artaban's who was their common Enemy. But his deſire was to have him alive into his power, either to put him to ſome ſhamefull death, or out of ſome other conſiderations that might oblige him thereto. To that end he ſent away one of the truſtieſt inſtruments of his cruelty in the head of a party whom he was confident of, with a recommendation to the King of Media, for the delivery of Artanez, if need were.

While the Queen continued her diſcourſe, Artaban was in no ſmall torment through the reſpect which hindred him from interrupting her; inſomuch, that at laſt, not able to Maſter the diſturbance he was in, Ah, Madam, (ſaid he to her) will you not pardon the affection which obliges me to interrupt you, to ask you whether it can be poſſible I ſhould be ſo unhappy as to occaſion the ruine of Prince Artanez. I am not a little glad at that diſturbance, (ſays the Queen to him) as much confirming what we have been inform'd, and what I am to acquaint you with, though you know it better then my ſelf, & had no great reaſon to conceal it from us. You are then to know, Daughter, and you alſo, Artaban, that the King, expecting Artanez to be brought in, continued the maſſacres of all thoſe whom he diſcover'd to have held any [Page] correſpondence with Artaban; inſomuch that he was grown ſo exorbitant in his cruelty, that the Parthians began to to murmur, to threaten, and at laſt to riſe; and particularly ſeveral Officers of the Army who had loſt their Friends by thoſe bloudy executions, and who daily themſelves expected the ſame fate. At laſt, through the indignation of Heaven, the buſineſs came to that height, that one day, the greateſt part of the Inhabitants of the City Praaſpa, where we then were, together with the Souldiery, ſeeing one of their companions carried to execution, furiouſly took up Arms, killed thoſe that conducted the Priſoner, and march'd violently towards the Palace. The King having notice brought him of this Inſurrection, ſlighted it; but being a man ſoon fired into diſpleaſure, he immediately went out of the Palace, attended by his ordinary Gaurds, and march'd towards the place where the Inſurrection was, with a deſign to put all the Traytors to the Sword. But the Gods had otherwiſe ordered things to come to paſs, and thought fit, that having met and charg'd them in a ſpacious place, he was mortally wounded with two Arrows, whereof one had taken him in the throat, the other in the heart, ſo that he fell down dead among his own; who diſcouraged at his fall, fought but little after. The people, who were encouraged by this, and who after the death of their King were not deliberate what they were to do, run upon the inſtruments of Phraates's cruelty, and of thoſe that came within their reach, few eſcaped their fury. They had haply been heightned to ſome more cruel reſolutions (it being no eaſie matter to quiet a Populace, by juſt grounds forced into Arms,) if ſome eminent perſons, ſuch as for whom they had no averſion, had not interpoſed themſelves, and repreſented to them, that they had no more enemies to engage againſt, nor further ſubject to exerciſe their fury on; that all then left in Praaſpa were their Friends; and that by death of the King, and thoſe inflexible creatures of his who had ſerved him in his barbarous intentions, they were ſufficiently revenged for the loſs of their Friends and and Kindred, that of the Bloud-Royal there was not any perſon left, on whom they might with reaſon exerciſe their revenge; that their Princeſs was abſent, and worthy their ſervices and reſpects, rather then of their reſentments; and that for the Queen her Mother, and Widow to the King they had killed, they knew what a diſconſonancy there was between her nature and her Husband's; how dearly ſhe had ever loved them, and to what dangers ſhe had many times expoſed her ſelf to appeaſe the King on their behalf. The People and Souldiery, contrary to their ordinary carriage, hearkened to this diſcourſe, and were beginning to ſubmit themſelves thereto; when Prince Artanez, conducted by thoſe who were employed to take him, and had fortunately executed their Commiſſion, was brought to Phraaſpa. His conductors finding the face of things altered, caſt themſelves at his feet, begging their lives, which they eaſily obtained of him; but with much ado of the People, who would needs puniſh them for the readineſs of their inclinations to execute the cruel Orders of their Prince.

Artanez being reſpected by them as one of the Blood-Royal of their Kings, loved by them for his vertue, and that ſo much the more by reaſon of his being hated by the King, and ready to be delivered up to execution, as their Friends and Kinred, whom they had revenged, had; they ſurrounded him with acclamations, calling him Arſacian Prince, worthy the Bloud of Arſaces, and declar'd their readineſs to obey him. Artanez finding them ſo good an humor, entreated them to lay down their Arms, promiſing them, upon that condition, impunity for what had paſt; and with the aſſiſtance of Timagenes, and other conſiderable perſons, who before his coming had endeavoured to pacific things, he managed all ſo ſucceſsfully, that before night all the people were gotten into their houſes, and the City was as quiet as if nothing had happened. Artanez, who had looked on that day as the laſt of his life, and by a revolution which he could not attribute to any thing but divine Juſtice, ſaw himſelf followed by all the Parthians with applauſe, uſed his good fortune with much moderation and generoſity; and, having cauſed the Kings body with much reſpect to be taken up, and given order for the burial of the reſt, comes to the Palace; where, notwithſtanding the averſion I had for the Kings death, I was ore-whelmed with the grief which ſo unexpected an accident muſt needs have raiſed in me, and where I ſtood in expectation of death through the fright I was in to ſee an armed Populace which had not ſpared the life of their King. I trouble you not with a diſcourſe of what I felt during that time, becauſe it would not onely prove tedious, but not any way requiſite in order to the diſcovery of thoſe things which I am yet to acquaint you with.

Having received a punctual acount of what was done by the care of Zoilus, Timagenes, and divers other faithful perſons who had provided for my ſafety, and endeavoured to comfort me, I knew that Artanez was innocent as to the Kings death; and afterwards underſtood what pains he had taken to appeaſe the exaſperated multitude, and the reſpect he had expreſſed towards the Kings memory, though he might well have a juſt reſentment againſt him; ſo that ſeeing him coming in the poſture, not of a Prince of the blood of [Page] Phraates, but of the humbleſt of his Subjects, I embraced him with much affection, acknowledged his generoſity, and recommended to him the memory of the King my Lord, and the concernments of my daughter. Artanez aſſured me, that all the miſchief was over; that it was to be looked on as a ſtroke from heaven; and that there was nothing to be feared, provided the promiſe, which he with Timagenes and divers others had made, were obſerved, which was, that what was paſt ſhould be pardoned, and that the people ſhould not be called to account for a misfortune which the King run himſelf upon, firſt by his cruelty, and afterwards by his imprudence in hazarding himſelf as he had done, and aſſaulting with ſo much animoſity and ſo little foreſight, an armed and an exaſperated multitude. That for his own part, he aſſured me of his fidelity to the laſt gaſp; and proteſted he was not glad at the Kings death, though he had pronounced the ſentence of his, againſt him; and that that day might haply have been the laſt of his life, if the Gods had not by ſo unexpected a reſolution prevented it: That the people were ready to honour and acknowledge me for their gracious Queen; that the moſt eminent perſons were the more confirmed in that ſentiment; and that all deſired the Princes might be ſought out and ſetled in the throne of her Anceſtors, with a husband fit to govern them. Such favourable diſpoſitions in the hearts of our Subjects, delivered me from all my fears, and ſomewhat alleviated my misfortune; and in fine, Artanez did ſo well, with the aſſiſtance of other well-affected perſons, that the next day all things were wholly appeaſed, and the next to that the Kings body was diſpoſed among the Monuments of the Arſacides, with little pomp, but with the ſame Ceremonies, and as if he had dyed a natural death.

Two dayes after, Artanez on whom I dis-burthened my ſelf of ſome part of the government, tels me, that the moſt eminent among the Parthians, and with them the people, though ready enough to obey me, deſired a general Aſſembly, wherein it might be conſidered what were to be done for the recovery of the Princeſs, and the joyning of her to a husband that ſhould ſucceed Phraates, and govern them with more moderation then he had done. I thought their deſires very juſt, and ſuitable to my own intentions, ſince that they thereby diſcovered that they looked not on Venonez, Phraates's natural ſon, who was brought up at Rome, with ſome pretence to the Crown: ſo that a day being appointed, all the principal Nobility among the Parthians met, with ſeveral repreſentatives of the people, having all freedome of debate about what the whole Nation was concerned in. The firſt thing reſolved on, was, to oppoſe the pretenſions of Venonez, if ſo be he had any; and to maintain againſt the Baſtard the right of the lawful Princeſs to the laſt man. This paſſed, it was taken into conſideration how the Princeſs ſhould be found out, and that to that purpoſe ſuch perſons ſhould be imployed as the State were aſſured of, and afterward it was propoſed that ſhe might make choice of a husband worthy her, and the rank ſhe is to be of: But it was generally declared by all that it ſhould not be Tigranes; that he was a ſtranger, an Allie, if not, a dependent on the Romanes; and which is more, that he was their enemy, and not affected by the Princeſs, who was not to be denied the liberty of her own choice. There were thoſe among the Souldiery, who gave their Votes that Artaban ſhould be their King; that he was a perſon not hated by their Princeſs, that the Crown was due to his valour; and that under ſuch a Prince as Artaban was, they ſhould fear neither the Medes nor the Romanes, nor all the forces nor powers of the World. This Diſcourſe was no ſooner ſtarted, but the Aſſembly rung again with the name of Artaban, ſo that the major voice was, that Artaban ſhould be choſen King. But all the moſt eminent perſons among the Parthians being preſent, and among thoſe, many that were allyed to the Houſe of the Arſacides, who were flatter'd with a hope of being preferred before perſons of a lower rank then themſelves, there was a conſiderable number of them that oppoſed the Propoſition made in favour of Artaban; and repreſented to the multitude that deſired him, That Artaban was indeed worthy the Government deſign'd him; that upon the account of his Valour he might aſpire to any thing, and that his worth was ſuch as that nothing was too great for him: but that they would not have an unknown perſon placed in the Throne of Arſaces, which had never been poſſeſſed but by Princes of the moſt illuſtrious bloud in the World; and that thoſe very perſons who ſo much deſired him, would in a ſhort time think it a regret to obey a Man, whoſe Birth, was nothing above their own.

Several perſons had heard this diſcourſe, and it began to get credit among the multitude; when Artanez, who ſhould have been the moſt likely to countenance it, as being, by reaſon of his Rank, and the Bloud-Royal whereof he was, the moſt concerned in it, having with much patience heard the opinions of all the reſt, aſſumes the diſcourſe; and looking on the Nobles and People with ſuch an action as whence they imagined he had ſome great matter to acquaint them withal. I approve (ſaid he to them) the fidelity of the [Page] Parthians, and the zeal they expreſs for the welfare of the State, and the intereſt of their Queen: and I am to acknowledge it the goodneſs of the Gods that I am this day in a capacity to ſatisfie both, according to their juſt intentions. Theſe gallant Souldiers and brave Men, who, by their Swords, have maintained this Monarchy, have reaſon to deſire for their Prince the ſame Artaban, under whoſe conduct they have gain'd ſo many famous Victories; and thoſe whom Blood hath raiſed to the higheſt Dignities of this Kingdome, deſire with juſtice a Prince for their Soveraign: But to ſatisfie all, I am now to declare, that Artaban is not onely a Prince born, but a Prince of the ſame Blood with their Kings; that he is deſcended from the great Arſaces as well as Phraates; and that this truth will be undeniable when it ſhall be acknowledged that he is my Son. It is certain, O ye Parthians (continued he) Artaban is my Son, and there are many perſons among you who may call to mind that they have ſeen a Son of mine, of that very name of Artaban, (which was alſo that of my Father,) and of the ſame age; who about his tenth year accompanied me in my eſcape, and whom ſince, to elude the cruel deſigns of the King, who attempted his life as well as mine, I ſent to be brought up in ſtrange Nations. He came back to me about the beginning of the War between the Parthians and the Medes; and out of the reſentment I had againſt the King, who deſiſted not his perſecutions of me; even in my ſolitude, I ſent him to the ſervice of the King of Media, where, by his Valour, he ſoon came to the higheſt Commands in the Army. Yet thought I not fit, even then, to diſcover this truth; but have ſtill conceal'd it, though I have had ſecret conferences with Artaban as with a Friend, and not as with a Son. Nay, I had cauſed it to be given out, that my Son was lost in his Travels, and the report of it was ſo much diſperſed as to take away all ſuspicion of his being alive. At laſt, by what misfortune I know not, the King came to the knowledge of this hidden truth, and it was out of the diſcovery he made thereof that he cauſed me to be taken at the place of my ſolitary abode, with deſign either to be revenged on the Son by the death of the Father, or to get the Son into his power by the danger which the Father would be expoſed to. And this, O ye Parthians, is a truth I ſhall by pregnant teſtimonies make appear to you, and which you may believe even upon my bare report, ſince there is ſo little likelihood that, if Artaban were not of my blood, I ſhould not onely diveſt my ſelf of all for his ſake, but alſo procure him ſo great a Fortune to the prejudice of thoſe of my Houſe; a Fortune, I ſay, where I not ſo far advanced in age, I might aſpire my ſelf, with much more reaſon then any of thoſe who make any pretenſions to it.

Having ſo ſaid, Artanez turns to me, ask'd my pardon for himſelf and Artaban, that he had conceal'd from me a truth, which could not come to the knowledge of Phraates, without putting their lives into too much danger; made ſeveral perſons of the Aſſembly to acknowledge, that they had ſeen a Son of his, named Artaban, and who might be much about his age; and at laſt, as well by his diſcourſe as his deportment both towards me and the people, ſatisfied all, that Artaban was really his own Son. You are much amaz'd, (continu'd the Queen, looking on Artaban, in whoſe countenance ſhe had obſerved no ſmall aſtoniſhment;) but you have no reaſon to be ſo, unleſs it be for the occaſion you have given us to quarrel at your diſſidence of us; and methinks I ſhould rather have obſerved in it ſome joy at leaſt as much as there ſeems to be in my Daughter's, at ſo unexpected a diſcovery.

Eliſa bluſh'd at the Queen's diſcourſe, as ſenſible of her not being able to ſmother the ſatisfaction which it had raiſed in her, and which ſhe had given as much way to as it could be expected ſhe ſhould have done upon the hearing of ſuch happy tidings: but Artaban expreſſed not any at all, and patiently waited the cloſure of the Queen's diſcourſe. The Queen attributed that indifference to his modeſty; and preſently after re-aſſuming her diſcourſe, What have I more to ſay? (continued ſhe,) of a ſudden the whole Aſſembly was ſatisfied that Artaban was really the Son of Artanez, and conſequently of the Blood Royal of Parthia: it was the more eaſily believed, by how much it was the more earneſtly deſir'd and that Artaban was in all things ſuitable to that extraction. Then was it that the acclamations of the Aſſembly were reiterated, and that it was generally deſir'd that Artaban ſhould marry the Princeſs, and be their King. Thoſe who had oppoſed it before, deſiſted, and joyned with the reſt, and declared they deſired no other King then Artaban. You haply expect, Artaban, that I ſhould tell you, I entertain'd that diſcovery of your birth with all the ſatisfaction I was capable of; nay, I may add, I never was ſurprized with ſo much at any news in my life; and you may conſequently imagine, that I was ſo far from oppoſing the deſires of the Parthians, that I confirm'd them therein by all I could ſay to your advantage. In fine, it was abſolutely concluded in the Aſſembly, That Artaban, a Prince deſcended from Arſaces, ſhould be Husband to the Princeſs, and King of Parthia; and all the Parthians generally declared, they would have no other King then Artaban, and that under ſuch a Prince they doubted not to become Maſters of the Univerſe.

That done, it was debated what perſons ſhould be employed to find out the Princeſs, as conceiving they they ſhould not onely be of the higheſt quality, but ſuch as lay not under [Page] any ſuſpicion that they would attempt any thing that were unhandſome. Divers were nominated; but at laſt, overcome by maternal affection, and being not overconfident of thoſe that were named, I reſolv'd to find out my Daughter my ſelf, imagining, that if ſhe took reſuge with my Brother the King of Libia, he would not eaſily truſt her to any other hands then mine. In fine, I propoſed it to the Aſſembly, who approv'd my affection; though divers repreſented to me, that I ſhould not ingage my ſelf in a long troubleſome, and, it may be, dangerous voyage; nay, it was the general opinion of ſome, that I ſhould not take ſhipping, till I had certain notice where my Daughter was; and that to that end, a Meſſenger ſhould be ſent to the King of Lybia, to know whether ſhe were there, and that nothing ſhould be done till his return. But my affection could not brook thoſe delayes; and being in a manner ſatisfied, Daughter, that you were retir'd to Lybia, as not knowing what other refuge the world might afford you, and hurried on by deſire of a woman, whom oppoſition ordinarily makes more violent, I ſlighted all hardſhip and danger to come and find you, and with you the Husband deſign'd you. I ſhall not trouble you with the particulars of my departure, which was with much precipitation, ſuitably to the impatience I was in. According to the reſolve of the Aſſembly, I put the Government of the Kingdome into the hands of Artanez, out of a confidence I could not diſpoſe of it better then to a Prince of known vertue, and Father to Artaban; and taking along with me Timagenes, Soſias, and divers others of the moſt eminent among the Parthians, and the Women you have ſeen about me, I took ſhipping, intending for Libia: But having been at Sea ſome dayes, we met with an accident which ſav'd us the trouble of a long voyage. 'Twas a ſhip, wherein was the body of the unfortunate Tiridates your Uncle, under the care of Arſanes, his faithful Governor; who fearing not, as to that poor Prince, what he had all his life avoided, was carrying home the remainders of him to be diſpoſed among the monuments of his Anceſtors. I underſtood the deplorable adventure of that Prince with much aſtoniſhment and grief; and having beſtow'd on him the tears I ow'd his misfortune, our alliance, and the general reputation of his vertue, I was told by Arſanes that you were in Alexandria, and that it was thought you ſtay'd there in expectation of a change of your Fathers diſpoſition. He told me alſo, that there was a report at his departure thence, of Tigranes ▪s arrival there, and that he had attempted to force you away, but had been prevented by the aſſiſtance of Agrippa, who had received you into the protection of Caeſar; that theſe things happened much about the time of his departure; and that he could not have inform'd himſelf further, by reaſon of the violent grief he was in at the ſtrange death of Tiridates, which had made him in a manner careleſs of all things. Having had this account from Arſanes, we ſuffered him to purſue his voyage; and quitting our courſe towards Lybia, made for Alexandria; where, after a dangerous voyage, by reaſon of foul weather, wherein we were like to have been loſt, I am at laſt ſafely arrived; and as happily as I could have wiſh'd, ſince I find my Daughter, and with her Prince Artaban, both in a condition to paſs away your lives according to my wiſhes and inclinations, and to go and ſatisfie the deſires of the Parthians, who impatiently expects you to put upon your heads the Crown of their Monarchs.

This was the cloſure of the Queens diſcourſe; and ſhe had no ſooner given over ſpeaking, but Artaban caſt himſelf at her feet, and embrac'd her knees with all the diſcoveries of the greateſt and humbleſt acknowledgement which ſhe could have expected from the meaneſt of her ſubjects. The Queen embraced him as a Son; and looking on him as the perſon who, within a few days was to be King of Parthia, ſhe could not receive thoſe ſubmiſſions from him, but forced him to riſe and ſeat himſelf as before. He obey'd her not till he had done the ſame homage to the Princeſs, with greater expreſſions of love and reſpect then he had ever diſcovered before. But though he ſaw her in countenance the marks of a joy ſhe could not well diſſemble, yet was there not the leaſt appearance of any in his; and inſtead of entertaining, with any exceſs of gladneſs, the diſcovery of a happineſs to which he aſpired, but with very doubtful hopes, he continued in the ſame poſture he was in before the Queen's diſcourſe, nay, ſeemed rather to be ſomewhat leſs chearful. Eliſa and the Queen were not a little diſſatisfied thereat; inſomuch that the Queen, having a greater confidence then her Daughter upon that occaſion, asked him, Whether he found any thing in the diſcourſe ſhe had entertained him with, whence he might derive any ſadneſs? Artaban knew wll enough what had given the Queen occaſion to put that queſtion to him, and making her anſwer with certain ſighs which forc'd their way out. ‘Madam, (ſaid he to her,) the Fortune you bring me tidings of is ſuch, as whereof there is not any among men, nay, not among the Gods, lif may preſume ſo highly, can entertain the diſcovery with moderation: but with all this, I can conceive no other joy thereat, then what might proceed from a pleaſant Dream; or rather, being built upon a Foundation I ſhall my ſelf preſently ſhake, I cannot rejoice thereat. I might, Madam, (ſaid he to [Page] the Queen,) and I might Madam, (continued he, addreſſing himſelf to the Princeſs,) ſuffer you to continue in an errour which, for ought I perceive, you are much ſatisfi'd in, nay, an errour which makes infinitely for my advantage: But, may it not pleaſe the Gods how great ſoever the Fortune may be whereto you would raiſe me, that I ſhould purchaſe it by a Cheat; and may all my hopes be defeated with my life, before I put any Trick upon my Princeſs. If Artaban deſcended onely of Noble Bloud; or rather, if Britomarius, whoſe Fortune conſiſts in his Sword, be worthy the glory to ſerve you, diſpoſe of his life, and make his condition ſuch as you deſire it; but if to merit the Honour you would do me, I muſt be a Prince deſcended from Arſaces, reſerve it for ſome other whoſe Birth hath been happier than mine. Not but that I feel ſomething ſtirring in my heart as great as if I were a Prince of that Bloud; but in fine, Madam, I muſt diſclaim it, Artanez is not my Father; and I were too unworthy the Fortune you offer me, ſhould I be won to endeavour it by falſhood and an unjuſt pretence.’

Theſe words of Artaban, which he uttered with a courage wholly admirable, ſtruck a paleneſs into the Princeſs's countenance, and fill'd her heart with a ſudden grief. She caſt her eyes on Artaban, but with a look, ſuch as wherein he could not but obſerve her diſpleaſure through her grief; and preſently after faſtened them on the ground, out of an aſtoniſhment that ſuffer'd her not to ſpeak. But the Queen was not in a like diſtraction; and after ſhe had a while looked very earneſtly on him, ‘Artaban, (ſaid ſhe to him) do you think the Preſent made you ſo inconſiderable, that to avoid it you will diſclaim a glorious birth, and prefer the condition of a private perſon, before that of a Prince of the Bloud of Arſaces, together with Eliſa and the Parthian Crown? I prefer (replies Artaban) the Glory to ſerve Eliſa, before the bloud of the Gods, and the Empire of the Univerſe; but if that glory be reſerv'd for a Prince deſcended from Arſaces, it is not for the unfortunate Britomarius to pretend thereto. Britomarius is the name I receiv'd at my birth; under that name of Britomarius I paſſed away my younger years in the ſervice of the Queen of Ethiopia; under that name I firſt ſerv'd in the Wars under the King of Armenia, and I have had the happineſs to make it remarkable therein, by ſome advantages I derived from my Sword and Fortune: And I will diſcover to you in few words, if you will give me leave, how I came to that of Artaban; which I have continu'd, out of a reſpect to the honour I have had to ſerve the Princeſs Eliſa under that name, and which, for that very reaſon, I have preferr'd before that of Britomarius. This diſcourſe ſhall not take up many words; and as I looked on this particular of my life as that of leaſt importance, ſo is it that onely which my Princeſs hath not had an account of.’

After I had rendred ſome conſiderable ſervices to the King of Armenia, in the War he was engag'd in againſt the King of Media, and which made the name of Britomarius known in his Armies and Dominions by ſome fortunate ſucceſſes; having not been able to diſſwade him from a cruelty he exerciſed on certain Princes I had taken priſoners, and having diſ-engag'd my ſelf from him, upon the oppoſition I would have made of a moſt injurious and ungrateful treatment, I, much diſſatisfi'd, quitted his ſervice, and left his Dominions, with a deſign to follow the Wars elſewhere, and faſten on the occaſions of acquiring Fame, which I preferred before all things. With theſe thoughts I took my way, having not many perſons about me, as being unwilling to make any advantage of the ſervices I had done that cruel King; when coming to the Frontiers between that Kingdome and Media, and croſſing a thick Wood, I at firſt heard a confuſed noiſe, accompany'd with certain cries; and ſoon after, coming up to ſee what the matter was, I found ſeveral perſons engaged in an unequal combat, or rather in a baſe and villanous aſſaſſinate. Divers men, arm'd all over, and well mounted, had ſet upon a ſingle man, who, without any other arms then his Sword, was Hunting in the Wood with ſome Servants no better furniſhed than himſelf; and being a perſon of much valour, that diſadvantage hindred him not from diſputing his life. Many of his Servants were already laid dead at his feet, and his Horſe having received ſeveral wounds was fallen under him, and yet he defended himſelf with much courage, though little hope of life; and in all probability it would not have been long ere he had received his death, when I came in to his aſſiſtance. I conceived a ſudden horrour at the unworthineſs of thoſe barbarous Villains; and ſatisfied what I was to reſolve on, I fell upon the moſt daring of them, and ſoon diſpatch'd the forwardeſt out of my way. Some of my Retinue ſeconded me with gallantry enough; inſomuch that our relief proved ſo effectual, that in a ſhort time the man ſaw moſt of his enemies gnawing the earth, and thoſe that were alive ſhifting for themſelves.

This done, perceiving the man was a foot, bleeding by reaſon of ſeveral wounds he had about him, and ſeeming to be a perſon of quality, I alighted; and having lifted up the viſour of my Head-piece, I came up to him to ask him, whether he ſtood in any further need of our aſſiſtance? But he no ſooner caſt his eyes on my countenance, but retreating [Page] back with a certain aſtoniſhment, and then coming up to me with his arms ſtretch'd out, ‘Ah, my Son, (ſaid he to me) ah, my dear Artaban, is it poſſible I ſee you again, and do you return from the dead, among whom Fame hath reported you, to ſave your Fathers life? I was ſatisfied by thoſe words, that the man miſtook himſelf, and not willing to leave him in that errour, I am not your Son, (ſaid I to him) nor is my name Artaban; but am very glad I have done you the ſervice which you think you have received from him. I perceive indeed, (reply'd the man with leſs confidence than before) that you are not Artaban; and though at a further diſtance I took you for him, looking more earneſtly on you, I am convinced of my miſtake; and the more I conſider you, the more I am ſatisfi'd of it; and withal, that I am not ſo happy as to have a Son whoſe perſon and valour might be compared to yours. In fine, whoever you are, I am obliged to you for my life; and what acknowledgment ſoever I may have for its Preſerver, yet is it below the admiration I have for your perſon, and all things in you’

To theſe he added many other things in my commendation, which I attributed to the reſentment he had of the ſervice I had done him; and at laſt he intreated me to go along with him to a Houſe he had not far thence, but with ſuch earneſtneſs and affection as that I could not deny him; beſides that, ſeeing him wounded in ſeveral places, I conceived I ought not to leave him till I had ſeen him dreſt, and out of all danger of a ſecond attempt from his enemies. We came to a Houſe ſumptuous enough, though very ſolitary, and found there a conſiderable number of Servants, perſons well accoutred, to ſatisfie me that their maſter was a man of conſiderable quality. In the entertainment he gave me at his Houſe, and in all his deportment towards me, he made ſo great diſcoveries of affection, that he could not have done more, though I had really been the Son he thought loſt, and that Artaban for whom he had taken me.

After he had cauſed me to be diſarm'd, and being put into bed, had his wounds ſearched, which proved but ſlight; intreating me to ſit down by the bed-ſide, and embracing me ſeveral times, with demonſtrations of an extraordinary affection, ‘Since I muſt (ſaid he to me) have been obliged to a man for my life, I praiſe the Gods that it hath been to ſuch a one as your ſelf, a perſon for whom at the firſt ſight, my inclination was greater than my reſentment. But that you may no longer be ignorant of his name who owes you the Air he breathes, out of a hope that I may on the other ſide know that of my deliverer; I am to tell you, that my name is Artanez, Son to Artaban, whoſe Grandfather was King of Parthia; and conſequently you underſtand that I am a Prince of the Bloud of Arſaces, and deſcended from the Royal Houſe of Parthia. But if my Birth be illuſtrious, my Fortune is deplorable; and you now behold a Prince, who, to avoid the cruelty of a King, againſt whom he ſtands guilty of no other offence then that of being too near a Kinſman to him, paſſes away, in exile and obſcurity, a life, which, had it not been for your aſſiſtance, he had this day loſt by the Orders of that barbarous man.’

Whereupon he made a relation of all his Fortunes, and acquainted me how he had been forced to leave the Court of King Phraates, about the time that he put to death his Brothers and all of his Kindred he could lay hold on, that he had brought away all his money and jewels, and made his eſcape with an onely Son, named Artaban, from the Grandfather; that after much wandring up and down, having ſound refuge in Media, between whoſe King and that of the Parthians there was no good intelligence, he had reſolved to continue there, and to paſs away the remainder of his life in peace and ſolitude; that, to that end, having found that place pleaſant enough and ſuiting with his humour, which was much inclined to Hunting, he had, with the money and jewels he had ſold, purchaſed certain Houſes in that Province, and particularly that where we then were, and which was his ordinary ſeat, ſince the death of the King, Father to Tigranes, who had often entertained him at his Court; that to ſecure his Son from the attempts of Phraates againſt his life, he had cauſed him to be privately brought up in Greece, ſo as that he had not ſeen him above two or three times in many years; that much about two years before he came to ſee him in a condition which raiſed in him very great hopes, but that not long after he had heard, to his infinite ſorrow, that he died in Cyprus; that the King of Parthia had often ſent Villains to murther him, out of whoſe hands he had miraculouſly eſcaped; and that no queſtion it was by his Orders that he had been ſet upon that day, there being no enemies whom he could ſuſpect engaged in any ſuch deſign.

To theſe he added many other particulars of his Fortune which are not unknown to you, Madam; and having given me this account of himſelf, he intreated me to give him my name. I made no difficulty to do it; but when I told him it was Britomarus, and that he knew me, by reaſon of the ſmall diſtance there was between that Countrey and Armenia, to be the ſame Britomarus, who, in the ſervice of the King of Armenia, had done very remarkable [Page] actions, he ſeemed out of himſelf for joy, and gave me thoſe commendations which were no more my due then what I had received from him before. He told me ſeveral times that he thought himſelf obliged to the attempt of his enemies upon him, ſince it had proved an occaſion of his gaining my acquaintance, and that if he might purchaſe my Friendſhip, he would value it beyond all he had loſt through the cruelty of the King of Parthia.

Having in conſequence to this, had an account of my Fortune, and underſtood that I had neither Countrey, nor any Revenues, but what I derived from my Sword, he intreated me, with affectionate tears, to become Maſter of all that Fortune had left him; told me, that Death having deprived him of his onely Son, he ſhould think him ſelf but too happy if I would take his place, and be to him in ſtead of a Son; that he deſired not I ſhould paſs away my life in ſolitude; and that it was but juſt I employ'd, to advance my ſelf, a Sword which would haply one day raiſe me to a Throne: but in the interim, that I would accept; in order to the proſecution of my deſigns, part of what he had to diſpoſe; and that if Fortune, either by the change or death of Phraates, reſtored him to thoſe great poſſeſſions which he had left among the Parthians, I ſhould have as much command there as if I were his own Son; and that it would be the greateſt ſatisfaction in the World to him, he might leave them to me at his death as if I were deſcended from him.

The acknowledgments of that good Prince moved me in ſuch manner, that I could not receive ſo many diſcoveries thereof without confuſion; and they withal raiſed in me ſo much affection and reſpect for him, that had I really been his Son, I could not have honoured him more. He in a ſhort time recovered of his wounds; but it was impoſſible for me to part with him ſo ſoon; and had he not been jealous of my reputation, and perſwaded I was born for great things, he would never have been content I ſhould have left him. During my abode with him, we underſtood, that the King of Armenia had been beaten out of all the advantages he had gain'd, by the relief which his enemy had received from the Prince of Cilicia, and King of Cappadocia, and that thereupon a Peace had been concluded between them by the interpoſition of Auguſtus, who had employed his Authority to reconcile them. But ſoon after came news, that Tigranes had hardly the time to breathe by the peace made with the Armenian, but the King of Parthia, diſſatisfied with him upon ſome ſlight occaſions, and, as was reported, partly for the refuge he had afforded Artanez, brought a War upon him, and went in perſon into Media with a powerful Army, putting all to Fire and Sword, and leaving every where the horrid examples of his cruelty.

Having heard all the world ſpeak with horrour of the inhumanity of Phraates, and that the affection I had for Artanez obliged me to hate his perſecutor. I immediately felt a certain inclination within me to ſerve Tigranes againſt the King of Parthia; and all my thoughts being bent upon the War, I thought I could not meet with a nobler occaſion, nor one more ſuitable to my humour, to give Artanez ſome aſſurances of the acknowledgments I had for his Friendſhip. I had no ſooner made the Propoſition to him, but he approv'd it; and that ſo much the rather, for that this obliged me to be nearer him then would thoſe occaſions of War which I ſhould have ſought out elſewhere: and when he ſaw that his concernment, and the averſion I had couceived againſt his enemy in ſome meaſure obliged me thereto, it much heightned the affection he had for me. But telling him, upon the diſcovery of my deſign, that if I engag'd my ſelf in the ſervice of Tigranes, I would change my name, as having under that of Britomarus done ſervice for the King of Armenia againſt Tigranes, which no doubt had made it known to him, and might have raiſed ſome reſentment in him againſt me; ‘I am clearly of your opinion (ſaid he to me) and think it not fit you ſhould preſent your ſelf to Tigranes under the name of Britomarus, or at leaſt not diſcover it to him, till ſuch time as you have by ſome ſignal action forced out of his thoughts the reſentment which your paſt actions may have raiſed in him againſt you. But ſince you think it requiſite to change your name, let me intreat you by all the Friendſhip you have promiſed me, and by all that I have for you, to take that of Artaban, who was my Son by bloud, but as to affection was not more mine then you are; it is by that name of Artaban that I firſt called you, and I have a certain inſpiration, that under that name of Artaban I ſhall one day ſee you advanced beyond your own expectations.’

I willingly took on me the name which Artanez was pleaſed to give me, with this proteſtation, that he who had born it had not had a more ſincere reſpect for him then that which I ſhould have while I lived. But to what end, Madam, ſhould I tire you with a long diſcourſe of a buſineſſe of ſo little conſequence? In fine, though I was much againſt it, Artanez, treating me as his Son, as he had given me his name, ordered me a Retinue much more noble then what I had brought with me out of Armenia, went himſelf along [Page] with me to King Tigranes, and preſented me to him as a perſon of admirable valour, and one whom he was obliged to for his life. He made no mention to him of Britomarus; but gave ſuch a character of me, as obliged him upon his aecount, to put me upon a very honourable employment. What happened to me afterward, is, Madam, come to your knowledge, and you have not forgotten that Tigranes was unfortunate, and loſt ſeveral Battels, and part of his Kingdome, while I had but an inferiour command about him. But when by certain degrees, which I run through ſuddenly enough, I came to the place of General, and that Tigranes truſted me with the abſolute command of his Army, you know Fortune put on another face, I gained many Battels, and ſo proceeded to thoſe other actions of my life which you have had an account of.

During that time I often ſaw Artanez, who with an exceſs of joy was confirmed in the hopes he had conceived of me; and when Tigranes's breach of promiſe, the ſervice of the Princeſs, and my own Deſtiny had made me quit his party, to come into yours, Artanez's affection towards me continued the ſame. Nay, I prevailed with the King, to ſuffer him to live in his ſolitude, and to forbear all further attempts on his life; but durſt not ſollicite for his return into Parthia, not out of a fear of incurring the diſpleaſure of Phraates, (for I would have run a greater hazard to ſerve ſuch a Friend) but leaſt I might unadviſedly expoſe him to the mercy of a man, near whom I could never have thought him ſecure, what engagement ſoever he might give me thereof. During the War, which afterwards carried us into Media, I did what he deſir'd, and would have done more but he intreated me to forbear, leſt he might raiſe againſt him both Tigranes and Phraates, as expecting no quiet or ſecurity but in the condition wherein he was. In fine, amidſt all the revolutions of my misfortune, our Friendſhip was continu'd by a correſpondence by Letters; and I found his upon all occaſions ſuch as he might really have had for that Son whoſe name he had beſtowed on me, and which I have kept, to the contempt of my own, as well for his ſake, as for the honour I have had, under that name, to conſecrate my life to the ſervice of my Princeſs. Thus, Madam, have you an account how I am Son to Artanez, thus have you ſeen how I am a Prince deſcended from Arſaces. Imagine with your ſelf, with what regret I diſclaim an honour which would be envy'd by all the Princes in the world; but an honour withal which is much more conſiderable to me, upon the account of the Princeſs Eliſa, then upon that of the Parthian Crown, were the Empire of the Univerſe annexed thereto.

Artaban disburthened himſelf of theſe laſtwords with thoſe diſcoveries of tenderneſſe, which all the greatneſs of his courage could not ſmother; and the Princeſs was ſo troubled thereat, that it was hard for her to diſſemble the effect they produced in her thoughts. Not long before ſhe had been incenſed againſt him for disclaiming a name whereby he ſhould become her Husband with the conſent of all; but having, during his diſcourſe, examined his intentions, and the openneſs of his ſoul which ſuffered him not to be guilty of falſhood towards his Princeſs in an emergency of that importance, and to purchaſe her and a great Empire by an untruth, and a cheat ſhe might afterwards have reproached him with, ſhe had other thoughts of him, and was more and more confirmed in the admiration ſhe had for the tranſcendency of his ſoul. Yet would ſhe not ſay any thing before the Queen, as reſpectfully deſirous to know her thoughts before ſhe diſcovered her own: and the Queen, in whom the procedure of Artaban had heightned the eſteem ſhe had for him, was extremely troubled at his diſacknowledgment of a birth that ſo much furthered the inclinations ſhe naturally had for him. The affliction ſhe conceived thereat, made her continue a good while ſilent, having her eyes faſtened on the ground, with an action which ſufficiently diſcovered her diſturbance, which cauſed thoſe which were much more cruel in Artaban; but at laſt lifting them up, and faſtening them on Artaban's countenance, after a manner wholly paſſionate: Might it have pleaſed the Gods (ſaid ſhe to him) that you had been leſs generous, and ſuffered us to continue in errours ſo much to our ſatisfaction and your advantage. I ſhould have died rather, (replies Artaban;) and though I were no enemy to falſhood, as I naturally am, yet had I diſclaim'd a life (a thing I could much more eaſily part with then ſuch glorious pretenſions) rather then baſely ſurprize a Princeſs I adore, by a cheat which ſhe would never have pardoned; and it will be much more eaſie for me to recover the loſs which I may derive from this acknowledgment of the truth, though nothing but death can give me perfect eaſe, thenit would have been for me to pardon my ſelf a treachery which no paſſion, no pretenſion whatſoever could juſtifie.

The Queen hearkened to thoſe words with admiration, which in a manner convinced her, that a perſon ſo extraordinary muſt be of a birth much beyond what he ſeemed to be. She thereupon continued ſilent a while, as one in a ſtrange ſuſpence what to think; and at laſt looking on the Princeſs her Daughter, with an action which ſatisfied her of the uncertainty ſhe was in, ‘Daughter, (ſaid ſhe to her) you ſee me in a great diſtraction of thought, [Page] and trouble out of which I find it hard for me to diſengage my ſelf:’ You may contribute much to my quiet, and by the aſſurance you have that I have ever furthered your deſires, you may let me know your reſolutions. I neither could, nor ought to have made any ſuch diſcourſe to you, while you were under the power of a Father; but now that you condition is otherwiſe, and that the Parthians acknowledge you for their lawful Queen, and her whoſe conſent is to give them a King, I am to deal otherwiſe with you, and leave you at liberty to diſcover your own intentions. The bluſhes that ſpread into Eliſa's countenance, hindred her a long time from ſpeaking; but at laſt, doing her diſpoſition a little violence upon that occaſion of that importance; Madam, (ſaid ſhe to the Queen,) it is neither the death of the King my Father, nor any other conſideration whatſoever, ſhall diſpenſe with the obedience and ſubmiſſion I owe your commands, but I ſhall inviolably comply therewith, how contrary ſoever they may be to my moſt violent inclinations. Artaban can aſſure you, that I have perſiſted in that reſolution, and that neither a reſpect to his ſervices, nor the affection I may have for him, have prevailed with me to do any thing beyond it: but if, out of the goodneſs you have ever expreſſed towards me, and to which I would owe all things, rather then to any change of my condition, you give me the liberty to ſatisfie you of my inclinations, and the reſolution I ſhould take, if my will depended not on yours, I am to tell you, that Artaban, though not a Prince born, ſeems to me greater upon the account of his Vertue, then all the Princes upon earth, and that ſuch as he is, when it comes to my choice, I ſhall prefer him before all the men in the world. Eliſa ſpoke this with confidence more then natural in her; nor could Artaban hear the cloſure of her diſcourſe without caſting himſelf on his knees before her, and rendring her adorations proportionable to the greatneſs of the favour ſhe did him. The Queen, for ſome ſhort time, ſeemed, as it were, ſurprized at the diſcovery ſhe had made; but ſoon after recovering her ſelf into her ordinary ſerenity, Daughter, (ſaid ſhe to her) you have taken a reſolution of great weight, ſuch, as no doubt on which you have beſtowed much reflexion before you were fixed therein. Thoſe who would not approve it might haply find reaſon enough to oppoſe it, as there is on the other ſide much to juſtifie it: but what ere may may be the iſſue, I ſhall, for my part, further it, and am ſo well ſatisfied as to the worth of Artaban, and have ſo dear a remembrance of the ſervices we have received from him, as not to diſallow the declaration you make in his favour. For, Daughter, though Artaban were not a Prince born, yet is he worthy your affection meerly upon the account of his vertue, and the ſervices he hath done us, and, among all mankind, you could not have made a more rational choice, nor haply one more ſuitable to my inclinations. Onely I ſhall intreat him, upon motives of neceſſity and great importance, that he would continue the Parthians in the account which Artanez hath given them of him, and let all the world beleive that he is a Prince of the bloud of Arſaces: this perſwaſion will eſtabliſh his Government with more ſecurity, will take away the diſſatisfactions of the moſt eminent among the Parthians, and will clear you and me of all the accuſations which might be put up againſt us, Artaban entertained this diſcourſe of the Queen with ſuch eruptions of joy, which he could not ſuppreſs otherwiſe then by the ſame ſubmiſſions which he had made to the Princeſs; and being preſſed to make the Queen ſome anſwer, concerning her deſire that he ſhould take upon him to be Artanes's ſon, As I am not (ſaid he to her) obliged to do that for the Parthians, nor all mankind beſides, which I am for my Princeſs, ſo am I not by any reaſon compelled to give the Parthians that account of my birth which with all ſincerity I ſhould to my Princeſs: and ſo I ſhall be content they believe me of the bloud of Arſaces, nay, of that of the Gods, if they will, and ſuffer them to perſiſt in an opinion which is glorious to me and that ſo much the rather, for that they have received it of themſelves, and that I have not attributed ought thereto. Mean time, Madam, (continued he, caſting himſelf again at the Queens feet,) give me leave to render you what we owe our Guardian-Gods and to aſſure you, that though you raiſe me to a Fortune beyond the higheſt pretenſions, yet ſhall you not make me forget that I am Britomarus, rather then Artaban; and that among all your natural ſubjects you ſhall not find any more ſubmiſſive, or more faithful. ‘To this he added other proteſtations, whereby he expreſſed his gratitude towards the Queen and Princeſs, ſo that at laſt the Queen ſeemed to be no leſs ſatisfyed then himſelf with the reſolution had been taken for his advantage. But after that interval of joy there was to ſucceed another of grief; for the Princeſs, being obliged to give the Queen an account of what ſhe knew of her adventures, & her condition in the Court of Auguſtus, after ſhe had made her tremble at the relation of the dangers ſhe had run through, by her meeting with the Pirates, the loſs of Artaban, and her own captivity, and raiſed her ſpirits again by that of her arrival in Alexandria, her finding of Artaban, and the good entertainment ſhe at firſt received from Auguſtus, paſſed to the ſtory of the love of Agrippa, the perſecution ſhe ſuffered from the Emperour; and at laſt to the cruel declaration he had made to her that very day, and the choice he had put her to, either of marrying Agrippa, or being return'd into hands of the King her Father; adding to this diſcourſe, that the Gods had ſent her to her aſſiſtance, when it was abſolutely neceſſary;’ and that if ſhe had ſtayed but a day longer, ſhe would haply have found her in ſome [Page] deplorable condition. The Queen was vext to the heart at the procedure of Auguſtus; & thought it very ſtrange, that to countenance his Favourite he ſhould violate the priviledges of Hoſpitality, and would uſurp an unjuſt Authority over a Princeſs, who might diſpute precedence with any of her Sexe in the World.

After ſhe had expreſſed her diſſatisfaction by ſome complaints againſt him, ſhe in ſome meaſure comforted and re-aſſured the Princeſs, by telling her, that the change of her condition was ſuch, as that ſhe might ſlight the threats of Auguſtus; that ſhe could not imagine he durſt force her to marry Agrippa; that it was in his power to have put her into the hands of the King her Father, and might have effected it; but that ſhe could not beleive he would do, to a Queen of Parthia, a publick violence, which would raiſe againſt him the intereſts of all thoſe Kings that were not tributary to him; and that ſhe would make no difficulty to declare to him, that her Daughter was promiſed to Artaban, a Prince of the Blood-Royal of Parthia, whom the Parthians deſired for their Soveraign. After this reſolution taken, as alſo that of oppoſing, to the utmoſt, the pretenſions of Tigranes, if he perſiſted therein; the Princeſs acquainted the Queen with what paſſed, that were of importance, at Alexandria, among ſo many illuſtrious perſons as were then in that City; gave her the names of all the moſt conſiderable and an account of their moſt remarkable adventures. She particularly on the concernment ſhe took in thoſe of the Princeſs Cleopatra and Queen Candace; and by the ſhort diſcourſe wherewith ſhe entertained the Queen thereof, ſhe raiſed in her a great compaſſion for the misfortunes of two ſuch illuſtrious Princeſſes; as alſo abundance of acknowledgement for the generous proffers of that famous King of Scythia, of whom ſhe had with admiration heard ſo much, and whoſe ſight ſhe was deſirous of, as that of an extraordinary perſon.

While things ſtood thus at the Queen of Parthia's, and that at the Princeſs Cleopatra's and the Queen of Aethiopia's there was nothing but fear and diſpair, Livia was with Tiberius, much joyed to ſee him eſcaped the mortal danger that had threatned his life, and on the other ſide much troubled too ſee him expoſed to the torments which his unfortunate paſſion forced him to. She had ſeveral times endeavoured to cure him of it; and the predominant paſſion in her being that of Ambition, ſhe would have been more glad to ſee him make his addreſſes to one of the Emperour's Neices, then to the Princeſs Cleopatra; and conſidered the advantages he might make of Caeſar's alliance, more then the attractions and divine excellencies of Anthony's Daughter. Tiberius himſelf, who was no leſs ambitious then amorous, and who, upon the predictions of Thraſyllus, who was ſtill about him, had entertained ſome pretenſions to the Empire, would himſelf have gladly been rid of that violent love, which made him ſpend the choiceſt part of his life in unhappineſs and torment. Nay, it was ſome trouble to him, to diſturb the fortune, and perſecute the life of a perſon, who with ſo much generoſity had given him his own, and when he did it, would not oblige him to diſclaim his pretenſions to Cleopatra. Upon theſe conſiderations, he often wiſhed his own recovery, but ſtill ineffectually; for that, notwithſtanding all his endeavours, the Idaea of the fair Cleopatra would not out of his thoughts. At laſt, the Empreſs perceiving ſhe could not, to her own deſires, contribute to the ſettlement of his greatneſs, would needs further that of his ſatisfaction; and, if poſſible, aſſure him of Cleopatra, ſince the preſervation of his life was dependent thereon. It came at laſt into her mind, that the life of Coriolanus was ſuch a hindrance to his enjoyments as nothing could remove; and whereas ſhe was highly exaſperated againſt him, as having two ſeveral times reduced her Son to the extremeities of life and death, ſhe thought no ſollicitation of Auguſtus was to be omitted as to that particular, and that it was by the death of Coriolanus that Cleopatra muſt be gained to be Tiberius's; and that, on the otherſide, it was a ſhame to her not to diſpatch out of the way an enemy who had twice brought her Son to death's door, as it were in her arms. She communicated her deſign to Tiberius, but he approved it not; for beſides that, though he were of a cruel and revengful nature, he was a perſon of much courage, and dreaded ſhe ſhame it was, by ſuch wayes, to compaſs the death of a man who had treated him ſo generouſly, he could not imagine that his death would any way facilitate his poſſeſſion of Cleopatra; and calling to mind that the pretended infidelity of that Prince, whence he might better have hoped it, had not been able to produce that effect on his behalf, he was perſwaded his death would occaſion the contrary, and raiſe in that Princeſs the higheſt reſentment and greateſt averſion that could be againſt him. Upon theſe reaſons, which he urged to the Empreſs, he intreated her not to proſecute the death of Coriolanus; but rather, by ſolliciting for his life to procure him to poſſeſſion of Cleopatra; and to have a Meſſage ſent to that Princeſs by order from the Emperour, That if ſhe would marry Tiberius, ſhe ſhould ſave the life of Coriolanus, which otherwiſe would be aſſuredly loſt. Livia found ſome probability in that Propoſition; and having that very day ſtarted it to the Emperour, ſhe ſo managed the influence ſhe had over him, that he was content Cleopatra ſhould have the choice of either Coriolanus's death, or a marriage with Tiberius.

This reſolution was hardly taken, when Prince Marcellus comes into the, Emperour's [Page] Cloſet. Livia upon his coming in went away; and as all the thoughts of that young Prince were taken up with the ſafety of his Friend, ſo he never appear'd before the Emperor but he renewed his ſollicitations on his behalf. The Emperour, who till then had put him off with cruel menaces againſt the Son of Juba, heard him at that time with more patience then ordinary; and when he had given over ſpeaking. I ſhall for your ſake, Marcellus (ſaid he to him,) do that which otherwiſe I ſhould not have done for that inſolent perſon, by whom I have been ſo highly affronted; and though I have proteſted, that no conſideration ſhould prevail with me to ſpare his life, yet is there one way left to you to ſave him, which you are not to neglect, ſince it is all you are to expect: in a word, his life is in the hands of Cleopatra; ſhe may ſave it, if ſhe will marry with Tiberius. If it be dear to her, ſhe may do her inclinations ſo much violence as to ſave it; if that be not a motive ſtrong enough to oblige he ſhe can blame none but her ſelf, nor regret the loſs of it with any juſtice. Be your ſelf the Meſſenger of this news to her, and uſe the influence you have over her to diſpoſe her thereto▪ ſince it is the only means you have to ſave a perſon for whom, though my greateſt enemy, you pretend ſo much Friendſhip.

Marcellus was at ſuch a loſs at the Emperour's diſcourſe, that he knew not what to ſay; inſomuch that having looked on him a while without making any anſwer, And is this (ſaid he to him at laſt) all the favour you do me for Coriolanus? It is greater (replied the Emperor) then ſhould be ſlighted, as being contrary to the reſolution I had taken, and the proteſtations I had made not to grant it any man. I know not, my Lord, (replyed the Prince very coldly,) whom you have done it to; not certainly to the Friends of Coriolanus. The favour you now offer would be more cruel to him then the death you threaten him with; and Tiberius, who cannot ſuffer him to live but upon ſo hard a condition, ſhould remember, that he gave him his life without any. You will pardon me if I make not this Propoſition to Cleopatra; it is too much at a diſtance with the reſpect I have for her, and the aſſurance I have of her courage and vertue: But if I can prevail with you no further on the behalf of a Friend, whoſe admirable endowments are adored by all the world, one from whom you have received conſiderable ſervices, and whoſe misfortunes I have my ſelf aggravated, through the cruel artifices of his enemies, I ſhall reſolve, my Lord, to die with him, and leave you abſolutely free to beſtow on Tiberius, to whom you ſacrifice him, the favours you had deſign'd for me.

With which words he went out of the Cloſet and left the Emperour partly troubled, and partly incenſed at what he had ſaid, but ſtill conſtant to his reſolution againſt Coriolanus. Nor was he ever the more mov'd at the intreaties of Julia, who came into the Cloſet as ſoon as Marcellus was departed, though ſhe employed all her intereſt and eloquence on the behalf of Coriolanus and Caeſaria, as well upon the deſires of Cleopatra, Candace, and Marcellus, as out of her own inclination, and the compaſſion ſhe had for the misfortunes of thoſe two Princes The generous Octavia came not long after, and renewed the ſollicitations ſhe daily uſed to the ſame effect: but what affection and reſpect ſoever the Emperour might have for her, yet could not all her meditation prevail ought with him, inſomuch that the Princeſs, who was acquainted with his inflexible humor, was afraid, not without reaſon, it would go hard with Coriolanus. That very day the Emperor ſent Sempronius to the Princeſs Cleopatra, to acquaint her with his reſolution, and the means ſhe had to ſave the King of Mauritania life, if ſhe would accept of it. The reſpect which the preſence of Cleopatra forced on all that ſaw her, obliged Sempronius to deliver his meſſage with greateſt mildneſs he could; but at laſt; he gave her to underſtand, that it was onely by her marriage with Tiberius that ſhe could ſave Coriolanus's life.

The Daughter of Anthony entertained this diſcourſe of Sempronius with her ordinary conſtancy and moderation; and when he had ſaid all he could to perſwade her, I expected (ſaid ſhe to him) that the Emperour would not have imployed his Authority to force me to a marriage with Tiberius, as relying on the promiſe he had made me, and the Oath he had taken to forbear. You ſee, Madam, (ſayes Sempronius to her,) that he doth not herein employ his Authority, ſince he leaves you at liberty, and offers you, as an acknowledgement of your compliance toward him, the life of an enemy whom he had reſolved to ſacrifice to his juſt reſentments. His reſentments (replied the Princeſs) are not haply ſo juſt in the apprehenſions of all the world, as they are in yours; and there are few perſons condemn the King of Mauritania's maintaining his pretenſions againſt his Rival by his valour, as he ever did, and not by baſe artifices; or queſtion whether he may not, with juſtice, regain the Throne of his Anceſtors, which the Romanes were poſſeſſed of onely by uſurpation, and not with any legal right. In fine, Sempronius you may tell Caeſar, that the life of Coriolanus is indeed at his diſpoſal, through the ill fortune that hath brought him into his power, but not with juſtice; that he hath the ſame right over mine; but that he is not the Maſter of our Wills and inclinations, which are not ſubject to any Empire, nor any revolution of fortune; that he may well put to death a King whom he keeps in chains; and that I ſhall have the courage to die with him, were it only to give him thoſe aſſuranes [Page] of my affection which may be more cruel to me then thoſe are deſired of me; that to ſave his life, I would ſubmit to misfortunes more inſupportable to me were it poſſible, then the marrying of Tiberius; but that he would rather loſe it after the moſt cruel manner that Auguſtus can deſire, then ſave it upon thoſe terms, and that I am confident Coriolanus will prefer Death before the ſight of my being Wife to Tiberius. The love of life is ſo natural to men, (replied Sempronius) that Coriolanus will haply prefer it upon thoſe conditions, before the death that is deſign'd him. Do you know the King of Mauritania well? (replies the Princeſs.) No queſtion but I know him (replies Sempronius) for a Prince of great courage, and one whom the fear of death could not hitherto divert from the moſt dangerous enterpriſes; but, Madam, be pleaſed to conſider, that the death which a man defies in fight is much different from that which Auguſtus may put Coriolanus to; & there are many perſons who, as he, have ſlighted it in combates, yet have not been able to endure the horrid appearance of it, when it hath preſented it ſelf under another form. If what you ſay be true, (replies the Princeſs, with an action whence Sempronius imagined ſhe was in ſome meaſure perſwaded,) there is yet a poſſibility to ſave the life of Coriolanus by the ſatisfaction of Tiberius, ſince I would not have it thought I am ſo much againſt the enjoyments of Tiberius, as the death of Coriolanus. So that you may tell Caeſar, that if Coriolanus will receive his life upon the condition propoſed to us, I ſhall endeavour to preſerve it; and that I ſhall not fear any reproach from that action, if I do it with his conſent: but that to be ſatisfi'd of it I would have it from his own mouth, and that there is not any perſon in the world whom I will truſt in this buſineſs; that I will viſit the Prince, when he will give me leave to do it; that I will ſpeak to him before ſuch perſons as he would have preſent at our diſcourſe; and that when I have his reſolution, though it prove ſuch as you hope it, you ſhall be ſure of my compliance therewith.

Though Sempronius was of opinion that the Princeſs made this propoſition meerly to have the opportunity to ſee Coriolanus, and ſufficiently ſatisfi'd that that Prince would rather embrace death then conſent to the marriage of Cleopatra with Tiberius; yet he pretended more ſatisfaction at this diſcourſe then what had paſſed between them before, and undertook to give an account of it to Caeſar, and to do what lay in his power to perſwade him to the interview of Coriolanus and the Princeſs, As ſoon as Sempronius was departed, the Princeſs giving way to a Rivolet of tears, whereof ſhe had ſtopped the current in his preſence; O Fortune, (cry'd ſhe,) it is time to get out of thy tyranny, and the day is now at hand wherein I hope to ſee the end of thy inſupportable perſecutions; I have indeed with too much earneſtneſs diſputed with thee a wretched life which is not worth our conteſtation whereas by loſing it, as no doubt I ſhall be able to to do, I ſhall exempt my ſelf from the unknown continuation of thy crueltics. But, O ye Gods! (added ſhe preſently after) it is not the life of Cleopatra that lies at the ſtake, but a life much more dear to Cleopatra then her own, which is to be ſacrified to the malice of her fortune; the preſent ſhe would make of her own cannot preſerve it, and the ranſome which is demanded for it is more terrible to her then the moſt dreadful inſtrument that it is to take it away. Thus was ſhe bemoaning her ſelf, when the fair and and vertuous Antonia, her dear Siſter, comes into the Chamber; and ſhe hardly wiped off her tears, when the generous Octavia came in alſo, and employed all the power which her more then maternal affection gave her over the Princeſs, to make her capable of ſome comfort.

The end of the Second Book.

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA; OR Loves Maſter-peice. Part. XII.
LIB. III.

[Page]

ARGUMENT.

AUguſtus ſecretly encourages Tigranes to renew his pretenſions to Eliſa, purpoſely to oppoſe Artaban, favour Agrippa, and retard the Queens's and Princeſs's departure from Alexandria. Artaban is, by Order from the Emperour, confined to his Lodgings, and a Guard ſet upon him, The Queen of Parthia hath audience of Auguſtus, with whom ſhe expoſtulates about the impriſonment of Artaban, whom ſhe is permitted to viſit; and is followed to his Lodgings by an unknown perſon, who proves to be Briton, the reputed Father of Britomarus; who entertaining the Queen and Princeſs with the Hiſtory of himſelf and Britomarus, diſcovers Artaban to be Son to Pompey the Great, born after his death, and brought up by Briton as his own. Caeſario and Coriolanus are ſtill continued priſoners in the Caſtle. Cleopatra is permitted to go to Coriolanus, to propoſe to him the ſaving of his Life by her Marriage with Tiberius: but ſhe reſolves rather to die with him, and will not be gotten out of the Priſon from him. All the Princes that were about Auguſtus's Court, ſollicite the Emperour on behalf of the priſoners, but to little effect. A difference between Archelaus and Tigranes, upon a promiſe made by the latter to marry the Princeſs Urania. The Queen of Aethiopia's Deſign to raiſe an Inſurrection in Alexandria diſcovered to the Emperour; who is upon reſolutions to put Coriolanus to death, but is diverted by Marcellus, upon his engagement to perſwade Coriolanus and Cleopatra to comply with the deſires of Auguſtus.

NOr was the Emperour leſs in diſturbance for the quiet of Agrippa then for that of Tiberius: nay, that of the former had no queſtion been much more conſiderable with him then that of the latter, if the intereſt of Livia joyned to the eſteem which he had for her Son, had not in his apprehenſions over-ballanced the affection which he had for Agrippa. The arrival of the Queen of Parthia had ſomewhat ſurprized him, inſomuch that he was of opinion that it would have proved prejudicial to his deſigns; but upon further thoughts of it, he took encouragement, out of a confidence that he might bring a Womans will to what he pleaſed; and ere the day was paſt, he underſtood, by perſons whom he had ſent to that purpoſe, and who had cunningly addreſſed themſelves to thoſe about the Queen, the revolutions happened in the Empire of Parthia, the death of Phraates, the Love of Artaban, who was a Prince of the bloud of the Arſacides; and the deſign which the Queen and all the Parthians had to marry him to Eliſa.

This troubled Auguſtus extremely; and perceiving thereby, that to bring Eliſa to his deſires, he could no longer pretend the fear ſhe was in of falling into her Fathers power, nor the obſtacle which the birth of Artaban brought upon the favourable intentions which ſhe had for him before he was known to be a Prince born; he ſought out other artifices to croſs them, as being reſolved on the one ſide to further the enjoyment of a perſon he dearly loved, and one whom he was in ſome meaſure obliged to for his own Fortune; and on the other, not abſolutely to quit the hope of ſubmitting to the Roman Empire a Monarchy ſuch as that of the Parthians. Not but, conſidering the abſolute condition he was in, he might very well have waved all thoſe difficulties, and done any thing upon the account of his Authority, if he had been willing to diſcover an open tyranny; but ſince his being peaceable Maſter [Page] of the Empire, he was deſirous to raiſe himſelf among the people the reputation of a juſt and moderate Prince, and to be accounted a perſon who in all his actions would chequer Juſtice with the Soveraign power. On the other ſide, he knew, by the trials which the Romans had to their diſadvantage made, that the power of the Parthians was no deſpicable power; and that in offering any indignity to their Queen, and to him whom they demanded for their King, he re-inflamed a cruel and bloudy War with that great Monarchy, and ſuch as had proved fatal to the Romans under Craſſus, who with his Son had loſt their lives in it, and all their Forces, and ſuch as had been diſadvantageous under Anthony himſelf, whoſe engagements there had turned to his loſs and confuſion. Add to this, that the preſence of ſo many Kings as were then in his Court, and particularly that of Scythia, remitted much of the freedome which he wiſhed he might take to follow his own ſentiments, as being unwilling to have ſo great Witneſſes of a violence and injuſtice of that importance, if ſo be he durſt commit it for the enjoyment and intereſt of his Friend.

All theſe reaſons made him reſolve on the Deſign which he had to ſecure the Princeſs of Parthia and Artaban, to find out ſuch pretences as ſhould encourage him to do it with ſome appearance of Juſtice. For Artaban, he thought he had enough, upon the account which had been given him of the ſecret conferences which he had with Prince Caeſario, as being ſuch as made him chargeable with an intelligence which he might juſtly ſuſpect: Nay, he was in a manner reſolved to have him ſecured with Caeſario as ſoon as Aquilius had given him the relation thereof; but having a great eſteem for him, and conceiving that he had done him injury enough in taking away his Miſtreſs, and depriving him of that great comfort which he was in hopes of, and whereof he had rendred himſelf worthy by the greatneſs of his actions, he had out of that very conſideration diſſembled his reſentment, and be thought him to do him greater miſchief without putting him to that inconvenience: But things ſo ſtanding as that he ſaw all his deſigns croſſed, he thought it no prudence to neglect ſo fair a pretence, unleſs he ſhould at the ſame time neglect the ſafety of his Friend. For Eliſa, though he could charge her with the ſame intelligence with Caeſario, as having been preſent as well as Artaban at the ſecret conference wherein he had been diſcovered, yet did he not think it ſufficient pretence to ſecure her: but that which he had in the pretenſion of the King of Media he thought ſpecious enough, as being of opinion, that in permitting that Prince to demand her as his Wife, and oppoſing her marriage with Artaban, and her departure from Alexandria, he might detain her without doing any manifeſt injuſtice. Not indeed out of any deſign he had to beſtow her on Tigranes; but out of a hope that being not in a capacity to marry Artaban, by reaſon of an obſtacle apparently juſt, ſhe would prefer Agrippa, whoſe vertue ſhe eſteemed, before Tigranes, whom ſhe hated and ſtood in fear of. In fine, either out of this hope, or a deſire to gain time, and to find out the moſt favourable courſes to follow, that very evening he ſent ſecret notice to Tigranes, to encourage him to renew the proſecution of his affections, and openly to demand juſtice at his hands; and iſſued out an Order for the ſecuring of Artaban, and the putting of a Guard upon him in his own Lodgings▪ till ſuch time as he ſhould reſolve to diſpoſe of him into ſome other Priſon. He went to Livia, and communicated to her his deſign, and the anſwer which Sempronius had brought him of that of Cleopatra; they conſulted a good while together, whether it were convenient ſhe ſhould be admitted to ſee Coriolanus, as finding reaſons ſtrong enough to authorize, & to diſallow the interview; & at laſt they parted without having reſolved on any thing abſolutely.

This night paſſing away very differently among ſo many perſons of ſeveral fortunes, the next morning, before Artaban was dreſt, comes into his Chamber Quintilius Varus, attended by a Guard; who coming up to him, told him, he had Order from the Emperour to wait upon him, and to make his Lodging his Priſon. Artaban was a perſon not ordinarily daunted at the moſt unexpected events; yet this ſurprized him a little, as happening to him as it were in the Meridian of his greateſt hopes, ſince he could not imagine himſelf ſecured, but out of ſome deſign to deſtroy the felicity which he promiſed himſelf in the enjoyment of Eliſa. However, he ſoon maſtered the aſtoniſhment which that accident might put him into; and looking on Varus with a countenance much more confident then his own, I know not (ſaid he to him) upon what account Caeſar cauſeth me to be ſecured, and I ſhould take it as a favour from you, if you would let me know it. You know (replies Varus) that our Maſters are not wont to diſcover themſelves to us upon ſuch Commiſſions: but for ought I can judge of it, the diſtruſt which the Emperour hath of you, proceeds from the ſecret conference you had with Prince Caeſario. Artaban ſhaking his head at that diſcourſe, It is not Caeſario (replied he) that makes me guilty in the apprehenſion of Auguſtus; that Prince is ſo vertuous, that all the intelligence I might have had with him could never prejudice Auguſtus: No, he hath other reaſons which he hath not diſcovered to you, and which haply he will not diſcover, if he deſire the reputation of a juſt Prince. It is no hard matter for him to ſecure a ſingle perſon; [Page] but I have ſometime been in ſuch a condition as he would not have found it an eaſie task, though he had employed all the Forces of his Empire to do it; and if the Gods are ſo pleaſed, they may reſtore me to ſuch again. Quintilius, who admired him, as indeed all thoſe did that ſaw him, and could not but fear that reſentment which he obſerved in his countenance, would have made ſome wretched excuſe to him for the Commiſſion he had taken; but Artaban interrupting him with ſcorn, ‘I wonder not (ſaid he to him) that you have by the command of your Maſter ſecured Artaban, when out of your own inclination you have expoſed Arminius to Gladiators and Savage Beaſts. It is in him that you have raiſed your ſelf a dreadful enemy; but, for my part, if I have any reſentment of the injury I receive, you may be ſure it ſhall not fall upon Varus.’ With theſe words, which Varus, as it were by a fatal prediction, grew pale at, he went into his Cloſet, where they left him at liberty to walk, there being before the Window a ſtrong iron gate.

The noiſe of this accident was ſoon ſpread all over Alexandria; and whereas the Princeſs of Parthia and the Queen her Mother were the moſt concerned in it, they were accordingly the firſt that had notice of it. The news put Eliſa into no ſmall diſturbance, though ſhe had ever feared that her deſigns would be croſſed by Auguſtus, and that he would never conſent to the felicity of Artaban while he might hope any thing for Agrippa. Nor was the Queen her Mother leſs troubled, inſomuch that the news made her haſten the deſign ſhe had to ſee Auguſtus that morning, as imagining, that when ſhe ſhould tell him that Artaban was a Prince of the bloud of the Arſacides, and give him an account of the death of Phraates, and the ſtate of the Parthian Monarchy, ſhe ſhould oblige him to a greater reſpect for a Prince raiſed to ſo eminent a Dignity, then he might have for a private perſon. Upon this conſideration, after the had ſent a perſon before to demand audience, ſhe went to him, attended by the Princeſs her Daughter, and ſome of her Women. The Emperour received her in his Cloſet, with all apparent diſcoveries of reſpect and civility; but they were hardly ſet down ere came in the King of Media, whom they had not thought ſo well recovered as to be able to walk ſo far. That ſight was very ominous to the Princeſs and the Queen her Mother; nay, Eliſa was ſo much the more ſurprized, in that Auguſtus had ſeemed to be incenſed againſt Tigranes, inſomuch that ſhe thought he durſt not adventure into his preſence. However, the Queen reſolved to diſengage her ſelf out of her aſtoniſhment, and reſolved to ſpeak to the Emperour before Tigranes, ſince ſhe was reduced to that neceſſity; and to that end aſſuming all her courage, ‘My Lord, (ſaid ſhe to him) that which is this day happened by your Order, hath given me, in ſome meaſure, occaſion to change the deſign of this viſit, and the Audience I have deſired of you, or at leaſt obligeth me to add another of no leſs conſequence then thoſe which I had before. I came hither, my Lord, to make acknowledgment of the kindneſs which you have expreſſed towards a Princeſſe whom a malicious fortune had caſt upon your Territories, and the protection which you generouſly afforded her. I ſhould then have acquainted you, that, by the death of the King my Husband, Eliſa, being deſigned for the Ctown of her Anceſtors, was obliged to go hence; and deſirous at her departure to demand an Alliance of you, wherein her Subjects might hope a Reign much different from that of her predeceſſors, that is, ſuch as ſhould bring a long uninterrupted tranquility; and laſtly, I was to tell you, that this ſame Artaban, who by ſuch extraordinary actions hath defended and maintained the Parthian Crown, having been acknowledged a Prince of the Royal Bloud of that Nation, hath been demanded by the Parthians for a Husband to their Princeſs, and is expected among them to take Poſſeſſion of a Scepter, which hath never been but in the hands of thoſe who were of that extraction. This my Lord, was the occaſion of my voyage, and I thought I ſhould not have met with any other; but underſtanding that the ſaid Prince whom the Parthians deſired for their King and whom the conſent of Eliſa and my ſelf have granted, is ſecured by your Order, and deprived of his liberty, in a place where you had honoured him with ſo many demonſtrations of your eſteem, and at a time wherein he was accounted no other then a private perſon in this place; I am apt to believe, my Lord, that when you cauſed him to be apprehended and ſecured, you knew not that he was of the Royal Bloud of Parthia, and called to be their Governour; and therefore hope, that knowing it, you will conſider Dignity in the ſame perſon in whom you had before conſidered Vertue, and will not injuriouſly treat in your Territories a perſon deſigned for a Monarchy, with which there are few others in the World diſpute precedence.’

Thus ran the Queens diſcourſe; and after the Emperour had with much patience heard it, Madam, (ſaid he to her) I can with ſincerity aſſure you, that my deſign hath been to receive you into the Dominions that are under my juriſdiction with all the reſpect due to you, and all the diſcoveries of affection obſerved between Allies; and you may alſo very well believe, that I have been a ſtranger hitherto to the Birth of Artaban, and that Fortune whereunto you have [Page] deſigned him: but you will give me leave to tell you, that though I had been acquainted therewith, I ſhould not have forborn the ſecuring of his perſon, conſidering the juſt occaſion I have to be diſtruſtful of him, ſince I have, after much another manner ſecured the Son of Julius Caeſar and Cleopatra, who is of a rank no leſs conſiderable then a Prince of the Bloud of the Arſacides, and who, as well as Artaban, is deſigned for a powerful Monarchy. It is with that Prince, whom I have diſcovered lurking in Alexandria, and whoſe intentions I am juſtly to be very jealous of, that Artaban hath had a ſecret intelligence and conferences in the night time, which the Princeſs your Daughter hath not been ignorant of. That is that which obliges me to ſecure him, and that the rather, the more I am certified of the greatneſs of his courage, and think him a perſon capable and fit to carry on the greateſt enterpriſes. You will be pleaſed therefore to give me leave to take ſome time to inform my ſelf, what the intention of either my enemies or thoſe of our Empire may be, and to take thoſe courſes which may ſecure me from the attempts of two men, whereof the one looks upon me as the Uſurper of a Dignity which he thinks juſtly his, and the other by your confeſſion is of the Bloud, and deſigned for the Throne of thoſe very Kings, who, by the loſs of ſo many millions of men, have ſatisfied all the world of the hatred and deteſtation which they have for the Roman name. Our ſecurity is all I endeavour, and not the revenge of thoſe injuries which we have received from thoſe of that Bloud and Nation; thoſe I am willing to forget, and to enter with you, and alſo with him who ſhall marry the Princeſs Eliſa, into the Alliance you ſo much deſire, and by the means to aſſure you that the Impriſonment of Artaban is not likely to prove dangerous to him, as being no more then a precaution, to ſecure the quiet of a great Empire. You may, if you pleaſe, continue among us till the diſcovery, which I expect, oblige me to ſet him at liberty; and if your intentions are otherwiſe, you are free to depart, and ſhall receive from me all manner of aſſiſtance and accommodations to return into your own Dominions.

To this effect was the Emperours diſcourſe, much to the aſtoniſhment of the Princeſs and the Queen her Mother; and he had hardly put a period thereunto, when Tigranes, addreſſing himſelf to him, with a confidence derived from the intelligence which was between them; ‘My Lord, (ſaid he to him) though Artaban be my profeſſed enemy, yet ſhall I not ſay any thing to you as to his impriſonment, or the reaſons that have obliged you to ſecure him; but as to the departure of the Princeſs Eliſa, you will give me leave to oppoſe it, and to demand juſtice of you, both againſt a Mother, and againſt a people, that deſign her any other Husband then him whom ſhe hath ſolemnly received from the King her Father. The deſire I have ever had to continue ſuch legal pretenſions, and that paſſion which I have not been able to maſter, forced me upon an enterpriſe contrary to the reſpect which I owe you; and ſince you have had the goodneſs to pardon it, you will alſo have the juſtice to reſtore me my Wife, or at leaſt give me leave to diſpute her with all thoſe who would take her away from me.’

The Queen was going to make Tigranes ſome anſwer; when the Princeſs, by a ſubmiſſive geſture having demanded permiſſion to anſwer him her ſelf, and putting on a reſolution which was more then natural in her, ‘Tigranes, (ſaid ſhe to him) I know not why you continue your cruel perſecutions againſt a Princeſs that hath deſerved neither your hatred nor your affection; you know the Emperour hath already acknowledged the injuſtice of your pretenſions, and I have his own word and promiſe, whereby he hath aſſured me of his protection againſt you. You have (ſaith the Emperour, interrupting her) ſlighted that protection, and ought not to alledge it in ſuch an occaſion, wherein I cannot refuſe thoſe juſtice who demand it of me. The Queen enduring this diſcourſe with much impatience, as being injurious to her Dignity,’ ‘If Tigranes be your Vaſſal, (ſaid ſhe to the Emperour) you may do him juſtice; but you know that the Kings of Parthia never demanded any ſuch thing of the Romans, and that their power is not derived from any but that of the Gods: ſo that though we are now expoſed to yours in our preſent fortune, yet you will give me leave to tell you, that you have no right to diſpoſe of my Daughter, nor yet to detain her, ſince ſhe is neither by birth your ſubject, nor by War your priſoner. I know (replies the Emperour, not a little vexed at that diſcourſe) that ſhe is neither my ſubject nor my priſoner; and it is for that reaſon, that if ſhe be Wife to Tigranes, I cannot take her away from him to put her into your power, nor deny him the liberty to demand his Wife, no more then I can you of demanding your Daughter. Eliſa is my Daughter, (replies the Queen of Parthia) but ſhe is not Wife to Tigranes; and if ſhe were, there were no need of your Authority to oblige her to follow a Husband, whom her duty would force her to run fortunes with all the world over. You are not ignorant, that formalities obſerved towards Ambaſſadors, without any conſent of my Daughter, cannot make any abſolute Marriage; that the deſign which her Father had to effect it, hath not been effected, and that Eliſa being freed by his death, may well refuſe that man for her Husband whom ſhe would not accept during his life.’ Theſe Reaſons (replies the Emperour) [Page] are ſuch as you might alledge before thoſe whom the Gods or your own choice ſhall eſtabliſh Judges of your differences; but in the mean time, ſince it belongs not to me to do juſtice in this caſe, you will not take amiſs that I forbare the doing of injury and violence to a King, who, notwithſtanding what I had done againſt him in the behalf of the Princeſs Eliſa, hath nevertheleſs a confidence of my impartiality.

The Queen and Princeſs were ſatisfied by this diſcourſe, that the Emperour was reſolved to detain them, though they could not but imagine, that it was the concernment of Agrippa, and not that of Tigranes, that ſo much prevailed with him; and it was with much a-do that they expreſſed a moderation when ſo great an injuſtice was done them, and forbore to tell him that it was upon the account of Agrippa that he did it, and not upon that of the King of Media. But conſidering withal, that it were not ſafe for them to incenſe a perſon who could do any thing, and that their intention was not to depart from Alexandria, and leave Artaban a priſoner there, they endeavoured to ſmother their reſentment; yet could not do it ſo, but that in ſome meaſure it appeared in their countenances, and in ſome meaſure in the diſcourſe of the Queen. I ſee then, (ſaid ſhe to the Emperour, riſing off the chair where ſhe was ſate,) that we are not to expect much favour from you, and that we, as well as Artaban, are priſoners in Alexandria: but the Gods, who ſees the intreatment we receive, and the right you have to do it, will be Judges between us, and will haply deliver us out of a misfortune into which we are fallen, meerly out of the confidence which we have had in the Laws of Nations, and the reſpect due to Royal Dignity.

With theſe words the went out of the Cloſet, together with the Princeſs, after ſhe had demanded leave of the Emperour to viſit Artaban, which he durſt not refuſe her, as unwilling to make too manifeſt a diſcovery of injuſtice and animoſity, They would needs go to him before they returned to their Lodgings, and in their way met the King of Scythia, the the King of Armenia, and the Prince of Cilicia, who had been at their Lodgings to give them a viſit, and were deſirous to ſee them, to aſſure them of the concernment which they took in what had happened to them. As they were coming towards them, Eliſa acquainted the Queen her Mother who they were, who with much joy entertained Princes of ſo great fame, eſpecially Alcamenes, whoſe reputation was ſo full of miracles. The worthineſſe of their perſons ſatisfied her that what ſhe had heard of them was but their due, and thereupon ſhe received them according to their worth and rank in the world.

Theſe great Princes being ſuch as from whom it could not be expected they ſhould have a ſervile compliance for any man, ſuch as out of any baſe conſideration or fear to diſpleaſe Caeſar ſhould hinder them from following their own generous inclinations, eſpecially the the King of Scythia, who knew no ſuperior in the world. They ſatisfied the Queen and the Princeſs her Daughter, how much they concern'd themſelves in all had happened to them, as well to the death of Phraates, and the acknowledgment of Artaban to be a Prince of the Bloud-Royal of Parthia, as to the impriſonment of Artaban, and what might be the conſequence thereof, as real Friends, and Princes, whom nothing ſhould oblige to conceal their own ſentiments. According to the preſent exigence of their Fortunes, they proffered them all the aſſiſtance they could, and, as to the ſequel thereof, all that they might hope for from Allies.

The Queen having given them thanks with all the civility due to ſuch illuſtrious perſons and Princes, who expreſſed their inclinations towards them in ſo tickliſh a conjuncture, Alcamenes intreated the Queen and Princeſs to pardon him, if he expreſſed more joy at the acknowledgement of Artaban to be of ſuch birth as he had ever wiſh'd him, then trouble at his impriſonment, wherin he ſaw not any thing to fear, doubted not but that he ſhould ſoon ſee him King of Parthia, and that he would confirm with him the Alliance they had already deſigned together. Ariobarzanes and Philadelph expreſſed themſelves much to the ſame purpoſe; and having underſtood that they went to viſit him, they were deſirous all three to accompany them: but being come to the door, Varus, how much ſoever he might reſpect their Dignity, told them that he durſt not admit them in without order from the Emperour, who had onely commanded that the Queen and Princeſs might be allowed to viſit him. The three Princes went away from the door with loud diſcoveries of their reſentment at the refuſal, and expreſſed their diſcontent in words, which ſufficiently ſignified that they were not ſlaves to the Fortune of Auguſtus.

But though theſe great Princes were denied entrance, another perſon, being alone, and not richly clothed, made a ſhift to get in, either as belonging to Artaban or the Princeſs, and was not ſo much obſerv'd as to oblige Varus to hinder him from coming in. Artaban comes out of the Cloſet, where they had left him alone, to receive the Queen and Princeſs in the Chamber; and being come to them, fell on one knee before the Queen and with much ſubmiſſion acknowledged the honour ſhe did him. The Queen raiſing him [Page] up, embraced him, and diſcovered to him, that ſhe, as well as the Princeſs, had her countenance bathed in tears. That of Artaban ſeem'd the ſame it had ever been, inſomuch that he was not any way moved, but by the grief which he obſerved in their countenances. The Chamber being full of Souldiers, and Artaban having told them that he had the freedom of the Cloſet, they would needs go into it, to avoid the preſence of thoſe unwelcom witneſſes, leaving two or three of their Women in the Chamber, to hinder any from coming to the Cloſet door to over-hear their diſcourſe. But the perſon who was gotten in with the Queen followed her into the Cloſet, and kept behind the Women that went in with her. The Queen and Princeſs having their thoughts taken up otherwiſe, took no notice of him, nor did Artaban obſerve him, as taking him for one of the Queens retinue.

When ſhe was ſat down, and the Princeſs by her, Artaban with much acknowledgement and ſubmiſſion renewed his thanks for the favour they did him; and after he had made the greateſt expreſſions he could of his reſentment thereof, he intreated them not to fear any thing as to his impriſonment, which in all likelihood would not prove dangerous to him, telling them it was onely an effect of Auguſtus his Friendſhip towards Agrippa, and the deſire he had to diſturb his Fortune to divert it to his Favourite; that thoſe things were acted no queſtion without the knowledge of Agrippa, whoſe vertue was ſuch as he would not permit them if he were acquainted therewith; that it could not come into his thoughts that Auguſtus ſhould reſolve his ruine, ſince that thereby he in all likelihood quitted all hopes of Eliſa's being married to Agrippa; and as for the pretence which he had taken from his intelligence with Caeſario, it was of no great concernment, ſince he could only be charged with, being preſent at a diſcourſe where the Princeſs Eliſa and the Princeſſe Cleopatra had been alſo, and whereof the particulars, ſince they were come to the knowledge of Auguſtus, were enough to vindicate him.

To this Artaban added many other reaſons, to clear the minds of the Queen and Princeſs of the obliging ſadneſs which he obſerved in them; and when he had given over ſpeaking, the Queen, whom all his diſcourſes could not ſatisfie, no more then the Princeſs her Daughter. acquainted him with the viſit which they had made to the Emperour, how they had there met with Tigranes, and all the converſation which had there paſſed between them, as well with Auguſtus as the King of Media. Artaban out of reſpect hearkened to their diſcourſe with much patience, though he found it no ſmall difficulty to ſuffer, without reſentment, both the injuſtice of Caeſar, and the proceedings of Tigranes: and ſeeing the Queen expected what he would ſay upon that occaſion, Madam, (ſaid he to her,) if you and the Princeſs continue towards me that goodneſs whereof I receive ſuch glorious expreſſions, I ſhall little fear the competition of Tigranes, as being confident, that Auguſtus hath no thoughts of favouring him, and onely brings him upon the Stage, meerly to retard your departure, and making his advantage of time, endeavour with ſome appearance of juſtice the ſatisfaction of Agrippa. All this buſineſs is full of Artifice, and unworthy a great Soul; and were I but once more in the head of thoſe very Parthians whom I have commanded in your ſervice, I ſhould not onely make the King of Media quit all his pretenſions, but haply find trouble enough for him that ſets him on work and fondly believes that all the earth ſhould ſubmit to his power. I am apt to believe, (added the Queen) that the power of the Parthians ſhould not be deſpicable in the apprehenſion of the Romans, and that they have felt it ſuch, though things were not carried on by the conduct of an Artaban; it is the aſſurance which Auguſtus hath of your valour that puts me into the greater fear for you, it being not unlikely he ſhould rather wiſh that the Parthians had ſuch a King as Tigranes then as Artaban: But the Artifice he is forced to make uſe of to detain us in Alexandria, is more then needed; ſince that you bring deſign'd a Husband for my Daughter and content (upon our intreaty) to paſs for a Prince of the Royal Bloud of Parthia, he could not imagine we ſhould depart hence without having you along with us.

Artaban was going to make ſome reply to this obliging diſcourſe with all the acknowledgement he could expreſs upon the like occaſion, when, caſting his eye towards the Cloſet door, he obſerves the perſon who was come in with the Queen, and whom he thought of her retinue, as the Queen had thought him one of his ſervants. The firſt Idea he took of him obliged him to take a more particular notice then before; and he had not looked long upon his countenance, but, notwithſtanding the change which ſeveral years and accidents had brought upon it, he immediately knew him by the memory he had dearly preſerved of him. He roſe of a ſudden, & forgetting at that inſtant the place where he was, and the perſons that were about him, Oh Father, (ſaid he,) oh Briton, is it poſſible I ſee you again? And thereupon going up to him with his arms ſpread, he would have embraced him with a filial tenderneſs, had he not juſt then remembred himſelf that he was before the Queen, & that the reſpect he ow'd her permitted not thoſe endearments. Upon that recollection of himſelf, he onely took him be the hand with all the marks of an earneſt affection; and turning towards the [Page] Queen, Pardon me, Madam, (ſaid he to her,) pardon me, I beſeech you, an offence which ſo unexpected an accident hath cauſed me to commit; (ſpeaking ſomewhat lower, out of a fear of being heard by thoſe in the next room,) ſince that, with all the favours you have done me, you reſtore me my Father, give me leave to preſent him to you, not for a Prince, ſuch as he who would have acknowledged me for his Son; but for a perſon of Noble Bloud, and one who makes vertue over-ballance all advantages. You would have me of the Bloud of Arſaces, and I was unwilling to diſcover then from whom I came, or diſclaim a Father worthy for his great courage of a better Fortune▪ The condition which you ſee him in, though it ſpeaks no great eminency, I am not at all aſhamed of; and whatever he may appear in your ſight, if I have any thing of vertue, if any thing great in my ſoul, it is from his bloud and from his inſpiration that I derive it. To be ſhort, Madam, you now ſee Briton, the true Father of Britomarus, and not Artanez, the imaginary Father of Artaban. If the Son hath deſerved any thing from you, you will have a kindneſs for the Father; and if, as Son of ſuch a Father, you think me unworthy of the favour you would have done me, conſider withal that I have not preſſed it, and that it is yet in your power to deprive me of all hopes of it.

While Artaban ſpoke to this purpoſe, Briton, whom a reſpect to the Queens preſence had alſo kept from the open diſcovery of himſelf; wrung him by the hand, with an earneſtneſs not inferiour to his, and though he kept ſilence, made his affections articulate by thoſe tears of joy and tenderneſs which fell from his eyes. The Queen, who was much aſtoniſhed, and it may be not a little troubled at that accident, diſcovered her amazement in her countenance; and the Princeſs, though ſhe continued conſtant in the deſign ſhe had upon Artaban, yet was ſhe not able to oppoſe a certain grief at the ſight of a Father ſo unſuitable to the greatneſs and fortune of her Artaban. They both diſcovered their confuſion by their ſilence; and Artaban himſelf, notwithſtanding the tranſcendency of his ſoul, felt ſome trouble riſing in his mind from that which he thought he obſerved in the countenance of his Princeſs. Briton overcoming that which till then had hindred him from ſpeaking, looking on Artaban with eyes inflamed with ſome extraordinary livelineſs, Oh Britomarus, (ſaid he to him) Oh Artaban, Oh man great as my deſire, and much greater then my hopes, you are now ſuch as I have made it my ſuit to the merciful Gods to make you, and now alſo am I at liberty to do you the juſtice I owe you, and to reſtore you what with reaſon I have taken away from you, and which you your ſelf will out of your own generoſity take away. Notwithſtanding your Greatneſſe, notwithſtanding your arrival to the higheſt Dignity in the World, you acknowledg Briton to be your Father: it is then but juſt, that Briton ſhould find you a Father worthy of you, and diveſt himſelf of an honour which is not due to him, to render you that which he cannot without injuſtice any longer detain from you, No Madam, (continued he turning to the Queen,) Artaban comes not of the Bloud of Arſaces, but is of a Bloud which may be allied to that of Arſaces, and to that of the Gods, without any injury to them, as being born of a Father who was the glory of the Univerſe, whom all the Earth acknowledged its Conquerour, and to whoſe memory all the world owes a reſpect and veneration. If you deſire Scepters and Crowns of him, he cannot give you any but by his Sword; it is all the Fortune of his Father and his own hath left him, though his Father hath diſpoſed of Crowns, and ſeen a thouſand Kings at his feet: but if to make him worthy the greatneſs to which you deſign him, it ſuffice that he is born of a Father, and come from a Bloud that is illuſtrious, the World is hardly able to afford a more glorious extraction, or more conſonant to the greatneſs of his Soul, and that of his Fortune.

To this effect was Britons diſcourſe when Artaban, looking on him with a countenance which diſcovered the ſmall credit he gave to what he ſaid, Give over, Father, (ſaid he to him,) give over flattering my ambition by an imaginary birth, and a glory, which as it is not my due, ſo I cannot receive. I ſhould heartily wiſh, to be the more worthy to ſerve my Princeſs that I were born of no other Father then your ſelf, but that you were ſuch a one as he whom you would give me: but ſince it hath been the pleaſure of the Gods it ſhould be ſo, it ſatisfieth me that I am born of a Father in whom Vertue is more remarkable then all other advantages; and though I could make all the World believe what you would now perſwade me to, yet ſhould it be far from my thoughts to be guilty of ſuch unworthineſs towards the Queen and Princeſs. Imagine not (replies Briton) that I would celebrate you by a diſcourſe contrary to truth, and remember your ſelf you have ever known me much an enemy to falſhood and artifice; beſides, it were but too glorious for me to be Father of ſuch a Son to diſclaim you, and there were but few Fathers in World who willingly would diveſt themſelves of ſuch an advantage, if they might with juſtice preſerve it: but I ſhould commit too great an offence againſt the Gods, I ſhould injure a precious memory which I have a more then ordinary veneration for; nay, I ſhould injure your ſelf, whom I value above all things, if, attributing to my ſelf a glory which [Page] is not due to me, I deprive you of that which belongs to you. You may remember, that, while yet a child, though I was content you were believed my Son, yet was my demeanour towards you with more reſpect and conſideration then Fathers uſually expreſs towards their own children; and you may call many particulars to mind, which will engage your belief of the diſcourſe I ſhall make to you, in the preſence of the Queen and Princeſs, if they will give me leave, and whereof I ſhall evince the truth by thoſe diſcoveries that cannot be denied. Whereupon Briton held his peace; and ſeeing the Queen, the Princeſs, and Artaban hearkened to him with much aſtoniſhment and confident ſilence, as it were to engage him to ſpeak, he comes up nearer to the Queen and Princeſs, and plac'd himſelf ſo in the Cloſet as to be as much as he could diſtant from the door, that he might not be heard by thoſe who were in the other Chamber; and ſeeing that they gave him a favourable audience, he thus reaſſumed the diſcourſe.

The Hiſtory of BRITON and BRITO MARUS.

MY diſcourſe ſhall be ſhort, becauſe the accidents of moſt importance whereof it conſiſts are known to all the world, and that there are onely ſome particulars, requiring no long relation, which are not come to your knowledge. You may have underſtood, Madam from Artaban himſelf, ſince I doubt not but he hath acknowledged what he thought himſelf to be, that I was born among the Gauls, and that after my Countrey was deſolated by the arms of Julius Caeſar, the reſentment I had againſt the Conquerour of my Countrey made me engage my ſelf in the Army of Pompey the great, his enemy. I endeavoured upon all occaſions to do him the greateſt ſervices I could, and was ſo happy by the aſſiſtance of my fortune, and my diligence therein, as not only to be known as other perſons of my rank who fought for him, but alſo oblige him to afford me ſome particular demonſtrations of affection, to receive me into his houſe among thoſe whom he moſt reſpected, and not long after to beſtow on me a Wife of conſiderable quality, one that had been brought up with the vertuous Cornelia his own Wife. In fine, my fortune became ſuch, and the favours I received from ſo good a Maſter were ſo great, that in a ſhort time, though a ſtranger, there were few Romans about him in whom he had a greater confidence, or whom he put upon more honourable employments. I ſhall not inſiſt on thoſe actions of his life which are known to you ſince they are alſo known to all the World; nor trouble you with the defeats of Carbo, Perpenna, Domitius, Tigranes, Mithridates, ſo many Kings, and ſo many different Nations. upon the Accompt of ſo many battels, and ſo many tranſcendent actions, whereby he hath with ſo much juſtice, acquired the name of GREAT, and which gave him a Triumph over three parts of the Univerſe, with a glory which never any other attained unto; but haſten to his deplorable end, and onely tell you, that in the unfortunate battel of Pharſalia, in which with the Fortune of the great Pompey the Roman Liberty was defeated, after I had kept cloſe to his perſon during the fight, I was one of that ſmall number of his that accompanyed him in his flight; when after we had croſſed the Valley of Tempe, he took the Sea in a fiſherboat, which carried him to a ſhip commanded by Petitius, which he met by chance, & wherein he paſſed to the Iſle of Lesbos, there to take in the vertuous Cornelia his Wife, and young Sextus, one of his Sons by the former, whom he had left at Mitelene. I was the perſon whom he ſent to Cornelia, to give her an accompt of his misfortune, and to prepare her to come with all expedition into the ſhip, to avoid the purſuit of his enemy; and I was the perſon who held her a long time ſwouning in my arms at the ſad news which I was forced to bring her; I attended her to the Veſſel, I was preſent at their ſad interview, and whatever elſe happened during the reſt of that unfortunate, voyage.

You know, Madam, by the report which hath been ſpread all the world over of it, that after conſultation about the place where that great man ſhould take his refuge, he reſolved to retire to Egypt, which was not far, hoping to be received by King Ptolomey, whoſe Father he had caſt extraordinary obligations upon; and that after this reſolution taken, he parted from Cypras in a Galley of Seleucia, with Cornelia and Sextus, and a ſmall number of ſervants, and made towards the City Peluſium, where Ptolomey was at that time. You know how he ſent him notice of his coming, when you have underſtood, Madam, with all the world, who hath deplored his fortune, how the greateſt of men, having been received in a ſmall Bark of Achilles and Septimius, with onely Philip his libertine, and being brought towards the ſhore by thoſe Barbarians, was, in the ſight of Heaven, and to the eternal ſhame of that Nation, run through in ſeveral places with a Sword, in the preſence of the [Page] unfortunate Cornelia; who, with Sextus her ſtep ſon, and all the reſt of thoſe that came along with him, were, by the will of Pompey, left in the Galley, in expectation to receive his Orders when he had ſeen Ptolomey. I do not conceive it any way neceſſary to repreſent unto you our aſtoniſhment, nor to inſist on the affliction of the unfortunate Cornelia. Having all been Witneſſes of that deplorable ſpectacle, and, through the horrour we conceived thereat, being in a manner as dead as he who had diſcharged himſelf of his ſoul in our ſight, neither I, nor thoſe with me, whoſe trouble at that loſs was equal to mine, were in a condition to relieve Cornelia, or take care of Prince Sextus; and it was well that we had in our Galley, and in the other which had followed us, other perſons that were leſs concerned, or at leaſt leſs diſturbed by that terrible accident, who, minding our ſafety, weighed anchor immediately, taking all the advantage they could of a favourable wind to get into the main Sea, and to make out of that ſatal channel with the greateſt ſpeed they could poſſibly. Neither Cornelia nor young Sextus did contribute any thing to this care of their welfare; and while the young Prince was impatient between ſome of his ſervants, who found work enough to hinder him from being his own death, the deſolate Princeſs was laid down as dead, having her head in Herennia my Wife's lap, whom ſhe loved beyond all that had any relation to her, and who had kept her company in all that voyage. As ſoon as I had recovered my ſelf, not out of my grief, for my ſoul feels it to this very day, but the diſturbance which ſo ſtrange an accident had raiſed in me, I turned my thoughts to what was remaining of my Maſter, and endeavoured to do him further ſervice, either in the perſon of his Son, or that of his Wife; and ſeeing people enough about Pompey, and my Wife with ſome others buſie about Cornelia, who had not recovered her ſentiments, and who in a manner diſcovered no ſign of life, I came near her, and contributed my endeavours to thoſe of the reſt to bring her to her ſelf. It was long ere we could promiſe our ſelves that comfort; and when ſhe had opened her eyes, & ſhe ſaw us buſie about her in order to her relief, turning her fatal looks upon us, ſhe opened them to a rivolet of tears, which it hath not been in the power of many years to dry up. Though ſhe were a perſon naturally of an admirable conſtancy, and had a courage much beyond her Sex, yet was it beyond both her courage and her conſtancy to oppoſe the violent aſſaults of a grief raiſed by ſo inſupportable a loſs. Nor was there any perſon who either durſt or would oppoſe ſo juſt lamentations, but were inclined rather to accompany them than condemn them.

The ſaddeſt expreſſions that can proceed from the greateſt misfortune come not any thing near the complaints of the afflicted Cornelia; and it were impoſſible for me to make you apprehend it, if you do not your ſelf imagine it out of a conſideration of the loſs ſhe received; for indeed, never had woman ſuch a loſs, never had woman loſt ſo great a Husband, nor after ſo cruel a manner: neither did ſhe charge any thing but fortune with the fall of her illuſtrious comfort; and as before her marriage with the great Pompey ſhe had been the young Widow of Craſſus, who with his Father had been killed among the Parthians, ſhe ſaid that her fortune had been fatal to her Husbands, that ſhe had been fatal to the Houſe of Craſſus, and to that of Pompey, and that it was meerly through the cruelty of her Deſtiny that the earth had loſt two extraordinary men. But being withal a perſon of admirable vertue and exemplary piety towards the Gods, ſhe offered not to repine at their decrees; and amidſt the diſcoveries of the moſt ſenſible grief that ever ſoul was moved to, ſhe added thouſands of a miraculous moderation. She never enquired what place they carried her to, and the Veſſel was come to Cyprus before ſhe had diverted her thoughts for ſo much as one minute from the fatal object which wholly took them up: nay, ſhe would have refuſed what is neceſſary for the preſervation of life, as thinking nothing more deteſtable than the continuance of it, had ſhe not thought her ſelf oblig'd to ſome care of it, out of the affection which ſhe had for Pompey, and to expreſs her endeavours to preſerve the only fruit of their love and marriage, which ſhe had carried for ſome moneths in her womb. For you are to know, Madam, that ſhe was ſome four or five moneths gone with child; and though there were no great appearance of it, and that ſhe had diſcovered it to very few, I was one of that ſmall number that knew it, and had been told it by Herennia, to whom ſhe communicated all her ſecrets. She then endeavoured to keep it more ſecret then before, and made many of thoſe who had heard of it believe, that ſhe was miſtaken in the opinion ſhe had of her being with child: but in the mean time the inconvenience it occaſioned her, and which troubled her the more by reaſon of her grief, and the foul weather ſhe had been in at Sea, on which ſhe had made a long voyage for a perſon in her condition, caſt her down at Amathus, a City of Cyprus, whither we were retired, into a ſickneſs which ſhe conceived would prove long, and which ſhe would have wiſhed more dangerous, if out of the love ſhe had for what was left of Pompey, ſhe had not been ſo far deſirous of life, as to bring it into the World.

Mean time having a great reſpect to the memory of the great Pompey in whatever he had [Page] left behind him, though Prince Sextus was not by her, yet ſhe minded his preſervation no leſs then if he had; and fearing the purſuit of the Conquerour, who might conceive ſuch a jealouſie of the Children of Pompey as might oblige him to take away their lives, ſhe would have him ſent away with all diligence from Cyprus, to ſeek his refuge either in the Navy, which ſtill continued loyal, or with her Father Scipio, Cato, and King Juba, who was of their party, or with Cenius Pompeius his elder Brother, who was in Spain. Sextus would not haply have been perſwaded to leave her, as having a greater reſpect for her vertue, than an alliance which ordinarily raiſeth not very ſolid Friendſhips between ſtepmothers and ſtepchildren, had he not imagined that there was no danger for her, and that the triumpant Caeſar would not extend his victory ſo far as to the Wife of the great Pompey. Sextus left Cyprus, with the greateſt part of thoſe that remained both of the friends and ſervants of his Father, and, upon the deſires of Cornelia, I was one of the ſmall number who ſtayed with her, and continued to ſerve her with the affections I had for her great and illuſtrious Husband. She kept her bed all the time ſhe ſtayed at Amathus, where all the world did her honour ſuitably to her dignity and vertue, and where ſhe underſtood, ſomewhat to her comfort, that Caeſar, inſtead of countenancing the murtherers of Pompey, had deſtroyed them all; that Ptolomey himſelf had loſt his life, and that there was not any one left of thoſe infamous counſellors who had engaged him in that deteſtable action. She kept her bed though ſhe was ſufficiently well in health, the better to conceal her great belly; but at laſt, perceiving it impoſſible for her to keep it always ſecret in a City where ſhe was viſited by ſo many perſons, upon pretence that the Countrey air might do her much good, ſhe would needs be carried in a Litter to a certain great Houſe which ſtood a days journey from Amathus, and and which one of the principal inhabitants of Amathus accommodated her with for that time. Her reſolution was to Lie-In there, as being unwillng to venture upon the Sea in the condion ſhe was in, and conceiving there was no place more fit to conceal her delivery. Her reckoning came upon her ſooner than ſhe expected; for the ſeventh moneth after conception was hardly expired, when ſhe feels coming upon her the pains and throws of Child-bearing; and not long after, without any other aſſiſtance then what ſhe received from her woman, ſhe was ſafely delivered of the ſame Britomarus whom you now ſee before you. It is true, Artaban, (continues Briton, obſerving his aſtoniſhment, as alſo that of the Queen and Princeſs, in their countenances, and by their ſilence,) It is true Artaban, or rather Pompey; you it was that Cornelia brought into the world, and you it was whom we received into our Arms, for want of perſons more experienced in that employment; you are the true Son, and ſince the Gods have ſo thought fit, the only Son that remains of a Father, who, in the thirtieth year of his age, had triumphed in Rome, over Europe, Aſia, and Africa; of a Father who maſter to Kings, and the terrour of all the Powers in the Univerſe; and of a Father, who certainly had died the moſt great and glorious of all men that ever were, had he died before the battel of Pharſalia. I could not among all mankind have furniſhed you with a more illuſtrious Father, nor better recompence the modeſty you have had, to content your ſelf with a Father ſo little worthy of ſo great a Son. Thus Madam, (continued he, addreſſing himſelf to the Queen, have I given you an accompt of Artaban's birth, it is that which is moſt important in my diſcourſe; the reſt I ſhall paſs over with as much brevity as I can poſſibly.

I ſhall not trouble you with an account of all the careſſes which that paſſionate Mother entertained her Son with, and thoſe expreſſions of love and tenderneſs which upon the ſight of the Son, the memory of his Father put into her mouth; and ſhall only tell you, that having by my means got Nurſes for the Child, we gave out that he was my Wifes Son, whom Cornelia oblig'd to keep her bed to give the report the more credit. At laſt, when ſhe had recovered health and ſtrength, and found her ſelf in a condition to endure the Sea, with her Son, though it much troubled her to be forced to that extremity, ſhe prepared her ſelf for her departure, with a deſign to take refuge among thoſe who were yet remaining of the great Pompey's party, among whom Scipio her Father, King Juba, and Cato, had a conſiderable ſtrength left; but about this time news came to her of their fatal overthrow, and how that thoſe three great men, in whom conſiſted all the remainder of her hopes, had been defeated by Julius Caeſar; that Scipio her Father had killed himſelf with his own hands, and King Juba would needs force his death from thoſe of Petreius, and that Cato was retired to Utica, not indeed with any hope to maintain it againſt the Conquerour, but to die gloriouſly in it.

This cruel news extremely heightned her afflictions, and, putting her to the ſaddeſt ſufferings that a ſingle perſon was capaple of, opened in her a new ſource of tears, which many dayes could not dry up. At laſt, being forced to take ſome reſolution, ſhe took it ſuitably to her fortune, and bethought her ſelf to retire to a ſolitary houſe which ſhe had not far from [Page] Alba, and to ſpend the reſt of her dayes in lamentations and ſollitude; but conſidering withal that Caeſar's deſign being openly to make himſelf the peaceable Maſter of the Empire, there could be no ſecurity for the Children of Pompey, and that it was already reported he was already upon his march towards Spain, in purſuit of Cneius and Sextus the two Sons of Pompey, who, notwithſtanding the tenderneſs of their age, were retired thither, and raiſing Forces there, ſhe thought it not ſafe to have her Son about her in any place where he might be diſcovered, and was afraid to expoſe him to the ſea while yet but young. The diſturbance ſhe conceiv'd hereat, made her ſuſpend for ſome days; but at laſt, having reſolved what to do, and calling me and my Wife to her, in whom ſhe had a more than ordinary confidence, Had I not an experience (ſaid ſhe to us) of your vertue and fidelity, during the time you both lived with Pompey and my ſelf, I ſhould not truſt you with what is moſt dear to me, after the death of my illuſtrious Husband, nor ſhould I be eaſily induced, after the demonstrations I have received of your affection, to part with either of you, upon a leſs occaſion than that of preſerving my Son. In fine, Briton, in fine, Herennia, it is to you both that I commend the young Pompey, and it is by your care that I hope his life and liberty will be preſerved; find out ſome place in the Iſland where you may for ſome time retire, where, among ſuch perſons as ſhall ſee him, he may paſs for your Son; and where I would gladly ſtay my ſelf while I lived, did I not think my abode here might bring him into ſome danger, and at laſt diſcover him to his Enemies. If you do not think your ſelves ſafe in this place, by reaſon of the abode we have made here already, take ſome other as ſoon as the Child ſhall be in a condition to endure the Sea; and if you underſtand, during that time, that Fortune is any thing more favourable to his Brothers in Spain, then it was to his Father in Theſſaly, you may carry him thither, and recommend him to their protection. In the mean time, I ſhall expect an account of my Sons education, deſiring you to bring him up in all vertuous ſentiments, that may raiſe his ſoul to a reſemblance of the great Pompey: but above all, if you have any reſpect to the confidence I repoſe in you, let him be ſtill brought up in a belief that he is your Son, and acquaint him not that he is deſcended from Pompey, till you receive my permiſſion to do it, or that I am departed this world. For as no doubt he will have a courage ſuitable to the blood which runs in his veins, that is, that of Pompey and Scipio's, ſo will the knowledge of it engage him in enterpriſes which will infallibly prove his deſtruction, nay, though he ſaw his party ruined, yet would it be hard for him to diſſemble ſo glorious an extraction.

To theſe words Cornelia added many other; after which ſhe made us ſolemnly ſwear, that we would never diſcover to her Son what birth he was of, till we had her leave to do it, or that he arrived to a fortune great enough not to diſclaim it. Whereupon ſhe gave us the beſt part of what Gold and Jewels ſhe had, and left us ſuch a quantity thereof as would not only relieve our neceſſities, but make us live in a conſiderable high condition. She faſtened about her Sons neck a golden chain, & a ſmall box in the form of a Medal, which Artaban I think hath never opened, as being ignorant of the ſecret of it, which is known only to me, and may very much contribute to the confirmation of my diſcourſe. He knows how much I have recommended the careful keeping of it to him; and having intreated him to do it, by all the affection he had for me, I never deſired him to forbear the opening of it, becauſe he never thought it might be opened, and that it ſeemed to be one piece as an ordinary Medal. In find, Madam, what ſhould I ſay more? Cornelia having ſaid all the affection which ſhe had for her Son put into her thoughts, kiſſed him a thouſand times with affectionate tears, and recommended him to us as a Depoſitum which was more dear to her than her own life, bid us at laſt a doleful adieu, and took ſhipping to paſs into Italy, where we retired to her houſe near Alba, with the Aſhes of her Husband, which Caeſar ſent her ſome time after.

After her departure, we took up our habitation as ſhe had directed on the other ſide of Cyprus; where, though obſcurely, we lived handſomely enough, and brought up our dear charge with an affection no leſs than if he had been our own Son, and ſuitable to the reſpect we ow'd him as that of Pompey. There we ſpent two years; at the end whereof perceiving that too much notice was taken of our being in Cyprus, and that we might be ſuſpected by ſuch perſons as had ſeen us about Cornelia, we bethought us of another retiring place: and having underſtood that the two young Princes Cneius and Sextus Pompeius had a very powerful Army in Spain, and were in ſome hopes, by the favour and aſſiſtance of Fortune, to revenge their Father, and reſtore themſelves to their former Dignity, we departed from Cyprus with the Child, and what Gold and Jewels we had left, with a deſign to paſs into Spain. But we had not been many dayes at ſea ere a violent tempeſt overtook us, which having put us out of our way, and continued ſeveral dayes, with much hazard of our lives, and that of little Pompey, whom we were more in fear of than our ſelves, caſt us upon the coaſt of Egypt, but at the great diſtance from Alexandria, and the fatal channel where I had ſeen the ruine of my great Maſter. We were hardly got to ſhore, but the [Page] deſign we had to paſs into Spain came to nothing, by the news we had of the overthrow of Pompey's Children, who had been defeated near the City of Munda, in a bloody Battel, wherein they had found Caeſar more work, and had put him into more danger, than he had met with in all the engagements he had ever been in: we underſtood that the elder, Cneius, had been killed, and that Sextus had eſcaped; but whether he had retreated, none knew.

This fatal news, which ruined all my hopes, and put me into an inſupportable ſorrow, was ſeconded by an unfortunate accident that happened not long after, the death of my Wife Herennia, whoſe loſs I was ſo much troubled at, that certainly, wearied out with ſo great misfortunes, I ſhould gladly have parted with my life, had I not thought my ſelf obliged to continue it, for the education of Pompey's Son, I therefore reſolved to make it abſolutely my buſineſs, as thinking it all I had to do in the world; and finding the air of that part of Egypt, where we then were, excellently well agreeing with the Child, and conſidering there was no place where, with leſs probability, a Son of Pompey might be found, I reſolved to expect in that place the change of our Fortune, and how the Gods ſhould diſpoſe of Prince Sextus. I accordingly took up my habitation in a conſiderable Town, where, by what I had received from the liberality of Cornelia, finding I might live after a handſome rate, I would ſpare nothing, as to the young Prince's education, whom I named Britomarus, the better to perſwade the world, by that reſemblance of names, that he was my Son. He may well remember, Madam, and haply hath given you an account how I have brought him up, and how that, upon diſcovery of the miraculous advantages he derived from nature, I endeavoured to improve them by my care and a noble education. My pains therein, Madam, were ſuitable to my deſign, finding out, with no ſmall charge, the moſt excellent men the Country could afford to inſtruct him in all exerciſes; inſomuch that thoſe who meaſured me according to the outward appearances of Fortune, much wondred to ſee the Son of ſuch a Father ſo brought up. Britomarus himſelf hath many times been aſtoniſhed thereat, and knows that I have omitted nothing that might heighten the excellency of his natural abilities. My hopes were ſomewhat raiſed by the actions of Sextus Pompeius, who had poſſeſſed himſelf of Sicily, and put to Sea a powerful Navy, wherewith, after the death of Julius Caeſar, he continued the War againſt Octavius and Anthony, his ſucceſſors, and that with great ſuſpence of Fortune; but at laſt, having been baſely murthered by his Lieurenants, all that remained of the blood of Pompey was in the perſon of Britomarus. I ſhall not put him in mind of many particulars which he cannot forget, whence he might well imagine, that he was ſomewhat greater than Son to Briton. Nor ſhall I dilate my ſelf any further as to his education: you may have learned it from himſelf; how that, deſirous to train him up to ſome high and noble things in ſome Princes Court, and having a horrour for that of Alexandria, where reigned the deteſtable Progeny of that wicked Ptolomey, who had with ſo much baſeneſs put his Father to death, I brought him to that of the King of Aethiopia, and made him particularly apply himſelf to the ſervice of the Princeſs Candace. You may alſo have underſtood from him, the generous difference happened between him and Prince Cleomedon, wherein he diſcovered himſelf to be the Son of Pompey, and by his management thereof, which put the whole Court into admiration, gave me ſuch ſatisfaction, as that I found ſome pleaſure in the inconvenience it was to me ſome days after, upon that accident, to find out another abode. He may further have acquainted you how we left Meroe, and Aethiopia; how we travelled into ſeveral Provinces; and how, paſſing into Arabia, we were ſet upon by certain Arabian Robbers, by whom I was taken, and by him given over for abſolutely loſt. Only I am to tell you, Madam, that whileſt I brought him up in Egypt, notwithſtanding the diſtance between it, and that part of Italy where great Pompey's Widow made her reſidence, I often gave her an account of him by a ſlave ſhe left with me to that purpoſe, to whoſe fidelity ſhe truſted that ſecret. He made many journeys upon that ſcore, and brought me many Letters from that vertuous Princeſs, whereof I have very carefully preſerved ſome, which the Robbers and the ſeveral Maſters into whoſe hands I fell, were pleaſed to leave me, though they took from me all things elſe which they thought better worth the taking.

I ſhall not trouble you, Madam, with a relation of what hath happened to me ſince that doleful ſeparation; beſides that it were not juſt to abuſe your attention by a diſcourſe of ſo little importance, I have not been engaged in any thing that might deſerve it; and ſhall therefore only acquaint you and the Prince I have brought up, who no doubt, out of the excellency of his nature, thinks himſelf in ſome meaſure concerned therein, that after I had been taken by the Arabians, and robbed of all I had left of the preſents of Cornelia, except two Letters, which out of the exceſs of their kindneſs they were pleaſed to leave me, I was ſome dayes after given in exchange for one of their companions, to certain Cilician Pirates, who kept me two years in their ſhips, undergoing the ſame inſupportable hardſhip and inconveniences [Page] with the other ſlaves, yet with much more patience then the loſs of my Britomarus. The Pirates ſold me afterwards to a Fhenician Merchant, who had many Veſſels at ſea, and a great number of ſlaves, who treated me with more humanity, and with whom I have continued ſince, not meeting with any opportunity to recover my liberty, though I might hope to be redeem'd by Cornelia, could I have given her an account of my misfortune. At laſt, after many voyages, my Maſter had occaſion to come to Alexandria, where he died ſome days ſince, and to gratifie the good ſervices I had with much patience done him, he at his death gave me my liberty. The kindneſs he did me in that, hath prov'd the occaſion of a far greater happineſs; for walking, as ſoon as I was free the ſtreets of Alexandria, which I could not look on without horrour, out of a reflection on the baſe Ptolomey, I perceived, among thoſe illuſtrious perſons who accompanyed Auguſtus a Hunting, my own Britomarus, well mounted and ſumptuouſly clad, and in a condition not much different from that of the moſt eminent perſons in the world: Though I had not ſeen him in many years before, heard nothing of him, and was in doubt whether he were alive, yet did I without any difficulty call him to mind, and by the Idea I had of him in my heart, ſhould have known him, however he had been diſguiſed. I asked his name of thoſe I met, and it happening they were intelligent, and not unacquainted with the Court, they told me, that that perſon whom I ſaw among ſo many Kings and Princes, and ſeem'd not inferiour to them, was himſelf neither King nor Prince, but one whom his vertue and great actions made more conſiderable than they; and that it was the famous Artaban, who, by ſomany noble victories had maintain'd & conquer'd the Kingdomes of Parthia and Media, and ſpread his reputation all over the world. Having, during the time of my ſlavery, made many voyages, and been upon ſeveral coaſts with the Phenician Merchants, I had heard much talk of Artaban, and his great actions, but never ſuſpected that Artaban was my Britomarus: So that not doubting but it was he, and ſo much the leſs for that it was alſo ſaid he was a perſon of unknown birth, my joy was ſuch as I could hardly bear. It was my buſineſs all that day to inform my ſelf of all could be learn'd of Artaban at Alexandria; I underſtood that it was generally believed he might in time be married to the Princeſs Eliſa, Heireſs of the great Kingdome of Parthia. The next day, having taken greater notice of him, and gotten ſo near him, without his perceiving of it, as to hear him ſpeak to thoſe perſons whom he was with, I was ſo well ſatisfied that it could be no other than Britomarus, that I was abſolutely confident of it; yet durſt I not diſcover my ſelf to him in publick, out of a fear he might be troubled to ſee a perſon ſo ill accoutred whom he was to look on as his Father: and while I was thinking of ſome way to do it with convenience, and ſo as he might not take offence thereat, I underſtood yeſterday, Madam, of your arrival at Alexandria, and heard this morning from the common report, that it was credibly thought your intention was to beſtow the Princeſs your Daughter on Artaban, and to advance him to the ſupreme Dignity of the Parthian Kings: but I had hardly given entertainment to the joy I ſhould have conceived at that news, when I heard that he was by order from Auguſtus ſecured: That account of him hath brought me not a little frightned to finde him out; and being neer his chamber door when your Majeſty came thither, I thruſt my ſelf among thoſe of your retinue, as if I had been one of it: I made a ſhift to follow you even into the cloſet, and having found by your diſcourſe, that Pompey's ſon was now in the condition wherein his Mother had given me leave to diſcover the truth I had conceal'd from him, I made no difficulty to let him know it, eſpecially at a time when I ought to have done it, to recompence the generoſity which you and the Princeſs your daughter have had, to prefer Vertue in ſuch a birth as he was of, before the dignity of ſo many Kings as envy his fortune, as the moſt glorious, the greateſt men in the world could aim at.

Thus dip Briton put a period to his diſcourſe; and thereupon taking advantage of the ſilence of the Queen, Princeſs, and Artaban himſelf, who look'd on one the other without ſpeaking any thing, he drew out two Letters he had left of Cornelia's; and preſenting them to the Queen, intreated her to read them. The Queen having opened them, found in the firſt ſhe took theſe words:

THe account you give me of my Sons education, and the hopes you conceive of him, fills me with the greateſt joy I am capable of, and would rejoyce even in the aſhes of his Father, if the Gods, receiving him to themſelves, had left any ſentiment in what is remaining of him among men. Continue, dear Briton, the faithful affection you have for the Son of a Father who dearly loved you, and a Mother who owes you all the enjoyments, nay haply all ſhe has remaining of life. Soſippus will give you an account of me, and tell you more than I dare truſt to this paper, as I do to his fidelity.

[Page] The ſecond contained thus much:

THe greater things you tell me of the Son I have committed to your care, the more you put me into fear for him; and if he one day prove ſuch as you hope he will, it will be hard for him to conceal himſelf from his enemies, and confine his thoughts to his preſent fortune. This conſideration obliges me to intreat you by all the affections you have for him, and the Oath you have made to me, not to let him know the truth of his birth, till he be arrived to that greatneſs among men, as that he may, with defiance of his enemies, acknowledge it. I ſhall ſee him, when fortune ſhall ſo bring things about, as that I may do it without expoſing a life, which continues my own in the juſt occaſions I have had not to cheriſh it; and I ſhall dye ſatisfied, if I can but once more ſee in his face the reſemblance of his Father, ſuch as you repreſent it to me.

While the Queen and Princeſs were buſied in reading theſe Letters, Briton having ask'd Artaban whether he ſtill had the box he had given him; Artaban, who had very carefully kept it, taking it out of the place where it was, preſented it to him: It was flat like an ordinary Medal, having on the out ſide characters in the form of Letters, whereof conſiſted the names of Pompey and Cornelia; of which when Briton had explain'd the meaning to the Queen and Princeſs, he opened the box, and the Medal wherein there ſeemed to be no ſeperation, divided it ſelf into two equal parts, in which there were two Pictures excellently well done. About that of the man was written, CNEIUS POMPEIUS; and about that of the woman, CORNELIA wife of CNEIUS POMPEIUS. While the Queen and Princeſs were looking on them; ‘Had you ever ſeen the Great Pompey (ſaid he to them) you would eaſily be perſwaded that Artaban was his Son; never was man more beautiful, or had ſo majeſtick a preſence, as haply you may have heard from the common report of him: Thoſe who knew him in the age Artaban is of now, would hardly finde any difference in their countenances.’ Eliſa and the Queen had already obſerved in Pompey's picture ſome part of what Briton ſaid to them; and the only difference there was proceeded from that of their ages. To that Briton added, that the picture of Cornelia might be known by many in Alexandria; and that ſhe her ſelf, if living, as he had heard ſhe was, would not only acknowledge and entertain Artaban as her ſon, but would come to ſee him among the Parthians, and confirm the truth of his diſcourſe. But the Queen interrupting him: All theſe diſcourſes (ſaid ſhe to him) are more then needs to convince us that Artaban is Pompey's ſon: I upon the firſt overture believed it, as well out of the confidence I have in you, and the aſſurances you give of it, as by thoſe characters of greatneſs which I find in the perſon of Artaban conſonant thereto. I praiſe the Gods that he is ſuch by blood as I wiſh'd him; nay, ſuch as he might have wiſhed himſelf: I am apt to believe my daughters ſentiments are ſuitable to mine, and if you meet with any difficulty to evince the truth you have diſcovered, it will be in relation to Artaban himſelf, who will be more hardly won than we are to aperſwaſion ſo advantagious to him. I ſhould no doubt be hardly won to it (replies Artaban) if I were not convinc'd: But, beſides the credit I give a perſons diſcourſe whom I know to be highly vertuous, beſides the evident aſſurances he hath given of it, and the offer he makes to have me own'd and acknowledged by Cornelia, I feel many things within me which abſolutely ſatisfie me that I am ſon to Pompey: I have ever had for his memory a veneration full of love and tenderneſs; I could never hear of his advantages, without a certain joy, nor of his misfortunes, without affliction: And though in the life of Julius Caeſar, I found much to admire, yet hath it ever been without any particular affection for him. I now perceive whence proceeded that unjuſt averſion which I ſometime had for Prince Caeſario, whereof I have thouſands of times endeavoured to find out the reaſon, yet never could, and which I was not able to overmaſter till I had a perfect knowledge of his vertues. I alſo call to minde ſeveral diſcourſes of Britons, whereby he might have raiſed in me ſome jealouſie, had I made any great reflexion thereon; as alſo many actions, in which he diſcovered, that it was with ſome violence to himſelf he exerciſed the authority he did over me, & that he was much guilty of a reſpect which fathers expreſs not towards their children. In fine, Madam, all things concur to perſwade me that I am Pompey's ſon, and I muſt confeſs, that (though I have ever preferred Vertue before an illuſtrious birth) I entertain this diſcovery with all the ſatisfaction I am capable of, if I may but thereby make the Princeſs a preſent more worthy of her in the perſon of Pompey, than in that of Britomarus.

With theſe words he caſt himſelf on his knees before Eliſa; who knowing the Queen would approve what ſhe did, and thinking her ſelf obliged to make him ſome anſwer upon that overture; after ſhe had intreated him to riſe, ‘I ſhall not tell you (ſaid ſhe to him) that Pompey deſerves me better than Britomarus, as having expreſt my ſelf ſo far as to make it appear, that, without the advantage of birth, Artaban was more conſiderable in my thoughts than all the Monarchs in the world; but muſt acknowledge, that I take my part in the joy you ſhould conceive of your deſcent from ſo great a Father, and that your ſatisfaction is not greater than mine [Page] at the juſtice of Heaven in giving you ſuch a Father as ſuch a ſon deſerves, and ſuch as ſhould crown both your own wiſhes and ours.’

To this the Queen added ſomewhat much to the ſame effect, ſatisfying thereby the ſon of Pompey of the joy ſhe conceived at ſo glorious an acknowledgement, and the happineſs ſhe thought it to have a ſon of Pompey to her ſon in law, inſtead of a Prince of the blood of Arſaces. But after ſhe had expreſſed her ſelf to that purpoſe, and fully aſſured Artaban of the ſatisfaction ſhe conceived thereat: ‘This diſcovery of your birth (ſaid ſhe to him) ought to be entertained both by you and us ſuitably to the glory it brings us, and our concernment therein: But, Artaban, or Pompey, whether ſhall I call you? there is a neceſſity it ſhould be kept ſecret among our ſelves; and if you love Eliſa, and deſire to be hers, you muſt give us leave to conceal it, and paſs, as you do, for a Prince deſcended from Arſaces. The danger whereto you would expoſe your life, in relation to Auguſtus, if it be diſcovered you are Pompey's ſon, is not unknown to you, as being not to learn that he perſecuted the laſt of that name, till he loſt his life by the treachery of his own people; but beſides this reaſon, which is to be looked on but while we lie at his mercy, I am to tell you, that to be born of Pompey is indeed ſo glorious, as to be envyed by all men, but a thing the Parthians will never brook, as who would rather have the ſon of Briton for their King, than that of the greateſt and moſt illuſtrious among the Romans. No certainly, it will be with much difficulty that they will ſubmit to the Government of a Roman, You know what an averſion they have for that Empire, nay for the very name; and you may well imagine, that that conſideration might countenance the pretenſions of Vononez, and raiſe thoſe troubles which you would finde it no eaſie work to compoſe. I am therefore to entreat you, for my daughters ſake and my own, that he who hath hitherto been content to paſs for the ſon of Briton, may go among the Parthians for Artaban the ſon of Artanez; To be deſcended from Arſaces, is not ſo deſpicable, but that it may be acknowledged by the greateſt Princes upon earth, and it is a compliance you are obliged to upon the juſt reaſons I have alledged, and the affection you have for Eliſa.’ This deſire of the Queens is ſo juſt (added the Princeſs) that I cannot imagine you will make any difficulty to ſatisfie it; and my confidence in the affection you have for me is ſuch, as I dare hope greater demonſtrations of it.

Artahan, all ſubmiſſion for the commands of Eliſa, immediately ſmothered all the repugnances he had to conceal the glorious name of Pompey: And though his thoughts were already upon ſuch deſigns as would make it more known in the world than haply it had been in the triumphs of his Father, nay, to make it a terrour even to thoſe who had ruin'd him; yet finding much reaſon and likelihood in the Queens diſcourſe, and reflecting how highly he had been obliged by the Princeſſes, who had not ſlighted him for a husband and ſon in law, while he was yet but ſon to Briton, he thought he could not, without ingratitude, but comply with their deſires; and thereupon aſſured them, that how glorious ſoever it were to him to make the world ſenſible of his being ſon to Pompey, yet all gave way to the obedience he had for the advice of a Queen and Princeſs, to whom he both was and would be obliged for all things, and that what condition ſoever they might out of their goodneſs raiſe him to, he ſhould never forget the generoſity they had expreſt towards a perſon who had received nothing from Fortune but his ſword; nor to the laſt gaſp quit that happy name of Artaban, under which he had the glory to ſerve the Princeſs Eliſa.

After ſuch expreſſions of himſelf, and that reſolution taken, the Queen diſmiſs'd him to the careſſes of Briton, who was ſo tranſported with joy, that he could hardly contain himſelf: Artaban on the other ſide ſatisfying him, that though he ceaſed to be his ſon, yet was the affection he had for him no leſs than if he had been his true father, as finding greater reaſons to love him upon the account of his education, and his faithful and generous deportment towards him, then upon the obligation of birth. The Queen and Princeſs entertained him with great demonſtrations of their eſteem, and all put him into hopes that his laſt days ſhould be more happy and more glorious then all the precedent part of his life had been.

Mean time Sempronius had acquainted Caeſar with Cleopatra's reſolution concerning the way propoſed to her to ſave Coriolanus's life by a marriage with Tiberius, upon an aſſurance from Coriolanus's own mouth, that he would accept of his life upon thoſe terms. Auguſtus, Livia, nay, Tiberius himſelf conceived little hope from that anſwer of Cleopatra's, as concluding from the knowledge they had of the great courage of Juba's ſon, that queſtionleſs he would prefer death before the loſs of Cleopatra; and ſo they imagined it was only to have the opportunity to ſee the Prince, that ſhe had ſent Sempronus back with that meſſage. They were a good while in conſulting whether they ſhould permit that interview, it being Tiberius's fear it might deſtroy all that had been done in order to his ſatisfaction; but at laſt they thought it ſhould be granted, though but to oblige Cleopatra to make an abſolute diſcovery of her intentions; that it could not be prejudicial, as things ſtood with her and [Page] the Prince, nay, that it was not impoſſible, but that the fear of preſent death, and that ſuch as appears with a much different face from that which it hath in combats, might ſhake Coriolanus's conſtancy. It was therefore reſolved, that Cleopatra ſhould viſit Coriolanus in the Caſtle where he was in reſtraint, that Sempronius ſhould attend her thither, and that ſhe ſhould not ſpeak to the Prince but in the preſence of Sempronius and Levinus. Sempronius was the perſon employed to bring her this order: She received him in her chamber, where ſhe was with her brothers, Queen Candace, Antonia, and Artemiſa. She hearkned to Sempronius with much patience and moderation: And when he had delivered his meſſage; I am content Sempronius (ſaid ſhe to him) to go along with you to the Priſon where Coriolanus is; I ſhall ſpeak to him in your preſence, as having nothing in my thoughts which I dare not diſcover, and do any thing he ſhall deſire me, to ſave a life which I value much beyond my own.

With thoſe words she immediately prepared for her departure, inflamed with impatience to ſee her beloved Prince, whom ſhe had ſo little ſeen ſince the diſcovery of his fidelity had ſet him right in her thoughts. The Princeſſes her Brothers would have accompanied her, and Antonia and Artemiſa would have gone along; but Sempronius told them, the Emperour had given him order to the contrary. The two Princeſſes were extremely troubled at it, and the three Princeſſes loudly expreſt their ſentiment of the rigorous treatment they received in a City which brought into their memory all the old injuries, and might put them upon a deſign to ſhake off the unjuſt yoke impoſed upon them. Candace, who was no leſs deſirous to ſee Caeſario, then Cleopatra was to ſee Coriolanus, ſent to the Emperour to deſire his permiſſion to do it, but it would not be granted; upon which cruel refuſal, almoſt out of her ſelf with grief, after ſhe had deteſted the inflexibility and injuſtice of Auguſtus, ſhe, out of the greatneſs of her courage, ſought out the means to oppoſe his Tyrannie, and deliver her Caeſario out of the captivity and danger he was in, by other ways than intreaties and tears. The incomparable daughter of Anthony went out of the Palace alone, attended by her women and Sempronius, with ſome of the Emperours Guard; and taking leave of her Brothers and the Princeſſes ſhe left in her chamber, ſhe embraced them, and bid them adieu, as if ſhe had been to go a long and dangerous journey.

The old Caſtle of Alexandria where the Princes were ſecured, was at an extremity of the City, that had on one ſide the ſea, and was fortified towards the City with a deep and broad moat; having been the ſeat of the ancient Kings of Egypt, before the late Ptolomies built the ſumptuous Palace which Queen Cleopatra had finiſhed; it was commodious enough to ſerve for other uſes than what it was then put to, there being in it ſome Lodgings not only convenient but magnificent: There were the ſons of Juba and Caeſar in reſtraint, both with little hope of deliverance thence, other than that of death; as having learnt, either by experience, or the reputation ſpread abroad of him, that Auguſtus was no leſs implacable towards his enemies, and thoſe whom upon conſideration of policy he was jealous of, then kinde and obliging towards his friends, and thoſe whom no concernment of State put him into any fear of. Upon this reflection, they both had preſent death in their thoughts; yet how cruel ſoever it might be to perſons in the height of blood and youth, all its terrours troubled not their mindes, ſo much as the remembrance of their Princeſſes: Notwithſtanding the danger they were in, the lively images of Cleopatra and Candace were ſtill preſent to them; and they much more dreaded the loſs of their amiable Princeſſes, than that of a life they could not value but for their ſakes, an interview with them would have been a great alleviation to their ſpirits, might it have been obtained. And whereas Caeſario had heard miracles of Coriolanus, and that Coriolanus could not have ſeen a Brother of Cleopatra's, ſuch a Brother as Caeſario, without a ſudden eruption of joy, no doubt but communication would have wrought a great abatement of their misfortune: But the Emperor had ordered they ſhould not come together, nor ſee one another, as having conceived great jealouſies upon the ſecret conferences of Caeſario with Cleopatra; and imagined that Coriolanus was not unacquainted with their deſigns, & that all together might be engaged in ſome great and dangerous enterprize. Upon this account he had cauſed them to be lodged in ſeveral places; but having underſtood one anothers conditions by Levinus and the Guard, who were not ordered to conceal it from them, they mutually ſent civilities and recommendations to one another, wherein they imagined to themſelves ſome remiſſion of their ſufferings. Coriolanus, who was well acquainted with the tranſactions of the houſe of Cleopatra, had been much aſtoniſhed to hear that young Caeſario, whom all the world thought dead ſo many years before, was living, and the ſame, who under the name of Cleomedon had done ſo great actions in Ethiopia, & had in his preſence fought with the hardy Britomarus, & with admirable courage engaged againſt the Pirats. He had learnt from Britomarus & Tridates's houſe that he was that Cleomedon, ſo famous for many victories; & he called to minde, that for ſome [Page] ſmall time during that combat he had ſeen his face, whereof by reaſon of its extraordinary beauty he had preſerved the idea: But the great actions of Coriolanus being generally known Caeſario had had a better account of them; and beſides what he had received from common report, had heard from his ſiſter all the particulars of moſt importance. By this mutual account which theſe two great Princes had one of another; they were infinitely deſirous to ſee one the other, and thought it an aggravation of their misfortune to be in reſtraint within the ſame walls, and denied that freedom. Caeſario endured his impriſonment with ſo much the more impatience, by reaſon of its hapning in that City where he drew his firſt breath, wher he had paſſed away his firſt years with ſo much ſplendor, & whereof he was the lawful Prince, and not he whom Fortune had put into his place. He could not reflect on theſe things, nor caſt his eye on that part of the City where ſtood the Palace of his Anceſtors by the mothers ſide, which he could ſee out of the windows of his chamber, without ſighing and bewailing the cruelty of his deſtiny; but his affliction was augmented when he thought of his Queen, whom he had left in the hands of his enemies, and whoſe grief he was much more troubled at then his own: He had ſo much the more reaſon to bemoan his misfortune, in that it had hapned to him when he thought himſelf in a condition to defie Fortune, and had nothing to oppoſe him either in Aethiopia, or the inclinations of his fair Queen.

Coriolanus on the other ſide, ſeemed to be leſs ſenſible of this laſt ſtroke of his misfortune, as having of a long time ſtruggled with the malice of his deſtiny, and learnt not to be too fond of a life attended by ſo many miſeries; yet was it a great eaſe to his thoughts, that he had been ſo happy as to vindicate himſelf before his death, and that Cleopatra could have no other thoughts of him, then as of a Prince that had been ever conſtant to her: Nor could he but derive ſome ſatisfactions from the ſervice he had done upon two or three occaſions whereto he ſeemed brought by ſome divine conduct, and thought it ſome happineſs to have ſeen his implacable Rival laid at his feet, and in a poſture to ſatisfie him by his death if he would have accepted of it for all the injuries he had done him; having had his life at his mercy, who had been the greateſt perſecutor of his own, he could not ſo much as wiſh him ill, nor repent he had he had given it him, though it contributed more to his unhappineſs then any thing elſe: ‘Let the Gods now (ſaid he) diſpoſe as they pleaſe of the remainder of this unfortunate life; I reſign them without any regret, ſince I have made thoſe advantages of them I deſir'd, and had the happineſs in my laſt days to reſcue Cleopatra from her enemies, to ſatisfie her of my innocence, and to overcome a Rival and an enemy by whoſe means I had loſt all: This done, what remains for me to wiſh, ſince Cleopatra cannot be the reward of an unhappy man whom an implacable Fortune hath not left any thing, either of the intereſt he had in Caeſar, or the Crowns he had recovered to preſent her with, and by what unjuſt ſentiment ſhould I entertain with grief or terrour the opproaches of a death I have ſo much deſired and ſought for?’

Theſe words fell from him, with a reſolution worthy the greatneſs of his courage: But ſoon after, the laſt change of his fortune, & the late deportment of Cleopatra came into his mind; & when he reflected on his being right in her thoughts, & that taking ſhe had given him greater and more perſwaſive aſſurances of her affection then ever he had received before he was not able to divert the conſiderations conſequent thereto, or thing on the retrival of a happineſs ſo great, & ſo much deſir'd, without a regret for the loſs of it, & a reſentment ſuch as he had never known in his life: ‘Alas (ſaid he with a ſigh forc'd from the bottom of his heart) if it were true that I have ſtill a place in the affections of Cleopatra, and that the Love whence I derived my glorious fortune, is fully reſeated in her heart, what had I to fear, what to deſire? or rather, what miſery could I be ſenſible of, upon the recovery of ſo tranſcendent a felicity? Ah! were it onely the loſs of that Crown which I ſhould have repreſented Cleopatra with, I might hope it from that ſword which had put it on my head before; for in fine, if I were loved by Cleopatra, nothing ſhould bring ſo much terror with it as to force me to deſpair,’

He was thus expoſtulating with himſelf, and in a certain ſuſpence, as to the judgment he ſhould make of his condition, when he hears a noiſe at his chamber door; and having turned his eyes towards it, ſees is it opened, and was ſtruck with a light, which by the ſuddenneſs and greatneſs of it dazzled them. Inexpreſſable was his aſtoniſhment when he perceived coming in the Princeſs Cleopatra, conducted by Sempronius and Levinus, and followed by two of her women; the diſturbance he was in being ſuch, as that for a good while he could not ſtir from the place to follow his heart, which was flying to meet her: He made a ſhift to recover himſelf out of the paſſionate trance which put him to ſuch a loſs; and running to the Princeſs, caſt himſelf at her feet, and faſtning on one of her fair hands, kept it to his mouth along time, not able to ſay one word to her. The Princeſs extreamly moved at his [Page] deportment; and all the diſcoveries ſhe therein found of his affection; and unwilling to ſmother any longer the love ſhe had for him, notwithſtanding the preſence of thoſe that accompani'd her, but leaving it to make an abſolute diſcovery of it ſelf, caſt her arms about the proſtrate Prince, and embracing him with an action full of tenderneſs, filled him with joy, which ſoon making its paſſage to his heart, had almoſt deprived him of all ſentiment: At laſt ſhe forced him to get up; and having cauſed him to take a ſeat near that which had been preſented to her, ſhe diſcovered to him that countenance, whoſe celeſtial excellencies were the envy of nature it ſelf, bathed in precious tears, and full of the characters of an affectionate grief. While the Prince look'd on her with ſuch diſtractive reflections as afforded him not the freedom of ſpeech, the Princeſs recovering the weakneſs ſhe was in upon that occaſion: ‘The tears you ſee (ſaid ſhe to him) proceed partly from the joy it is to me to find you faithful and innocent, after that long and cruel miſapprehenſion, whereby I was induced to a perſwaſion of your inconſtancy; partly from the regret I have, and while I live ought to have, for my cruelty and injuſtice towards you, when you ſhould have been moſt dear to me; and partly from the grief it is to me to ſee you a Priſoner at the mercy of an implacable enemy, who will not grant you your life but upon conditions too too inſupportable. Give me leave Coriolanus, to rejoyce with you for that fidelity which I do and ſhall ever value above my life, to expreſs my remorſe for the cruel and ungrateful treatment you have received from me; and laſty, condole our common misfortune in the extremity whereto I now ſee you reduced. My fortune was too happy to find you conſtant, after you had ſuffered ſo much through the treachery that had perſwaded me to the contrary; and I had ſoon ground to hope, out of the experience I had both of your love, and the generoſity of your ſoul, that my ſorrow for my offence might force it out of memory, and re-aſſure me of your affection: But the rigour of my implacable deſtiny defeats my felicity, by making the danger you are in greater then it is; for you are not to imagine any thing of favour in the permiſſion I have to ſee you, the occaſion of it is ſuch as will afford us but little joy; and the preſence of Sempronius and Levinus ſhall not hinder me from ſaying, that our enemies are guilty of more inhumanity then to do us any kindneſs which is not more cruel then the death they may put us to.’

Having ſo ſaid, the Princeſs, in whom the ſight of Coriolanus aggravated her affliction, was ſo overburthened therewith, that it was not in her power to proceed in her diſcourſe; ſo that the Prince having while ſhe was ſpeaking, recovered himſelf out of the diſtraction he was in, and taking the advantage of her ſilence, I beſeech you, Madam, ſaid he to her, imagine not that any effect of my ill fortune can make me inſenſible of the happineſs I derive from thinking my ſelf truly happy, if you really have the goodneſs to reſtore me to that affection wherein my condition had been ſo glorious: No, Madam, it is not in the power of my enemies, no, not in that of deſtiny, to oppoſe a felicity which I ever both have, and ought to have placed wholly in the glory of your inclinations for me: Nor is it the loſs of my Dominions, not that of my liberty, nor the inevitable face of death I am threatned with, that can ſo much as diſturb it, if I have the happineſs to be loved by my Divine Princeſs. Beſtow not therefore your tears on my condition, ſince that will ever be ſuch as you ſhall be pleaſed to make it; and that whatever change it may receive from men, or a malicious fortune, is not ſo conſiderable as to deſerve this diſcovery of your goodneſs. I am happy enough, ſince I am juſtified in your apprehenſions: I have liberty enough, ſince I have that of ſeeing all I can deſire to ſee in the world; and I have lived long enough, ſince my life, which my deſpair would have put a period to, hath laſted ſo long as to meet with the opportunity to do you ſome ſervice, and to ſatisfie you of my innocence. I complain not of the inconveniences which I have ſuffered through the miſapprehenſions you had conceived of me; they were grounded on appearances, ſuch as might have deceived any in the world and during that misfortune you treated me more generouſly then I in all likelyhood deſerved. I call to mind, without any regret; the miſeries I underwent upon that account; and I ſhould be little troubled at the loſs of my Kingdom, were I not thereby reduced to a condition unworthy to offer my ſelf to you; at leaſt to ſuch, as that I can offer you nothing but a deſpicable Prince, who is ſo far from having a Crown to preſent you with, that he hath not a place of refuge in the world, I have already told you, ſays the Princeſs, interrupting him, that the loſs of your Crown wrought no change on either my affections or inclinations for you; and that deſpicable as you are the eſteem I have for you is no leſs then if you were in Caeſars place. It is not for us, wretched remnants of a ruined houſe, to ſlight Princes whom a malicious fortune hath caſt out of the Thrones of their Anceſtors; and I ſhould think my ſelf but too happy might I ſpend my life with you, though loſt to all the hopes which you might derive from the aſſiſtances of friends, or your own courage. But Coriolanus, the diſpute now is not of a Crown, nor the rank you ſhould raiſe me to in the world▪ it is of your life, which is dearer to me then the Empire of the Univerſe a life that will not be granted you but upon conditions which haply will make you ſcorne it: That [Page] my dear Coriolanus, is the occaſion of this viſit, which you receive not from the compaſſion, but cruelty of your enemies; and before theſe witneſſes, who by Caeſar's order are to be preſent at our diſcourſe, I am to offer you the choice of either loſing your life, or quitting your pretenſions to Cleopatra. 'Tis Caeſars reſolution that either Coriolanus dye, or Cleopatra be married to Tiberius, out of a perſwaſion to ſave your life you will conſent to the marriage of Tiberius and Cleopatra. Adviſe me, Coriolanus, what I ought to do in this extremity, to preſerve a life which is much dearer to me then my own: and ſince the diſpoſal of your life and my deſtiny are in my power, adviſe me how I ought to diſpoſe thereof. Shall I abandon him whom I ſo dearly love, to beſtow my ſelf on a perſon that is ſo odious to me? Or to ſhun a man I hate, ſhall I neglect a life that's ſo dear to me? Shall I be reproch'd with ſuch an Infidelity, as to beſtow my ſelf on one I ever hated? or ſhall I be ſo cruel as to ſee dye, nay to occaſion the death of, one I have ſo much lov'd? Can there be any thing ſo difficult which I ſhall not do to ſave the life of Coriolanus? Or is there any thing in the world can prevail ſo far with me as to oblige me to marry his Rival? See Coriolanus, what extremities I am reduc'd to, and be your ſelf the maſter of your own deſtiny: If life be dearer to you then Cleopatra, to ſave it, I will beſtow my ſelf, not only on Tiberius, but on the moſt cruel Monſter in the world: and if you prefer me before your life, I ſhall ſatisfie you, That mine is not ſo dear to me as that I would preſerve it, and not acquit my ſelf of what I owe your affection.

To this effect was Cleopatra's diſcourſe, deliver'd with much violence to the grief which would hardly ſuffer her to expreſs her ſelf; and when ſhe had given over ſpeaking, the Prince who had heard her with much patience and ſerenity, rejoyning thereto with an action which betrayed not the leaſt diſturbance, ‘Madam, (ſaid he to her) I am not ſurpriſed at the news you bring me, it has ever bin my perſwaſion that my enemies would not ſuffer me both to live and enjoy Cleopatra, and therefore I ſhall ſoon ſix on the reſolution I am to take; and ſince you lay your commands upon me, I tell you, That, were the preſervation of your life in diſpute, and that you were put to a choice of either death, or a marriage with Tiberius, I would conjure you to marry him, as rather inclined to ſee you wedded to my Rival, then loſe a life to which I ought to Sacrifice all conſiderations. I ſhould tell you further, That, if I could imagine your fortune might prove happy with Tiberius, I would intreat you to entertain it, and not to ſpend any further thought on that of a wretch, who would be much more unhappy in your misfortune then his own. But if it be only to ſave the life of Coriolanus that you are propoſed a Marriage with that Tiberius whom you love not, it is my ſuit, You would not do your ſelf a violence which would prove more inſupportable to me then the death my enemies intend me. I am certainly much miſtaken by thoſe who would perſwade you, That, to ſave my life I will conſent to the happineſs of Tiberius, and know not by what baſe action I may have raiſed in them that unworthy opinion of me. No, Madam, I ſhall not only ſcorn life upon thoſe conditions, but muſt tell you, That it is not even in your power (omnipotent as you are) to ſave it by that way ſince my own hands will be able to take it away, if my grief ſhould prove ſo weak as to continue it one moment after that misfortune happened to me. Let me therefore intreat you not to ſuſpend any longer; as to the reſolution you are to take, be it ſuch as your own inclinations ſhall inſpire you with, not minding the preſervation of a life which you would force from me withmuch more cruelty inbeſtowing your ſelf on my Rival, then expoſing me to the cruelty of my enemies.’

This was the cloſe of Coriolanus's diſcourſe, which fell from him with a confidence whence the Princeſs might well judge that his thoughts were much different from the impreſſion which Sempronius would have put into her. Whereupon the fair Cleopatra, entertaining that declaration with a conſtancy not inferior to his: ‘It hath ever been my belief (ſaid ſhe to him) that your reſolution would be ſuch as you now diſcover it; and I had ſufficient experience of your affection and the greatneſs of your courage to be ſatisfied, that the fear of death would not make you quit Cleopatra to your Rival. But, Coriolanus, it is not juſt I ſhould be ever oblig'd to you, I will therefore to ſo much Love and ſo much Virtue, make at laſt that return which a Princeſs, deſirous to expreſs a Gratitude and Generoſity equal to yours, might think expected from her. Receive then (continued ſhe, reaching to him her hand, which he receiv'd and affectionately kiſſed) receive the faith I give you, as well out of mine own inclinations as by the diſpoſal of thoſe perſons whom my Birth allow that authority over me, and aſſure your ſelf, that as your wife, I will run fortunes with you to the end, and now dye with you as my husband. Whereupon turning to Sempronius,’ ‘You may return to Caeſar (ſaid ſhe to him) when you pleaſe, and tell him, That I cannot be Tiberius's ſince I am the King of Mauritania's, that nothing ſhall henceforth be able to ſeparate us, and that I will dye with him as with a husband, whom the Gods, my Friends, and my own inclinations deſign'd me for.’

[Page] While ſhe ſpake to that effect, and that Sempronius and Levinus expreſſed their aſtoniſhment by their ſilence, the Prince having once more caſt himſelf at her feet, with his mouth faſtned on the fair hand ſhe had given him, diſcover'd by his deportment, that he entertain'd the preſent ſhe made him with as great an acknowledgment as if he had been to enjoy it for many years, and expreſſed his ſentiments by ſo many aſſurances of his paſſion, that thoſe who were preſent were extremely moved thereat. But when his tranſports permitted him the liberty of ſpeech, raiſing his eyes up to the fair countenance of the Princeſs, As for the glory (ſaid he to her) it is to dye your husband, I receive it with ſo much reſentment, as if it were not to happen till after a long and pleaſant life, ſince there cannot be any thing ſo glorious nor ſo deſirable to a Prince who had employ'd all his life, and all his thoughts in order to that only deſire. But to entertain you for my companion in the death I am to ſuffer, is a thing, which by all the power you have over me, you cannot oblige me to, as ſuch as wherein I ſhall begin to diſobey you at the point that I am moſt enſlaved by you. No Madam, I ſhall never endure you ſhould follow the deſtiny of a wretch whom the Gods think not worthy the fortune whereto you raiſe him; and if upon the name of Husband, which you honour me with, I ma pretend to any influence over you which I could not heretofore, I wholly imploy it to conjure you to baniſh out of your thoughts that cruel intention of making my death more terrible and more inſupportable to me. I ſhall haply entertain it with conſtancy enough if I ſuffer it in the hope that you will live, and that, it may be, happily: but if I am ſo loſt to all happineſs as to engage you in my misfortune, I ſhall dye with the greateſt confuſion and deſpair that ever man did.

While the ſon of Juba ſpake to this purpoſe, the Princeſs looking on him with certain diſcoveries of her reſentment, ‘Ceaſe, cruel man (ſaid ſhe to him) ceaſe thy refuſal of my company in what may happen to thee, ſince it is my deſire thou ſhouldſt participate of what befals me, and hope not by thy words to divert me from a reſolution which nothing is able to ſhake. I will live inſeparably with thee as long as the Gods ſhall continue our joint lives, and I ſhall dye with thee, it may be with conſtancy enough not to leave my memory any reproach of my wickedneſs. I am to acknowledge the kindneſs of my fortune towards me that I have this opportunity to aſſure thee that I have truly lov [...]d thee; for ſhould I do leſs then ſuffer death for thy ſake, I could not acquit my ſelf of what I owe thy Love and Services, nor make ſatisfaction for an offence whereby we are fallen into theſe misfortunes. Do not therefore any longer oppoſe my will, which ſhould have an abſolute power over thine, if thou art ſtill conſtant to me, and torment me not to no purpoſe, by entertaining with repugnance the only aſſurance of my affection I can now give thee. Go (continued ſhe, ſpeaking to Sempronius) and give Caeſar an account of what you have ſeen, and tell him, That I undauntedly expectdeath with a husband from whom all the powers in the world ſhal not be able to ſeparate me. Ah Madam (ſaid Sempronius to her) be not ſo loſt to prudence as to take that reſolution, and be pleaſed to conſider what you may hope and what you may fear from the authority of Caeſar.’

‘Caeſar (replies the Princeſs) hath lawful authority over me; he may remember that may Father was his equal, though he oppreſſed him by his fortune, and will find, that though he hath deprived his children of all Empire and dignity, he hath not taken away their courage, But, Madam (replies Sempronius) I have no order to leave you here, nor dare return to Caeſar without bringing you along with me. Thou ſhalt not force me hence (replies the Princeſs) unleſs thou firſt take away my life, and if thou offereſt me any violence thou wilt haply repent the execution of it.’

While ſhe thus ſpake, and by the earneſtneſs ſhe was in, diſcovered in her countenance, more the ordinary, the Majeſty of the Cleopatra's, Sempronius was much at a loſs; and if on the one ſide he was afraid of Caeſar's diſpleaſure for leaving Cleopatra and Coriolanus, contrary to the order he had received, he durſt not, on the other, hazard the offering of any violence to the Princes, as well by reaſon of the reſpect which her admiral excellencies forced into all the world, as the fear he was in to draw upon himſelf the reſentments of her Brothers, the Princeſs Octavia and Marcellus, whom he knew to be the moſt powerful perſons in the Empire, and a great number of others againſt whom he would hardly have made his party good; ſo that having ſpent a little time in thinking which ſide to embrace, he reſolved to go to the Emperour to give him an account of what had paſſed, and to receive new orders from him upon that emergency. The Prince of Mauritania, uncertain of his condition, having his Soul divided between the joy he conceived at ſuch extraordinary demonſtrations of his Princeſſe's love, and the grief he felt at the reſolution ſhe had taken to die with him, was thinking how to draw all the danger upon himſelf alone, and divert it from a life he conſidered much otherwiſe then his own, and he was in hope to find out ſome expedient to do it: But he forbore all further conteſtation with the Princeſs, [Page] as having his tongue tyed by the great reſpect he had for her: and only by his looks acquainting her in ſome meaſure with the different effects of thoſe two paſſions that were ſtrugling within him. After the departure of Sempronius, the Princeſs addreſſing her ſelf to Levinus, deſired the favour to ſee her Brother Prince Caeſario; and whereas it was hard to deny any thing to a perſon whoſe beauty was yet more perſwaſive then her diſcourſe, and that Levinus was no enemy of her Houſe, but one that had more then ordinary reſpects for Marcellus, whom he knew very much to concern himſelf in her fortune, he would gladly have given her that ſatisfaction had he not ſtood in fear of Caeſar's diſpleaſure, whoſe expreſs order he acquainted her with, excuſing himſelf ſo to her, as that ſhe turned all the reſentment ſhe conceived thereat againſt Auguſtus, without laying any thing to his charge who was only the inſtrument of his cruelty, and ſeemed to execute his orders with a certain regret.

While theſe things paſſed, the Emperour was in the Palace, having about him thoſe great Princes who were then in his Court, among whom there were few who did not endeavour all they could to appeaſe him, and divert the danger which the impriſoned Princes were in. Among all theſe the great King of Scythia, as he was the perſon for whom, of all the Kings, Auguſtus had the greateſt eſteem, as well upon the occount of his admirable vertues, as that of his Dignity, and the greatneſs of his Territories, which had no dependance on the Empire, and which were hardly acquainted with the Roman name; ſo was it he, who with moſt confidence mediated for the Princes: and took it moſt impatiency that his ſollicitations prevailed no more with Auguſtus then they did. He had many times acquainted him with his thoughts of it with much freedom, and made no difficulty to tell him, That that kind of proceeding would in all likelihood deſtroy the reputation he was ſo deſirous of, and was already ſpread of him in the world of a juſt and obliging Prince. But when he underſtood that he had ſecured Artaban, for whom he had an extraordinary eſteem, Artaban acknowledged a Prince of the Royal Blood of Parthia, he was hardly able to contain himſelf within the moderation which he was forced to obſerve in a place where he was not powerful enough to follow his own inclinations, but confidently told Caeſar, That the dignity of all Kings and Princes was concerned in that treatment of his towards a Prince of the moſt illuſtrious Extraction in the world; one that was to be King of a Monarchy which had never yielded to any other in the Univerſe: That by that action he renewed the war againſt the Parthians, and that the ſucceſs of it were the more to be feared for that he had no juſtice of his ſide, and that ſeveral other Princes, diſſatisfyed with his proceedings, would haply engage with thoſe whom he ſhould oppreſs: That beſides all this, there was this misfortune in the preſent emergency, that the Princes whom he kept in reſtraint, and againſt whom he diſcovered ſo much animoſity, were, of all men, the three moſt conſiderable for their Valour and admirable Endowments; and it would be thought that in their perſons he were become the perſecutor of Virtue it ſelf, and whatever the world accounted moſt great and amiable: That in all Ages, and among all Nations, Coriolanus, Ceſario and Artaban would be looked on with Admiration, Veneration and Reſpect, and that it would be the amazement of all the world, how he could have made the objects of his diſpleaſure, the three perſons, who of all, were the moſt likely to raiſe contrary paſſions in him.

It was with much ado that Auguſtus endured this free diſcourſe of Alcamenes, and had he not conſidered in his perſon, not only one of the greateſt Kings in the world, and a man miraculous for his extraordinary actions, but a King, who out of an exceſſive civility, had, contrary to the cuſtom of thoſe of his Rank, come to viſit him, and put himſelf into his hands with ſo much freedom, and without any neceſſity he would haply have made him feel the effects of a reſentment, he found it no ſmall difficulty to ſmother. Beſides, he was otherwiſe diſſatisfyed with him, as having heard of his affection towards the perſons in diſgrace, and deſire to ſee Artaban after his being ſecured; and if at firſt he had entertained him with much ſatisfaction and extraordinary reſpects, he then conceived a jealouſie of him, and could heartily have wiſhed him in the midſt of Scythia, as not without ſome violence enduring to ſee near him a perſon capable of the higheſt enterpriſes, nor without confuſion ſuch a witneſs of his unjuſt and violent proceeding. It hapned that while he was ſpeaking to him, the chamber had been full of Princes and great perſons, who though they ſtood at ſome diſtance had over-heard ſome part of their converſation. Among thoſe the King of Media, whoſe courage was heightned with the revival of his hopes, though little countenanced by any other, had been of the neareſt and moſt attentive to their diſcourſe; and having heard Alcamenes ſeveral times ſpeaking of Artaban, as a perſon that ſhould be husband to Eliſa, and King of Parthia, he thought himſelf, out of a reſpect to his intereſt and honour, obliged to make ſome reply; ſo that waiting Auguſtus and Alcamenes's coming towards [Page] them, ‘I know not, my Lord (ſaid he to Caeſar) whether you are perſwaded Artaban ſhould be treated as a man who is infallibly to be King of Parthia; but if his pretenſions to that rank depend on a Marriage with Eliſa, they are weakly grounded ſince you are not ignorant, my Lord, that while I live he cannot hope any ſuch thing.’

Alcamenes could not with any patience endure the diſcourſe of the Median, and looking ſcornfully on him, If Artaban (ſaid he to him) had no more to do then maintain his pretenſions againſt you, we ſhould not be ſo much troubled for him as we are, and I have heard you are not in too likely a condition to execute your intentions againſt him; nor indeed ſhall we charge you with contributing much to his misfortune, but it is our regret to find him expoſed to a far more dangerous power then yours.

The King of Media a little fired at the diſcourſe of Alcamenes, and conceiving himſelf engag'd to ſome reply, was preparing to anſwer him, and haply troubled to find terms wherein to expreſs himſelf to ſuch a perſon as Alcamenes, when King Archelaus, who was in the room with other Princes, and had taken notice what paſſed, and upon ſome conſideration or other had forborn to diſcover what he had to ſay againſt Tigranes, comes up to him, and looking on him with a fierce and reſolute countenance, ‘I have hitherto Tygranes (ſaid he to him) born with your proceeding out of reaſons I ſhall acquaint Caeſar with, when it ſhall be requiſite, and ſhould ſtill bear therewith out of the ſmall advantage I find in oppoſing it, if the perſon moſt concerned therein were guilty of ſentiments ſuitable to mine. You have not, I ſuppoſe, forgotten, how that being forced to fly your Country upon the ſucceſſes of the Parthians there, and the valour of Artaban, you took refuge in my Kingdom, and in my Palace, where you found not only the entertainment you expected, but alſo thoſe aſſiſtances which raiſed you into the Throne, out of which you were fallen. In fine, you cannot but acknowledge, That it is to Prince Philadelph and my ſelf that you owe your Crown, and that we put it on your head by the ſucceſs of our forces, with the loſs of our Blood and hazard of our Lives. This the Emperour himſelf knows to be true, and with him all the world; but he is ignorant, that during your abode with us, and while you expected your reſtauration from our aſſiſtance, you pretended a paſſionate affection for the Princeſs Urania my Siſter, inſomuch, that after many aſſurances of Love, Real or Perſonated, I know not, you promiſed to Marry her, when by our ſupplies you ſhould have recovered the Kingdom you had loſt. You know I was not ignorant of the promiſe you made her, though it was not out of that motive I engaged in your Party, and drew in the Prince of Cilicia; and that I never looked on it as advantagious either to me or Urania: and I aſſure you I ſhould ſtill diſſemble it, and leave you at liberty to addreſs your ſelf elſewhere if my Siſters intentions were not different from mine, as being reſolved to preſs you to the performance of your promiſe. You know ſhe is of a Bloud and Rank equal to your own, and that if ſhe cannot, as the Prince of Parthia, bring you a Crown for her dower, ſhe may reproach you, That you owe your own to her Brother, & make you acknowledg, That the condition you wer in when you made your addreſs to her was ſuch as admittedno pretentions to the Crown of Parthia, & that you thought your ſelf very happy in herentertainment of the affection you had or at leaſt pretended to have for her. To no purpoſe therfore is it for you to pretend a Marriage with the Princeſs of Parthia, for when you have overcom all other obſtacles, which you will find hard to do, you ſhall meet with one great eenough in me to retard the execution of your deſign, while I ſhall live and carry a ſword by my ſide,’

Great attention was given by that illuſtrious company to this diſcourſe of the King of Cappadocia, and as there was few preſent who had not an eſteem for the Virtue of Artaban, and a reſpect for the excellencies of Eliſa, ſo were there few who were not in ſome meaſure glad to ſee the pretenſions of Archelaus ſo croſs to thoſe of the King of Media. For the Emperour having no real deſign to countenance Tigranes, and only making uſe of him to have a more ſpecious pretence to deliver the Princeſs of Parthia in order to the love of Agrippa, he looked on the action, and heard the diſcourſe of King Archelaus with much indifference, and patiently expected what anſwer the King of Media would make him. Tygranes was not able to ſmother the confuſion which this diſcourſe of Archelaus put him into nor hinder a certain bluſh from ſpreading into his face; he was for a while at a ſtrange loſs, the greater haply, for that he perceiv'd in the Emperors countenance how little he concern'd himſelf in that adventure, Yet being a perſon of courage, and very loath to change Eliſa for Urania, he would make ſome reply, and looking very fiercely on Archelaus, Methinks (ſaid he to him) you very late and very unſeaſonably diſcover your concernment in my intentions, and that you might have done it more civilly, and haply with better ſucceſs when I was leſs engaged. I acknowledg I received from you, in my misfortune, thoſe aſſiſtances which might be expected from Allies, and ſuch [Page] as I would have affored you upon the like occaſion; nor ſhall, I deny, that during my abode with you, I have expreſſed towards the Princeſs, Urania, that complacency which is due to Beauty; nay, gave her ſome aſſurances of the effect her excellencies might produce in my inclinations; but I think you were not ignorant of the paſſion which even at that time I had for the Princeſs of Parthia; and if you were privy to the promiſe I had made your Siſter, I wonder you oppoſed not my deſign upon the firſt knowledge you had of it, eſpecially when I was upon a Treaty with the King of Parthia, both about a Peace and the Marriage. You know (ſaith the King of Cappadocia, interrupting him) you ever concealed your deſign from me, and that I had left the Army ſome few dayes before you ſent your Embaſſadors to Phraates. When I percieved the buſineſs paſt remedy I thought fit to conceal what I knew, and the world was ignorant of, and ſhould have done ſo ſtill had I not underſtood within theſe few dayes that it hath taken air much more then I ſhould have wiſhed. If you had any inclinations for Eliſa, when you took refuge in Cappadocia you ſhould not have pretended any for Urania, and make her promiſes, which among perſons of our Rank ought not out of any conſideration to be broken. Nor was Urania of a birth to be made the object of a perſonated paſſion, nor her Brother of a nature to brook ſuch an indignity, not at leaſt from Tigranes of any man in the world. I defered for ſome days what I now do, upon the entreaties of Prince Philadelph, who without noiſe and violence would have minded you of what you ought your Ally and Benefactor. I have ſince expected the curing of your wounds, which ſuffered me not to acquaint you with my intentions, while you were not in a condition to give me ſatisfaction: but now that nothing either can or ought to hinder you from doing it, take notice, before the Emperor and all the Kings and Princes that hear us, I am reſolved to make you perform the promiſe you have made my Siſter, or with all the force I can have of my own, or borrow of my Friends, revenge the injury you do me, or decide the difference by a ſingle Combate between you and my ſelf.

Tigranes was incenſed into a degree of fury at this diſcourſe of Archelaus; and looking on him with much fierceneſs, ‘Of the three propoſitions you make me (ſaid he to him) I except only againſt the firſt; and though I have an eſteem for the beauty and merit of the Princeſs Urania, yet the love I have for Eliſa, and your outragious proceeding afford me not the freedom to ſatisfie it. So that I leave you to the choice of either War of a private Combate; and within a few dayes I ſhall be in a condition to anſwer you in either. You expreſs your ſelf very generouſly (replied the King of Cappadocia) and becauſe it were not juſt to ruine Nations, and ſpill ſo much innocent blood in our particular difference, if it may be avoided, I challenge you to a Duel, which ſhall be fought in the preſence of the Emperor, if he pleaſe to permit it, and to appoint the place; or upon our frontiers, or in any part of the world you ſhall pitch upon. I accept the challenge (replied the Median) and I make it my ſuit with you to the Emperour that he would appoint the place. Within three dayes I doubt not to be ready, as hoping by that time I ſhall have recovered my ſtrength to that degree as to be able to deal with you.’

Aguſtus with much patience hearkned to the diſcourſe of the two Kings; & having heard ‘their joint relation,’ ‘There is no neceſſity (ſaid he to them) to come to that extreamity, if it may be avoided, and it is ſomewhat more then ordinary to ſee Kings decide their differences that way; we ſhall find ſome other expedient to reconcile you, if it be poſſible; the intereſt of two ſuch perſons being more conſiderable then to be leſt to the ſame hazard with that of private perſons.’

To this he added other reaſons, whereby be obliged them to expect ſome dayes what he ſhould have reſolved on as to their quarrel; and thereupon all that illuſtrious Court ſiding with the one or the other, according to their inclinations, the greater part favoured Archelaus, whom all the world eſteemed for his Vertue; and Tigranes had the affliction to ſee himſelf countenanced by very few. For beſides the reſpect had for Archelaus's perſon upon the account of his excellent endowments, therewas a certain juſtice cauſed a general ſatisfaction, to ſee him oppoſe the pretenſions of a perſon who had already made himſelf odious by diſturbing the felicity of Eliſa and Artaban, for whom all had an affection reſpect. Archelaus indeed acknowledged to ſeveral of his friends, That it was out of no other motive that he acted a part much againſt his nature, and that he preſſed Tigranes to the performance of a Promiſe from which he would have diſpenſed with him, meerly to deliver the Princeſs of Parthia from his unjuſt perſecution.

The Emperor's Chamber was full of the noiſe which this adventure had raiſed, when Sempronius comes in to give Caeſar an account of the interview between Cleopatra and Coriolanus. The King of Scythia, and divers other Kings and Princes were gone out of the room and the Emperor no ſooner perceives Sempronius, but calling him, and taking him to the bed ſide, he heard what he had to ſay to him, Sempronius gave him a particular relation of what he had ſeen and heard, and at laſt acquainted him with the ſeveral relations of [Page] Cleopatra and the Prince of Mauritania. Thoſe who obſerved the Emperor's countenance while Sempronius was ſpeaking to him, took notice it was with ſome impatience that he heard that diſcourſe and that he was giving way to a diſpleaſure whereof the conſequenes might prove very fatal. In that interim Aquilius, whom the taking of Caeſario had raiſed into ſome credit, coming to him, told him, That Queen Candace was carrying on ſome ſecret deſignes in Alexandria, either in order to the liberty of Caeſario, or upon ſome other account, that ſhe had brought into the City certain Aethiopians, who till then had kept cloſe in the ſhips, and who were to come to Alexandria along with Caeſario, and that the Governour of that Prince who lurked about the City, ſecretly endeavoured to perſwade the people to an inſurrection, to ſerve the Relations of their ancient Kings.

If the diſcourſe of Sempronius put Caeſar into any diſturbance, that of Aquilius much heightned it, and from both he took a reſolution, without any further delay, to put to death two Princes, one whereof had done him ſuch injuries as might bring his Authority into contempt, and to the other was likely to raiſe trouble in the Empire, and diſturb his Government: and being much perſwaded that there was an intelligence between Artaban and Caeſario, and fearing what ſuch a perſon might attempt, if he were ſo minded, he reſolved to have him ſent to the Caſtle where the other two Princes were in reſtraint, not thinking him ſafe enough in the Lodgings where he had cauſed him to be ſecured. He was upon theſe thoughts, and to that purpoſe iſſued out his Orders to Sempronius, Aquilius, and Petranius, a conſiderable perſon among the Romans, one to whom he had promiſed the Government of Egypt; when Prince Marcellus coms into the Chamber, and comg up to him (a freedom he had above all others) he gueſſed at his cruel intentions by the diſcoveries he perceived thereof in his countenance, & the private conference he found him in with thoſe perſons whom he moſt ſuſpected. His friendſhip towards Juba and Cleopatra raiſed in him a ſudden fear of the worſt could happen, whereon looking on the Emperour with an action wherin might be obſerved what was ſo burthenſome to his thoughts, ‘My Lord (ſaid he to him) I ſee about you the perſon whom you ordered to wait on the Princeſs Cleopatra to the Caſtle, and I read in his countenanee, as alſo in your own, that you are not ſatisfied with the account he gives you of his carriage.’

The Emperour having not at this time the abſolute command of his diſſimulation, as upon moſt occaſions he had, ‘Cleopatra (ſaid he to him) is deſirous of Coriolanus's death, and hath charged Sempronius to tell me ſo much, and I promiſe her ſhe ſhall not be long without that ſatisfaction, ſince ſhe ſo much prefers it before a Marriage with Tiberius. She ſtayes in the Caſtle with her Lover and Brother, and they altogether are egaged in a conſpiracy, which they would carry on by ſecret intelligences in Alexandria. But I ſhall prevent them, and before the Sun ſhines another day upon us, there ſhall neither the Servant nor Brother of Cleopatra be in a condition to attempt any thing againſt me. My Lord (replies Marcellus) whatever the Princeſs Cleopatra, or any related to her, may do in order to the ſafty of her Lover, and that of her Brother, I will be reſponſible as far as my life will be taken, that neither Cleopatra, nor any that have relation to her, ſhall ever attempt any thing againſt you; and as I have for them a friendſhip you have ever approved, ſo am I confident they are ſo far tender thereof, as never to attempt ought againſt him, who though my Soveraign Lord, yet had the goodneſs to treat me as his Son, And therefore, my Lord, I am humbly to intreat you, by all the affection you are pleaſed to honour me with, not to precipitate any thing upon the impreſſion which ſome would put into you, and to examine thoſe truths which intereſt and artifice may diſguiſe. Thoſe truths (replyed the Emperor very ſharply) I am but too well ſatisfied of, and ſhall look farther into them after the execution of theſe enemies, whoſe offences are more notorious then to need any further examination. Ah, my Lord (replies Marcellus) I perceive you have reſolved the deſtruction of the unfortunate Coriolanus, becauſe no doubt he hath prefer'd the loſs of his life before that of Cleopatra. But, my Lord (continued he, caſting himſelf at his feet) if it be true that that you have any thing of that goodneſs which you have ever expreſſed towards me, deny me not the favour I beg, to ſee Coriolanus and Cleopatra once more, and to endeavour their complyance with your deſires. I know they will both conſider the friendſhip I have for them, and will be perſwaded to that upon my intreaty, which no other conſideration would haply incline them to. Give me leave, my Lord, to repreſent unto them once for all what they ought to do, both in relation to our friendſhip, and the neceſſity, there is of obeying you; and aſſure your ſelf that if they deny what I ſhall deſire of them, I will never ſollicite you more on their behalf.’

Theſe laſt words of Marcellus proved more powerful with Auguſtus then any thing he had ſaid before, and the promiſe he made not to importune him any more with his intreaties, got him his deſires granted, notwithſtanding the reſolution which the Emperour had [Page] already taken. ‘Well (ſaid he to him) be it as you deſire, and if you can yet perſwade Cleopatra to a marriage with Tiberius, you ſave the life of Coriolanus: But if after this favour granted he refuſe it, never preſs me to any thing more, and reſolve to ſee him periſh without ſo much as opening your mouth on his behalf.’ Marcellus accepted of the condition, and would immediately have gone to the Caſtle where the Princes were kept; but it being already night, the Emperour would have him defer it till the next morning, delaying, till after the ſucceſſe of his enterpriſe, what he had reſolved, as well in relation to the death of Caeſario, as cloſer impriſonment of Artaban, whoſe guards he ordered to be doubled, till ſuch as he ſhould think fit to ſend him to the old Caſtle. He ſent order to Levinus to have a care of the Princeſs Cleopatra, but by no means to permit her to any conference with her Brother, nor any ſecret converſation with Coriolanus.

This night was the ſaddeſt that ever was ſeen in Alexandria; and whereas all the moſt illuſtrious perſons there were concerned in the misfortune of Cleopatra, and the affliction of Marcellus, few ſeemed to be ſenſible of, or at leaſt to expreſs any joy. All the acquaintances of Cleopatra, eſpecially thoſe of her own Sex, were aſtoniſhed at her reſolution, though they were not ignorant of the greatneſs of her courage; and among others the generous Octavia was no leſs troubled at it then if ſhe had been her own Mother, and indeed accordingly was to her as a real Mother, that all addreſſed themſelves to expreſſe the affliction they conceived at that adventure, wherein ſhe her ſelf was doubly concerned, both in regard of the affliction ſhe had for Cleopatra, and what ſhe ſuffered upon the grief of Marcellus. The Princeſſes her daughters, and particularly Cleopatra's two ſiſters were overwhelmed with grief thereat, but the fair Antonia to ſuch a degree, as that all her conſtancy was but neceſſary to make her capable of any comfort upon that occaſion. That evening the amorous Druſus being come to viſit her at Octavia's Chamber, which was full of the moſt illuſtrious perſons about Auguſtus's Court, and obſerving in her countenance, among all the ſigns of an unſupportable grief, ſome appearance of ſcorn more then ordinary towards him, was extreamly troubled thereat, though not ignorant of the reaſon of it. Whereupon looking on the Princeſs, ſo as ſhe might perceive in his eyes both his affliction and his love, ‘Is it poſſible, Madam, (ſaid he to her) I ſhould be at laſt fallen into the misfortune I have ever dreaded, and be expoſed, in ſome meaſure, to your indignation, becauſe I am ſon to Livia and Brother to Tiberius? I have no indignation againſt you (replies the Princeſs) but you may well imagine that I cannot without an exceſſe of affliction ſee it is from your Mother and Brother that all the misfortune, haply the abſolute ruine of our Houſe proceeds. Wo is me! (replies the ſon of Livia with a very doleful accent) muſt I be ſo unhappy, as notwithſtanding my innocency, to be numbred among the guilty? and do you not own that juſtice, as to conſider I do all that can with honour be expected from me, to ſatisfie the world how little I am engaged in the ſentiments and concernments of my Brother? I know not (replies the fair Antonia) whether you might not do ſomewhat more, conſidering the intereſt you have in the Empreſs. But however it may be, my grief proceeds not from any diſſatisfaction I have of you; and yet I am rationally induced to believe, that if the misfortune we ſo much fear happen by the death of Coriolanus, by that of Cleopatra, who will not ſurvive him; and by the intereſt which Marcellus and the children of Anthony take in both, neither my Mother nor Brothers will ever conſent I ſhould marry the Son and Brother of thoſe who had been the Authors of our miſery.’

Theſe words were as ſo many thorns to the breſt of Druſus; who looking on the Princeſs after a manner wholly paſſionate, ‘I ſhould think my ſelf but too happy (ſaid he to her) if this fear ſhould occaſion you any trouble, ſince I ſhould thereby find out what I have not been able to diſcover ſince I firſt made my addreſſes to you: But I muſt conceive my ſelf very miſerable, if through others faults I ſhould loſe a fortune which ſo many virtuous perſons have encouraged me to hope; and you may be confident that after ſuch a loſſe that of my life would little trouble me. Mean time think not I omit any thing I ought to do, neither as to Livia or Tiberius; and if I prove ſo unhappy as to fall into the misfortune you threaten me, be pleaſed to imagine I ſhall entertain it the more heinouſly by how much the leſſe I have deſerved it, and that I ſhall no more ſurvive that loſſe then Coriolanus ſhall that of Cleopatra.’

Theſe words fell from Druſus in ſo paſſionate a manner, that notwithſtanding the grief ſhe was in, Antonia was troubled thereat; and looking on him with more mildneſſe then her natural ſeverity ordinarily admitted, ‘If this misfortune happens to you (ſaid ſhe to him) (if at leaſt it be a misfortune to you) it ſhall not through my fault, but you know I muſt obey thoſe at whoſe diſpoſal I am; nor are you much to wonder if you ſee me ſubmit to commands contrary to my inclinations. If therefore the unhappineſſe be ſo great [Page] in your apprehenſion as you expreſſe it, endeavour what you can to prevent it, and beſtir your ſelf in a thing where you are ſo much concerned ſomewhat more then you would do purely for the relief of oppreſſed virtue.’

Druſus was much inclined of himſelf to what the Princeſs preſt him to, ſo that there needed not ſo much ſollicitation to oblige him to ſlight a many conſiderations which might have held a leſs amorous and leſs virtuous perſon in a long ſuſpence. Accordingly from that time his thoughts were upon a reſolution worthy his great courage, and the Nobleneſſe of both his Soul and Love. He diſcovered nothing to the Princeſſe, by reaſon of the coming up to them of Julia, Artemiſa, Iſmenia, Julius Antonius, and Armiaius; and not long after leaving the Room, he went to the Empreſs, to make his laſt remonſtrances to her on the behalf of thoſe whom onely her Authority crushed into misfortune.

Such of the illuſtrious company which then were at Alexandria as were not at Octavia's, were with the Queen of Parthia, Eliſa and the Queen of Ethiopia, who, united in affection and intereſt, were according to their different humours brooding different reſolutions, though both equally determined to die for the ſafety of their beloved Princes. The beautiful Arſinoe and the Princeſs Olympia were come to viſit them, with the King of Armenia and Prince of Cilicia, who were inſenſible of their own good fortune by reaſon of their ſympathy with the misfortunes of others. The King of Cappadocia was there alſo; with the Princeſs Andromeda, for whom he already had a violent inclination; and the Princeſs Urania was come thither along with Andromeda, though not without betraying in her countenance ſomewhat of confuſion, upon thought of what had happened that day concerning her. Though the company was excellently good, yet was the converſation nothing divertive; and when they thought it time to leave the Queen of Parthia to her reſt, all withdrew, and paſſed away the night in ſorrow and diſquiet, either out of a reflection on their own ſufferings, or the compaſſion they had for thoſe of ſo many other illuſtrious perſons who groaned under their misfortunes.

The end of the Third Book.

HYMENS PRAELUDIA; OR Loves Maſter-peice. Part. XII.
LIB. IV.

[Page]

ARGUMENT.

MArcellus is permitted to go to the Caſtle to get Cleopatra thence, and perſwade her to a marriage with Tiberius; but in ſtead of propoſing it, ſtayes there with Druſus, who had gone along with him, both reſolved to ſave the life of Coriolanus▪ or loſe their own. Sempronius acquaints Auguſtus and Livia with the reſolutions of Marcellus and Druſus, whereupon order is given that Coriolanus and Caeſario ſhould be immediately put to death, Artaban carried to the Caſtle, and the children of Anthony ſecured for fear of an Inſurrection. Candace hearing of it, and meeting with Alexander and Ptolomey goes along with them to a quarter of Alexandria, where Eteocles with 300 Aethiopians and ſome of the Inhabitants expected her Orders, with an intention to ſtorm the Caſtle. In their way they reſcue Artaban as he was carryed thither by a party of Souldiers, who joyning with them the Caſtle is ſtorm'd. Sempronius and Aquilius coming to execute the Emperor's Order upon Coriolanus and Caeſario, are killed by Ptolomey and Eteocles; and Petronius eſcapes to acquaint the Emperor with what paſſed, who thereupon ſummons the Pretorian Bands, and comes againſt the Caſtle taken by the Princes. Coriolanus and Caeſario ſpying the Emperour, ſally out, put to flight and the Sword all in the Moat, and make towards the place where he was, and Caeſario, having made his way to him, was going to strike at him, but the blow received by Coriolanus. Julius Antonius gets into the Caſtle. Ptolomey and Levinus bringing new recruits, and repreſenting to Auguſtus that the Caſtle was unfurniſhed of proviſions, he reſolves to ſtarve the beſieged, for whom the whole Court ſollicite. Artaban acquaints Caeſario with his being Son to Pompey. The beſieged make a Sally, with a deſign to get to the Ships, but are forced back with loſſe into the Caſtle; upon which all the Princes bewail the ſad extremities they are reduced to. Tiberius exaſperated by the reſolution of Cleopatra to die with Coriolanus is comforted by the Mathematician Thraſyllus with hopes of the Empire. Agrippa not knowing by order from Auguſtus any thing of what paſſed, receives a Letter from Eliſa. Caeſars dream, and reflections thereon. The deſign of Alcamenes, and other Princes, in order to the relief or deliverance of the beſieged; their fruitleſs addreſſes to the Emperor on their behalf. Coriolanus is brought before Caeſar, who orders Norbanus to put him to death; but Marcellus with Cleopatra coming in, ſtay him. Auguſtus is made ſenſible that Coriolanus was the perſon that ſaved his life the day before, whereupon reflecting on his Dream, he inclines to mercy towards him, and with the conſent of the Empreſs is content he ſhould have Cleopatra, for whoſe ſake Caeſario hath alſo his liberty. Agrippa intercedes for Artaban and Eliſa. Tigranes is perſwaded to perform his promiſe with Urania, and reconciled with Archelaus. Queen Candace, Artaban and Caeſaio are brought to the Palace. The Emperour entertains the whole Court at Dinner; after which he ordered that within three dayes the adventures of ſo many Illuſtrious perſons, ſhould receive their period by their ſeveral Marriages; So that having joyned together at Alexandria the valiant Coriolanus with his divine Cleopatra, Artaban with Eliſa, Caeſario with Queen Candace, Marcellus with the Princeſs Julia, Druſus with the fair Antonia, the King of Armenia with his Olympia, Philadelph King of Cicilia with his amiable Arſinoe, Alexander with his Artemiſa, Archelaus with the vertuous Andromeda, Tigranes with Urania, and the valiant Arminius with his dear Iſmenia, he left to be celebrated at Rome that of Agrippa, as alſo that of Domitius with Agrippina, Ptolomey with Marcia, and Lentulus with Tullia.

[Page] AS ſoon as it was day, Prince Marcellus, whoſe Friendſhip filled him with fears and diſquiet, not inferiour to thoſe which are the effects of the moſt violent Love, in ſouls abſolutely poſſeſſed thereby, ſtarts out of his bed in order to his departure from the Palace, to go to and acquaint the Princeſs Cleopatra with what he had to ſay to her from the Emperor. But ere he was quite dreſt Druſus comes into his Chamber: He had not ſeen him ſince the Combat between Coriolanus and Tiberius, and thoſe other great accidents which had raiſed ſo much diſturbance in Alexandria; and though he had an infinite eſteem for his vertue, and ſaw nothing in his perſon which was not truly great and amiable, yet the reſentment he had of the tyrannical proceeding of Livia and Tiberius, and the preſent affliction he was in for the misfortune of his friend, made him conſider him in ſome meaſure as the Brother of Tiberius, though he had an extraordinary reſpect for him as Druſus and ſervant to Antonia; and if he could not hate him, becauſe he ſaw no ground of hatred againſt a perſon he ſo much loved, and though worthy his friendſhip, yet was he guilty of a certain diſſatisfaction, which remitted, if not quite took away, the Love that before he had conceived for him. Druſus read ſome part of this truth in his very countenance, but ſmothering his own thoughts he gave him the time of the day as he was wont to do; and Marcellus having received him with much civility, but ſuch as ſpake a certain violence to himſelf. ‘May I preſume to ask you (ſaies Druſus to him) Whither you intend ſo betimes in the morning? I am going (replies Marcellus) to the Caſtle where Coriolanus is now a priſoner, to diſpoſe Cleopatra, according to the Emperors Order, to a marriage with Tiberius. I cannot imagine (replies Druſus) that my Brother ſhould hope any ſuch good office from you, nor indeed think it fit that you ſhould be preſſed thereunto: but not to be too inquiſitive into your affairs, will you give me leave to wait on you in this viſit if the Emperor will permit it? The company of ſuch a Prince as you are (replyes Marcellus) cannot but be honourable to thoſe you offer it, nor indeed have I any thing to ſay either to Coriolanus or Cleopatra, which may not well be heard by even the Brother of Tiberius. I ſee (replyes Druſus) your thoughts are ſuch of me as if you knew me not very well, and am to learn why you now look on me rather as Brother to Tiberius then Servant to Antonia and friend to Marcellus, and all the houſe of Octavia. But however it may be, it is not to be a ſpy of your actions, or to ſerve Livia or the Emperor that I deſire to wait on you, but rather to convince you of an opinion which you cannot from any action of mine have conceived of me. Let me intreat you therefore not to look on me any longer as brother to a perſon you love not; but as one whom you have promiſed your friendſhip, one haply not unworthy of it, and ſuch as is ready to do any thing to preſerve it.’

Marcellus, being a perſon of an excellent good Nature, was extremely moved at theſe words of Druſus, and looking on him with ſome marks of confuſion, ‘I crave your pardon (ſaid he to him) if I have done you any injury; not that you have by any action of yours given me occaſion to be diſtruſtful of you, but my grief is ſuch as affords me not the liberty to diſcern the innocent from the guilty; ſo that I am to believe your deſire to go to the place whither I am going proceeds from a motive conſonant to your virtue; and if the Emperor will permit it, I ſhall be glad in your preſence to acquit my ſelf of the charge he hath laid upon me.’

Having ſo ſaid, he ſent to the Emperor to know whether he were awake, and receiving anſwer that he was, he ſent him word, That to aſſure him of the ſincerity wherewith he intended to execute the Order he had intruſted him with, he deſired it might be before ſuch perſons as he ſhould leaſt ſuſpect upon that occaſion, and to that end intreated him to permit that it might be in the preſence of Tiberius's his own Brother. The Emperour made no difficulty to grant it, and ſent order to Livinus to receive Marcellus and Druſus into the Caſtle.

The two Princes went together from the Palace towards the Old Caſtle, into which none were ſuffered to enter, but they two and Sempronius, all thoſe that came along with them being ſtayed at the gate. The Princeſs Cleopatra had paſt away that night in the ſame Chamber with Coriolanus; and though Levinus had preffered her another, yet would ſhe not by any means accept of his courteſie, out of a fear that if ſhe once left Coriolanus ſhe ſhould not be permitted to ſee him any more. Vainly had the Prince imbraced her by the knees, with the moſt earneſt intreaties he could poſſibly make, to leave a place ſo unworthy of her, and to return to Octavia; nay he was ſo far from perſwading her thereto, that at laſt ſhe grew angry with him, and forbidding him with all the Authority ſhe had over him to ſpeak to her any more of it, ſhe was deſirous to be informed what ſhe yet knew not [Page] of his adventures, and to underſtand what ſhe had but confuſedly heard concerning the artifices of Tiberius and Voluſius, and the particulars of his own ſentiments, and thoſe of Marcellus.

It being about the time of the year when the nights are at ſhorteſt, they had ſpent the whole night partly in conteſtation, partly in diſcourſe; and though according to Caeſars order, Levinus had been with them moſt part of the time, or in his abſence, ſuch of the guard as he appointed for that purpoſe, the Prince and Princeſs being reduced to that extremity as not to either fear, or hope, any thing from the diſcovery of their affairs, entertained one another before thoſe witneſſes with as much freedom and indifference as if they had been alone. The Princeſſes Women having alſo ſtaid with Coriolanus, had much ado to perſwade him to take any thing of what Levinus had ſent in, but could not by any means oblige him to caſt himſelf on a bed for ever ſo little time, and though they doubted not but that as ſoon as it were day, Octavia and the Princeſſes her Daughters, and ſuch other perſons as Auguſtus ſhould permit, would come to get her thence, yet had ſhe ſeveral times profeſſed to Coriolanus, that nothing ſhould prevail with her ſo far as to force her away without him, and that ſhe ſhould find a way to be her own death, upon the firſt offer of any violence to that purpoſe.

The Prince equally tranſported with grief and joy, expreſſed both with much diſorder, when word was brought Levinus of the arrival of Marcellus and Druſus by the Emperours order; whereupon going to the gate to receive them in, he immediatly returns with them, and conducts them into the chamber. Cleopatra and Coriolanus had indeed conceived very great hopes from the generoſity of Marcellus, but imagined not to find him attended by a brother of Tiberius, and were not a little aſtoniſhed to find them together. Coriolanus was of opinion that Auguſtus would not have permitted Marcellus to come, unleſs it were with a perſon who to further the intereſt of his brother ſhould oppoſe what Marcellus out of his friendſhip might attempt againſt his Rival; but Cleopatra acquainted with the vertue of Druſus judged otherwiſe; yet not ſatisfied what conſtruction to make of it, ſhe patiently expected what would be the iſſue of that viſit. Coriolanus being the perſon that ſtood moſt in need of the aſſiſtances of his friends upon that occaſion, and whom the ſon of Octavia was particularly to ſatisfie for the injuries he had done him, it was to him that he ran with open arms, and a countenance all tears; and the Prince having received him in a like poſture, thoſe two Illuſtrious friends embraced one the other with all the demonſtrations of a tender affection which could be expected upon the like occaſion. The firſt diſcoveries of their friendſhip, which could not be expreſſed by words, kept them a long time ſilent; but, at laſt Marcellus recovering himſelf, Brother, ſaid he to him, here comes that cruel, or rather that unfortunate friend, who hath been able to hate you, and to endeavour the loſs of a life which he ſhould have valued above his own; and ſince I can do no leſs then ſacrifice my life to make ſatisfaction for ſuch a crime; I bring it to that purpoſe, reſolved to loſe it with you, if I cannot preſerve yours. Auguſtus would have me to adviſe, nay to conjure you, by all the friendſhip between us, to ſave it by diſclaiming all pretenſions to Cleopatra; but ſince I am ſatisfied of your courage, your conſtancy, and the value you ſet on the worth and affection of my Siſter, I can rather die then make any ſuch propoſition to you: If Heaven therefore and their power whom fortune hath made our maſters will not ſuffer you to live and enjoy Cleopatra, and if I cannot obtain of Auguſtus the life of my Friend, but upon terms more cruel then the death prepared for him, let us die brother let us dye together examples of love and friendſhip, and convince our enemies that neither artifice nor authority can break thoſe knots which tyed by vertue are indiſſoluble. If fortune will have us cruſhed by the power of a perſon ſhe hath raiſed above us, friendſhip makes us triumph over his cruelty, and we ſhall be ſufficiently revenged of him, in that with one whom he hates as an enemy, there dies another, that he loved as his ſon.

While Marcellus was thus ſpeaking, Sempronius and Levinus hearkned to him with much aſtoniſhment; and if the day before they had been amazed at the deportment of Cleopatra, they were now much more at that of the Prince, in whom they could not have imagined that friendſhip ſhould produce ſo extraordinary an effect; inſomuch that Sempronius not able to diſſemble it any longer, nor expect what anſwer Coriolanus, would make; ‘What, my Lord (ſaid he to him) is it thus you execute the Emperors Orders?’ or have you forgotten you are his ſiſters ſon, or rather his own, the darling of his affections, and hopes of the Romans? Sempronius, replies the Prince, not permitting him to proceed any further, you may tell Caeſar that I diſclaim all the hopes he hath put me into, and all the aſſurances I might receive of his affection, ſince he denies me the moſt conſiderable I could deſire of him, in denying me the life of a friend, without whom he knows I cannot live; that I derogate not from the respect and the acknowledgments I owe his affection, ſince I expreſs not my own towards my friend, otherwiſe then in dying with him, without any recourſe to arms in his defence; that againſt any but Caeſar I ſhould make uſe of all things, either as to his relief or revenge; [Page] but that it being not lawful for me to lift up my hand againſt my Soveraign Lord and Benefactor, though for the ſafety of my friend, there is no reaſon ſhould divert me from dying with him. You may alſo tell the Princeſs Julia, that I dye conſtant to her ſervice, and that if I injure the love I have for her, by ſacrificing my life to friendſhip, ſhe may remember how I ſacrificed friendſhip to love, when a cruel miſapprehenſion armed me againſt my Friend, and that the offences which love made me then commit againſt friendſhip, are now to be ſatisfied for; that ſhe may yet employ the intereſt ſhe hath in her Father on our behalf, but withal be confident I will run the fate with Coriolanus. Go Sempronius, and give Caeſar, nay if you pleaſe all the world, this account of me, and be aſſured that nothing ſhall any way ſhake this reſolution. Stay Sempronius, (ſays the King of Mauritania) and return not to Caeſar, to acquaint him but with one half of this adventure. You have been a witneſs of the generoſity of Marcellus, and ſhall not be of the baſeneſs of Coriolanus, but know that death is not ſo terrible to him but that he can receive it alone, without ſuch a companion. I am apt to believe this an effect of Auguſtus's hatred, who would conſummate that by friendſhip which he hath begun by love, ſince that after the Princeſs Cleopatra he ſends Prince Marcellus to make death more inſupportable to me, by the deſign they have againſt their own lives. But what ground ſoever I may have to quarrel at his cruelty, you may tell him that Marcellus is much more dear to me then Caeſar is odius; that I am ſo far from giving my conſent to the death of Marcellus, becauſe of the revenge I might imagine to my ſelf upon him, that for Marcellus his ſake his perſon is ſacred to me, and I would hazard my life to ſerve him though my perſecutor and enemy, becauſe he is loved by Marcellus. Whereupon turning to the Prince; Cruel Friend, ſaid he to him, more cruel in the effects of your friendſhip then in thoſe of your averſion, why will you diſturb my laſt hours by the affliction you cauſe me, why will you not ſuffer me to entertain the joy I ſhould conceive at the return of your friendſhip, without adding thereto the grief I muſt needs be ſenſible of upon the deſign you diſcover? I was but too too happy in the affection of my Princeſs and yours, and ſufficiently ſatisfied with the reſentment which you might both with juſtice have conceived, ſince it was not impoſſible you might be ſurprized by theſe artifices which deceived allthe world, ſo that there needed not this cruel reparation. Go then, deareſt brother, go and reſign your ſelf to a man, nay rather to a father to whom you are more obliged then you are to me; go and reſign your ſelf to Julia, to whom you owe your ſelf wholly; and believe I ſhall dye with much ſatisfaction, when I ſhall be aſſured that you might live happily. All things ſeem to favour you, the whole Univerſe contributes to your aſſurance of a glorious life, it is not therefore juſt that a wretch expoſed from his birth to all manner of miſ-fortunes ſhould diſturb the courſe of ſo hopeful a fortune. Many vertuous men have loſt friends that were dear to them, and have found comfort after thoſe loſſes, in time and their own courage; you may expect the ſame good office from both, and will find occaſion enough to afford my memory ſuch aſſurances of your affection, as I ſhall more value then thoſe you offer me. I ſhall continue with you in the perſon of Cleopatra, and if poſſible put you in mind that you were ever her Brother, and that you ought to endeavor the furtherance of her fortunes and enjoyments, no leſs then if ſhe were born of Octavia. I cannot receive a greater conſolation at my death then what I have in leaving her between your arms; and I hope that by the kindneſſes ſhe ſhall recieve from your friendſhip, her fortune may be happy when it ſhall be diſ-ing aged from mine.

The paſſionate ſon of Julia would have ſaid more, if the Princeſs had not with much precipitation interrupted him; Forbear (ſaid ſhe to him) forbear, recommending Cleopatra to the friendſhip of Marcellus, and only divert him from his unjuſt reſolution without troubling thy thoughts at the destiny of Cleopatra. Thou art not ignorant, at leaſt ſhouldſt not be if thou knoweſt me well, that after the Proteſtation I made to thee yeſterday, nothing ſhall be able to ſeparate me from thee but death, and I ſhould have continued within thoſe limits which modeſty had preſcribed me, if there had been anything in the world which might have hindred us. And thus much I had to ſay to Coriolanus; but for you brother (continued ſhe turning to Marcellus) I have but too great reaſons to oppoſe the unjuſt reſolution you have taken. And I have ſuch as are invincible (ſays the Prince, interrupting her) to perſiſt in it, ſuch as yours will ineffectually oppoſe; and though I had no other, then to ſee it is by his means whom of all the world I ought moſt to reſpect. I loſe the perſon I moſt affect, and that to reſcue my friends life I cannot attempt that of the enemy who deſtroys him, there is no other mean to be taken then for a man to die with his friend; and therefore aſſure your ſelves what ever you may alledge againſt it, I will either ſave Coriolanus's life, or ſuffer death with him.

While theſe three generous perſons outvyed one the other in this noble conteſtation and that Druſus not interrupting them, with admiration heard what paſſed Sempronius addreſſing himſelf to him; What ſhall we do in this misfortune (ſaid he to him) and with what confidence can we give the Emperor an account of this ſtrange adventure? you may do as you think ſit (replies Druſits) but for my part I am already reſolved what to do, and ſince you are to acquaint the Emperor with the reſolution of Marcellus, you may tell the Empreſs, that my intentions are the ſame [Page] with thoſe of Marcellus, and that having by my tears and intreaties vaiuly endeaveured to divert him from his cruel reſolution, I have my ſelf taken that which my love and my vertue inſpired me with; that ſhe ſhould not have countenanced me in my inclinations for Antonia, if ſhe were reſolved to ſhe'd the blood of her relations, and by her cruelty deprive me of a hope ſhe had ſuffered me to conceive: That ſhe had brought two ſons into the world of much different inclinations, but that I will expiate what is odious in me upon the account of my birth, by an action that may render me worthy the affection of Antonia, and friendſhip of Marcellus; that by delivering my ſelf up to thoſe whom it is her deſign to ruine, I would give them an hoſtage for the puniſhment of her cruelty; and in a word, That I came not along with Marcellus but to run fortunes with him to the end, to undergo the ſame deſtiny with Marcellus and Cleopatra.

This diſcourſe of Druſus as it had been leaſt expected, ſo did it raiſe the greater aſtoniſhment, inſomuch that Marcellus turning to him with a certain precipitation; ‘What Druſus (ſaid he to him) ſhall your deſtiny be the ſame with thoſe for Marcellus and Cleopatra? It ſhall Marcellus, replies Druſus, and I have ſo violent love for Antonia, as to have the courage to embrace the reſolution you have taken. I know the affection and enjoyment of Antonia ought not to be expected by the ſon and brother of the perſecutors and implacable enemies of her houſe; but am ſenſible withal, that I cannot but dying quit the hope I had conceived thereof, and I will ſatisfie both Antonia and your ſelf, who do me all the juſtice you ſhould upon this occaſion, how little I am concerned in the cruel deſign of your enemies, by expoſing my ſelf firſt to their cruelty, and puniſhing that of Livia by the death of Druſus, as you would that of Auguſtus by the loſs of Marcellus.’

Prince Marcellus admiring this generous deſign of Druſus, came to him with his arms ſpread, and embracing him with much tenderneſs; ‘Ah Druſus (ſaid he to him) your vertue fills me with ſhame and confuſion, but the diſcovery you now make of it was more then needed to produce the effect you deſire; and as I am ſatisfied that your ſentiments have ever been different from thoſe of Livia and Tiberius, ſo are you to aſſure your ſelf, that our reſentment was never directed againſt you, and that we never had any intention to make you loſe what you had but too highly deſerved from the affections of Antonia. Live for her ſake, ſince ſhe hath been ſo fortunate as to gain ſuch a heart as yours, and be confident that all the misfortunes whereto the authority of Livia hath expoſed us, cannot change the inclinations we have for your vertue, nor make us repent the joy we have conceived at the good fortune of our ſiſter. What you ſay proceeds from abundance of generoſity (replies Druſus) but it is as contrary to your intentions as it is favourable to mine, ſince I muſt entertain ſentiments, ſo obliging with more acknowledgment then can admit my deſertion of their intereſts and fortunes to whom I am ſo highly engaged, Ah Druſus (ſaye the Princeſs Cleopatra to him with much mildneſs) preſerve your ſelf, though but to comfort Antotonia in the grief which no doubt the will be in at our loſs. I owe (replies the Prince) this demonſtration of a love whereof ſhe hath hitherto received but ſlight expreſſions, and certainly this opportunity is no more then I ſtood in need of, to perſwade her to that which all my paſt actions have not been able to do.’

Coriolanus, who had not yet ſpoken to Druſus, thinking himſelf obliged to expreſs his ſentiments of what he did; ‘I durſt not (ſaid he to him) joyn my entreaties to thoſe of Cleopatra and Marcellus, out of a fear they might not be well taken by a brother of Tiberius's; but I can aſſure you, that as all the inconveniences I have by his means undergone have not diverted me from the acknowledgment and eſteem I ſhould have for your vertue, ſo do I not, to perſwade either Marcellus or any of the houſe of Antonia, ſee any neceſſity of the diſcovery whereto you expoſe your ſelf. If you have had an eſteem for me (replies Druſus) I aſſure you I have ever admired you, and that all the concernments of my brother have not hindred me from paying that to your worth which all acknowledg due to it. This reaſon may add ſomewhat to all the reſt, to perſwade you; if you will not receive me as a Hoſtage againſt your enemies to entertain me as a companion of your fortune; and if Sempronius ſtays only for this declaration, that he may give Ceſar and Livia a full account of our reſolutions, he need ſtay no longer. Nor ſhall I (ſays Sempronius to him) but go and with Ceſar and Livia amaze all the world, that two Princes, ſuch as Marcellus and Druſus, ſhould diſclaim the intereſts of Ceſar and their own houſe, to joyn with their enemies. Whereupon he left the room, and going out of the Caſtle went to the Palace, to give Ceſar an account of what paſſed among thoſe Illuſtrious perſons.’

The whole Court was in ſadneſs and diſturbance when he came thither, eſpecially all the houſe of Octavia. That generous Princeſs after ſhe had ineffectually made her application to Auguſtus, with whom the intereſt of Livia made the ſollicitations of all others fruitleſs, was preparing to go to the Caſtle with her daughters, & the children of Anth. to get Cleo. thence; but the Emperour ſtaid her, out of a confidence that Marcellus would bring her along with him, upon which hope they were in ſome impatience for the return of Marcellus, when Sempronius [Page] came thither: immediately gave Auguſtus a true relation of all that had paſſed, not diſguiſing any thing; and by that diſcourſe inſtead of raiſing any tenderneſs in him at the action of Marcellus, he put him into the moſt violent indignation he had ever been in. ‘What, cryes he, Marcellus, that Marcellus whom I loved not only as my ſon, but haply as my ſelf, that Marcellus for whom I deſigned both my daughter and the place I have in the world, diſclaims my party to embrace that of my enemies, and perſers the friendſhip of a Babarian before that of Caeſar, his Father and Benefactor! Ah unworthy, ah ungrateful perſon (continued he, walking up and down, extreamly incenſed:) I will puniſh thy ingratitude and baſeneſs, and will begin thy puniſhment by the death of that African which he ſhall ſuffer before thy face.’ While he was ſpeaking, he perceives the Empreſs coming into the room, and going to meet her; ‘Madam (ſaid he to her) you are treated by Druſus as I am by Marcellus, and your ſon guilty of an ingratitude great as that of my Nephew, diſclaims all friendſhip with his brother and mother, and betrays his honour to take part with that enemy who hath ſo often ſheathed his ſword in his brothers breaſt.’ Livia, who had a greater affection for Druſus then ſhe had for Tiberius, was extremely troubled at that account of him; but being one that had an excellent command of her wit, ſhe in ſome meaſure ſtifled her grief before the Emperour, the better to perſwade him that ſhe was leſs ſenſible of what had happened to her ſelf then what had befallen him. ‘My Lord, (ſaid ſhe to him) Druſus's offence is yet more heinous then Marcellus's, and though he may pretend the love he hath for Antonia as a colour for this extravagance, and ſo neglect the revenging of a brother, upon a man who had never been his friend as he was to Prince Marcellus, yet am I leſs troubled at his ingratitude, then at that of Marcellus, becauſe you ſhould be leſs ſenſible of it, and that the injury you receive from Marcellus is ſo much the greater by how much his perſon is dearer to you. I ſhall make him know, added the Emperor, that I am his Maſter when I ceaſe to be his father, and before this day be over, he ſhall bewail in tears of blood the offence he hath committed.’

Upon which words, unwilling to delay any longer the effects of his reſentment, and the reſolution he had taken, he commanded Petronius and Aquilius to go along with Sempronius to the Caſtle, and without further Ceremony put to death Coriolanus and Ceſario, and to bring away thence Cleopatra, Marcellus and Druſus, by violence. He at the ſame time ordered Geminius to go and find out Varus, who guarded Artaban, and to carry him under a ſtrong guard to the Caſtle, where the other Princes were ſecured, and where they were to dye that day; and commanded Norbanus to ſecure the children of Anthony, out of a fear, that to prevent the death of their brother Ceſario, and to ſerve their ſiſter Cleopatra, they might endeavour to make an inſurrection in Alexandria, where the blood of the Ptolomies was in a ſacred veneration, and the government of the Romans abhorred.

He iſſued out theſe Orders with ſo much precipitation and noiſe that they were immediately known all over the Palace, and thence ſpread into the City, before the perſons, whom he had entruſted with the execution thereof, were in a condition to effect it. Queen Candace, who had her Spies every where, and was ingaged in an enterpriſe worthy her great courage, had preſent notice brought her; whereupon not loſing any time, as knowing there was very little to loſe, ſhe left her chamber and the Palace, taking Clitia with her, and ran a foot as ſhe was, to that quarter of the City where Etcocles expected her Orders, with the Aethiopians, and a conſiderable number of the Inhabitants of Alexandria, whom having tampered with, he had engaged to hazard all things to ſave the blood of their Kings from being ſpilt. As ſhe went out of the Palace ſhe met Alexander and Ptolomey ready to take the alarm upon a confuſed noiſe that was come to their ears. Upon the firſt ſight ſhe runs to them, and ſpeaking to them with a courage infinitely tranſcending her Sex, ‘Alexander and Ptolomey (ſaid ſhe to them) ſons of Cleopatra, and brothers to Ceſario, will you ſuffer your brother to be put to a cruel death, and your ſelves to be thruſt into chains, as Ceſar hath given order? No, we will rather loſe our lives with him (replies Alexander) and go undaunted where our blood and honour require our aſſiſtances. Come then along with me (ſaid ſhe to him) and I will ſhew you a way to ſave him, and haply to free your ſelves from tyranny.’

With theſe words ſhe took the two Brothers in both her hands, and walked between them towards the quarter where Eteocles was with the Aethiopians, guided by Clitia, who was acquainted with the deſign. The two Princes led her along with a reſolution worthy themſelves, and their juſt reſentment made their eyes ſparkle with a fire which was not ordinarily obſervable in them. The people ſeeing them paſs by in that poſture, flocked about them; upon which the two Princes diſcovering themſelves were eaſily known to be the children of Anthony and Cleopatra; ſo that the Queen thinking it not amiſs to ſay ſomthing to them. ‘People of Alexandria (ſaid ſhe as ſhe paſſed by) will you ſuffer what is remaining of the blood of your Kings to be this day ſpilt? Ceſario, ſometimes your beloved Prince, is in priſon, [Page] where the executioner is haply now cutting his throat by order from your Tyrant, and ſee here his Brothers who expect the ſame fate if you reſcue them not.’

Though ſhe ſaid this without making any halt, yet did it prove in ſome meaſure effectual; and the Princes adding thereto ſomewhat to the ſame effect, they found the people naturally affectionate to their Princes, and abhorring the Roman uſurpation, ſo well diſpoſed, that before they were come to the place where Eteocles expected them, they were followed with three or four hundred perſons armed, as people are wont to be upon the like occaſions. All hiſtories that have made mention of Candace, have given her the character of a Queen of a very great courage, and one that durſt engage in the greateſt enterpriſes, and acquainted the world with the great actions ſhe did ſome time after againſt Petronius Governour of Egypt, carrying on the War in perſon, and gaining great advantages upon him, inſomuch that what ſhe attempted and did upon that occaſion, ought to be entertained with more credit then if it had been performed by a perſon not ſo extraordinary. The preſſing extremity ſhe was then reduced to, occaſioned the haſtening of a deſign which ſhe had reſolved to put in execution that night (as conceiving her ſelf not ſtrong enough to attempt it in the day time) which was, with Eteocles and the three hundred Ethiopians who attended Caeſario to Alexandria, and whom Eteocles had ſecretly brought out of the ſhips, and the aſſiſtance of a good number of the Inhabitants of Alexandria, drawn in by Eteocles, to ſtorm the Caſtle in the dark, Eteocles having to that purpoſe provided ſcaling ladders, and faggots to fill the Moat where it was of leaſt depth. No ſooner had that faithful Governour ſeen the Queen appear, with the two Brothers of Caeſario, but he imagined what was to be done, as conceiving by the poſture they were in, and that of the people following them, that all was deſperate as to the ſafety of Caeſario, and that they muſt be forced to the extremities on which they had reſolved, though the time was not ſo favourable as that which they had appointed.

The Queen having confirmed him in that judgment by the few words ſhe ſaid coming up to him, he commanded the Ethiopians out of the houſes where he had lodged; and conſidering that the ſucceſſe of his enterpriſe conſiſted in expedition, and that the Caſtle was to be forced, before the Pretorian bands, which were quartered in the Suburbs and about Alexandria, could be gotten together to relieve it, unleſs the whole City ſhould take up arms for them, which he durſt not preſume, he immediately cauſed to advance both thoſe that had any arms, and thoſe who carried the Fagots and Ladders. The two Princes having in few words encouraged them, led them on, and could not hinder the courageous Queen from marching with them, telling them, She ſcorn'd to be ſafe if they miſcarried, and that ſhe would rather die then fall again into the hands of Caeſar. The three hundred Ethiopians were well armed, and marched in very good order, followed as well by thoſe who were come in to the Queen, as thoſe whom Eteocles had gained, which were above five hundred Citizens in arms, of whom ſhe had employed two hundred to carry the Faggots and Ladders. Their forces increaſed through a report that was ſpread about the City, that the children of Queen Cleopatra were to be put to death: and the two Princes with the Queen were gotten into the head of above eight hundred men, and advancing towards the Caſtle, when paſſing through a ſpacious place they diſcovered a party of Souldiers about a Chariot; upon which the Queen having asked a man that came before bitterly weeping, and whoſe countenance ſhe imagined ſhe knew, who thoſe perſons were whom ſhe ſaw appear; the man, who was Briton, the faithful Governour of Pompey's Son, told her they were carrying the valiant Artaban, by Order from the Emperour, to the old Caſtle. The Queen was not a little glad at the accident, and turning to Alexander, We have (ſaid ſhe to him) the happieſt opportunity in the world, both to reſcue ſo great a man, and to make advantage of his aſſiſtance, which we are to prefer before that of a Legion.

The ſuddenneſs of the occaſion permitted no long diſcourſe; ſo that Alexander approving the Queens deſign, ſent away Ptolomey and Eteocles with half their forces towards the Caſtle to caſt in the Fagots and fill up the Moat, and with the reſt advanced to the relief of Artaban. Thoſe who guarded him grew pale at the ſight of that relief, and Alexander had no ſooner ſet upon the Guard, but Varus who was in the Chariot with Artaban, leaps out, either to fight with his men, or get away in the diſorder, in caſe he was worſted. Artaban ſatisfied they fought to reſcue him, would needs contribute to his own deliverance, and being no longer kept in by the Guard, who before ſurrounded the Chariot, and then rather minded their own defence then their Priſoner, leaps out, and having taken away his ſword from one of the frightned Souldiers, he made others give him way by the blows he dealt, and forced a paſſage to thoſe who fought for his reſcue. He preſently ſpies Alexander and Briton in the head of them, and perceived at no great diſtance the gallant Queen with ſome Ethiopians, who were to guard her perſon, and thereupon perceiving whom he was [Page] obliged to for his liberty, he would never theleſs in ſome meaſure derive it from his own Valour, and ſo ruſhing in among his enemies with more terrour then an Affrican Lyon; by the riddance he made of the moſt forward, he ſoon put the reſt into diſorder. Alexander ſeconded him with admirable valour, and the Ethiopians who were well armed, and ſuch as Caeſariò had drawn out as the moſt valiant of the Nation, fighting with much reſolution, their enemies, after a feeble reſiſtance, turned their backs and ſought their ſafety out of the engagement. Geminius received a great wound from the hand of Artaban, and Varus made a ſhift to eſcape in the tumult. However Artaban might be incenſed, he thought not fit to purſue the defeated, but making his acknowledgments to the Queen and Prince Alexander for their Aſſiſtances, he in few words underſtood from them what neceſſity there was that the Caſtle ſhould be forced, to ſave the lives of Caeſario and Coriolanus. It was no ſmall ſatisfaction to Artaban ſo ſuddenly to meet with an opportunity to render the Queen what he ought her, ſo that inflaming himſelf into a freſh fierceneſs upon ſo noble an occaſion, ‘Let's go, Alexander (ſaid he to the Prince) let's go, and either die or relieve theſe two gallant Princes, there cannot be an adventure more glorious or more worthy our courage.’

With thoſe words, having upon the intreaties of Alexander taken the command upon him, aſſign'd a Guard about the Queens perſon, who would not by any means leave them, and covered his head and arms with the Caſque and buckler of an Ethiopian that had been killed, he marched to the Caſtle with as much confidence as if he had been certain not to meet with any reſſiſtance. Thoſe who follo'd him deriving courage from their Leader, made the ſtreets ring with the name of Artaban; upon which divers Alexandrians, whom fear deterred from expreſſing themſelves, reaſſuming new courage from the reputation of ſuch a Chief, made a conſiderable ſupply to the forces they already had. By that time Artaban and Alexander were come to the Caſtle, Ptolomy and Eteocles had caſt in abundance of Faggots into the Moat, and very fortunately got to the gate, when Sempronius, Petronius, and Aquilius were come to execute the cruel order of the Emperor. Eteocles, who knew Aquilius to be the ſame perſon who had diſcovered and taken Ceſario, furiouſly runs upon him, and before he could retreat runs him through the body. Ptolomy gave Sempronius ſuch a blow over the head as divided it into two pieces; and the frightned Petronius, with thoſe that followed him, ſaved themſelves by flight.

After this execution Ptolomy and Eteocles purſued their filling up the Moat with Faggots, and they had almoſt done their work when Artaban and Alexander with their forces appeared upon the Counterſcarp: Eteocles, to whom the valour of Artaban was known, no ſooner perceived him, but animating his men with a great ſhout, he put them on in ſuch a manner, that in a ſhort time they had made one place in the Moat which was half filled with old ruins, fit to plant the Ladders in. Auguſtus fearing nothing leſs than ſuch an accident, had put but few into the Caſtle, ſo that Levinus, extremely ſurpriſed at the ſuddenneſs of the aſſault, having left about the Princes ſuch as were neceſſary to guard them, and hinder them from doing ought in order to their own liberty, found the number remaining too weak to make good the walls. However he led them on very reſolutely to the place where the aſſault was made, and no doubt but he might have maintained it, and have been the loſs of a great number of enemies, if Artaban, well read in the ſtratagems of war, had not cauſed falſe aſſaults to be made at two other places, by that means to divide the reſiſtance; ſo that having weakned that part where he really intended to ſtorm, and knowing that all the happineſs of his enterpriſe conſiſted in a vigorous and dilligent proſecution of it, and that all would be loſt if it were not ſuddenly put in execution, he leaps into the Moat, notwithſtanding the Darts caſt at him, and his, by Levinus's men, and after he had lifted up his majeſtick and menacing countenance towards the Battlements, he took a long and heavy Ladder, and carrying it by main ſtrength, though it might have wearied ſeveral men, planted it againſt the wall. Levinus, who knew him, frightned thereat, was not ſenſible, as he thought to have been, of the reputation he might have gained by deſending thoſe walls againſt ſuch a Maſter in the Art of War.

Mean time Auguſtus had ſeveral times received an account of what paſſed, and had been ſo ſurpriſed thereat, that he was not able readily to bethink him what courſe was to be taken to prevent the further progreſs thereof. He had in the firſt place underſtood how the Queen of Ethiopia got out of the Palace, and had notice of it juſt as he was ſending to her Lodgings to ſecure her; then it was told him, how with Alexander and Ptolomey ſhe had perſwaded ſome of the Citizens of Alexandria to an inſurrection; and laſtly, how with the aſſiſtance of her Ethiopians, ſhe had reſcued Artaban out of the hands of his guards, and marched with him and the ſons of Cleopatra towards the Caſtle. Theſe tidings put him into ſuch a fury as made him do many things misbecoming his dignity; and though he was ſatisfied [Page] that the worſt could happen was the delivery of the Princes he would put to death, yet was he infinitely troubled thereat. ‘What (cries he) in one of my Cities, at a time when all is in abſolute peace, a Woman and one man, and he a Priſoner, ſhall arm my people againſt me, and defie a power that hath ſubdued the Univerſe!’

But what ſtung him moſt in this adventure, was, that being a deep peace, he had brought with him to Alexandria onely thoſe forces which uſually attended his Perſon, which were the Pretorian Bands and ſome Horſe. They were indeed ſufficient to deal with more powerfull enemies than thoſe who were then in arms, but would have been too weak to reduce the City of Alexandria in caſe there ſhould have been a general riſing for the children of Cieopatra. Beſides, though Auguſtus had done great things, yet had they been performed for the moſt part by his lieutenants; and he ſound himſelf then deprived of the aſſiſtances of the moſt valiant among them, by reaſon of Agrippa's being ſick, and Tiberius wounded. Add to this, that from the preſence of ſo many Princes as then were in his Court, he deriv'd more confuſion than advantage; and knowing there were few among them who diſapprov'd not his proceedings, he durſt neither hope nor indeed deſire any aſſiſtance from them in that emergency.

Having beſtowed ſome time in theſe conſiderations, and afterwards learnt by the return of Petronius that Sempronius and Aquilius had been killed, and that Artaban was ſtorming the Caſtle, he iſſued out Archers to prevent that accident, ſent Officers to get together, and bring to the Palace the Pretorian Bands that were lodg'd in the Subburbs, and others to call in the Cavalry that was quartered up and down the next Villages; and at the ſame time ſent ſeveral perſons of the moſt conſiderable of thoſe that were about him, into the ſeveral quarters of the City to keep the principle inhabitants from riſing, and reduce the reſt to their duty either by intreaties or menaces. He would have gone abroad to that purpoſe himſelf, but thoſe about him would not ſuffer it, but repreſented to him, That out of a conſideration of his dignity, he ſhould not hazard himſelf among an exaſperated populance; That when he ſhould be in a condition to reduce it, and the Cohorts were come, he might go in the head of them to order all things with leſs danger and better ſucceſs.

He complyed with this advice, diſſembling out of prudence, ſome part of his fury, and the other paſſions that ſtrugled within him, though he had withal the affliction to ſee that the greateſt part of the Princes and illuſtrions perſons, Romans that were in Alexandria, ſeem'd to ſide with him, but ſuch as were ſtrangers extremely indifferent, not expreſſing the leaſt deſire of acquiring glory upon that occaſion, as no doubt they would have been earneſt to do upon any other. The King of Media, being an enemy to Artaban, proffer'd his ſervice in any thing he ſhould deſire; and the Kings of Pontus and Comagine, who had received their Crowns from him, though virtuous Princes, ſeem'd to comply with his deſires, though not without ſome repugnance. But the King of Armenia, the Prince of Cilicia and King of Cappadocia had freely told him that they would ſight and dye in his ſervice, if need were▪ either againſt the ſeditious multitude, or any other enemies might riſe againſt him, but intreated him not to make them inſtruments in the execution of Princes, whoſe Virtue had raiſed a love, and whoſe deſtiny a compaſſion in them, ſuch as they ſhould defend againſt any but himſelf to the laſt drop of blood. But King Alcamenes in ſtead of coming in to him, was gone to the Queen of Partha's Lodgings, whence he had ſent him word, That it was a great affliction to him he had not been able, with all his intreaties, to divert him from the reſolution he had taken, to deſtroy Princes who were worthy the love and reſpect of all the world, and that it was as much greater to him that he was not in a condition to relieve them. Auguſtus had yet this further diſſatisfaction, to ſee, that even among the Romans, the moſt conſiderable, ſuch as Domitius, a ſervant to one of Cleopatra's ſiſters, Craſſus and Lentulus, particular friends to the houſe of Anthony, could not ſerve him upon that occaſion, nor he well truſt them. Notwithſtanding his diſpleaſure he had diſſembled ſome of his ſentiments, and diſcovered others with fierceneſs enough, and in the mean time had given order Agrippa ſhould know nothing of what had paſſed, as well in regard of the affliction it would be to him, ſuch as might haply add to his ſickneſs, as out of a fear he might oppoſe his intentions; and having at laſt news brought him that the Troops were entring the City, and that the Inhabitants, thoſe only excepted who had taken up Arms at the firſt, and made no conſiderable number, were not any way inclined to riſe, though troubled at the misfortune of their Princes, he prepared to march againſt his enemies, with a deſign to cut them in pieces without any reſiſtance, which he might with ſome probability hope from the Coharts, being about ten or twelve thouſand men.

In the mean time the Caſtle had been ſtormed with a miraculous eagerneſs, and Artaban getting firſt upon the Ladder he had planted, had ſeen the Brothers of Cleopatra by a generous emulation following his example, and coming up at no great diſtance from him [Page] upon Ladders which they had planted with a reſolution little inferiour to his. Queen Candace, who from the windows of one of the next houſes, where the Prince had diſpoſed of her, looked on that terrible aſſault, animated her Ethiopians as much as lay in her power, and was many times frightned at the danger which ſuch gallant men were expoſed to in ſo hazardous a kind of engagement. The priſoners had not the ſame advantage, their Chambers being ſo as they had not the ſight of that action, though they heard the noiſe of fighting, and Marcellus had been acquainted by the Guards with the cauſe of it. Oh how did the Princeſs Cleopatra make her ſervent addreſſes to Heaven on the behalf of thoſe valiant perſons who fought for the ſafety of Coriolanus! and how delightful did ſhe entertain ſome hopes of a life that was ſo dear to her! Marcellus and Druſus unreſolved what they ſhould do upon that occaſion, joyned their vows to thoſe of Cleopatra; and the Prince of Mauritania ſeemed the moſt undiſturbed and moſt unconcerned of any. In another Chamber was the ſon of Caeſar, not knowing what he ſhould either fear or hope, but expecting the iſſue of it, with the ſame courage he had expreſſed in all the actions of his life.

Artaban notwithſtanding the darts and ſtones ſhowered down upon him, being at laſt gotten up to the top of the Ladder, was taking hold with his left hand of one of the Battlements, when Levinus running to the place where he ſaw him appear, as that where his reſiſtance was moſt neceſſary, gave him a blow over the head, which no doubt had forced him into the Moat, had he not faſtened to the Battlement he had taken hold of, and would have ſeconded it, if the valiant Son of Pompey, whom the former blow had not much diſordered, had not prevented him by one of his own, which coming from a more powerful arm, forced him to fall among his men deeply wounded. This performed, Artaban getting up upon the wall, reached his hand to young Ptolomey who was not far from him; and not long after Alexander was alſo gotten up. Eteocles, Briton, and the Ethiopians followed them with much courage and leſs difficulty; and Artaban and the two Sons of Anthony were hardly gotten upon the wall, but Levinus's Souldiers left him in diſorder, diſcouraged both by the preſence of ſuch enemies, and the fall of their chief Commander. The Princes would not ſuffer thoſe frighted wretches to be put to death, though they had much adoe to keep in the furious Ethiopians from falling upon them, and only commanded them to lay down their arms, open the Caſtle gate, and let down the Draw-Bridge to let in Queen Candace, and the reſt of the Ethiopians, with thoſe others of their party that ſhould be deſirous to come in, not doubting but that Ceſar would ſoon either bring or ſend forces againſt them, and that thoſe who were found without, would be cut to pieces. The gate was opened, at which entred firſt Queen Candace, and after her the reſt of the Ethiopians, and the Citizens who had taken up arms (who were not above three hundred men, the reſt having either been killed in the aſſault or run away: As ſoon as all were got in, and that Levinus's Souldiers were ſent out of the Caſtle, Ptolomey, with Briton and Eteocles placed Souldiers for the defence of the place as they thought requiſite, expecting to be ſoon ſet upon; and in the interim the fair Queen, conducted by Artaban and Alexander, went to find out her Caeſario. She took not the pains to go up to his Chamber, for thoſe who guarded the Princes, ſeeing the Caſtle forced, had caſt themſelves at their feet, and begged their lives by bringing them the tidings of their liberty; ſo that the Queen and Artaban met them altogether at the Stair-foot, coming towards their valiant deliverers. Candace no ſooner caſt her eye on Ceſario, but the violence of her affection forcing her to neglect the civilities might be due to the reſt, ſhe runs to him with her arms ſpread, and embracing him juſt as he would have caſt him at her feet, bathed his countenance with tears which love and grief forced from her. Their mutual tranſportation was ſuch as for a while tyed up their tongues, inſomuch, that before they had the time to ſpeak, Candace found her ſelf in the embraces of Cleopatra, who by the earneſtneſs of her careſſes aſſured her of the greatneſs of her affection. The Queen returned her the like, and both diſcovered upon that occaſion, that their friendſhip was as ſolid as if it had been of many years continuance, ‘Ah, Madam (ſayes the Son of Ceſar to the Queen) is it then to you that we are obliged for our lives? and is it you who, to the ſhame of our Sex, have executed ſo great an enterprize? It's not to me (replies the Queen) but to the great Artaban that you are obliged, and to your two brothers who have generouſly ſeconded him.’

With thoſe words ſhe preſented Artaban to him, and the two Sons of Anthony, while Cleopatra preſented to her the King of Mauritania. Ceſario runs to Artaban; with his arms ſpread; and the ſon of Pompey, who knew himſelf to be of a birth equal to his, received his careſſes with more equality then at other times, though not guilty of ever the more pride. Is it thus [Page] then (ſayes the ſon of Ceſar to him) that you treat your ancient enemies, and add the obligations of life to the admiration we had for your Virtue? I was your enemy (replies Artaban) upon an account I underſtood not, and which now, that I do, cannot produce ſo unjuſt an effect in me; and I ſhould think it a great happineſs if I could by any ſervice force it out of your memory.

While Caeſario replyed with the ſame civility and much acknowledgment, and afterwards was imbracing his two brothers, and expreſſing the reſentment he had of their aſſiſtances; Candace, whom Coriolamus had ſaluted, looked on his perſon with admiration, and would have given the Prince occaſion to look on her beauty with ſome aſtoniſhment, if all thoſe in the world remitted not ſomewhat of their luſtre, when near that of Cleopatra. After ſhe had receiv'd from him all the expreſſions he could give her of a ſubmiſſive reſpect, and diſcover'd to him her own ſentiments, with the greateſt civility poſſible, knowing that Ceſario and he had not ſeen one the other during their reſtraint, how much ſoever they both might have deſir'd it, ſhe would not any longer delay their being known one to another. The two Princes made their acquaintance with equal earneſtneſs, & were equally ſurpris'd at the advantages they obſerv'd in one anothers perſons, What (ſays the King of Mauritania) I have at laſt the happineſs to ſee that illuſtrious brother of my Princeſs! and I am no longer (added Ceſario at the ſame time) kept from the embraces of that famous Lover of my ſiſter, whoſe reputation is ſo noble. They had given greater expreſſions of the eſteem and friendsip they mutually conceiv'd one for the other, had they not reflected on what they ought both to the aſſiatance and perſon of the great Artaban. Coriolanus had ſeen him arm'd, and understood at Tiridates's houſe the initials of his adventures, under the name of Britomarus but had ſince learnt that he was that famous Artaban whoſe fame had fill'd the Univerſe, and who had been acknowledg'd a Prince deſcended from Arſaces, & deſign'd for the Crown of Parthia; ſo that ſeeing him engag'd in that occaſion, & looking on him as the valiant defender on his life, to aſſure him both of his reſentment and eſteem, he did all could be expected from the moſt generous and moſt acknowledging perſon in the world. Artaban anſwer'd to both, the moſt nobly imaginable, & thereupon the three Princes looked on one the other with equal admiration, and certainly it was with much juſtice, all the earth being not able to afford anything worthy it ſo much, though fortune might have been more favourable to ſome others, either of their time or before it Alexander and Ptolomey receiv'd from the Lover of their Siſter what he ought, the blood of Cleopatra, excellency of their perſons, and the ſervice they had done him. Theſe civilities paſſed, Marcellus and Druſus, who would not interrupt the firſt Rallies of Love and Friendſhip, coming up to them, receiv'd from that illuſtrious company what with reaſon they could not deny them; and beſides what might be due not only to a Nephew of Caeſar, and Son of Livia, but to two Princes of admirable virtu, ther was ſo much gallantry in their late action, & it was ſo highly celebrated by the grateful ſon of Juba, that all thoſe great perſons look'd on them with love & veneration, & by a certain emulation gave their generoſity the commendations due therto. In all probability the meeting of ſo many extraordinary perſons, and upon ſo rare an occaſion, might oblige them to a longer converſation; but they had not the leiſure, and they were but beginning to expreſs themſelvs one to another, when Eteocles (whom Ceſario had receiv'd not as his Governor but his Father) came to give them notice that there ſome forces in ſight, which in all appearance would aſſault the place. This diſcourſe raiſ [...]d a joy in ſo many valiant men inſtead of affrighting them, & that Martial heat which was predominant in them above all other paſſions, was inflam'd into itsgreateſt fierceneſs. Coriolanus having been taken arm'd his arms were in the caſtle, whither Emilius had alſo brought the head-piece he had caſt a way when he fought with Tiberius. Thoſe who had taken Caeſario had brought thither his ſumptuous arms alſo, and deliver'd them to Levinus, and had been found in the caſtle by his Squire; Artaban and the two ſons of Anthony had not any; but there were in the caſtle not only for them, but a conſiderable number of men, nay ſome of that magnificence that they had ſerved the Kings of Egypt, and put Alexander and Ptolomey in mind of their predeceſſors. The Princes made choice of thoſe that were moſt fit for them, & diſtributed among the Souldiers as they ſtood in need of. Ther was a great number of darts; for being the fortres of Alexandria, it was alſo the Magazin of arms. The Princes deſirous to ſhift off the command to one another, yet being all forced it, by the refuſal which every one made of it, put allthings in order with a miraculos diligence; & having a greater number of men than was requiſite for the defence of the caſtle. they employ'd ſome part to maintain a dead wal which might have been aſſaulted, and kept the reſt to relieve them, or to be commanded as occaſion ſhould require. Marcellus and Druſus wer forced, upon the intreaties of Coriolanus & Cleopatra, not to engage that day, it being not juſt they ſhould appear in arms before Ceſar, who was coming againſt them, and upon walls where there was no employment for their valour, though they might with reaſon have done it: ſo that with Cleopatra and Candace they retir'd into the dungeon, to thoſe [Page] Lodging where Cleopatra had paſſed away the night, though with a certain ſhame and confuſion; and having ſent to find out Levinus, who was not dead, notwithſtanding the wound he had received from Artaban, they cauſed him to be brought into a chamber to receive the aſſiſtances he was capable of.

Mean time, the other Princes were no ſooner upon the walls, but they were ſet upon of all ſides, and the Emperor in the head of the Pretorians, a body of above ten thuſand men, and having about him the Kings of Media, Pontus and Comagenes, Petronius, Pleminius, Vellus, Fulvius, Meſſalla, Flaccus, Cinna, Cepio, Varus, Norbanus, and divers other illuſtrious Romans was giving out his orders, and cauſed the aſſault to be carryed on in his preſence, with a violence proportionable to that of his indignation. The Faggots and Ladders which the beſieged had brought, and were ſtill in the Moat againſt the walls, were employed againſt them; but Ceſar cauſed to be brought from other places great numbers, as he well might, the City being quiet, and the inhabitants little inclined to follow their example whom the ſight of Candace and the two ſons of Cleopatra had drawn into their party.

The old Caſtle, ſeated at the extremity of the City, was on one ſide beaten by the waves of the Mediterranean Sea, and on the other encompaſſed with a dry Moat, which the walls that had been built about it had filled in many places, through the negligence of the Governers, who forbore the repairing of thoſe ruines by reaſon of the little neceſſity there was of it in the time of peace; ſo that from the Counterſcarp it was eaſie to get down into the Moat at at any place, and accordingly neither the former aſſailants nor the latter had been much troubled to get in there. But Auguſtus cauſing it to be filled up almoſt in all places, through the great number employed about it, found it no hard matter to plant againſt the walls ſuch a great number of Ladders, that there was hardly any diſtance between them; and notwithſtanding the darts that were ſhowred upon them of all ſides, there were many ſtil getting up, whereof ſome were beaten off the firſt rounds, others miſcarried in the midſt of their enterpriſe, and thoſe who held out till they came to the Battlements ventured to certain death, eifrom the hands of their enemies, or by a fall ſo much the more dangerous the higher the place was where they fell: but the number of the aſſaylants being two great for the ſmall place they ſtorm'd at which was but half the circuit of the Caſtle, the other being compaſſed by the Sea; the number of the dead and thoſe that were beaten down was immediatly ſupplyed by thoſe that were put into their places, and the aſſault was carryed on without any intermiſſion, and with an earneſtneſs that coſt many men their lives, and ſuch as might have raiſed horror and pity in perſons who ſhould without paſſion have looked on that ſpectacle. The Princes walked along the wall between the Bulwarks, and having their eyes in all places, ran where their aſſiſtance was requiſite, dealing terrible blows on thoſe who made a ſhift to get up to the top of the Ladders, and tumbling them upon their companions with honourable wounds about them, And indeed that was the greateſt ſatisfaction thoſe unfortunate wretches had, whom Auguſtus ſacrificed to his pleaſure, and among them ſome perſons of quality of the Romans, ſuch as Flavius, Elius, Petus, Calviſius and Rutilius, having with much courage got up to the Battlements, had the glory to loſe their lives by the hands of Caeſario, Artaban and the King of Mauritania.

Auguſtus, whom fury and the reſentment of the affront he that day received more confident then in other engagements where he had been in perſon, animated his men, from a place where he was not ſecure from the enemies darts, and appeared upon a little place which was before the Caſtle, whence by ſeveral ſtreets that abutted thereon, he cauſed his force to advance as neceſſity required, but ſuch as by reaſon of the ſtraitneſs of it admitted not the engagement of any conſiderable number, if Caeſar ſhould be obliged thereto. Coriolanus and Caeſario took notice of him in that poſture, & were upon thoughts of the ſame deſign, though with different intentions. The ſon of Caeſar exaſperated againſt him who had that day, though no way injured, paſſed the ſentence of death upon him, was extremly deſirous, if poſſible, to revenge the injury upon the author of it, and could not look on him in the condition he was in without being tranſported with fury, and thinking of ſome attempt upon his life; and the ſon of Juba impatient to continue in a place where he could not ſufficiently exerciſe his valour, and conſidering that though they kept off the enemy, they muſt ſtarve for want of proviſions, if they found not ſome means to open their paſſage, & force the beſiegers further from their gates and works, if it were poſſible, there being not, either in the place that was, or any other that might be aſſaulted, occaſion to employ half their men, he reſolved to make a ſalley; & having communicated his deſign no Artaban & Caeſario, & ſatisfied them of the importance & neceſſity thereof: Ceſario would go with him, followed by young Ptolomey; and Artaban upon their intreaties continued in the Caſtle, where the preſence of one of thoſe great perſons was neceſſary, Alexander ſtaying with him. So that with three hundred men whereof [Page] one half were Aethiopians, the other Aegyptians, well armed, and animated by example and the deſpair of pardon, they went out of the gate, cauſed the Bridge to be let down, and marched out as thick as the place would permit. Ptolomey with fifty men advanced as far as the end of the ſtone Bridg, which from the Counterſcarp reached to the midſt of the Moat, to keep the paſſage free for the return of his companions; and the undaunted Prince of Mauritania, and the valiant ſon of Ceſar went into the Moat with the reſt of their men, who by great ſhouts ſent terror to thoſe places where they were ſoon after to be the meſſengers of death. The two Princes were in their ſumptuous armor, but being to fight on foot, they made uſe only of the Caſque, the Cuirats and the Buckler, and with greater freedom of the arm then if it had been loaden with iron, they plyed their enemies with the dazling and mortal ſword. If the number of their men was ſmall, the place where they were to fight was accordingly not very ſpacious, and the valour of the two Chiefs might well be reckoned for a conſiderable party.

The Romans, on the other ſide, were ſo ſurpriſed at this unexpected tempeſt, that they could hardly put themſelves into a poſture to make any reſiſtance; and by that time they were ſet upon, all was in diſorder, blood and death among them. Never had the terrible Affrican Prince, nor the undaunted ſon of Cleopatra been animated by a fury comparable to that which made them fight that day, nor ever with their own hands ſpilt ſo much blood upon any one occaſion. Nay, they ſeem'd in ſome meaſure to have loſt their compaſſionate inclinations, eſpecially the ſon of Caeſar, who with a certain ſatisfaction ſacrificed the Souldiers of Auguſtus to his juſt reſentment. The Ethiopians and Egyptians ſeconded them with much valour, and running into the Moat with a miraculous eagerneſs, overturned the ladders with the men that were upon them, ſo that all they came near periſhed either by falls, or the inexorable ſword, All places were full of blood, and the Princes ſo covered therewith, that they could not be diſcerned from others, but by their irreſiſtable blows that fell from them. Artaban, who looked on them from the Rampart, would have envied the glory they acquired by ſuch tranſcendent effects of valour, had he not by ſo many memorable actions already raiſed himſelf to a fame noble enough. However, even from the place where he was he did them conſiderable ſervice; and perceiving that Caeſar conſtantly ſupplyed the Moat with freſh men, to relieve thoſe who were either dead or run away, and that his own had no further work with thoſe who before ſcaled the Ladders, he ordered them to be perpetually caſting at the Counterſcarp, and by ſhowers of darts hindring the enemies acceſs to the Moat, he facilitated the victory of his two illuſtrious Friends.

Nor was young Ptolomey without employment, or occaſion to exerciſe his valour; for Caeſar, deſirous to prevent the return of his enemies, cauſed the young Prince to be aſſaulted upon the bridg he was to keep, and gave him occaſion to do things ſo noble, that if the two other Princes had that day in ſome meaſure outvy'd whatever was celebrated as moſt dreadful by Antiquity, he raiſsd in thoſe who ſaw him an apprehenſion little different from that of the famous Roman, whoſe maintaining of a Bridge againſt the armies of Hetruria, made his name known all over the world. The ſmall number of men aſſigned him were enough for the defence of the place he was to keep, and he would have wanted room to employ any more. They were weary of aſſaulting him by reaſon of the danger they were expoſed to; & he had half lifted up the viſor of his Caſque, to take a little air after the pains he had been at, when a man ſumptuouſly armed, tall, and of a fierce deportment, advances towards him, with his ſword in the right hand, and his left covered with a Buckler. Ptolomey ſeeing him coming on, goes towards him, and gave him a hearty blow, which he received upon his Buckler. The young Prince vexed he had ſpent his blow in vain, was lifting up his arm to ſecond it, when the unknown perſon retreating, ‘Hold Ptolomey (ſaid he to him) and be not the death of thy Brother, who comes to ſuffer it from the hands of thy enemies, and not from thine.’ And with thoſe words lifting up the viſor of his head piece, he diſcovered himſelf to be Julius Antonius, and thereupon going over to him he turned againſt his enemies, and ſet himſelf in a poſture of fighting.

In the mean time Coriolanus and Caeſario had no more enemies to deal withal in the Moat, death or flight having not left them any thing to employ their valour upon; all the Ladders were pulled down, and moſt broken, and among the faggots, ſtones and other things wherewith the Moat had been filled, might be ſeen ſtreams of blood and heaps of carkaſſes, enough to raiſe horror and compaſſion. The two Princes finding themſelves ſtill followed by the beſt part of their men, purſued the defeated out of the Moat up to the Counterſcarp, with a deſign to gain a quarter near the caſtle known to Caeſario, whereby they would have had a free paſſage to the Sea to embark their illuſtrious company in the Ethiopian ſhips; and having put the Romans to the rout, Victory attended them upon the Counterſcarp [Page] as it had done in the Trench, and with the points of their ſwords they made their way ſo as to get to the place where Auguſtus was encouraging his men to fight, and which he durſt not quit though he perceived them coming on, whether out of the ſhame he conceived it to give way to ſo ſmall a number, or the confidence he had in the multitude of his own. He was calling them from all ſides to his relief, and ſending orders to make them advance who were at ſome diſtance, when Caeſario, from a little eminency where he ſtood, obſerving him among his people, and upon that ſight feeling the indignation he had againſt the uſurper of his fortunes, and perſecuter of his life, heightned in him, he breaks towards the place where he was, with a fury which nothing was able to reſiſt, and making his ſword his guide through the frightned enemy, he made a ſhift to come up to him, before Auguſtus, whom his own people forſook, and who was in ſome diſorder upon that unforeſeen danger, could think of a retreat, till it was too late. Tigranes had been laid along on the ground by a blow he had receiv'd from the hand of Coriolanus; Mithridates was employed elſewhere with the chiefeſt of the Romans, who were advancing ſupplyes; and Polemon having been knock'd down by Caeſario, Auguſtus ſtood fairly before him, deprived of the relief of ſo many men, whom fear or other employments had forced to ſome diſtance from him. The furious ſon of Caeſar runs to him with his ſword lifted up, and to execute many revenges at once, was going to let it fall on him with a force and weight that would have cruſhed whatever it had met with, when the dreadfull blow was received by a ſtrange buckler, held out by an arm from which he had little feared that oppoſition, or Auguſtus hoped that aſſiſtance. Caeſario turning to him who had pervented his revenge, knew him to be the King of Mauritania, who ſetting himſelf further between them, ‘Hold, Caeſar's ſon (ſaid he to him) and if thou wilt not ſpare thy Father's blood, spare the father of Marcellus who is to dye with thee.’

Though the examples of Vertue were familiar to the ſon of Cleopatra, yet he was ſurpriſed at this; and ſmothering his reſentment to comply with the generoſity of his Friend, and the reſpect he had for Marcellus, he turned his ſword another way, ſighing, while Caeſar, whom the ſight of that danger had extremely frightned, made a ſhift to get among his own people, after he had well obſerved the action, though he knew not, the perſons, nor had diſtinctly heard the words of Coriolanus.

The Princes were upon thoughts of proſecuting their deſign, when at two corners of the place whereof they were already become maſters, they perceiv'd two great bodies advancing, led by Petronius and Licinius, and the Emperor, recovered out of his fright, in the the head of them, more terrible then before. That ſight convinced them it was impoſſible to maintain the place any longer, ſo that having called to their men to make towards the Bridge, they came on laſt themſelves, and had no more time then needed, Petronius and Licinius making all the haſt they could after them. Caeſar ſaw in the Rear of his retreating enemies thoſe two men, whereof one had put him to ſuch a fright, and the other ſo generouſly relieved him, who ever and anon facing about, to facilitate the retreat of their men, were no ſmall terror to thoſe who purſued them; and it's not impoſſible but that ſight raiſing in him a reflection on the danger he had been in, he conceived either a certain amazement or reſpect, which hindred him from purſuing them with that violence which he had expreſſed at the beginning of the engagement. In fine, the Princes got up their men, and ſetting foot laſt on the Draw-bridg, they cauſed it to be raiſed upon them, and went into the Caſtle, leaving Auguſtus and his men no leſs aſtoniſhed at their admirable valour, then troubled at the loſs they had received.

Auguſtus was extreamly troubled to ſee his men dead and dying in the Moat, the Ladders broken, and how they had been beaten off the ſecond aſſault; and was much perplexed in his thoughts what reſolution he ſhould take to be ſuddenly revenged for the injuries he received, when Petronius coming up to him, My Lord (ſaid he to him) what are you ſo much troubled at, and what affliction do you put your ſelf to for the reduction of enemies who muſt to morrow fall into your hands without ſo much as the loſs of a man? I muſt pity thoſe you have without any neceſſity already loſt, and no doubt it was your fury that blinded you, ſo that you conſidered not what you did. Here are ſome (continued he, ſhewing him thoſe ſouldiers of Levinus who were come out of the Caſtle, who can tell you that in the Caſtle there are not proviſions for the great number now in it not for the remainder of this day; and that Lev inus, who furniſhed himſelf every day from the City, and was not prepared for a ſiege, had not made any proviſion. Let your enemies be blocked up on all ſides, ſo as it may be impoſſible for them to eſcape, and let hunger do the reſt, a more cruel enemy then thoſe you would employ againſt them.

Auguſtus much liked the advice of Petronius, and wondred the impetuoſity of his fury ſhould ſo far blind him as to put him upon reducing that by force which he might have had [Page] with ſo much eaſe. 'Tis true, he conſidered that Marcellus would be expoſed to hunger as well as the reſt, but ſaw he would be no leſs to the other dangers; that he ſhould find ſome means to deliver him from, by the authority of Octavia and love of Juiia, which he would employ to that purpoſe; and what ever might be the iſſue of it, his reſentments over-maſtered all conſiderations of friendſhip, and made him reſolve rather to loſe what he loved, if neceſſity would have it ſo, then pardon what he hated, and that ſo much the more by reaſon of the late affront he had received.

Having thus reſolved he ſet all things in order for the execution, and cauſed all the avenues of the Caſtle to be blocked up with ſtrong guards, aſſigning a conſiderable number of men for every place leaſt they ſhould be forced; and deſirous to beſiege it alſo by Sea, he drew out of the Port all the ſhips of War, and diſpoſed them in the channel about the Caſtle at ſuch diſtances as deprived the beſieged of all manner of communication, and all hope of relief. Having taken this order, with more judgment then he had expreſſed all the day before, he was more calm then he had been, and having left the command towards the City to Petronius and Licinius, and towards the Sea to Fulvius, he retired to the Palace, to reſt himſelf after the trouble he had been in.

He was no ſooner come thither, but he had all the Princeſſes at his feet; Octavia and Julia demanded Marcellus; Agrippina and Antonia with Marcellus deſired of him the children of Anthony their Brothers; and if Antonia durſt not openly deſire Druſus, yet might it be ſeen, that all her wiſhes were not for her Brothers, Artemiſa ſollicited for Alexander, Marcia for Ptolomey, and except Livia, who what affection ſoever ſhe might have for Druſus, ſeemed only to mind the intereſts of the Emperour, there were few Princeſſes and Ladies of quality in Auguſtus's Court who mediated not for the Illuſtrious beſieged. Eliſa and the Queen her mother, whom the late adventures of Artaban had put into new troubles for him, intreated not the Emperour as to him, imagining ſuch intreaties fruitleſs, and it below their dignity to become Petitioners to a perſon who behaved himſelf with ſo much inſolence towards them, but ſought out other ways to get him into their power then by ſubmiſſions, yet all proved ineffectual; and beſides that the Emperours ſentiment was ſuch as made all ſupplications fruitleſs, he had anſwers ſpecious enough to rid himſelf of thoſe who beſought him on the behalf of Coriolanus or Ceſario. Why do you ſollicite me for Marcellus (ſaid he to Octavia) have you obſerved he was leſs dear to me than to your ſelf? and do you imagine that if he periſhes ungrateful as he is, my grief will be leſs than yours? Uſe your ſollicitation rather to him to get him out of the danger into which he hath willfully caſt himſelf, and aſſure your ſelf, that, notwithſtanding his ingratitude I ſhall ſpread my armes to him as my ſon when ever he ſhall return to us. He ſaid the ſame thing in a manner to thoſe who ſpoke for the ſons of Anthony, eſpecially for Julius Antonius, who being, as he ſaid, infinitely obliged to him had that day in the heat of the engagement for ſook his party to caſt himſelf into that of the enemy.

Having thus ſhuffled off the perſons that moſt importuned him, he withdrew, but with ſuch a reſentment againſt all the Kings, Princes, and others among the Romans who had not followed him that day, that he would not ſee any one of them, though he ſaw that Ariobarzanes and Philadelph upon the kindneſs they had received from Artaban, and the alliance they had already engaged themſelves in with the children of Anthony, as alſo Archelaus, Domitius, Craſſus, Lentulus, and ſome others, either upon that conſideration or that of an ancient friendſhip there was between them and the houſe of Anthony, had much reaſon to be excuſed. For the King of Scythia, he quarrelled much at his proceeding, but knew not how to behave himſelf towards him, thinking it on the one ſide very ſtrange and not to be endured, that in his own Court he ſhould declare for his enemies; and on the other, not conceiving that any reaſon ſhould incline him to give any diſcontent to one of the greateſt Kings in the world, one that not upon any account obliged thereto, was come to viſit him, contrary to all the ordinary Ceremonies uſed by Monarchs who had no dependance on the Empire, and who otherwiſe was ſuch, both for the vaſtneſs of his Territories, and the greatneſs of his perſon, as was not to be injured without thoughts of a War, whereof the event might prove uncertain, eſpecially if his Forces ſhould be joyned to thoſe of the Parthians, as it might happen through the friendſhip which that King had contracted with Artaban, and the Queen and Princeſs of Parthia: That which gravelled him moſt in theſe intricate conjunctures was, that Agrippa, whoſe arm and advice were his ſureſt refuge, not only was not in a capacity to ſerve him either in the one kind or in the other, but was not to be acquainted with what paſſed, out of a fear that if he were he might diſ-approve of it, and oppoſe it with all the intereſt he had in him. Mecenas gave him that advice which his vertue inſpired him with, and conſequently not much conſonant to the intentions which Caeſar was then in; but he wanted the courage and authority of Agrippa to preſs it home. Auguſtus had indeed [Page] taken particular notice of what Coriolanus had done on his behalf, but had attributed it to Marcellus, as having not in the diſorder he was in obſerved the armes of Juba's ſon, and being apt to believe that among perſons whom he perſecuted with ſo much cruelty there could be only Marcellus that ſhould have that tenderneſs for his life. He would have admired that action in Coriolanus, could he have believed it done by him, and attributed it to a generoſity more than ordinary; but he eſteemed it the leſs in Marcellus, from whom he might have expected greater things, and thought himſelf leſs obliged to him for that relief, than he thought he ſhould be incenſed againſt him for the aſſiſtance he had afforded his Enemies, fighting againſt his men at a place where he himſelf was in perſon: Yet could he not without ſome terror reflect on the danger he had been in, nor think on the terrible poſture of Ceſario, without making his acknowledgments to Heaven for the aſſiſtance he had received in ſo great an extremity. He ſaw only Agrippa that night, and having ſtaid a ſhort time with him, retired, with thoughts divided between the grief he felt for the injuries he conceived done him, and the joy he imagined to himſelf from a revenge which nothing ſhould be able to divert.

In the mean time the Princes were gotten into the Caſtle, where they had been received not only by their valiant Companions, but their beloved Princeſſes, who with the joy they conceived to ſee them eſcape ſo great a danger, went to meet them with Marcellus and Druſus. Cleopatra and Candace ſaid to their Lovers, whatever an affection they had for them, they would no longer ſmother, though they took ill their expoſing of themſelves to ſuch imminent danger, and hazarding their lives ſo unadviſedly upon an account ſo different from that of ſo many noble victories as they had gained. The two Princes excuſed themſelves upon the neceſſity that forced them thereto; but after Cleopatra had entertained Coriolanus with her firſt careſſes and diſcourſe, ſhe was a little aſtoniſhed to find Julius Antonius with him, and to hear from Ptolomy after what manner, and with what generoſity he came into their party. Cleopatra kindly imbraced him, and after ſhe had aſſured him of all the affection which out of reſpects of blood, the knowledge of his worth, and upon that laſt obligation; ſhe might conceive for him; Ah Brother, (ſaid ſhe to him) why come you to aggravate our grief by augmenting the number of thoſe that are to die? and why will you put a period to the houſe of Anthony, when all the hopes of its countinance are only in you? Thoſe perſons who are ſo ready to die, (replies Antonius) are ſo illuſtrious for their quality, that there is more glory than danger to participate of their fortunes; and you have conceived a very bad opinion of me, if you thought that as things ſtand now, I had any other reſolution to take then that of endeavouring to ſerve you and my Brothers.

With thoſe words he imbraced Alexander, who received him into his armes, and whoſe expoſtulation with him was much like that of Cleopatra. Marcellus and Druſus, though troubled at his coming to ſhare in the glory which they only might hope from their generoſity, imbracing him with much affection: Ceſario looked on him not only as a Brother to his Brethren, but as his own; and Artaban conſidered him as a Prince as worthy his eſteem and friendſhip, as he was of the blood he was deſcended of, and the name he bore. But the King of Mauritania ſeeing in him that Brother of Cleopatra loſt for ſo many years, whom he had loved as the worthy Brother of his Princeſs, and by whom he had been ſo gallantly ſeconded againſt thoſe who would have carried her away, the day he had fought with Tiberius, and fallen into the hands of Auguſtus, thought himſelf obliged more particularly than all others to aſſure him of his affection and reſentment, and was not wanting to acquit himſelf thereof, though it troubled him above any to ſee ſo many perſons that were dear to him caſt themſelves into a miſ-fortune, which he conceived none ſhould be engaged in but himſelf.

Having taken all neceſſary order for the defence of the Caſtle, the two Princeſſes would have the Princes put off their armour to take a little reſt, which in obedience to their commands they did, and went all together with them to the chamber where they had ſtaid during the aſſault. There it was that Ceſario took occaſion to acquaint that Illuſtrious company with what Coriolanus had done for the reſcue of Auguſtus, and that craving Marcellus's pardon for the intention he had to be the death of his Uncle, he repreſented to him the new obligation put upon him by his Friend. All preſent admired the action of the King of Mauritania, and the ſon of Octavia embracing him with a tranſportation greater than what proceeds from friendſhip; ‘It is certainly your deſign (ſaid he to him) that this ſingle action ſhould eclipſe all the demonſtrations I can give you of my friendſhip, and reduce me to a condition to die ungrateful though I die with you. O ye Gods! (continued he) is it poſſible ſuch an exemplary vertue ſhould find perſecutors and enemies among men? Ah friends, (added he) but the trueſt that ever was, ſince that in the heat of fighting, and in ſo juſt a reſentment as that you might conceive againſt ſo cruel an enemy, you protect him againſt the armes of your friends: [Page] Oppoſe not any longer what I would do for you, and only pity my miſ-fortune, which in acknowledgment of ſuch tranſcendent diſcoveries of your friendſhip, permits me not to give you but trivial demonſtrations of mine.’

To theſe words of Marcellus the Aſſembly added their celebrations of the generoſity of Coriolanus; but he was but little ſenſible thereof at that time, as being extreamly caſt down at the news brought him, that there were no proviſions in the Caſtle, and that there was hardly to ſuffice the perſons that were in it for the remainder of that day. He ſaw by this account of their condition that the place was no longer to be maintained by valour, that there was no way but to periſh; and that though the Princes might have the conſtancy to endure hunger to the utmoſt extremity, the ſouldiers who had no heroick ſouls, would not be ſo ſatisfied, but the next day, if that miſ-fortune came to their knowledge, deliver both them and the Caſtle into the hands of Auguſtus. The reflections he made thereon were as ſo many thorns in his breaſt, and knowing it was through his means that thoſe he ſo dearly loved were all expoſed to the ſame extremity, his conſtancy, how great ſoever, could not but give way upon his thoughts of it. Whereupon death preſenting it ſelf to his imagination, not ſuch as he had often defied in combats, where it could never daunt him, but under the moſt horrid ſhape it could aſſume, by hazarding the lives of Cleopatra and Marcellus, made him tremble, and put him into a condition much more deplorable than if he had been at that very inſtant to lay his head down to the cruel Inſtruments of Auguſtus's revenge. Cleopatra and Marcellus obſerving in his countenance the diſturbance he was in, would have comforted him; but their preſence inſtead of producing that effect rather aggravated his affliction, nor could he but with eyes orecaſt with a fatal cloudineſs look on thoſe beloved perſons who ſo readily embraced death upon his account.

In the mean time, Ceſario, having had the opportunity of ſome diſcourſe with Artaban, had expreſs'd to him the joy he conceived at his happy acknowledgement of being a Prince deſcended from Arſaces, aſſuring him that news had not any way ſurpriz'd him, and that he had ever conſidered him as a perſon ſo excellent in all things, that he could not be perſwaded but he was of noble birth. But the Son of Pompey, who had not, with the diſcovery of his original, reaſſum'd the unjuſt averſion which he deriv'd from nature againſt the ſon of Julius Caeſar, and called to mind that generous confidence of Caeſario, upon which the very day they had been reconciled he would have diſcovered his birth to him in a place where ſuch a diſcovery might have prov'd dangerous, he concluded it was not from him he had received Eliſa's commands to conceal his own, and that the Princeſs would not be diſſatisfied that he ſhould make that return to the generoſity of ſo great a Prince. To which end, taking him aſide to a Window whence they could not be over-heard; It is not juſt, ſaid he to him, I ſhould anſwer that noble freedome you expreſsed toward me, by a reſervedneſs which I am commanded to obſerve towards others; and ſince you, out of a confidence worthy your courage, would have diſcovered to me that you were the ſon of Caeſar, I, cut of a like, am to let you know, that I am the Son of Pompey: By this acknowledgment I clear Nature of the averſion ſhe had given me againſt you, but ſhould not vindicate my own reaſon, if it had not overcome it, upon my knowledge of your admirable Vertue. I am to tell you further, that, with the diſcovery of my being Pompey's ſon, my love to the ſon of Caeſar hath not only received no remiſſion, but that I ſhould not hate Caeſar himſelf, were he living, ſince he carryed on the War againſt Pompey for Fame and the Empire, and had no hand in the baſeneſs of Ptolomey, againſt whom I ſhould turn all revenge, if Caeſar himſelf had not done it. I am accordingly inclined to hope, that you will not hate me for being Son to Pompey, ſince the misfortunes of Pompey leave not Caeſar himſelf any ground to hate him, and that you are maſter of too great a Soul to wiſh thoſe ill who court your friendſhip.

Caeſario had with much aſtoniſhment hearkened to the diſcourſe of Pompey's Son; and when he had given over ſpeaking, rejoyning thereto with an action wherein might be ſeen that that diſcovery wrought no change of ſentiments in him; You ſurprize me not, (ſaid he to him,) by the account you give me of your ſelf; it was but neceſſary that a perſon who can ſo well abate the inſolence of Kings, ſhould be deſcended from a man who had ſeen ſo many Kings at his feet. I am infinitely obliged to you, that after this diſcovery you will continue your friendſhip towards me, nay though I am ſatisfied, that neither Caeſar nor Queen Cleopatra had any hand in the laſt misfortunes of Pompey, and that it is not unlikely Caeſar would have been moderate in the advantages of his fortune, if that of Pompey would have permitted it; yet I entertaine the proffer you make me of your friendſhip as a pure effect of your Vertue; and am to aſſure you, that next to the obligations I have to Candace, there is not any thing I more value. Whereupon embracing one another, upon the new confirmation of their Friendſhip, Artaban gave Caeſario a ſhort account of the particulars of his birth, and the aſſurances he had of it, as he had received them from Briton.

[Page] By this time, night was drawing on; and the Princes, having cauſed a diſtribution to be made of what proviſions there were in the Caſtle, found, much to their grief, there was hardly to afford a light repaſt for ſo many perſons, and that the next day they muſt either be miraculouſly ſupplyed from heaven, or ſuffer through hunger what they had avoided by the ſword. The Princeſſes and Princes made that poor meale with much conſtancy, neither Cleopatra nor Candace diſcovering any thing of weakneſs upon ſo ſtrange a misfortune. Coriolanus and Caeſario ſeem'd the only perſons troubled, as reflecting it was upon their account that their Princeſſes and Friends were fallen into that extremity; and the grief which ſeemed to be legible in the countenances of Artaban, Druſus and Alexander proceeded from their remembrances of Eliſa, Antonia and Artemiſa, rather than the danger that threatned them. Druſus and Alexander diſcovered ſo much the leſs, becauſe they had left their Princeſſes ſafe among their Friends, and feared not any thing might happen to them; but Artaban was much in diſturbance, and though he were reſolved, out of a conſideration of honour, to periſh with his Friends if he could not avoid it, and had a courage great enough to face death without any trouble, yet could he not reflect that Eliſa was in the power of Auguſtus, and that to be revenged for the injury he had that day received, he might force her to marry Agrippa, without an affliction that proved extremely a torment to him.

He was upon the rack of thoſe conſiderations, when Coriolanus and Caeſario came to communicate their grief to him, and ask his advice in the extremity they were reduced to, and all the Princes being called to deliberate together what reſolution ſhould be taken, it was without any contradiction reſolved, that when the night was a little advanced, they ſhould endeavour to force their way through the Guards, and, with the Princeſſes, and all the men that were in the Caſtle, endeavour to break through the Enemy on that ſide which led to the Ethiopian ſhips; not but that the execution of this enterpriſe would prove difficult and dangerous, yet was it to be embraced before the death they were aſſured of in the Caſtle, being of that kind which was moſt unworthy their courage. This reſolution taken, about an hour after they ſet things in order for the execution of it, and the Princes having ſatisfied the ſouldiery of the neceſſity there was they ſhould behave themſelves gallantly, Coriolanus, Artaban and Caeſario led them on, and ordered the two Princeſſes with their women to come behind, conducted by Marcellus, Druſus, and the three ſons of Anthony. That illuſtrious company, conſiſting of what was moſt great in the world, either as to Valour or Beauty, went in that poſture out of the Caſtle, with a courage no leſs remarkable in the Princeſſes than the Princes; and the three Chiefes, who had ſeverally commanded ſo great armies, and were now all reduced to the command of ſo ſmall a number, fell in with ſuch fury upon a guard placed almoſt at the end of the bridge, and immediately forced it with ſuch ſucceſs, that, having cut ſome to pieces, the reſt fled in diſorder to the next poſt, This not only encouraged the ſouldiers, but put their valiant commanders into ſome hope; but when, turning their faces towards the ſea, they would charge thoſe that kept the paſſage that way, they found their attempts would prove ineffectual, the wayes being made up with barricadoes and great beames, and maintained by above two thouſand ſouldiers, commanded by valiant men. So that having ſet upon them very deſperately, but to little purpoſe, and perceiving it impoſſible to get through, and that upon the loſs of ſome of their men, the reſt were unwilling to advance upon a deſign abſolutely deſperate, they were forced to make what haſt they could towards the Caſtle, having out of a prudent foreſight, leſt Briton and Eteocles at the end of the Bridge with fifty men, to prevent the enemy from getting into it during the engagement; and accordingly Marcellus, Druſus, and the Sons of Anthony conconducted the Princeſſes thither, while Artaban, Caeſario and Coriolanus made their retreat ſo as to keep the Enemy in play till they came to the Caſtle gate, into which they were the laſt that entred.

Upon this laſt act of misfortune was it that griefe and exaſperation wrought their ſaddeſt effects in the two Princes, who ſaw ſo many illuſtrious perſons that were dear to them expoſed to certain death upon their account. Caeſario fell at the feet of Candace, to divert her from the deſign ſhe had to dye with him, and intreated his Brothers to leave him in an extremity wherein he could make no advantage of their generoſity. He preſſed the ſame thing to the Great Artaban, putting him in mind of his obligations to Eliſa, and repreſenting to him that he ſhould ſlight all things for the ſervice of that Princeſs. But the ſon of Juba was tranſported in ſuch manner as would have raiſed compaſſion in the moſt inſenſible hearts; and betraying what might be thought the effects of weakneſs in him, had he been reduced thereto out of any reſpect to himſelf, he endeavoured, both by words and tears, to prevail with thoſe perſons in whom the expectation of ſudden death produced no ſuch effect, to leave him to his own misfortunes. He lay proſtrate at the feet of Cleopatra, waſhing them [Page] with his tears, and with much ado recovering the freedome of ſpeech, if ever (ſaid he to her) Love begat compaſſion in any ſoul, and if you would have me, at the period of my life, flatter my ſelf with the glory of having been loved by my Princeſs, my adored Princeſs; by that love which I ſhall inviolably preſerve in the other life; by all you acknowledge ſacred, and in ſubmiſſion to thoſe Deities whom you have ever reverenced, and now incenſe by the injuſtice you do me, force me not to die the moſt terrible kind of death my Enemies could have invented for me; and think it enough, that after the example of the Queen your Mother, you have ſatisfied the world how eaſily you can ſlight death for his ſake whom you love, without exerciſing to the utmoſt this ſtrange kind of cruelty upon me. For, in fine, imagine not that when I dye, I ſhall quarrel at Auguſtus, all he can do is to put me to an ordinary death, a thing I have often defied in occaſions hazardous enough, but you would make it ſuch to me by your fatal reſolution, as no courage can endure without falling into the worſt of deſpair. Conſider, that to the injuries you do me, you add an irrepairable offence againſt Heaven, and that all nature is concerned in your cruelty, when you deſtroy what the Gods and ſhe had made moſt beautiful in the Univerſe; that Heaven, Earth, all Nations, all ages will blame me for the injury I do them, and that thouſands ſuch lives as mine ought not to be preſerved with the leaſt danger of yours. And thou cruel Friend (added he, turning to Marcellus) thou who conſirmeſt her in this fatal reſolution by the cruel example thou gaveſt her, wert thou not ſatisfied with the miſeries which I ſhould at my death derive from the conſiderations of my Love, but muſt aggravate them by the effects of an unfortunate friendſhip? or is it not to heighten the cruelty of Auguſtus rather than to aſſure me of thy friendſhip, that thou art guilty of this barbariſm towards me? Example of inhumanity, what wouldſt thou reduce me to? What is there in the loſs of this wretched life that can in any degree recompence the world for what I deprive of it, when it is that which was moſt precious in it? Wouldſt thou not give me a dearer and more noble demonſtration of thy friendſhip in diverting Cleopatra from her fatal deſign, and in living to ſerve and comfort her in the misfortunes whereto ſhe may be reduced, then in tormenting my eyes juſt when they are to be cloſed to eternal darkneſs, with the delightful ſpectacle of the death of Cleopatra and Marcellus?

To theſe Expoſtulations the exaſperated ſon of Juba added a many others, which his affliction furniſhed his tongue withal; but if thoſe to whom he addreſſed them were moved thereat, it was with ſomething contrary to what he would have had them produce, and that fair Cleopatra looking on him with eyes drier than his own, though not wholly free from tears, ‘Trifle not away, Coriolanus (ſaid ſhe to him) in complaints and fruitleſs reſentments the ſmall remainder of our lives, and if it be any ſatisfaction to thee to be aſſured that Cleopatra loves thee, enjoy it to the laſt gaſp without troubling her as thou doſt by a torment thou to no purpoſe inflicteſt on thy ſelf. Conſider, that thou art unjuſt and cruel to thy ſelf in thy deſires; and if thou believeſt I really love thee, nay, ſo well as to dye with thee, reflect what my life would ſignifie to me after the loſs of thine. Or to what wouldeſt thou expoſe me, when thou deſireſt I ſhould continue it after thy death? Shall I live to forget thee? ſhall I live to marry Tiberius? can that hope comfort thee? or if after thy death I prove conſtant in the affection I have for thee, ſhall I live to bewail thy loſs to my grave? or doſt thou think that condition happier for me than the death I would ſuffer with thee? Conſider, Coriolanus, that grief diſtracts thee, and that thou canſt not deſire I ſhould ſurvive thee without doing me an injury in imagining me either capable of comfort, or that I can forget thee, or, which is worſe, make me too unfortunate by condemning me to eternal degrees. Forbear therefore to preſs me any further, who, with the conſent of my Brothers that hear us, have not given thee the name of Husband but with a reſolution never to forſake thee: but endeavour to prevail with Marcellus, whoſe fortunes ſhould be happy, if with time he may overcome the grief he may conceive at the loſs of his Friend. He hath not the ſame reaſons which I have to alledge to thee, and hath no doubt thoſe obligations to Julia which I have not to any, I ſhall leave in the world behind me. Repreſent to Druſus what may be expected from him by Antonia; to Alexander, what from him, by Artemiſa, to Ptolomey, what from him, by Marcia; and to Julius Antonius what from him, in order to the continuance of an illuſtrious blood whereof he is the firſt. As to what Julia may expect from me (ſaid Marcellus interrupting her) it cannot diſpence with me as to what I owe my friend. Theſe obligations are not inconſiſtent; beſides that I can owe no leſs than my ſelf, for the reparation of an injury I have done my ſelf, by perſecuting a too faithful, & too unfortunate friend: And I can owe no leſs than my ſelf to the revenge of Auguſtus's cruelty, who will needs ſacrifice his life whom he loves as his ſon, to his unjuſt reſentments and cruel maxims. For my part (ſaies Druſus) I am not any way to be pityed, ſince I am Son and Brother to thoſe who are the occaſions of your ruine, and that by this action I aſſure Antonia of what all the precedent of my life could never perſwade her to. And for us (added Prince Alexander, ſpeaking for himſelf and Ptolomey) we cannot [Page] expect any acknowledgment for our contempt of death; for, beſides that we could with honour but engage our ſelves in the concernments of a brother and ſiſter, whom the Perſecutor of our Houſe would put to death with ſo much cruelty, he had ordered us alſo to be ſecured, haply with the ſame intention. So that it is deſigned then (cryes out the deſperate Coriolanus) all ſhould periſh, and that my misfortune muſt drag both Cleopatra and Marcellus, and Druſus, and all the houſe of Anthony to inevitable death.’ He ſtruck a little at that conſideration, and at laſt aſſuming the diſcourſe with an action more doleful, ‘What (added he) ſhall Cleopatra & Marcellus, and ſo many illuſtrious perſons dye through my means, and ſhall ſo many excellent lives be ſacrified to one ſo wretched as mine? No, no, Cleopatra, no Marcellus, you ſhall never ſee me expoſed to the misfortune you threaten me with, and I will prevent it though all the earth ſhould contribute to my unhappineſs. I will never ſee the fair eyes of Cleopatra cloſed up by death, nor ſhall I expect, till that horrid enemy, againſt whom our valour avails us nothing, hath wrought any change in her countenance. I deſpair not yet, with the aſſiſtances of Heaven and my own courage, to ſecure what Love and Friendſhip make ſo dear to me, ſince I cannot imagine I ſhall want them in ſo juſt a deſign.’

With thoſe words he walked up and down, one while in the Chamber, another in a Gallery adjoyning to it, and in that manner tormented himſelf till it was day, not entertaining the leaſt comfort from the diſcourſes of either Cleopatra or Marcellus. Ceſario was in a condition not much different through the grief he was in for Candace; and Artaban, though loath to forſake ſuch illuſtrious Friends, was nevertheleſs reſolved to force his way through ten thouſand ſwords, or receive his death from the points of them, but he would find out Eliſa, and deliver her out of the hands of Auguſtus in ſpight of all the force of the Empire.

If the Caſtle were thus all in grief, there was but little joy in the Palace, and beſides the effects which ſorrow produced in the perſons moſt concerned, ſuch as Eliſa, Julia, Antonia, Artemiſa, Octavia, and the Siſters of Marcellus; and what a generous compaſſion wrought in Alcamenes, Ariobarzanes, Philadelph, Arminius, Archelaus, and their fair Princeſſes, even thoſe who expected to make their advantages of others unhappineſs could not reflect thereon without much diſturbance. Livia however ſhe might diſſemble before Auguſtus, was extreamly troubled for Druſus, and according to the greatneſs of her affection towards him, perplexed to find out a way to get him out of the danger whereto he was expoſed without ſaving Coriolanus, or ruining the pretenſions of Tiberius. Nay ſhe ſaw ſo little hope to make Tiberius happy by the enjoyment of Cleopatra, though it were in her power to beſtow her on him, that ſhe heartily wiſhed to ſee him quit all inclinations for her, as thinking nothing more ruinous, as to his fortunes, nor the deſign ſhe ever had of raiſing her children, if poſſible, to the higheſt dignity. Tiberius himſelf could find no ſatisfaction in what was done to that end, and beſides the remorſe it was to him, to ſee perſecuted with ſo much cruelty, a perſon, who ſome daies before had ſo generouſly given him his life, yet without preſſing his advantage ſo far as to make him diſclaim all hopes of Cleopatra, he conceived ſuch a grief of at the Princeſſes averſion for him, and was by her late carriage ſo ſatisfied of the love ſhe had for his Rival, that he wiſhed with all his heart he could diſ-ingage himſelf of that which he had for her, as not able, by reaſon of the violence of his affection, to think on the reſolution ſhe had taken to die with Coriolanus, without dying almoſt himſelf out of the fear he was in for her, but reſolved to ſuffer any thing before he would ſuffer her to put her deſign in execution. He was that night viſited by the Empreſs, who ſaw him ſeveral times in the day, and while ſhe was ſat down on the bed-ſide by him, and diſcourſing with him, Thraſyllus the Aſtrologer who came to him every day, and whom he gave much credit to, enters the room; and whether he were ſollicited to that purpoſe by Druſus, or that a confidence of the truth obliged him thereto, he takes Tiberius by the hand, and wringing it with much earneſtneſs; ‘My Lord, (ſaid he to him) if you have hitherto found any truth in the things I have told you, let me intreat you to give abſolute credit to what I am now to acquaint you with, and upon that diſcovery endeavour to ſubdue a paſſion which is the main obſtacle of your greatneſs. I know without the aſſiſtance of my Art the love you have for Cleopatra; and I know by it that you will come to the Empire: I foreſee it ſo inevitably, that I durſt ingage my life upon the confidence I have of it; but I can withal give it you for a thing infallable, that he who ſhall have the enjoyment of Cleopatra will never be Maſter of the Empire, and am content you cut off my head, if Time confirms not the truth of my prediction.’ The diſcourſe of Thraſyllus prevailed much with Tiberius, who had experienced the truth of his predictions; but it wrought ſtrangely on Levia, in whom ambition was the predominant paſſion, and having cauſed Thraſyllus to expreſs himſelf more clearly as to that particular, he acquainted them more at large, how he by infallible [Page] Obſervations foreſaw that he who married Julia ſhould ſucceed Auguſtus, that it ſhould not be Marcellus, and that by all the rules of his Science it could be no other than Tiberius; but that he would venture his life that Cleopatra ſhould never be Wife to the Emperour. Livia was much pleaſed with this diſcourſe; and raiſed in Tiberius a liking of it as much as lay in her power, and he being no leſs ambitious than amorous, thoſe Remonſtrances (though not able to cure him of his Love) obliged him to make ſome reflections on the Obſtacle he met with therein by the averſion of Cleopatra, and the reſolution ſhe had taken to die rather then be his, and forſake his Rival, and upon thoſe reflections heightned his courage to endeavour his recovery.

No better was the condition of Agrippa, though not ſo much indiſpoſed in body as he had been ſome days before, the Fever having in a manner left him. He knew nothing of what paſſed, but imagined there was ſomething extraordinary in agitation, and ſuſpected both from the diſcourſes of the Emperour, and the reſerved carriage of his own Servants, when he enquired after her, that Eliſa might receive ſome unhandſome treatment upon his account. The Emperour upon pretence of the importunity of Viſits to a perſon in his condition, had ordered that the Princes and other perſons from whom he might have underſtood how things went, ſhould not be admitted to him; but that night, after the Emperour had left his Chamber, one of the Queen of Parthia's women came to the door to ſpeak with him; and Agrippa having heard ſome of his people ſpeaking to her, commanded them to tell him what the matter was: he had no ſooner heard it, but he ordered her to be brought in, and was very angry ſhe had waited ſo long. The Woman coming to the bedſide, preſented him with a Letter from the Princeſs of Parthia. The amorous Agrippa changed colour upon the hearing of that name, and after he had not without trembling received the Letter, he cauſed Torches to be brought, and having opened it, found therein theſe words.

Eliſa Princeſs of Parthia to Agrippa.

THe cruel treatments I receive upon your account force me to write to you, and to demand juſtice of your ſelf for the indignities I am expoſed to. It were not much to deprive a Queen and Princeſs of Parthia of their liberty, if there were not a deſign to put to death a Prince deſcended from Arſaces, one whom the Queen my Mother, and the Eſtates of Parthia have deſtined to be my Husband. Is this, generous Agrippa, the performance of the promiſe you made me, to imploy onely love and ſervices to prevail with me! And are theſe the effects of that vertue which made you more conſiderable then your fortunes! Will you ſuffer a Princeſs deſcended from the greateſt King upon earth to be upon your account reduced to a neceſſity to ſeek in death the remedy of her miſ-fortunes? or can you hope to finde after ſuch a crime committed, any refuge or any Plea againſt the indignation of the Gods and the reproches of men?

Agrippa read the Letter over two or three ſeveral times with an aſtoniſhment which could not be compared to any thing but the grief that attended it, and he was at ſuch a loſs through both, that of a long time he could not recover the freedome of ſpeech. At laſt, caſting his eyes off the Letter, and turning them one while on the Woman who had brought it with an action diſcovering the greatneſs of his grief, and another on ſuch of his men as were about him with looks full of fury; he ſeemed by the one and the other to expreſs how much he was diſpleaſed with them, and vindicate himſelf to her.

In fine, his aſtoniſhment giving way to the deſire he had to clear his innocence, and to remedy the inconveniences he was the occaſion of, he called the moſt conſiderable of his Servants, and laid his abſolute commands upon him to give him a faithful account of what paſſed, and what he was kept in ignorance of. Whereupon willing to ſatisfie his Maſters deſires, though with ſome hazard of Ceſars diſpleaſure, he entertained him with a long relation of what had been kept ſecret from him, as well concerning the arrival of the Queen of Parthia, the death of Phraates, the acknowledgment of Artaban to be a Prince of the blood of Arſaces, as the impriſonment of Artaban, the Emperours Orders for the death of Coriolanus and Ceſario, the taking of the Caſtle by Artaban and the ſons of Anthony, the action of Cleopatra, Marcellus and Druſus, their reſolution to die with the two Princes, the ſally made by the beſieged, and the aſſurance which the Emperour had of the want of proviſions in the Caſtle, upon which he had reſolved either to ſtarve thoſe Illuſtrious perſons, or have them all at his mercy to receive ſuch puniſhment as he ſhould think fit. In a word, he omitted nothing which he thought was not come to the knowledge of Agrippa, and when he came to thoſe paſſages which he would repreſent more favourably, out of a fear of the Emperors diſpleaſure, Eliſa's woman who was preſent at the Diſcourſe, diſcovered the whole truth without any palliation, ſo that from the Relations of both, he underſtood all things as well at [Page] least as the perſons from whom he received that account could inform him. The aſtoniſhment it put him into was no leſs than what he had conceived upon the receipt of Eliſa's Letter, whereupon having continued ſilent a little while, O Ceſar (ſaid he, ſighing) is it ‘poſſible the noble fame thou haſt acquired ſhould be leſs dear to thee than that which thou gotteſt by the cruelties of the Triumvirate, and that thou muſt needs make me guilty of thoſe actions wherein I ſhall not, out of my own inclination, ever have any hand?’ After which turning to the Meſſenger that came from Eliſa, ‘You ſee (ſaid he to her) how far I am innocent, or at leaſt, if I am chargeable with any thing, that it is to be attributed to my misfortune, and not my intentions: It muſt be my endeavour to clear my ſelf of all; and you may aſſure the Princeſs, that as to thoſe things which lie in my power, I ſhall infallibly remedy them, and to others do all I can.’ With which words, calling for what was requiſite to ſend the Princeſs an anſwer, he with a trembling hand writ theſe few words:

AGRIPPA to the Princeſs of Parthia.

I Acknowledge my ſelf a criminal in that I preſumed to adore you, but my crime abſolutely proceeds from my Love, and that is ſo great, as that I need not be charged with any of the reſt: I had prevented them with the hazard of my life, had I not been ignorant thereof, and ſhall yet be willing to loſe it, if I can make no other reparation for the inconveniences you have been and ſtill are ſubject to upon my account.

Having diſpatched the meſſenger with this anſwer, and commanded all that were about him to leave the roome, with diſcoveries of a diſpleaſure which it was above his moderation to diſſemble, he fell into the moſt cruel diſturbances his ſoul had ever ſtruggled with; and reflecting with much diſſatisfaction on the ſtrange account he had received, he concluded that ſuch great miſeries required great reparations, and that, having been the occaſion of all the indignities done to ſuch a Princeſs as Eliſa, and ſuch a man as Artaban, and the danger whereto they were expoſed, if ſome ſudden expedient were not found out, he thought it but juſt that a paſſion which had produced ſuch deplorable effects ſhould be ſubdued by a reſentment proportionable to the miſchiefs it had cauſed, and that he ought by ſome action, ſuch as might ſpeak the tranſcendency of his vertue, ſet himſelf right in the ſentiments of Eliſa and Artaban, prevent Caeſar from drawing on himſelf a War, and the hatred of nations, and ſtifle the memory of a misfortune whereby his own good name might receive a blemiſh among men. It further came into his thoughts, that, Eliſa's condition was ſuch, by the death of her Father, after the diſcovery ſhe had made of her inclinations, with the conſent of her Mother, and ſuitably to the deſires of the Parthians, and the acknowledgement of Artaban's being deſcended from Arſaces, that he could not any longer continue his pretenſions to her, and thought it better to quit them out of a certain civility, and by an effect of his great courage, than to be forced to it by neceſſity.

This then was his deſigne, but the difficulty was in the execution of it; and to that end did he ſummon all his courage to his aſſiſtance, and ſought in his vertue what might reduce a paſſion that rebelled againſt it with thoſe forces which it would be no eaſie matter to defeat. He was in this tempeſt of reflections, and ſpent the whole night therein, while the Emperour having ſought reſt in ſleep, had much ado to find it, by reaſon of a dream which troubled him. He was fallen aſleep, after he had paſſed away ſome part of the night in thoughts of the affront he had received in one of his own Cities by an inconſiderable number of men (he whom nothing ſhould oppoſe, and to whom the whole world in a manner was ſubject) and the revenge he intended, when not long before day, and about the time that dreams make an impreſſion in mens minds with leſs diſorder and more truth, according to the common opinion, there ſtands before him the Ghoſt of the Great Julius Caeſar, not only with all the Majeſty, which, while living, attended the greatneſs of his perſon and actions, but with ſomething greater, more auguſt, and more conformable to that divine ſtate into which the Romans had raiſed him. The Emperour looked on him with a veneration ſuch as was due only to the Gods, and found his eyes ſparkling with anger, and all his countenance ſuch as diſcovered the greatneſs of his indignation; and expecting what might be the iſſue of it, not without ſome fear, he thought the great Dictator with a menacing action, and darting lightening inſtead of looks, ſpoke thus to him: ‘Octavius, (ſaid he to him,) for thou art not worthy, the name of Caeſar, nor that of my ſon, is it thus thou exerciſeſt the dignity whereto I had unjuſtly raiſed thee? and have I, of the ſon of Octavius, made thee the greateſt man, and in a manner Maſter of the Univerſe, only to employ the greatneſs I have given thee, to the ſhame of the name thou beareſt, and the ruine of my poſterity? What is remaining of it among men in the [Page] perſon of a Prince who would better become the rank that's due to him, and in which I have unfortunately placed thee, after he had ſought ſecurity among the Sun-burnt Nations againſt the firſt diſcoveries of thy cruelty, is ſtill expoſed thereto, and expects the ſtroke of that inhumane ſword which thou haſt lifted over his head. He diſputes not any thing with thee, though he lawfully might all, and yet thou thinkeſt much to let him live in the extremities of the earth, where he had, by the aſſiſtances of heaven found refuge. Thou wert the death of his mother, a perſon I dearly loved, as alſo that of Anthony my faithful friend. Their daughter, the miracle and ornament of her times, finds in thee a cruel perſecutor; and a Prince, the glory of his age, one I loved in his infancy, and promiſed the kingdoms of his father, which I had added to thy dominions, after he hath ſetled it by his valour, nay after he hath ſaved thy life in the greateſt danger thou wert ever expoſed to, expects from thy unmerciful hand the period of his noble life. Men were in a diſpoſition to forget thy horrid proſcriptions upon thy perſonated change, but thou returneſt to thy former humour, and thinkeſt it a trouble to acquire a deſerved fame by a reall vertue. Reflect on all the tranſactions of my life, ſuch as might well be propoſed as a pattern for thee, and ſee whether of that great number of enemies who fought againſt both my life and fortunes, I ever put one to death after victory had brought them into my power: if this example, and the remembrance of what thou oweſt my blood, and the obligations thou haſt to vertue, cannot move thee, go, baſe executioner, go, Son of Octavius, unhappily called into the houſe of the Caeſars by an unjuſt adoption, go ſacrifice all to thy revenge and ambition, and glut thy ſelf with the blood thou art ſo deſirous to ſee ſpilt, Thy inhumanity ſhall not go unpuniſhed, and if the Gods give thee a long and peaceablelife, it ſhall be croſſed with domeſtick diſcontents, ſuch as ſhall haply be ſtinging enough to put thee in mind of thy cruelties. Since thou deriveſt a ſatisfaction from the death of mine, thou ſhalt alſo ſee that of thy own; it ſhall not be long ere thou lament the loſſe of thy deareſt hopes; and after thou haſt, while living, bewayled the death of what had been moſt dear to thee, thou ſhalt leave thy place, contrary to thy preſent intention, to what thou raiſeſt for the deſtruction of mankind, and to ſuch ſucceſſors as ſhall be the burthen and hatred of the earth.’

To this effect was the diſcourſe of the Great Caeſar, which he concluded with a look inflamed with indignation upon his ſucceſſor; who was ſo ſmartly moved thereat, that making a ſudden interruption in his ſleep, the impreſſion left of it in him was ſo ſtrong, that he thought at his waking he ſaw diſappear the reverenced ſhade of his illuſtrions Predeceſſor. Certain it is, this dream, which ſeem'd to portend ſomething extraordinary, mov'd him in ſuch a manner, and faſtened on his thoughts with ſo much appearence of truth, that it was along time ere he could well diſcern whether it were a dream or a real apparition. It made him reflect on whatever he had heard ſaid of Viſions, whether reall or imaginary, & among other things called to mind that of the evill Genius of Brutus, which preſented it ſelf to him before the battel of Philippi. After all theſe conſiderations, concluding it was only in a dream that Ceſar had appeared to him, ſince he had ſeen him only in his ſleep, he began to reflect on the menaces and reproaches that fell from him. He was well enough ſatisfied as to the latter, but found much obſcurity in the former, though by that which was made to him of the loſs of his deareſt hopes, affection, naturally guilty of a certain timidity, made him imagine it might relate to the death of Marcellus.

That conſideration moved him very much, and that the more, becauſe Marcellus's condition and reſolutions were ſuch as he might well fear any thing: ſo that not able to ſmother certain ſighs, What (ſaid he) muſt I then loſe my ſon Marcellus, whom notwithſtanding the reſentment I have againſt him, I ſtill love beyond my life? His thoughts were much more taken up with that menace, and thoſe conſequent thereto, than they were with the reproaches; though theſe raiſed in him ſome confuſion, and at certain times a remorſe. It was far dayes ere he could divert his reflections from this importunate dream which inceſſantly came ſtill into his mind, or reſolve whether he ſhould perſiſt in his reſolutions, after the menaces of heaven which he thought diſcovered to him by the great Ceſar. At laſt overcoming the impreſſion that made ſuch a diſturbance in him, ‘What (ſaid he) Ceſar frightned at a dream! a dream make Ceſar quit the reſolutions he had taken! No, no (continued he) I will never be reproached with that weakneſs; and if my father, who charges me with cruelty, had ſecured himſelf by maximes ſuitable to mine, his reign had not been ſo ſhort, nor his illuſtrious life been expoſed to the rage of his enemies.’ With which words he got out of his bed, endeavouring to diſengage his thoughts of thoſe importunate ideas that diſturbed him, yet could he not do it ſo well, but that thoſe who were waiting his getting up, obſerved in his countenance ſomewhat more than ordinary of penſiveneſs, which they attributed to the actions of the precedingday, [Page] whereby he had been moved to ſeveral paſſions, which had wrought ſome change in his diſpoſition.

His Court was but ſmall that morning, or if it were great, it was by reaſon of the number and not the dignity of the perſons about him; for of all the Kings, Princes and other conſiderable perſons that were in Alexandria, there came only King Tigranes and the King of Comagene, with ſuch of the Romans as he had caſt particular favours on, and the Officers of the Pretorian bands. All the reſt were elſewhere; and betimes in the morning upon the intreaty of the King of Scythia, the King of Armenia, the Prince of Cilicia, the King of Cappodocia, and with them Craſſus, Lentulus and divers other illuſtrious Romans, met together at the King of Scythia's lodgings, to reſolve what courſe ſhould be taken for the ſafty of ſo many excellent perſons. Every one gave his opinion ſuitable to the degree of his eſteem or friendſhip for the beſieged Princes; ſo that Alcamenes finding the intentions of all concurr'd to do ſomething in order to their deliverance, eſpecially Ariobarzanes and Philadelph, who ſenſible of their obligations to Artaban, and concerned in the intereſt of Alexander, by reaſon of that of Artemiſa, would run any hazard ere they would ſuffer them to be loſt, told them, he was very much ſatisfied to find them ſo reſolved, and troubled at nothing ſo much as to ſee the poſture he was in at Alexandria, that he came thither attended only by 500. Horſe, which made him the more cautious in a matter of that importance; that his oppinion was, that they ſhould addreſs themſelves once more to the Emperor; and that to that end notwithſtanding the averſion he had to do it, he would go along with them and ſpeak to him but that if their addreſſes proved ineffectual, other ways muſt be thought on to relieve them; and that he was ſo confident of his 500 Scythians, whom he had about him well armed and well mounted; that he deſpaired not in the head of them to force the Emperours Guard, and put in proviſions into the Caſtle, and make way for the beſieged to get aboard the ſhips, giving them notice by Letters which might be faſtened to arrows, to make a ſally; and ſet upon their enemies before, while the Scythians ſhould deal with them behind: that they ſhould take along with them the proviſions they would put into the Caſtle, in caſe the other deſign, being the more difficult, might not take, and that it would be no hard matter for him to have his men armed and mounted, under pretence of departure, after he had to that purpoſe taken leave of the Emperor.

Though there was much danger in this enterpriſe, yet were not thoſe who had heard of the great actions of Alcamenes, aſtoniſhed at the making of ſuch a propoſition; and beſides the friendſhip and compaſſion they had for the perſons they were deſirous to relieve, there was alſo a reſpect to Royal dignity, which made them take ſo hainouſly the tyrannical proceeding of the Emperor againſt Kings and Princes, that they thought nothing difficult or dangerous to oppoſe it, and told the King of Scythia they would follow him what reſolution ſoever he ſhould take. But in regard Ariobarzanes and Philadelph were to provide for Olympia, Arſinoe and Artemiſa, and that the King of Scythia would get Eliſa and the Queen her mother out of the power of Auguſtus, they reſolved not to put their deſign in execution till night, at which time they thought it might be better carried on, both as to their ſetting upon the beſiegers, and getting the Princeſs out of the Palace; not doubting but the beſieged might paſs one day without proviſions, upon the hope they ſhould put them into of relief.

Having thus reſolved, and ſpent ſome time in giving orders to ſome truſty perſons, as well concerning proviſions, as the ſecuring of the ſhips, in caſe they might force their paſſage they went all together to the Emperor, whom they found in the great Palace-Hall with Tigranes, Polemon, Mithridates, ſome of thoſe creatures who were moſt at his devotion, and the Officers of the horſe which he had ordered to come into Alexandria and to quarter about the City. Their arrival much troubled the Princes, as what might make their enterpriſe prove more difficult; yet were they reſolved to carry it on, ſo predominant was the love of Virtue in their ſouls in compariſon of all obſtacles and dangers. The King of Scythia & thoſe that accompanied him, conceiving their addreſſes might be better received, if they were ſeconded by thoſe of Octavia, Julia and Eliſa her ſelf, ſent to thoſe great Princeſſes to intreat them to be there; ſo that they entring at one door met the Princeſs Julia with Octavia, Antonia and her three Siſters, and ſoon after the Queen of Parthia with the Princeſs Eliſa, accompanied by Olympia, Arſinoe, Artemiſa, Iſmenia, and the Princeſs of Cilicia and Cappadocia, coming in at another. But at the ſame time comes in alſo the Empreſs, attended by what other perſons of rank there were about the Court▪ which the Princes looked very ominouſly upon, out of a perſwaſion that ſhe would oppoſe their deſires, and that her preſence alone was enough to divert the Emperor from thoſe good intentions which upon their applications he might be induced to.

[Page] Though the Emperor imagined what brought ſo great and ſo noble an Aſſembly before him, and was reſolved their mediations ſhould not prevail with him to abate any thing of his reſolution, yet he entertained the Queen of Parthia and the Princeſſes with a ſeeming civility; and the diſſatisfaction he had conceiv'd of the King of Scythia, hindred him not from receiving him ſuitable to his rank and the hoſpitality he might expect from him. The Hall they were in was one of the moſt ſpacious and magnificent in the world; it had been enriched by the profuſions and pride of Queen Cleopatra, and there it was ſhe had often taken the pleaſure to ſee the vaſſalled Kings doing their ſubmiſſions and homages at the feet of Anthony. This illuſtrious Aſſembly being ſeated according to Ceſars order, who plac'd the Queen of Parthia on the right hand of Livia, the King of Scythia next himſelf, and the other Princeſſes, Kings and Princes according to their rank and dignity; the Princeſs Julia on one ſide with Artemiſa, and on the other the virtuous Octavia with all her daughters, caſt them ſelves at the feet of Auguſtus, and waſhing them with their tears, begg'd of him the lives of Marcellus, Cleopatra, Alexander, and the ſons of Anthony; but the Emperor cauſing them to riſe, ſilenc'd them with the ſame anſwer they had receiv'd before; and addreſſing himſelf to Octavia; ‘You are unreaſonable ſiſter (ſaid he to her) to demand that of me, which I ſhould rather deſire of you; reſtore me Marcellus, whom I love, ungrateful as he is, no leſs then you can do, and get him out of that party into which he hath willfully caſt himſelf, it is the beſt office you can do me; in a word, Marcellus notwithſtanding his ingratitude, is dearer to me then my life. I have alſo an affection for Cleopatra, as out of a reſpect to her worth and the friendſhip you have for her I think my ſelf obliged, nor do I hate the children of Anthony though I had reſolved to ſecure them, not to do them any injury, but to divert them from doing what they have, and which I foreſaw they would. For my part, I give them you, and Julia, and your Daughters, and the Princeſs Artemiſa, ſo that it is not of me but of themſelves that you are to demand them.’

By ſuch diſcourſes as theſe was he waving their importunity and eluding their ſollicitations, with pretences ſpecious enough, when the King of Scythia, ſpeaking in the name of thoſe that had accompanied him; ‘You are willing Ceſar (ſaid he to him) upon the intreaties of theſe great Princeſſes to give up ſuch Princes as you have a love for, which certainly is no great diſcovery of your lenity, as having no reſentment, at leaſt no averſion to overmaſter againſt perſons that are either dear or not hateful in your ſight; but I come with all theſe Kings, Princes, and Illuſtrious perſons (continued he, pointing to thoſe that had accompanied him) to give you a nobler occaſion to exerciſe it in begging of the lives and liberty of thoſe you hate, We ſhould haply have forborn our interceſſion by reaſon of the difficulties we have already met with therein, a thing being not ſo eaſily digeſtible with Kings eſpecially ſuch as are ſomewhat above thoſe that ordinarily go under that title,’ as to encourage them to further ſollicitations, but the lives of Juba and Ceſario two Princes whoſe vertue and birth, all the earth is obliged to adore and reſpect are of that importance as may well require our ſlighting that conſideration. ‘I ſay nothing of the life of Artaban, as not imagining you ever had any intention to put to death a Prince of the Blood-royal, or rather a King of Parthia, who had not injured you; ſo that all our deſires amount to, is his Liberty, with the lives of the others. I am inclin'd to hope that thoſe firſt eruptions of your diſpleaſure being now over, you will have ſome regard to the interceſſion of theſe Princes and not to ſuffer me to leave a place whither I came without any neceſſity, meerly out of the deſire I had to honour you, and to make with you an alliance we never demanded of any Soveraign or Nation, with the regret of having not been able to divert a misfortune which all the world would reſent, wherein the dignity of all Kings is concern'd, and ſuch as would haply expoſe your ſelf to thoſe inconveniences which ſhould admit neither comfort nor remedy.’

This was the tenour of Alcamenes's diſcourſe, to which the Emperour, who expected no leſs from him, and accordingly had ready the anſwer intended to make thereto, retorted thus For the Kings (ſaid he to him) and other perſons that accompany you, I ought and may treat them after a manner much different from that I uſe towards you, and I ſhall haply make them ſenſible, that my party, without any conſideration ſhould have been theirs; but for you, who though no way obliged would needs do what I could not exact from you, and who ought to be respected for your great actions which make you no leſs conſiderable then the rank you are of in the world, I am to tell you, that having received you as a great King, a friend, and an ally, and not by any action of mine engaged to ſide with my enemies againſt me, I could not but have thought it very ſtrange that on the behalf of perſons between whom and you there was not any friendſhip or alliance, nay ſuch as were not known to you, you ſhould immediately oppoſe what my juſtice required I ſhould do againſt a man from whom I had received ſuch remarkable affronts, and what I ought to do out of a reſpect to my ſecurity with another, whoſe birth and pretenſions may diſturb the Roman Empire as long as he lives. You have ſeen how that one of the two guilty before [Page] of offences ſufficiently incenſing, comes and fights with, nay almoſt kills in my ſight a ſon to the Empreſs, and that the other hath been found lurking in Alexandria, You are not ignorant of either the Maximes or intereſts of Kings, and I ſee no reaſon but my ſecurity and ſatisfaction ſhould have been as dear to you as thoſe of theſe unknown perſons, and yet you muſt needs immediately ingage in their concernments againſt mine, and have ſpoken for them without any intreaty of theirs, you ſhould put your ſelf to that trouble; for neither Coriolanus nor Caeſario deſire you ſhould ſollicite for them, they are not in the condition of Petitioners, no, it is by force of arms they would eſcape the danger they are expoſed to, and not by intreaties and ſubmiſſions; nay they came yeſterday even to my perſon, and had it not been for an unexpected reſcue would have ſheathed their ſwords in my breaſt. What reaſon therefore can you have to promote, as you do, the concernments of perſons unknown to you, againſt a man you have ſought after, whoſe friendſhip you have courted, and ſhould accordingly have other thoughts of, then that of theſe unfortunate wretches? And upon what account can you wonder I do not comply with your deſires in this as I ſhould upon any other occaſion? Thus much I had to ſay concerning thoſe who are to die, and whoſe death, after the injury I have lately received in your ſight, in a City where I am in perſon, no mediation, no humane power ſhall be able to divert. For Artaban, I had no deſign upon his life, but you ſhould have made leſs noiſe then you have upon my ſecuring of him after it was diſcovered he held intelligence with my enemies, and if he hath engaged himſelf among them and will run their fortunes, it is through his own wilfulneſs that he miſcarries, and not by my Orders, for it is known what difference there was between thoſe iſſued out for him, and thoſe for the others. Think it not ſtrange therefore that having ſo much reaſon to be diſ-ſatisfied with you, I ſhould prefer the quiet of the Empire, and the ſafety of my perſon, before the unjuſt ſatisfaction you deſire of me; and aſſure your ſelf that if I had not great reſpects for you, I ſhould have made you ſenſible how highly I thought my ſelf injured by your late proceedings.

Thus ſpoke Auguſtus, delivering himſelf with ſuch an action as ſatisfied all preſent there was no hope of the Princes deliverance; and the King of Scythia, incenſed at his diſcourſe, was going to rejoyn thereto with an eagerneſs which might have heightned their mutual exaſperations, when a great noiſe being firſt heard upon the ſtairs, there comes in preſently after a party of Officers and Souldiers ſurrounding a man whom they were bringing before the Emperor, who caſting his eye that way to ſee what the matter was, the Souldiers dividing themſelves left in the midſt ſtanding before the Emperour the King of Mauritania. He was without armor, ſo much as a ſword, having given his own to an Officer who held it in his hand; but even in that poſture would he ſeem as dreadful to his enemies as in the head of an army, had not a certain natural mildneſs moderated what was ſo martially fierce in his countenance. The condition he was in, as it had not abated any thing of his courage, ſo had it not taken away ought from the goodlineſs of his preſence, inſomuch that that Illuſtrious Aſſembly could not look on him without a particular admiration for all things in him. Having of his own accord deliver'd him ſelf up to the perſons who brought him thither, he went not among them as a Priſoner, and ſo betray'd not any thing in his countenance which argued either want of freedom or diſturbance. He came not up to Caeſar with an outragious fierceneſs, ſuch as a juſt reſentment and the contempt of death might inſpire him with, but preſented himſelf to him with an aſſurance ſuitable to the greatneſs of his courage, attended by a modeſty which was natural in him, and ſuch as diſcovered no more boldneſs then ordinary; unleſs what might be thought to proceed from the confidence he had in his own actions, and his indifference for life or death.

The whole Aſſembly was in ſuſpence, expecting what would be the iſſue of that adventure, when the Prince addreſſing himſelf to the Emperour with a grace which raiſ'd a general compaſſion for his fortune; Caeſar (ſaid he to him) the guilty perſon now ſtands before thee, preſenting himſelf to ſave the innocent; I only have deſerved, I only have incurred thy diſpleaſure, it is not therefore juſt that Cleopatra and Marcellus ſhould groan under the effects of it. The treatment I have received from thee hath been ſuch as ſhould oblige me with the loſs of my life to endeavour thy enjoyments, but the affection I have for, and the obligations I have for, and the obligations I have received from Marcellus are ſuch as that I would gladly part with my own life to preſerve his. 'Tis my greateſt trouble that I cannot give Marcellus any thing but what Cleopatra may claim as hers, nor loſe that for Cleopatra which I do not owe Marcellus; but ſince they are ſo generous as to give me themſelves what I owe them, they will be content with an unfortunate life, which I beſtow on them, and would heartily ſacrifice to Love and Friendſhip, were it much happier. Give thy commands then that the ſon of Juba be put to that kind of death which thou think'ſt moſt fit; but ſend out thy Orders with all diligence for the ſaving of Marcellus and Cleopatra, ſince it is to ſecure theirs that I reſign thee, that of thy enemy. I lay it down without any regret, provided thou reſtore thy Nephew to that affection [Page] which he hath but too well deſerved from thee, and permit not Cleopatra to be unfortunate. 'Tis only with this hope that I give thee the ſatisfaction of my death, which I ſhall receive without repining, if I have this comfort, expirng that I have contributed to the enjoyments and fortune of my Princeſs and Friend.

Thus ſpake Coriolanus; and his diſcourſe and deportment ſo conformable to all the actions of his life wrought ſo with all preſent, that of the many that wer ther, moſt of them would have gladly expoſed themſelves to ſome part of the danger he was in, to exempt him from it: But much different were the apprehenſions of Auguſtus; nor was it much to be wondred at, that he, who upon all the Inhabitants of a City proſtrate at his feet, had paſſed that cruel Sentence, You muſt die; and anſwered thoſe deſired only Sepulture, when he ſent them to their Execution, That that favour was at the dispoſal of the Crows, was not moved as he ſhould be, either at the vertue or misfortune of ſo great a Prince. Not but that he conceived a certain ſhame at his procedure; but being he was the more obſtinately reſolved to perſiſt in it, the more he had been exaſperated by oppoſition, he thought it but requiſite for the better ſettlement of his authority, to give the Nations a dreadful example of his revenge, after the injury he had received the day before. Fixt in that reſolution, and betraying in his eyes ſome part of what his breaſt was full of, and caſting a terrible look on the Prince, ‘Thou ſhalt once have thy deſires (ſaid he to him) and ſince thou art ſo willing it ſhould be ſo I receive thy life as the ranſome of thoſe of Marcellus and Cleopatra. Yet would I not have thee imagine me obliged to thee for the preſent thou makeſt of it: I had haply refuſed it hadſt thou proffer'd it while it was in thy diſpoſal, but thou art willing to part with it when thou canſt no longer keep it, and ſo requiteſt with what is none of thy own, the Love of Cleopatra and friendſhip of Marcellus. I ſhall have a care of their welfare and fortunes, and thou maiſt take a journey to the other world with this comfort, that if thou contributeſt nothing to their enjoyment, thou freeſt them from the troubles which thy life had alwaies involved them in.’ Whereupon turning to thoſe officers whom he durſt beſt truſt with the management of ſuch an execution, he commanded them to take away the Prince out of his preſence, and put him to death without further delay.

Theſe words raiſed a horror in all the Aſſembly: the Princeſſes who had an eſteem for the Virtue and Perſon of Coriolanus, expreſſed their sorrow by the loudneſs of their ſighs; Alcamenes was enraged at it, and having caſt his eye on the Princes who were ingaged in his reſolutions, was going to riſe from his place to put in execution what his great courage and the extremity they were in ſhould adviſe him to, when after a noiſe like that which had preceded the arrival of Coriolanus, entred the Hall Prince Marcellus, and ſome few paces after him the fair Cleopatra, led by Druſus. Upon their coming in, a great ſhout was given, out of a hope of ſome change; & Marcellus coming up to Coriolanus juſt as Norbanus, who had received the cruel order, was laying hands on him to carry him away, he with his left hand ſeized him by the arm he had held out, and with his right laying hold of the hilt of his ſword, Hold (ſaid he to him) and think not any reſpect ſhall hinder me from taking away thy life, if thou offer to be the Executioner of my Brother. And thereupon forcing the Prince out of his hands, and preſenting himſelf with him before Caeſar, See now, my Lord (ſaid he to him) the object of your displeaſure; you vainly ſeek it elſewhere, and there is no way for you to be revenged of Coriolanus but by the death of Marcellus; you may be ſatisfied by what he hath done, that it is the death of Marcellus he is ſo much afraid of, and not his own, and you now ſee it is by the death of Marcellus and now his own that you are to puniſh him. By putting him death to ſave Marcellus, you grant him his own deſire, and by putting Marcellus to death for his ſafety, you ſacrifice a life that's dear to him to preſerve one he is burthened with. Open your eyes to ſee your own revenge, ſince revenge is the thing you ſo much thirſt after, and you will find you cannot take it with greater cruelty then by putting to death in his preſence, not what he hates, but what he loves above himſelf. 'Tis then Cleopatra that muſt die) cries out the fair Daughter of Antonia, coming up cloſe to Marcellus) for how great ſoever the friendſhip may be which Coriolanus hath for Marcellus, yet muſt it be inferior to the Love he hath for me. Beſides, Caeſar, I am deſcended of thoſe who have disputed the Empire with thee to the laſt breath; and thou maiſt fear, that as I inherit the Name, I may alſo the Courage and averſion of Cleopatra; cut off this unfortunate Branch of a hateful Stock, and make it known by a revenge which thy enemy will be more ſenſible of then of a thouſand deaths, couldſt thou make him ſuffer ſo many, that in the art of exquiſite vengeance never any was ſo well experienced as thy ſelf, Caeſar (adding the Prince of Mauritania, interrupting the Princeſs) Cleopatra and Marcellus speak to thee as a cruel Prince, and I look on thee as an impartial Judge. I muſt confeſs the revenge they propoſe to thee would be cruel; but not juſt, and the buſineſs now is not to execute vengeance home, but to ſave the innocent and puniſh the guilty. Nor do I therefore divert thee from their death, as ſatisfied, that all they can ſay to thee will not provoke thee ſo far as to bring their lives into [Page] any danger: but I conjure thee to prevent the effect of their unreaſonable reſolutions, and not to leave an indelible blemiſh in thy reputation by neglecting their ſafety. The Emperor (replies Marcellus) may indeed put me to death if he pleaſe, but cannot make me live againſt my will; and though I were deprived of all deſtructive inſtruments, there are other ways to dye which no power but that of the Gods can prevent. Be therefore aſſured, my Lord (continued he turning to Caeſar) that though your power be the greateſt that can be, you cannot make me live if you take away the life of Coriolanus, and that all the earth will deteſt your cruelty, if you put to death a Prince who yeſterday with ſo much generoſity ſaved your life.

‘Auguſtus was a little troubled at this diſcourſe of Marcellus and looking ſcornfully on him;’ Ungrateful man, (ſaid he to him,) thou ſhouldst be aſhamed of the reproach thou makeſt mee, and conſider thou art much more to be blamed, for having engaged againſt my people in a place where I was in perſon, then to be commended, for diverting the enemies weapon from thy father's breſt. Thou oughteſt, with the hazard of thy life to have done what thou didſt upon that occaſion but ſhouldeſt rather have loſt a thouſand lives, then be found in arms againſt thy father and Emperour. I neither was in arms againſt you (replied the Prince) nor reſcued you from the enemyes weapon, and the Prince you now ſend to execution, hath ſufficiently expreſſed how little he values his own life, if he hath not vouchſafed to tell you, that it is only to him you are obliged for your own, and that by a magnanimity beyond all example, it was he delivered it out of the hands of a dreadful enemy, while you endeavoured nothing ſo earneſtly as to take away his. How, (cries out the Emperour, caſting his eyes one while on Marcellus, another on Coriolanus) was it from Coriolanus I received that relief which I thought came from Marcellus? No, it was from Marcellus you received it, (ſays the King of Mauritania to him,) though both Marcellus and Druſus were at that time with the Princeſſes, and had it not been for the respect I have for whatever is loved by Marcellus, I ſhould not have been guilty of that tenderneſſe for the life of ſo cruel an enemy.

Auguſtus giving way to the aſtoniſhment and confuſion which ſuch an emergency might well raiſe in him, looked ſeveral times on the Prince, viewing him from head to foot, (while Druſus confirmed to the aſſembly, and celebrated that tranſcendent action of Coriolanus) and afterward faſtning his eyes on the ground, and leaning his head on one hand, and his arm on the elbow of his chair, he continued in the poſture of a man overburthened with a deep reflection on ſomething of neereſt conſequence; during which all the illuſtrious company put up their addreſſes to Heaven for the Prince's ſafety, nay Livia her ſelf, moved at his admirable vertue, ſeemed to favour him, and to have quitted the diſpleaſure ſhe had conceived againſt him upon the wounds of Tiberius. He was heard to ſigh ſeveral times while his thoughts were ſo buſied, and the Idaea of the dream which had troubled him that night, coming to his mind, and raiſing new diſturbances there, ‘No more, Father,’ (ſaid he, ſpeaking ſo loud as to be heard by thoſe that were about his chair,) ‘no more, I remember both your reproaches and your meances.’

While he was in that poſture, and all the aſſembly in ſuſpence, there comes into the Hall a man whom few there thought in a condition to venture ſo far; twas Agrippa, who pale and weak, and finding much ado to walk with the help of one of his men, had made a ſhift to get through the throng, through the civility that all had to make him way, and got up with much difficulty to the Emperours chair. Eliſa's colour changed upon ſight of him, though, out of the confidence ſhe had of his vertue; ſhe expected nothing of misfortune from his coming, and imagined that the violence he did himſelf was an effect of the letter ſhe had ſent him. At laſt, the Emperour, recovering himſelf as it were out of a deep ſtudy, immediately caſt his eyes on him, and no doubt would have been much troubled to ſee him come abroad in that condition, had not his thoughts been wholly taken up with other conſiderations. But as things then ſtood, he was not a little glad to ſee him, and laying his hand on his arm, ‘Ah my dear Agrippa (ſaid he to him) how ſeaſonable is your coming, and how much do I ſtand in need of your help to overcome a ſtrange diſturbance!’ ‘But alas! added he ſighing, methinks it is a long time that you have forſaken me.’ Agrippa would have made him ſome anſwer, but the Emperour wringing him by the arm, ‘Leave me to my ſelf, (ſaid he to him,) for this firſt engagement, you ſhall help me out in the reſt, if I ſtand in need of your aſſiſtance.’ Whereupon endeavouring to diſpel that cloudineſſe of thought which lay ſo heavy about his heart, he faſtned his eyes on the King of Mauritania, and after he had looked on him a good while without ſpeaking ought; ‘I know not, (ſaid he to him,) whether thou haſt raiſed in me more hatred and diſpleaſure againſt thee by the injuries thou didſt me, at a time when I might haply force thee to it, or confuſion at the ſervice thou didſt me upon an occaſion, wherein thou ſhouldſt not do it out of any other motive then that of thy vertue; and whether I ought to have a greater reſentment of the affront,’ then acknowledgement [Page] for the good office I have received; but muſt confeſſe, I was leſſe to ſeek in the revenge than I am in the reparation. ‘'Tis paſt all deliberation that thou ſhall live, thy life is due to the interceſſion of Marcellus: and the great action thou didſt yeſterday for me deſervs ſomething more than life; but what can I do for thee, if it be not in my power to make thee live, and that thou wilt not accept of thy life without Cleopatra. The immortal Gods are my witneſſes; that to recompence thy vertue, and to cover with oblivion the cruelties I have exerciſed upon the moſt vertuous of men, I wiſh it were in my power by a preſent of what would be very precious to me to comfort thee for the loſſe of Cleopatra, or follow the inclination I had to beſtow her on thee. But I am engaged both by my promiſes and obligations not eaſily avoidable; and what I owe the affection of the Empreſſe, and that which ſhe hath for her ſon, leave me not in a capacity to make any other diſpoſal of her than what may be ſuitable to their deſires.’

He would have continued his diſcourſe, but the Empreſs interrupting him; ‘My Lord (ſaid he to him) though the injuries I have received from Coriolanus are notorious, as having two ſeveral times, as it were in my ſlight, reduced my ſon to the extremities of life and death, and that I may well endeavour the enjoyments of a Son, great enough to deſerve ſome regard, yet the complyance I have for your deſires, and the acknowledgments which Tiberius will while he lives have for your goodneſs, ought to prevail with him beyond all reſentments, and all manner of intereſt; and accordingly how juſtly ſoever I might be incenſed againſt Coriolanus, and what affection ſoever Tiberius may have for Cleopatra, we can ſmother both to ſatisfie you; and I am to aſſure you, out of the influence I have over Tiberius, and the knowledge I have of his intentions, that if it be your deſire to beſtow Cleopatra on Coriolanus, he will ſubmit to that diſpoſal of her, and we will never repine at the favour you do ſuch perſons for whoſe vertue I have my ſelf an affection and eſteem.’

There was a general acclamation and beating of hands at this diſcourſe of Livia, as being ſuch as gained the hearts of ſo many Illuſtrious perſons more than all her precedent actions would have done; and the Emperour having heard it with all the expreſſions of an extraornary joy; ‘I humbly acknowledg the indulgence of the Gods (ſaid he) that they afford me in ſome meſure the means to make reparation for thoſe miſcarriages which an immoderate indignation and a certain jealouſie of my authority had made me guilty of: I ſhall be very happy (ſaid he, turning to Alcamenes and the other Princes) if I may perſwade to an oblivion of them ſo many illuſtrious perſons who with too much reaſon were diſ-ſatisfied therwith. Thou ſhalt live Coriolanus (continued he, turning towards him) and enjoy Cleopatra. Marcellus hath given thee thy life, by being deſirous to die with thee; the Empreſs hath given thee Cleopatra, by diſpenſing with the promiſe I had made her; and in regard it were not juſt that having received my life from the by a generoſity beyond all example, thou ſhouldeſt receive nothing from me, I give thee the kingdomes of thy Anceſtors which thou hadſt recovered by thy valour, and afterwards loſt by thy miſ-fortune; thou ſhalt reign over the two Mauritanias, from which I reſerve to my ſelf no tribute nor other acknowledgment than that of thy alliance; and to confirm it between us, I embrace thee as a King, my Friend and Allie.’

Having ſo ſaid, he ſpread his arms to receive him; and the ſon of Juba caſting himſelf at his feet, and in that poſture receiving his embraces; ‘Ah my Lord (ſaid he to him) now is it that I feel a grief and remorſe for having offended you, and this expreſſion of your goodneſs forces me, much beyond all the effects of your power, to acknowledg you my Soveraign Lord and Emperour.’ Auguſtus having cauſed him to riſe embraced him with much affection; and perceiving that Cleopatra was going to caſt her ſelf at his feet, he takes her in his arms, and preventing what ſhe would have ſaid to him; ‘Divine Princeſs, the ornament of the Univerſe (ſaid he to her) be pleaſed to forget the perſecution I have made you ſuffer, and receive as a ſatisfaction I ſhould make you, the life and liberty of Caeſario, which I give you upon that account. I am inclined to hope he will not diſturb the quiet of our Empire, ſince his fortune will be conſiderable enough in the enjoyment of Candace and poſſeſſion of the great Kingdom of Ethiopia, not to envie his, whom he ſees in the place of his Father.’

Upon theſe laſt words of Auguſtus, the Illuſtrious perſons that were preſent reiterated their acclamations; and while Marcellus embraced his knees with a certain tranſportation, Cleopatra made another attempt to make her acknowledgements to him in the ſame poſture for the life and happineſs of her Brother. Only Eliſa of all that Illuſtrious Aſſembly ſeemed not to participate of the publick ſatisfaction, ſo that Agrippa having taken notice of her grief, comes up to the Emperor, and embracing the knee. Marcellus had quitted; ‘My Lord (ſaid he to him) to be abſolutely great, to be abſolutely juſt, to be abſolutely Caeſar [Page] in all things, you muſt conſummate what you have begun. It is to ſollicit your goodneſs to do it, that I have overcome my weakneſs, and made a ſhift to crawl to your feet. You have beſtowed Cleopatra on the King of Mauritania, and the Queen of Ethiopia on Caeſario; you muſt, my Lord, to accompliſh all things with the ſame greatneſs, beſtow the Princeſs of Parthia on her valiant and faithful Artabau. He only of all the world is worthy of her, and beſides your doing therein an action ſuitable to your juſtice, you will have the glory to have given the Parthians, who were the moſt in veterate enemies of the Roman name, a King.’

The Emperour was not a little ſurprized at the diſcourſe of Agrippa, though he ſhould have been better acquainted with his vertue than to have received that expreſſion of it with ſo much aſtoniſhment, and looking on him with a countenance wherein was legible what his thoughts were upon; ‘Agrippa (ſaid he to him) the Propoſition you make to me is, I muſt confeſs, conformable to my inclinations, but not to the obligations of friendſhip which lie upon me; and you know I have a friend who hath ſuffered much upon the account of Eliſa's love, and whoſe concernments I am obliged to proſecute. He for whom you have that goodneſs (replies Agrippa) is not more ſatisfied with the expreſſions he receivs thereof, than he hath been troubled at the effects it hath produced, and he would not, to ſave his life, did it depend thereon, retard for ſo much as one day the happineſs of thoſe illuſtrious perſons. In fine, my Lord, he hath conquered that paſſion which was ſo inconſiſtent with his glory and his duty, and with the aſſiſtance of his courage had reduced it to ſuch a poſture, as not to raiſe any further diſturbance to his vertu. Conſider not any thing ſomuch in order to his ſatisfaction, as the requeſt he now makes to you for that of the Princeſs of Parthia, and give him leave to repair the injuries he hath done, by affording him the means to ſerve thoſe whom he hath with ſo much injuſtice oppreſſed.’

The Emperour was extreamly ſatisfied with this diſcourſe of Agrippa, and embracing him with a tender affection; ‘I cannot give you a greater commendation (ſaid he to him) than in affirming you are ſtill Agrippa, and that you diſcover the greatneſs of your ſoul no leſs in the conqueſt of your paſſions, then in reducing the enemies of the Empire. Whereupon turning to the Queen of Parthia,’ ‘Madam (ſaid he to her) you have heard the diſcourſe of Agrippa, and accordingly, ſince his deſires are ſo rational, it ſhall not be my ſault if Artaban be not happy, and you ſatisfied. I crave your pardon for the trouble I have cauſed you upon an account which will in ſome meaſure oblige you to excuſe it, when you ſhall underſtand it, and I hope you will not refuſe me the friendſhip and alliance I intend to make with you before you leave our territories.’ Eliſa's ſatisfaction was ſo great at this diſcourſe of Auguſtus, that all her modeſty was not able to ſmother it and the Queen, in whom her expreſſions of it were more allowable, made her acknowledgments to the Emperour in the moſt obliging terms ſhe poſſibly could.

In the mean time Coriolanus, Cleopatra and Mercellus were at the Empreſſes feet, to thank her for the favour ſhe had done them, acknowledging themſelves obliged to her for their enjoyments and lives; and though ſhe looked on the credit of Marcellus with ſome jealouſie, yet had ſhe embraced him as her Son: aſſured Coriolanus that ſhe could not forbear loving a perſon who had ſaved the Emperours life; and ſaid to Cleopatra, that ſince ſhe was not willing to be her daughter by a marriage with Tiberius; ſhe expected ſhe would be, by the affection ſhe would ever have for her. She told him further, that what Druſus had done for them ſhould remit ſomewhat of the reſentment they had againſt her, and which ſhe was willing to pardon for their ſakes and Antonia's.

This paſt, the Emperour turned to the King of Scythia, and craved his pardon that he had been ſo backward to comply with his deſires, intreating him to forget it, and continue his friend. While he was ſpeaking to him, Octavia and her Daughters embraced, one while Cleopatra, another, Marcellus, and careſſed them as perſons returned out of the other world, and ſuch as they had lamented as either dead or ready to ſuffer death. After thoſe mutual embraces of the Siſters, Marcellus and Druſus did their ſubmiſſions to Julia and Antonia; and if Marcellus obſerved in Julia a certain diſſatisfaction that he had done that upon the account of friendſhip which he had never done upon that of love, Druſus on the contrary, read in the countenance of Antonia, that ſhe was ſenſible in the higheſt manner that could be of what he had done for her Relations.

Theſe entertainments might well have taken up the whole day, but it was fit they thought of the beſieged Princes and Queen Candace, for fear any thing ſhould happen that might interrupt their joy. The Emperor immediately ſent officers to draw off the forces that were about the Caſtle, and would needs have Marcellus, Coriolanus and Druſus go themſelves with Mccenas, Domitius, and divers others, to conduct the Queen and Princes from the Caſtle to the Palace. They departed without anydelay, and their diligence was no more than needed [Page] for juſt as they were got before to the Caſtle, and that, according to the Emperours orders, the Officers made way for them, the ſurious Artaban, and the valiant ſon of Ceſar, with the three ſons of Anthony, preſerring the death they might receive from the points of their enemies ſwords before ſtarving, and encouraged by Queen Candace her ſelf, who would not expect death behind dead walls, were letting down the draw-bridg to run deſperately upon the firſt party they met with; and the terrible Artaban was already come over the bridg with a fury, which, notwithſtanding their number, ſtruck a terrour in thoſe who were firſt to oppoſe his paſſage, when the Princes his friends diſcovered themſelves to him and his valiant companions, and they at the ſame time ſaw the Emperours forces drawing off, according to the orders they had received. Artaban and Caeſario made a halt, ſomewhat aſtoniſhed at the ſight, and Marcellus running to them, and embracing them with tranſportations of joy, acquainted them with the happineſs of Goriolanus and their own, with a paſſion which ſatisfied them, that he was no leſs glad thereof than they might be themſelves.

Though the Princes entertained the news with that great courage which neither misfortune could abate, nor proſperity heighten, yet could they not but be ſenſible of ſuch good fortune, but much more out of a reſpect to the Princeſſes they loved, than themſelves; and if Ceſario were glad to ſee his fair Queen eſcaped the death which had threatned her not long before, the ſon of Pompey could not without an exceſs of ſatisfaction underſtand that he was called to the enjoyment of Eliſa, and that his fortunes were in ſuch a poſture as to defie all obſtacles. Yet was there ſtill one rub in his way, though inconſiderable in compariſon of thoſe he had over-maſtered; for aſſoon as the three Princes were gone out of the Palace-hall, and the noiſe which theſe great adventures had raiſed there a little abated, Tigranes came to the Emperour, and after he had made his complaints to him that he had beſtowed Eliſa on Artaban, without minding his intereſt, he intreated him not to doe him the injuſtice, and to permit him to proſecute thoſe hopes which ſome dayes before he had encouraged him to conceive. But the Emperour interrupting him at the beginning of his diſcourſe, Tigranes, (ſaid he to him) I adviſe you not to oppoſe any longer the fortune of of Artaban; the Queen would have him for her ſon, Eliſa for her husband, the Parthians for their King, and you are not deſired by any. You will find it no eaſie matter to overcome all theſe difficulties, though you were more powerful then you are; and beſides, you are not diſengaged of your promiſe to the Princeſs of Cappadocia, nor have decided the difference there is between you and the King her Brother, who, whether friend or enemy, is not to be ſlighted. Follow my counſel, endeavour your own quiet by performing your promiſe, and ſatisfying a Friend whom you are obliged to for you Crown; all will countenance you in that deſign, where as in the other you meet with oppoſition of all ſides. To this diſcourſe of the Emperour, Ariobarzanes, as alſo Alcameues, joyning with them, repreſented ſo many things to Tigranes, that despairing the enjoyment of Eliſa, he told him, that if Archelaus and Urania would forget the injury he had done them, and never urge it againſt him, he would make good his promiſe and marry Urania. The Emperour undertook for Archelaus, and having thereupon cauſed thoſe two Kings to embrace one the other, he determined their differences, and ſetled that marriage, to the ſatisfaction of many perſons, eſpecially Philadelph.

Things were thus far compoſed, when Queen Candace, Artaban, Ceſario and their companions entred the Palace: Auguſtus went to meet them, and coming to Artaban firſt; ‘Are you content to be my friend, (ſaid he to him) if, to repair the injuries I have done you, I make you Poſſeſſor of Eliſa and the Parthian Crown? Artaban, upon that diſcourſe of the Emperour, doing his ſubmiſſions to him; the two favours you proſfer me (ſaid he) are above all hopes, there being no man in the world whoſe ambition the friendſhip of Caeſar and enjoyment of Eliſà were not enough to ſatisfie.’ Queen Candace preſently after made her appearance, led by Julius Antonius, and after her Caeſario, Alexander and Ptolomey. The Emperour came up to the Queen, and embracing her with much reſpect, ‘You own too great a courage, (ſaid he to her) not to pardon injuries; and upon that ground I am inclined to hope that you will forget what is paſt, and will not have an averſion for the relations of Caeſario. My Lord, (replyed the Queen) when you ſhall look on Caeſario as one of your own blood, you will do him more juſtice than in treating him as your enemy; he ſhall entertain the former quality with reſpect, and I undertake for him he ſhall never deſerve the latter.’ Auguſtus, inſtead of making her any anſwer, embraced Caeſario, who having the ſame armour on wherein he had fought the day before, and which were the more remarkable for their magnificence and golden Eagles, the Emperour knew him to be that terrible Warriour under whoſe hands he had left his life, and he not been reſcued by Coriolanus. That ſight and reflection put him into a little fright, but ſtirred not his reſentment [Page] againſt him; ſo that the Emperour having embraced him, ‘Both the Queen, (ſaid he to him) and the Princeſs Cleopatra promiſe me you will not remember our differences, and upon that hope I am willing to eſteem you as the valiant Cleomedon, whoſe actions are ſo extraordinary, and afford you an affection ſuch as may be expected by a ſon of my Father's. And as Cleomedon, (replyed the Prince) and as Caeſario, I ſhall ever obſerve the reſpect I owe Caeſar, and never give either the Queen or my Siſter any occaſion to repent their engagement for me.’ That done, the Emperour entertained the three ſons of Anthony, and aſſured them, that inſtead of being diſſatisfied with their proceedings, he eſteemed them the more, for the diſcoveries they had made of their courage and affection to their Relations.

In the mean time was Artaban at the feet of Eliſa, whoſe hands he kiſſed with tranſportations he was not able to moderate; and the fair Princeſs, who by the conſent of the Queen might without any reſervedneſs aſſure him of the affection ſhe had for him, gave him accordingly aſſurances of it with all freedome, and ſatisfied him that he was happy beyond all his hopes. The Queen of Parthia embraced him as her ſon, and both acquainted him with much joy how the pretenſions of Tigranes were terminated. Alexander had received from his Artemiſa new expreſſions of an affection whereof he could no longer doubt: Ptolomey had beenwell entertained by Marcia; Cleopatra had been treated by Arſinoe, Olympia, Artemiſa, whom ſhe ſtill looked on as her Siſter, Iſmenia, Andromeda, Urania, and all the reſt, with all the diſcoveries they could make of their gladneſs at the change of her fortune: and Coriolanus, Artaban and Caeſario had been entertained and careſſed by Alcamenes, Ariobarzanes, Philadelph, Archelaus, and all the other illuſtrious perſons that were in Alexandria, with all the demonſtrations of a perfect friendſhip, inſomuch that the three Princes knowing how highly they were obliged to them, as alſo what they had done, and intended to do, in order to their ſafety, made an acknowledgment thereof conformable to their generous intentions, All generally celebrated the generoſity of Marcellus, all with a certain emulation beſtowed their praiſes on him, and did him honour. Druſus received alſo in the commendations of that noble aſſembly the recompence of his gallant action; and that ſtrange reciprocality of careſſes, praiſes, acknowledgments and demonſtrations of love and Friendſhip, between ſuch great illuſtrious perſons made the moſt delightful diſorder, and moſt pleaſant confuſion in the world.

It was not long ere that happy period of ſo many misfortunes was ſpread all over the City, with the Emperours pardon to thoſe who had taken up armes againſt him; and joy filled all places of that vaſt City in ſuch manner, that it was no leſs remarkable there than among the perſons moſt concerned in the happineſs of that day. The Emperour entertained at Dinner all his proud Court, and at the end thereof declared that he would not leave Alexandria, till he had by their marriages put a period to the adventures of ſo many illuſtrious perſons. Nay he would not conſent their felicity ſhould be deferred above three days, aſſigning that time to prepare all things for ſo great a ſolemnity. All provided for it with much ſatisfaction, and Caeſar gave order for all things, ſuitably to his magnificence and grandeur, ſupplying the exigences of thoſe Princes, who being forced to Alexandria upon ſtrange adventures, were come thither without retinue or equipage, ſuch as Coriolanus, Artaban, Ariobarzanes, Philadelph, and Arminius. Artaban made to Agrippa an acknowledgment of his generoſity, and commended it ſo highly, that Agrippa, out of an exceſs of modeſty diſclaiming thoſe commendations, craved his pardon for the traverſes he had cauſed him, and proteſted to him, that had he not by reaſon of his ſickneſs been kept in ignorance of what paſſed, he would with all his intereſt have oppoſed the unworthy treatment he had received. Yet could he not think of Eliſa without ſighing, and a ſenſe of the violence he had done himſelf: But he hoped with the aſſiſtance of time and his reaſon he ſhould abſolutely ſubdue that paſſion, & in the interim, endeavoured what lay in his power to perſwade the world his ſoul was abſolutely free from it. The Emperour diſcovered to him his deſires that he would marry his Neece Marcella, ſince he had but one daughter, and that deſigned for Marcellus; and Agrippa ſeemed willing to ſubmit thereto with much reſpect. The King of Mauritania reflecting on his obligations to the Empreſs, and having underſtood that Tiberius was not unwilling to ſee him; went to give him a viſit with Livia and Druſus; and Tiberius, who was neer recovered, and of an humour fit for any thing, received him without any diſcovery of reſentment, though deſpair and other conſiderations made him quit his pretenſions to Cleopatra, and not the conqueſt of a paſſion which he hoped not to overcome in many years. That night according to a motion of the Emperour's, there met a magnificent aſſembly at Octavia's, whoſe houſe and relations were particularly concerned in the happy events of that day; and if that which had met at Julia's had been great, this excelled it, and was much different from the former, as well by reaſon of the preſence of Coriolanus, Caeſario, Marcellus, Julius Antonius, Arminius, and divers others who had not been at the other [Page] and were perſons remarkable in an aſſembly; as that in this latter all perſons were ſatisfied and that there was no lover who paſſed not away the evening with the perſon he particularly loved, even to Tigranes, who with ſome confuſion renewed his addreſſes to Urania.

There ſeemed to be ſome rub in the happineſs of Philadelph by reaſon of the ſcruples of Arſinoe, who made ſome difficulty to marry him, though ſhe infinitely loved him, before he were aſſured of his Father the King of Cilicia's conſent, whom ſhe knew to be much averſe to the Alliance of Armenia; but as good fortune would have it, the next day after theſe great accidents had happened there arrived at Alexandria certain Deputies from the Kingdome of Cilicia, whoſe buſineſs it was to acquaint the Prince with his Fathers death, and his being King of Cilicia; ſo that Philadelph having rendred to nature what might be expected from him, reſigned himſelf abſolutely to the embraces of his amiable Delia, and proffered her with his perſon the Crown which was then fallen to him. The Emperour made alſo ſome difficulty to beſtow Iſmenia on Arminius, as being Daughter to an Allie of the Romans, and one that mortally hated Arminius; conceiving he ſhould not do an Allie ſuch a diſpleaſure, as without his conſent to beſtow his Daughter on his enemy; but Julia and Agrippa, who much concerned themſelves in the enjoyments of thoſe two Lovers, took away that obſtacle, by obliging Arminius to make an Alliance with the Romans, and proteſt he would court that of Segeſtes, as of his Father. Arminius promiſed friendſhip and ſervice to the Romans, Varus only excepted, who had made him a Gladiator, with whom he deſied all reconciliation, and aſſured the Emperour that he would never engage in any War againſt his ſubjects, conditionally he would never ſend Varus into his countrey; which if he did, he would not undertake to lye quiet, but by all manner of wayes Proſecute the averſion he had againſt that cruel enemy, who of a ſoveraign Prince had made him a Gladiator. Auguſtus excuſed the earneſtneſs of his reſentment, and was content he ſhould upon theſe terms marry Iſmenia before he left Alexandria, aſſuring himſelf that he would engage Segeſtes s conſent thereto. He had ſome intentions alſo to defer the marriages of Marcellus and Druſus till his return to Rome, where he would have them celebrated in the ſight of the People of the City, with that of Agrippa, whoſe indiſpoſition ſuffered him not to think ſo ſoon of marriage. But thoſe two Princes caſt themſelves at his feet, and made it ſo earneſtly their ſuit to him, that their felicity might not be deferred any more then that of all the reſt, that at laſt he was content, and would honour the City of Alexandria with the marriage of his Daughter, as alſo with thoſe of all the moſt conſiderable perſons upon earth.

But to what end ſhould I ſpin out any longer the cloſure of theſe adventures? At laſt, after the impatient expectation of ſo many illuſtrious Lovers, the happy and ſo much deſired day being come, the City of Alexandria ſaw the greateſt ſolemnity that ever any City in the world did; and the Temple of Iſis was made celebrious by the nobleſt aſſembly, and moſt important ceremony that ever had been ſeen in any age. There it was that the indiſſoluble knot was ty'd between Coriolanus or Juba, (for with a Crown he reſumed the name of his Anceſtors) and his divine Cleopatra, Artaban and the excellent Eliſa, Caeſario and Queen Candace, Marcellus and the Princeſs Julia, Druſus and the fair Antonia, the King of Armenia and his Olympia, Philadelph King of Cilicia and his amiable Delia, Alexander and Artemiſa, the King of Capadocia and the vertuous Andromeda, the King of Media and Urania, and the valiant Arminius and his deareſt Iſmenia. Never certainly had the Univerſe ſeen ſo ſolemn a feſtival, never had ſo many Beauties appeared together before that glorious ſtar which ſhed on them that fortunate and remarkable day; and never had there been ſuch a Conjuction of Beauty, Love, Vertue, Valour, dignity and real worth, in one City, and in the ſame age. The City of Alexandria, prouder of the glory it had received that day then what it derived from it's Founder, ſaw with joy the happineſs of ſo many great Princes, who after ſo many traverſes of fortune, found within its walls the ſweet recompence of their ſufferings, and met with the enjoyments of thoſe Beauties for which they had ſighed ſo much. Their felicity can better be conceived then repreſented, and more may be learnt from Imagination then diſcourſe. The Emperour deferred to be celebrated at Rome, with the marriage of Agrippa, that of Domitius with Agrippina, that of Ptolomey with Marcia, (though the young Prince diſcovered but little forwardneſs thereto) and that of Lentulus with his fair Tullia. As for Julius Antonius, whom the rigours of Tullia had made inſenſible of any amorous inclinations, he would hear nor talk of marriage; and it was a long time after that he married one of the Emperours Neeces. Auguſtus with his own hands crowned Juba King of the two Mauritanias; Artaban received the Crown of Parthia from the hands of the Queen, Mother to Eliſa; and Ceſario that of Ethiopia from his fair Queen. The Emperour inveſted Alexander in a great part of Egypt with the City of Alexandria in ſoveraignty, dependent on the Empire; & left Petronius his Lieutenant in the reſt of Egypt.

[Page] The Kings of Parthia and Scythia ſolemnly confirmed the alliances which Alcamenes had propoſed; the like was done with the Kings of Mauritania and Ethiopia, and ſince inviolably obſerved. What time theſe illuſtrious perſons ſtayed afterwards in Alexandria was wholly ſpent in divertiſements, magnificence, and confirmations of ſo many great and important Alliances. And when they were to ſeparate, to reſign their ſoveraigns to the Nations which expected their return, upon the ſame day, Auguſtus, with the Kings, Marcellus and all the Romans, took their way towards Rome, and all thoſe great ones, with their fair conforts, went their ſeveral ways towards their Kingdomes, to govern and felicify the people under their juriſdiction. Their governments were excellent and flouriſhing, as we have received from the Hiſtorians of their times; but the deſign I have propoſed to my ſelf, not to exceed the limits of my ſcene, ſuffers me not to wait on them in their ſeveral travels homeward, nor to give my Readers any account of the glorious reign of Artaban over the Parthians; among whom, to comply with the deſires of Eliſa, he paſſed for the ſon of Artanez, and was content the world ſhould believe him deſcended from Arſaces; nor of that of Juba over the Moors, whom he governed with admirable lenity, and made dreadful to all Africk; nor that of Caeſario over the Ethiopians, and the happineſs of his fair Queen, whom many years after Heaven was pleaſed to illuminate from above, as we find in ſacred Hiſtorians.

Nor am I to ſay any thing of that of Ariobarzanes over the Arminians, of Philadelph over the Cilicians, of Archelaus over the Cappadocians, and thoſe of ſo many other Nations that lived happily under their juriſdiction. In like manner muſt I be ſilent as to the marriages that were celebrated at Rome, the happineſs and glory of Druſus, who not long after came into great reputation by his gallant actions; as alſo the conſequences of the noble friendſhip between Marcellus and the King of Mauritania, which no doubt the world had heard much more of, had it not been ſoon after terminated by the death of that illuſtrious Roman; the marriage of Agrippa with Julia after the death of Marcellus; and the fulfilling of the predictions of Thraſyllus, by Tiberius's attainment of the Empire. I think I have done enough to bring ſo many illuſtrious Lovers into the Haven, after ſo many ſtorms whereby their noble Lives were croſſed, and to have (haply with ſucceſs enough, conſidering the greatneſs of the undertaking) put a glorious and happy period to the adventures of my Cleopatra.

The End of the twelfth and Laſt Part of CLEOPATRA.

FINIS.

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Title statement

Hymen's præludia, or Loves master-peice being that so much admired romance, intituled Cleopatra : in twelve parts / written originally in the French, and now elegantly rendred into English by Robert Loveday.Cléopatre. English

La Calprenède, Gaultier de Coste, seigneur de, d. 1663.

Edition statement

1674

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Text Creation Partnership,

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Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) :

Date

2006-02 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1).

ID [DLPS]

A47834

ID [STC]

Wing L123

ID [STC]

ESTC R3406

ID [EEBO-CITATION]

12498660

ID [OCLC]

ocm 12498660

ID [VID]

62615

Availability

This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal. The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission.

Series

Early English books online.

Notes

(EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A47834)

Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 62615)

Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1641-1700 ; 870:1)

Source

— Hymen's præludia, or Loves master-peice being that so much admired romance, intituled Cleopatra : in twelve parts / written originally in the French, and now elegantly rendred into English by Robert Loveday., Cléopatre. English, La Calprenède, Gaultier de Coste, seigneur de, d. 1663., Loveday, Robert, fl. 1655., Davies, John, 1625-1693., J. C. (John Coles), b. 1623 or 4., J. W. (James Webb).

Extent

[8], 540, 572 p.

Printed by W.R. and J.R. :. and are to be sold by Peter Parker ... and Thomas Guy ...,. London :: 1674.. (Reproduction of original in Huntington Library.) (Attributed to Gaultier de Coste la Calprenède. Cf. NUC pre-1956.) (Parts 1-6 were translated by Robert Loveday; pt. 7 by John Coles; pt. 8 by James Webb; and pt. 9-12 by John Davies.)

Creation

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